Chapter 60 - TFF (Patreon)

Big, fat, mutated rats charged in waves, eliciting screams from a few of the elves and Florence, and curses from the rest. Alan felt only a surge of unimaginable anger.

His daggers covered in darkness whisked through the dark tunnel, one of them aflame. It was no time to pull punches as [Shadow Slashes] rained upon the horde of rats. Alan cast like a maniac sending them under all sorts of impossible angles.

The smell of charred flesh, blood, and guts permeated the tunnel and reached the group. They stood frozen in shock, most surprised, one amused.

You have slain Dungeon Rat (22)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (25)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (23)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (21)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (19)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (26)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (21)

You have slain Dungeon Rat (20)

…

There was no end to the rats, but there was also no end to the blades of shadow that flew and tore through a few of them at a time. Alan felt his mana drop at a high speed, but he didn’t care. He had to deliver death to the bastards, whatever the cost.

Level   up!

You have reached level 12 in [Warlock]!

+ 3 Attribute Points

+ 1 Mind, Will, and Magic

Finally, no more system messages were coming. And Alan stopped. He had barely a quarter of his mana left, and if the elves turned on them now it would be bad. Everyone seemed too shocked at his outburst to consider the possibilities though.

He turned and looked at their faces. Olaw and the other archer looked horrified, and even flinched when they met his eyes. The other two gray elves and Davis sat with their mouths open, while Florence tried her best not to puke.

“Dude,” Ashlyn said after a while.

“I know.”

“But, Alan… dude.”

“Me and the rats have history, alright? Let’s go.”

It was a challenge to walk through the sea of decimated rat bodies without puking or fainting from the smell but no one complained. Mostly thanks to a strange spell that made Jaerdra’s staff glow and smell like flowers. It did help a bit.

The tunnel took a turn and started going up. There were few alcoves and seemingly recently dug-out rooms along its walls. To Alan's further disappointment, they found nothing of value there.

“Just out of curiosity,” Alan started in an attempt to break the awkward silence, “Have you guys found anything valuable in the dungeon? Because we sure as shit haven’t.”

Jaerdra frowned. “A few worthless trinkets we believe might hold historical value and some unreadable writings.”

“Huh, so not much better than us. I just figured that Dungeons will have better loot, you know?”

“Loot?”

“Treasures, items, gold and jewels, the good stuff.”

Reyvalur spoke once again. “Dungeons are like the System’s prisons, where those punished serve for eternity as honing stones for the next generations. We have records from our ancestors claiming that most beings in the Dungeons are simply remnants, memories of what once was. The few actual living beings here are bound to this place, serving as guardians and trials, to die repeatedly and never see the world outside of this fractal. There are, of course, rewards, but they come with the quests you surely have, and by defeating worthy opponents. We have yet to meet anything worthy, even if we’ve lost one of our own.”

“Huh.”

A flash of the battle where they had seen the elven corpse passed through Alan’s head. Then his thoughts went toward the werewolf. That would be a worthy opponent if they survived it.

The gray elves held a lot of useful information, and if prompted didn’t shy away from sharing. That was good. It was still insane that their ancestors had passed down so much though. There was a sudden lightbulb in Alan’s head.

“Do you guys, and I mean the humans this time, no offense, think that all the games and media involving dungeons and levels and classes and all of that can be tracked down to something more? A force or a collective manifestation of subconsciousness that was aiming to prepare us for this?”

There was another bout of awkward silence, and just as Alan was starting to feel silly, Ashlyn came to the rescue. “That is a wild thought. Wild, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a shed of truth in it.”

“I think we need to see more of the universe. How close were our imagined elements to the reality that is out there? I mean, you were pretty disappointed…” Florence stopped herself, but Alan understood. The elves… They were hardly pretty by human standards with those features you could cut a watermelon with, and the sharp teeth that promised nothing good about time spent with them.

“Well, it’s just a thought.”

Davis laughed and patted Alan on the back, hard. “Meeting those rats must’ve scrambled your mind real good, huh man? Why overthink so much? We are here, we are having an adventure, just enjoy it!”

I will enjoy it when I see a pretty elf, you bastard.

“So, Rey-valur, may I ask then, do your records mention what exactly is the System?” Alan changed the topic.

The elf thought for a few moments, then shook his head. “No, a lot is missing and a lot lost. The System is the System, some texts called it God of Gods, while others failed to mention it at all, accepting it as something ever present where there is life, like air or sunlight, but… more.”

He hadn’t expected an answer that was more than vague theorizing but this was still something. Alan appreciated the warrior gray elf’s knowledge and willingness to share. The other three were still a question mark, not that he trusted any of them.

He got a weird feeling from Jaerdra that made him a bit uncomfortable, but if she was a good healer then her value would be immense.

The two archers he could do without. Olaw grumbled from time to time about being made to walk behind a human, but the rest were fine with letting Ashlyn lead as her skills seemed more suited to noticing traces of activity or sensing danger.

The last of the elves hadn’t spoken a single word.

The first fight to which they all had to contribute came soon after, as the tunnel led them to another cave filled with tilted or straight-up broken pillars. It was an easy affair with their number, despite the literal horde of blood imps that rushed at them.

It was a slaughter through and through. Alan’s higher magical attribute allowed him more freedom as he sent shadow slashes in each direction like a whirlwind of death, even if he couldn’t physically keep up with the two other men. He didn't overdo it like he had with the rats, as his mana was still recovering from his blind rage, but he still killed a lot.

Reyvalur was a force on his own, mowing down two to three of the imps with each swing and so was Davis who seemed to enjoy punching the unfortunate monsters a lot. The two elven archers conserved arrows and only shot at stragglers that made it past the three on the front line.

Alan noticed that Ashlyn was doing the same, although she could probably do even better than the pure melee classes of Davis and the elf. She stood close to Florence, content to shoot from time to time while observing.

It was smart.

It didn’t take long until the slaughter was done and they continued.

The architecture of the Dungeon started to remind Alan of the scrambled mess of office buildings and tunnels he had gone through after leaving Ig-Thun. A tunnel would lead to a pristine hall with chandeliers and pictures on the wall, while a door would reveal jagged rocks, dirt, and cobwebs.

It made no sense, but it was what it was. The System loved to use its omnipotence to create confusion and terror in its ant farms.

The blood imps never stopped coming, relentless in their assaults. Alan became more and more sure that the size or maybe strength of their group was proportional to the number of enemies they met.

At some point, he had to take a break, and Ashlyn finally stepped up with her hatchet and knife, half-heartedly taking his place and revealing nothing of her true abilities. She was amazing like that.

So far Florence seemed afraid to do anything and hung at the back with the group with Jaerdra, although he could swear, he felt her influence as the imps froze from time to time, overwhelmed by fear.

Like that, they proceeded through the strange halls and caves of the dungeon, bathed in imp blood, and Alan even leveled up from the sheer number of monsters he killed reaching level thirteen.

Level up!

You have reached level 13 in [Warlock]!

+ 3 Attribute Points

+ 1 Mind, Will, and Magic

He once again had nine free attribute points. Growing magic seemed like the logical thing, and padding Mind a bit for that bonus to Dexterity was an attractive idea too. With a thought, he did just that and put all the points in Mind. Magic could wait for a bit.

INFORMATION:

Name: Alan Morgan

Race: Human

Class: Warlock

Level: 13

Titles: First Pathfinder; Madcap; Slayer; Friend of the Spirit World

ATTRIBUTES: Strength 39

Dexterity 38

Vitality 5

Will 74

Mind 72

Magic 82

TRAITS:

One Mind, One Body; Limited Vitality; Tongues of the four   corners; Survivor’s will; Shadow Mind

SKILLS:

Warlock’s Body Mastery; Synaptic Failure; Shadow Weapon;   Ritual: Enchanted Bones; Mortal Peril; Monochrome Armor

BODY ENHANCEMENTS:

Shadow Space;

His new skill would define his fighting style for a long time unless something major happened or he lucked out again. He was truly becoming more of an [Assassin] or [Rogue] with his fighting style. The class never ceased to surprise though, so who knew what was coming next?

Learning to fight properly with weapons was now even higher on the list of things he had to do, as he seriously doubted his subpar physical attributes would allow him to best a warrior with proper training like Reyvalur without tricks.

Huh. That’s an idea.

Alan threw a side glance toward the elf. He was helpful, willing to share his knowledge, and most of all seemed quite proficient with his sword. There was technique there, not just random swinging like Alan’s and Davis’s. Ashlyn was different though. Her fighting style seemed different each time she used [Imitate Predator] and even without it, she was a force of instincts and good movement.

He should have asked her for spar, not that there had been many opportunities for that so far.

Maybe the elves would be willing to teach him if their relationship improved. He wouldn’t mind having a teacher whose whole culture was based on preparing for the apocalypse. Then again, the elves didn’t seem that strong for beings possessing so much information.

I will figure it out later.

After wave and wave of blood imps and ember imps, the group was growing tired, both physically and mentally. Davis helpfully proposed for everyone to take a rest and have some food. The elves were surprisingly eager at the proposition, and Alan watched in amazement as each took out a piece of gray jerky from their bag that looked like a brick and started taking large bites of it.

They didn’t offer anyone to partake in their food, not that it was a problem. Davis had only some fruit so Alan shared some of the cooked boar from his shadow pocket, making the man laugh with glee.

The break lasted a few hours until everyone got some stamina and mana back. Davis even took a short nap.

Then the torturous walk through the red-tinted halls and dark tunnels continued.

A double door caught their attention in the end. It stood out – massive, iron, and unlike any they had passed by before. Alan found it ominous in a way, and couldn’t help but think of a boss battle. It opened easily and needed no more than a slight push from Ashlyn’s hand. The creaking it produced was Hollywood-worthy.

They entered as one, Davis and Reyvalur taking the front. Fiery torches assaulted their eyes which had been adapted for darkness and soft red and white crystal light.

Below them was a pristine dark marble floor. It was not an overly large hall like some they had passed, but it rose high and the walls seemed to be carved with a lot of skill. Bowing bodies held the torches covering the hall in light. It reminded Alan of a church dedicated to something… different than what he was used to.

There were coffins around the walls, raised on each of the columns. They were empty.

Instead, four Corpse Servants were kneeling toward a lidless black stone coffin that was at the far end of the room, where the pulpit would be.

A person was inside – a man, wearing a simple black robe. His skin was dry and thin and streaked with red, but it was mostly there unlike that of the corpse servants.

Its eyes were hollowed out, and the lips were cut or torn off, revealing sharp teeth similar to those of the elves. A perpetual sharp smile.

The body itself looked to be sickly and weak from the distance, but tall and imposing at the same time.

The door shut behind them with a bang, startling the group. The man in the coffin took a step forward and pointed at them, blood leaking from his eyes.

“Visitors. It’s been so long.” The voice was like iron grinding on rocks. “Come to partake in the gifts we offer? Or… seekers of fortune?”

Its body wiggled unnaturally, cracking and stretching. Blood dripped down the floor from his robes, and Alan could faintly see the formation of wet patches. Was it wounded… or was that simply a feature of the whole blood corpse thing? He was pretty sure that’s what the man was.

Were the constructs offering him to become one of those? Why?

“Have you by chance… seen the Doctor? Or do you come uninvited, and untainted?”

What?

It shook its head

The four kneeling corpses stood as one and turned toward Alan’s group.

“Let me see inside of you… I wonder what gifts you carry.”

Alan felt both excitement and fear.

This was it.

His first boss battle.

You have received a new quest: Defeat the Blood Corpse!

Throughout the universe, Blood Corpses are slain on sight unless they are in service of a   greater power or kept as slaves. Kill the one before you, and punish it for existing.

Reward: 5x Lesser Mana Crystals or an Item.