Outcast Chapter 217 (Book 6 Chapter 2) (Patreon)

The Dungeon was angry.

Rob could feel it in the air. It was like a heavy breath circulating around him, awash with frustration and discontent. Since the moment he'd set foot inside, an omnipresent sensation of being watched – of being stalked – had overtaken him. This Dungeon yearned for blood with the unhinged fervor of a vulture that hadn't eaten in weeks. When Rob gave his reconnaissance report to the Harpies later, he would warn them that whatever Party tackled this Dungeon should be Level 40, at minimum.

Thankfully, though, he was Level 91. Which meant he got to shit-talk the place to his heart's content.

"3 out of 10." Rob kicked a hound...tentacle...thing to the side, then backed away to avoid the blood splatter as its skull collided with a stone wall. "Better than the rat-birds, but not by much."

He let out an aggrieved sigh. "Maybe this is my fault. I'm a bit of a snob when it comes to mishmashed creatures. Once you've seen a dozen affronts to all that is good and joyous in life, it takes more than just slamming two animals together like Play-Doh to impress you."

A gargantuan, many-legged insectoid dropped from the shadows above. The surface of its body was covered in throbbing boils, and a lullaby emanated from its five razor-tipped mouths, threatening to soothe Rob into an eternal slumber.

"Hmm." He snagged it out of the air, whistling appreciatively. "An improvement! Sadly, it's still undercooked. 4.5 out of 10." This particular abomination was Level 37 – much higher than your average Combat Class user. If Rob had encountered something like it during his first Dungeon Crawl, he wouldn't be standing here today.

Which was why he felt zero pity when he chucked it at full speed towards an ever-growing pile of corpses. Granted, the thing's hideous appearance made that easy, yet he'd feel the same even if all these monsters were disguised as puppies with wagging tails. Dungeons were places of death, entropy, and violence, existing solely for the gods' twisted amusement. Countless fledgling Combat Class users had tread inside them over the ages, hoping to remove a cancerous growth from their homeland and gain a Level or two for their troubles – only to be chewed up and spat out, nothing but bones left remaining.

Neither the Dungeon nor the monsters it spawned deserved an ounce of sympathy. This massacre was just Rob taking revenge for all the lives that had been short by a Wound in the World. He would gladly slaughter any beasts he came across, no matter how grotesque or adorable.

...Okay, he would've hesitated a little if they were puppies. I miss petting fluffy animals that aren't trying to kill me.

"Chop-chop." Rob clapped his hands together twice. "I'm waiting. It's been ten whole seconds! If you're going to serve me piss-poor food, you should at least make sure your service is up to par."

This Dungeon didn't have a voice, but the surrounding air still seemed to hiss, tickling Rob's ears with wisps of hatred. Off into the darkness, abhorrent creatures began to stir, the sounds of warbling growls melding with claws skittering upon a cold stone floor.

Good. Rob wasn't antagonizing the Dungeon just for funsies – well, mostly just for funsies. This was one of those beautiful moments where business intersected with pleasure. His plan relied on irritating the Dungeon as much as possible, because then it would keep sending its minions at him to die in a constant stream of mutated lemmings.

And he wouldn't have to take a single step outside of the starting room.

Aside from Rob giving a scathing Yelp review, that was another reason why the Dungeon was so upset: he'd refused to move more than ten feet from the entrance. Whatever grisly motif it had cooked up was wasted on him. All he could see from his position was stone walls, stone floors, and an unnatural, pitch-black darkness that severed the light partway through.

Rob imagined what might have awaited him if he'd continued onward. His footsteps would have echoed as he walked further, only the torch in his hand warding off the suffocating dark. A scent of moisture and mildew would have worsened the deeper he explored. Monsters would have assailed him from the shadows, ambushing just out of sight, the torchlight catching mere glimpses of their horrifying visages as they struck.

And down, down below, in the farthest depths of the Dungeon, there would have been things. Not the half-baked monsters that were being thrown at him now. These would be abominations so absurd and defiled that they'd have caused a Blightspawn to shudder. In the bowels of the earth, alone, with just fading embers of light to keep him company, his sanity and resolve would be tested under a crucible of fear.

Maybe all of that would've happened. Maybe none of it. That hypothetical Dungeon Crawl was consigned to the realm of imagination, because today, his escapades would begin and end in this dimly-lit entrance.

Admittedly, there was a small part of him that felt disappointed by that. It was the furtive voice in the back of everyone's minds that was comprised of morbid curiosity and intrusive thoughts; the impetuous bastard that wondered what would really happen if you stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. On some level, Rob wanted to explore the rest of the Dungeon and find out how much it could live up to his expectations.

That flight of fancy was being harshly suppressed by memories of the last Crawl he'd embarked upon. He'd seen what could happen when even overqualified Combat Class users assumed that a Dungeon was no threat. It wasn't exciting. It wasn't an adventure. People had died because he'd failed to protect them.

Which was why he was alone right now. Rob knew he wasn't invincible, but he was closer to it than anyone else. If this Dungeon copied its predecessor by turning aberrant mid-Crawl and nullifying Waymark, the only person he was confident in ensuring the survival of...was himself.

It hadn't taken much convincing to sell Riardin's Rangers on the idea. They trusted him to survive anything short of a precision meteor strike, and none of them were keen to get caught flat-footed in an aberrant Dungeon. Again. Better for them to wait outside and act as emergency backup in case of disaster. While each individual Party member would miss out on some Experience, they'd still get partial credit via Orn'tol's Sharing Hand, without even having to lift a finger.

And at the end of the day, there wasn't a single person in either world who didn't enjoy getting stuff for free.

Group Message Continued
Faelynn: I have reached Level 64!
Keira: Congratulations! That didn't take long.
Faelynn: Well...my Level is lagging behind the rest of yours.
Faelynn: I wasn't a member of the Party when Rob killed Elnaril.
Faelynn: That caused me to miss out on a sizable portion of shared EXP.
Malika: Me too!! It was awful!!!
Malika: Rob, kill more things! I'm this close to 70!
Rob: alredy on it

His blade lashed out. Two creatures died in the blink of an eye.

Group Message Continued
Malika: More please!!
Rob: hold on
Rob: i wanna see if i can get 3 of em at once
Orn'tol: Please refrain from encouraging her.
Orn'tol: I don't think I have the constitution to endure a Malika-induced headache at the moment.
Malika: Hey!

Rob smiled as the two descended into good-natured bickering. Watching them interact sort of made him wish he wasn't an only child. It might've been nice to have a little sibling to tease or an older sibling to torment when he was growing up. Thankfully Jason had stepped in to fill the role of surrogate brother – although him being the same age meant that, instead of having a defined hierarchy, they just took turns messing with each other.

Oh, right, monsters. Rob absentmindedly grabbed one and used it to beat the life out of another. Nothing fancy. Chatting with his friends took much more focus.

Group Message Continued
Vul'to: I just realized that this is one of the most absurd moments of my life.
Vul'to: At present, I am nonchalantly sitting outside of a Dungeon, spending time with friends and Party members who have no intention of heading inside.
Vul'to: We are deep within Harpy territory. Until recently, we were technically an invading force, albeit one with noble goals.
Vul'to: My party is comprised of members from a myriad of different races. I myself am the most peculiar oddity here, being an Elven soul within a Fiendish body.
Vul'to: And somehow, that would all be passably sensible if I wasn't gaining EXP for doing nothing.
Vul'to: If a person had told me one year prior that this was how my life would look in the near future, I would've rightfully called them mad.
Zamira: A fair summary.
Zamira: However, I must disagree. I do not view this as an absurd moment in our lives – simply because our standard for absurdity has been raised far too high.
Zamira: Lest we forget fighting a Blight-possessed Leader several days ago.
Keira: Personally, I think Elnaril was less unnerving than the Blight of Dhalerune Mines.
Keira: A monster in the form of a man is, on the whole, easier to comprehend than a monster unbound by natural limits.
Rob: is this a vote?
Rob: cause i vote for finding the edge of the world and that big fuckin fish
Meyneth: I, too, consider the Leviathan emerging from the world's end to be the most singularly terrifying moment of my life.
Meyneth: It haunts my nightmares.
Rob: same, hell yeeeeah nightmare buddies, gimme five
Meyneth: Five what?
Faelynn: For me, being trapped within Broadwater City by the Blight was akin to waiting for my own execution.
Faelynn: To this day, I am grateful that the Deserters arrived when they did.
Malika: ...I still hate the Dreamthieves.
Orn'tol: There are too many instances of terrible events for me to choose from.
Vul'to: Um.
Vul'to: This took a darker turn than was intended.
Meyneth: From my understanding, conversations among war veterans often do.
Meyneth: Especially among a Party with shared experiences. It is a way of minimizing the horrors we have faced – for ourselves and for each other.
Meyneth: Keeping these memories locked tight inside would merely allow them to fester.
Vul'to: Well, yes, but I'd prefer for there to be a balance in what we discuss.
Vul'to: Does anyone have something they'd like to share that's less...gruesome, I suppose?

Rob crushed a monster's skull in his hand. Bits of brain matter dug underneath his fingernails.

Group Message Continued
Rob: Celiane has a crush on some dude
Malika: !!!
Malika: Is he handsome? Tall? High-Leveled? Intelligent? Sensitive? Worldly? Kind?
Rob: eeeeeeh
Rob: he is maybe kinda one of those things
Malika: Unacceptable!
Orn'tol: Your expectations have been warped by all those novels you've consumed.
Orn'tol: I pity whichever person eventually catches your eye.
Malika:
Malika:
Malika:
Rob: whats with the blank messages?
Zamira: She has been staring wide-eyed at nothing for the past ten seconds.
Zamira: Orn'tol, I regret to inform you that you may have broken your sister.
Orn'tol: I did nothing of the sort!
Malika: I'll...fall in love eventually?
Malika: I guess I will.
Malika: That's terrifying! KEIRA! TEACH ME HOW THIS WORKS!
Keira: Sorry, but I'm honestly still not sure what I did right.
Meyneth: I seem to recall a wise Dragonkin giving sage advice.
Meyneth: To you, Rob, and–
Zamira: Beautiful weather today, isn't it?
Zamira: On days like these, I like to look up and clear my mind of things best left forgotten.

Rob laughed, although he'd be cringing at the memories if he was outside. That was an occasional benefit to not seeing faces during Message conversations. While he couldn't fault Meyneth's love guru phase, as it did push him and Keira in the right direction, the talk she'd given him was so embarrassing that he'd worked harder to repress it than most of the abominations and atrocities he'd seen in Elatra.

The Dungeon seemed to interpret his laughter as mockery directed towards itself, because a fresh batch of monsters rushed directly at him just then. Rob cut them down in seconds, easy as breathing. He felt like a lion set loose in a chicken coop. The enemies here – despite being strong by normal standards – were barely granting him EXP. Even though he'd already been most of the way to Level 92 after killing Elnaril, Rob would be lucky to reach it before he had to leave.

Good thing, then, that EXP wasn't the main reason he was here.

Rob opened up his Character Sheet. His lips crept up into a satisfied grin.

HP: 2147 / 2147

It had been 2045 at the start of the Crawl. That was an increase of 102 Max HP. Equivalent to over two full Levels, in a relatively short period, with practically zero effort involved.

All thanks to Lifedrinker. The Skill's effect felt like cheating. It was lenient with what it deemed a worthwhile opponent – so far, roughly 80% of the enemies he'd killed in this Dungeon had been noteworthy enough to elicit a permanent +3 boost to his Max HP. He'd hoped for this, but seeing it pan out in real time was something else entirely. Infinite Max HP scaling was the kind of boon that other high-Level Combat Class users would give anything to attain.

It was especially impactful for someone like Rob, who didn't have many Levels left to go before he hit the Level cap of 99. To put it simply; he was running out of stat points to play with. There were 40 total points to gain from here to Level 99. Once he did, that was it. No more Levels, no more stats. His potential had an inherent limit that was bound by the framework of reality itself.

Except for Lifedrinker. With that Skill, he could essentially Level up without needing to Level up. It wasn't quite as overpowered as the Dragon Queen's doubled stats, yet given enough time, it would be.

Not that he was putting all his eggs in one basket. There was one other power spike on the horizon: the Class Skill he'd learn for reaching Level 99. No one could verify that it existed, as no one had gotten to 99, ever, but literally everyone Rob had spoken to agreed that it was a thing. The consensus opinion was so unanimous that it went beyond a theory and transcended into the realm of accepted fact. Some indefinable system-based instinct was telling them that Level 99 was the milestone to end all milestones.

He...almost found himself wishing that it would end up being impossible to achieve. That its EXP requirements were so exorbitant, no one could realistically fulfill them. If so, Ragnavi would be stuck as she was now, while he could keep boosting his Max HP until he was nigh-unkillable. And considering that the EXP requirements for just Level 92 were already borderline obscene, his wish might actually come true.

It would be better than allowing the Dragon Queen to reach Level 99. Even if it meant he couldn't get there himself.

Logically speaking, Rob didn't have much basis for that line of thinking. His Level 99 Class Skill was liable to be just as busted as Ragnavi's – and he possessed an extra advantage over her as well. At that thought, he checked the very bottom of his Character Sheet, examining the Skill that had been hitching a ride since Day 1 of his all-expenses paid Elatran vacation.

???
Prerequisites: Reach Level 99, ???

A hidden Skill. The only one of its kind. Which was way too mysterious for Rob's liking, but when preparing to fight an insane demigod, he couldn't afford to look a gift horse in the mouth. While the ??? Skill could technically be anything, he'd bet his life savings that it was powerful. The Prerequisites to unlock it were to fulfill some unknown requirement – and more importantly, to reach Level 99. Anything related to that milestone was going to be big.

In essence, that meant Rob had two major milestones to look forward to. His Class Skill, and the ??? Skill. If he and the Dragon Queen got to 99 around the same time, he'd likely benefit more from it than she would.

Yet the idea of that happening filled him with a deep-seated sense of foreboding. It wasn't a system instinct or an Edict from above. This was merely his Rob-brand paranoia that had been proven right so often it should probably be its own Skill.

And right now, it was screaming at him: don't let the Dragon Queen reach Level 99.

Bad things will happen if she does.

Group Message Continued
Keira: Rob?
Keira: Rob!
Rob: whuh?
Keira: You weren't responding to our Messages.

A hint of red colored his cheeks as he scrolled up the Message logs to confirm that, yes, he hadn't.

Group Message Continued
Rob: Sorry if I made you worry.
Rob: Zoned out there for a bit.
Rob: Was thinking about stuff, you know how it goes.
Keira: Is something on your mind?
Rob: Is something ever not on my mind?
Faelynn: Ah! I believe this is where I come in.

Rob paused in the middle of burning a miniature abomination to death with the Flames of Vengeance. He narrowed his eyes at Faelynn's innocuous statement. A bat-creature tried nibbling on his arm, and he casually swatted it away; there was a far more fearsome enemy preparing to strike.

Group Message Continued
Rob: What does that mean?
Faelynn: Diplomacy informed me of how to proceed if you, and I quote, 'got moody.'
Faelynn: They gave me a list of possible stressors that you may be ruminating upon.
Faelynn: They also told me to read the list out loud. In order. Just to be thorough.
Rob: ...Oh my god.
Faelynn: Let me start from the beginning.
Rob: Can someone stop her? Please?
Keira: Hmm.
Keira: I would, but this has the potential to be the most amusing thing I've seen in weeks, so I'll allow it.
Faelynn: List item #1. Are–
Rob: I was just nervous about having to fight Ragnavi! That's all!
Faelynn: Diplomacy informed me that you may attempt to deflect with a separate issue, and to be wary of the very first thing you admit to.
Rob: Great. Since when did you guys start trusting me so little?
Faelynn: Since the Gellin nearly took you from us.
Faelynn: It isn't a matter of trust, Rob. Our foes have attacked from avenues that no sword or shield can defend from. Where the mind is concerned, only words and careful attention shall suffice.
Faelynn: What happened to you is our failing. We will not let it come to pass a second time.

The Messages went quiet.

Group Message Continued
Rob: Keep going.

Even if the Gellin were in captivity, and even if Rob thought he was safe from mind fuckery at the moment...some temporary embarrassment was worth his friends' peace of mind.

Diplomacy's list turned out to be quite exhaustive. It covered a wide breadth of topics, including Rob's questionable sleeping patterns, his propensity for getting lost in thought during conversations, and what they called his 'addiction to high-yield explosives'. Which was totally bullshit. It wasn't an addiction when he could quit whenever he wanted.

Luckily, for the most part, Rob was able to truthfully answer that he was feeling better these days. While his talk with Vevrandi hadn't magically fixed everything, it did feel like she'd at least brought him to the starting line of things. Now he could start addressing some of the problems that had been building up inside himself for the past ten months.

It took some time for Faelynn to read a question that gave him pause.

Group Message Continued
Faelynn: Item #12.
Faelynn: Are you concerned about what might be transpiring back in your home world?
Rob: I...yes, absolutely. If the Blight is starting to show its hand here, then it could be making moves on Earth too.
Rob: Was wondering if the dimension mages could open another viewing window soon. Do you think they can spare the mana?
Malika: You need only ask. I'll have them join me in a Mage Circle tomorrow. At the earliest!
Orn'tol: They aren't truly your underlings, Malika.
Malika: Yet.
Rob: Thanks, and I really appreciate the sentiment, but dimension mages are also our teleport mages. They've been stockpiling mana for a trip back to Fiend territory.
Rob: I shouldn't divert precious resources just to soothe my anxiety.
Vul'to: It can't hurt to ask.
Rob: It...kinda can. I'm their boss. They'd feel pressured to comply even if it was a bad idea.
Zamira: Perhaps I can arrange for someone of lower Level to make a covert inquiry? He or she could mention your desire to the dimension mages, then gauge their reactions from there.
Rob: That would be awesome, thanks.

Monstrous growls resounded from the pitch-black Dungeon depths. In unison, their fury grew and grew, becoming an orchestra of animalistic savagery. It was distinctive enough that Rob stopped mid-sword swing. He listened closely, interpreting the sound not as the random howls of wild beasts, but as a statement from a single collective consciousness. Is the Dungeon...annoyed with me? That I haven't been paying full attention to it?

He snickered. Tough shit. You aren't what's important right now.

Group Message Continued
Faelynn: Item #13.
Faelynn: ...
Faelynn: Irrelevant. Item #14 is–
Keira: What? You can't skip parts of the list. That would ruin the purpose.
Faelynn: Don't worry ab–

Rob arched an eyebrow as the Messages ceased for a few seconds.

Group Message Continued
Faelynn: She took it!
Keira: Of course I did. Let's see...
Keira: ...Oh.
Keira: Right. Item #13.
Keira: Is your relationship...with Keira...causing you undue stress?

Damnit, Diplomacy.

Group Message Continued
Rob: No. I promise.
Rob: I love you, and you make my life easier. Make my life better.
Rob: When the worst thing about a relationship is that other person snores too loudly, then you've got it pretty fucking good.
Malika: Hehe.
Keira: That...means much to hear. I love you as well, Rob.
Malika: Hehehehe.
Keira: Although I must push back against the notion that I snore.
Rob: Not to ruin the moment, but, you do.
Rob: Ranges between sounding like a bulldozer and a freight train.
Keira: Rob, I'm fairly certain I would know if that was the case.
Keira: Zamira, Vul'to. You've accompanied me on multi-day scouting missions within Ixatan Forest. We took turns guarding each other as we slept. You can support my claim.

The Messages ceased once more.

Group Message Continued
Keira: It has been brought to my attention that I do, in fact, snore.
Keira: Fuck.
Keira: Damnit, Diplomacy. I blame you for this.
Keira: ...Especially since the Footnotes section of their list states that there was a 60% chance of this 'secret' being revealed to me in the course of discussing Item #13.
Keira: I choose to be offended by this.

The Dungeon's stream of monsters continued unabated. To keep himself entertained, Rob changed up his methods of execution. Slashes, bashes, and bombs could be combined in a variety of unique ways if the user got creative enough. He could sense the Dungeon's rage intensifying by the second, and he really didn't care.

Group Message Continued
Keira: Item #17. There is a comment in the margin that says: 'saved the best for last.'
Rob: Lay it on me.
Keira: Has...Leveling High spoken to you since your altercation with Ragnavi?

Instinctively, Rob checked his Status Screen.

Status Effects: Leveling High (Moderate, 95% Contained)

Group Message Continued
Rob: No. It's still 95% contained, and after saying a grand total of three words, it went radio silent again.
Rob: Not sure if I should be relieved or concerned by that.
Vul'to: I must apologize for being unable to strengthen Leveling High's containment.
Rob: No apologies necessary, man. You already gave me months of peace and quiet.
Rob: So. List is over. Did I get a passing grade?
Keira: All of your responses were in line with what Diplomacy considered to be reasonable parameters.
Keira: Closely in line. The degree of accuracy with which they predicted you was startling.
Keira: They have also added an addendum explaining for us not to be alarmed by this, as they are temporarily removing their self-restrictions in order to properly gauge your mental state.
Keira: Diplomacy has restrictions?
Rob: Honestly, I'm not surprised they've been holding back.
Rob: Diplomacy was trapped in my mind for half a year. They know me better than I do.

Only thing that's spent longer in my head is Leveling High. Idly, he wondered if that twisted existence disliked its given role. It seemed similar to the Dungeons; a living consciousness with some degree of sentience, created and born into servitude of the gods, then shoved into an enclosed space for the sake of perpetuating conflict. The main difference was the space in which they were imprisoned. Dungeons were trapped in underground pocket dimensions, while Leveling High was trapped in the minds of Elatran Humans.

Rob grimaced as he imagined himself in that scenario. Would he be any different if he was forged for a singular purpose and driven mad by isolation? Both the Dungeons and Leveling High were still sadistic freakazoids that the world would be better-off without, but in a sense, they were victims of the gods as well.

That faint bit of sympathy evaporated as the surrounding air thickened like fog. Rob's skin prickled with countless invisible needles, the world sHifTInG into a parody of normalcy. Up was down, left was right, and everything was wrong. The sensation was equivalent to an entire Locus Attunement crammed into a fraction of a second. For a brief instant, his thoughts shut down.

When he came to, he was in the same room as before – except the exit leading to the surface was gone.

HERE WITH ME

Rob winced as the Dungeon's voice assailed him. Monsters crowed from behind their shroud of darkness, sounding almost spiteful. Although he knew what the result would be, Rob attempted to cast Waymark, frowning when its energy was devoured.

Waymark has been \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ and placed on a 20 minute cooldown!

"Alright then." Rob deactivated Vitamin D(efense) so he could crack the knuckles on both hands. "So that's how you're gonna play it. Neat trick. But you're forgetting one, tiny, extremely important detail. See, I'm not locked in here with you."

A crate of Firebombs appeared in front of him as the Flames of Vengeance erupted from his skin. "You're locked in here with me."

--

For the first five minutes, Keira had been fraught with worry. She'd dove at the spot where the Dungeon entrance used to be, wielding her greatsword as a makeshift shovel, attempting to re-open it through sheer force of Strength. Her efforts were in vain. Aberrant Dungeons frayed reality at the seams; shutting its own doors was a paltry feat compared to trapping dozens of Combat Class users inside the Dreamthieves.

After the first hour, Keira's anxiety had gradually simmered to a low-grade worry. Rob's HP on the Party screen never dropped below three-fourths. He consistently responded to her Messages in a timely manner, although usually with some variant of "Busy" or "One sec".

After the third hour, she was beginning to feel a little bored. The ground-shaking explosions and bursts of Purge Corruption light shining upward had initially been fascinating, but she'd grown accustomed to them by now.

After the fifth hour, she wondered if they would be home in time to catch dinner before it went cold.

At approximately five hours and thirteen minutes, the Dungeon entrance suddenly opened up. Riardin's Rangers shot to their feet, weapons drawn, ready for whatever came next. They were rendered frozen stiff as an agonized, unnatural shriek resounded through the air.

Moments later, Rob flew upwards and out, as if he was a painful obstruction being dislodged from a throat. The Dungeon entrance immediately shut itself again, with the Human landing in a heap some thirty feet away.

"Fucker," he muttered. Rob was coated from head-to-toe in dust, ash, soot, and dirt. The BERSERKER stood up and began brushing off whatever filth he could. "Don't think this one is letting me back in. At least I reached Level 92."

Keira wrapped him in a hug that would have snapped the spine of a weaker man. She ignored how grime transferred from his clothes to hers, feeling just so overwhelmingly happy that he'd returned. "You nearly had us worried," she teased, downplaying how truly awful that first hour was. "What were you even doing in there?"

"Reminding it of the pecking order." His face brightened. "You think we can make it home before sundown? I'd hate to miss roasted larynx night."

--

Author's Notes:

Changes, Character Sheet, Skill List

For people who don't check the Character Sheet - it's worth noting that Rob's max HP increased from 2045 to 2681.

Thanks for reading!