Is It Wrong To Seek Power In The Dungeon - 1.1 (Patreon)

"Don't hesitate."

The words were both advice and a warning. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It was a close thing though and mostly because of the huge, meaty scarred hand resting atop your shoulder.

A reminder that your father was standing right beside you.

And he would cuff you upside the back of the head if you were disrespectful to him when he was actually being serious.

Your bones may be as strong as steel, but your father's were even tougher than that.

In other words, it would hurt.

So you said nothing in reply and instead focuses your gaze on your target. A snarling green beast of roughly the same height as yourself, stuck in a freshly dug pit.

A makeshift 'arena'.

It was a goblin.

A descendant of an ancient goblin that escaped from the fabled dungeon of Orario, the Labyrinth City, where the strongest in the world gathered. The centre of the world.

"Yes, father." your responded, voice even. Managing with great willpower, not to roll your eyes.

For you had fought much stronger opponents than this in amongst your clan. Even if only you and your father had inherited the power of the ancient spirit that blessed your clan, the rest of your clan was not weak and even those who subscribed to more artisan like crafts over combat, could easily snap this beasts neck like a twig.

It was the weakest species of the dungeon after all, and even weaker still. For all knew that the monsters that roamed the surface were weaker than those freshly born from the dungeon.

Still, this was a special coming of age ceremony for those of the Bein clan. Only when a member slew a monster in one on one combat would they be considered a full fledged member.

Even you, the heir to the clan who had been the first in hundreds of years to naturally inherit the bloodline power of your clan, were not exempt from this ceremony.

It did not matter if you had the bloodline if you were weak in the end after all.

"Then go." your father, Herak said simply, taking his hand from your shoulder and stepping back, arms crossover over his huge, barrel-like muscular chest, bared proudly and riddled with battle scars he had accumulated over his life.

You nodded and stepped forward, dropping into the pit…which your father dug himself.

Actually, he even captured the goblin and threw it in here for this moment as well.

As soon as you landed in the pit, your reinforced bones absorbing the fall easily, gleaming crimson red eyes locked onto you.

And the goblin rushed you with a snarl.

It was rather fast, you noted almost idly.

Not as fast as you though.

Nor was it as fast as many of the members of your clan you had sparred against since you were four years old.

When it was within five feet of you, the green skinned monster leaped towards you, razor sharp claws on its crooked green fingers poised to tear you limb from limb.

You had not moved an inch until this moment, your back angled straight against the muddy wall of the pit.

You juked and rolled to the side, a split moment later, the green body of the goblin colliding with the wall that was at your back face first.

It did not fall, but it was stunned regardless for a brief moment, its defenceless back laying open to you.

Your eyes locked on to its thin stubby legs, particularly the joint beneath the knees.

And you rose.

And you attacked.

You launched forward with a stomp, smashing the bottom of your foot into the back of its knee.

The green skinned monster shrieked as the attack forced its leg to buckle and it slumped down onto its knee.

Which you took full advantage of, winding your arm back and launching out with a punch to the side of its bulbous head.

It fell with another shriek of pain, landing face first in the dirty pit and scrabbled to push itself back up.

To no avail as you fell atop it, fists flying. One after another, you lay into the beast, your bare knuckles slamming into each side of its temples over and over, it screeching and shrieking in agony all the way….until blood coated your knuckles, both its and your own and it fell quietly limp.

Dead.

You rose up, a shudder traveling up your spine as its death wails echoed in your mind.

This was not your first time killing.

While you were no hunter, your father and others had taken you out on hunts for game and had you put the captured beasts out of their misery multiple times.

…None had ever made noises like that though.

It took a moment before you realised, your hands were shaking, blood dripping from them onto the ground.

"Boy, you're not finished," your fathers deep commanding voice echoed from above, breaking you from your stupor, "Retrieve the magic stone."

You glanced back at him out of the corner of your eyes, seeing him staring down impassively at you, akin to a king lording over his subject.

Fitting, considering your clan once ruled an entire kingdom hundreds of years back before their bloodline dwindled. You had been taught that the god of war Ares now ruled over that kingdom now, Rakia it was called.

You nodded and raised your hand, focusing on it-

"Do not use your power," your father spoke once more, "Being squeamish will see you dead in the future boy. Reach into its body with your bare hands and retrieve the stone."

You froze.

That was not part of the usual ceremony. You knew, after all, you had bore witness to others going through it. Though, usually the other members of the clan who went through this ceremony, were around thirteen years of age, already teenagers.

"Obey my orders boy, this is for your own good." your father commanded once more.

You obeyed.

And your father, massive in size with a wild main of black hair and piercing green eyes, bare chested and riddled with battle wounds, nodded once, pleased.

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"A tiny little thing, isn't it?" your father snorted not long later, sitting atop a fallen tree which he'd smashed to the ground with a punch. In his massive beefy hands, between his thumb and index finger, he held a tiny little purple stone fragment, a magic stone, the heart within all monsters, "A quarter of the size of one you'd get from a goblin on the first floor of the dungeon in Orario and probably worth one hundred valis at best."

You sat on the ground, cross legged before him and couldn't find it in yourself to reply.

Your shoulders were trembling as you stared down at your hands in your lap, covered in blood and viscera up to the elbow.

The stink of it was nauseating.

When you did not reply, your father sighed and leaned forward, staring down into your eyes, the same shade of startling green as your own, but far more intense, "Artair, my son," he spoke, almost softly, yet soft for him was still a rumbling growl, "I hope you understand why I forced you to go through that."

"…No, I don't." you shook your head, swallowing heavily.

You had to force yourself not to cry. Members of the Bein clan did not cry after all. Crying was to show weakness. And no Bein was weak.

"Do you remember, what I told you of my time in Orario and why I returned to the clan?" your father asked.

"…Yes?" you replied, brows furrowing, "You speak of it often. You were part of the Zeus Familia and reached level six, you were one of the strongest warriors in the world and would one day become the strongest."

You had met quite a few gods over your short life. The Bein clan were wanderers now, roaming from place to place and taking jobs for villages and such that could not protect themselves from the monsters. In a word, the Bein clan had went from royalty to mercenaries.

But your clan was always well known and well received, especially by the gods. Many tried to recruit members of your clan, your father especially.

But even though your father no longer had access to the blessing he had gained from his patron god Zeus, he was well capable of defeating even those blessed by the gods, you had seen him spar and defeat them, never once losing, whether they be 'level 1' or 'level 2'.

It truly was hard to picture how strong your father was at his peak when he was part of the Zeus Familia and had access to his falna. Your father after all, was the strongest person you'd ever seen.

"Weakness attracts vultures," your father parroted a phrase to you that he had been repeating to you for as long as you could remember, "I think it's time I explain to you why I always say that."

"Huh?" your disgust and horror at the blood on your arms was forgotten momentarily.

"Once, before you were born, we of the Zeus Familia teamed up with the Hera Familia to complete the three great quests and slay the three great beasts that escaped the dungeon and terrorized the world in ancient times," your father began, looking up at the sky almost wistfully, "We slew the Leviathan and the Behemoth both with our might, for a thousand years and more, none had been able to challenge even one of these great beasts and we defeated two and were set to defeat the the third…only, the last of the three, the most powerful beast in existence, the One Eyed Black Dragon was far stronger than we anticipated…"

Your father shook his head, "Not that I had the honour of seeing that power in person, for I was injured quite badly in the battle against the Behemoth and would take months more to heal," his shoulders seemed to almost slump, or was it just a trick of your eyes? "It was there I met your mother, or rather, when I got close to her. She was my guild advisor. And while I was depressed and angry at not being able to take part in the subjugation of the One Eyed Black Dragon, she visited me at my beside and helped nurse me back to health."

…Your mother, it was your turn to look up wistfully, a throb of longing erupting from your heart. You had never met her, she had died not long after you were born.

That wistful longing was ruthlessly crushed just moments later.

"Suffice to say, that is when your…the events of your birth began to take root," your father coughed into his fist, "While I was weakened though and the Zeus and Hera familia's were decimated by the legendary dragon and weakened just the same as a whole, those who coveted our position as the strongest struck out. The Loki and Freya familias, ungrateful gnats we allowed to to live in our generosity attacked our weakened familia's like vultures feasting over a withering corpse. Under threat of death, lord Zeus was forced to relinquish our bond and I lost my access to my falna gifted strength and could do nothing because of my injuries. The stress of the situation was hard on your mother while she was birthing you, and she passed away in the process because of it. She feared constantly they would fear a child with my strength and slay you both while you were in the womb, while I was powerless to stop them without my falna."

…Oh.

"This is why I force you like this my son, because weakness invites the opportunistic weaklings like the Loki and Freya Familia, who were too scared to challenge and fight us head on," he continued, and looked straight into your eyes, his own blazing with a deep seated rage that almost stole your breath, "It does not matter how strong you become my son, it does not matter how generous and kind you are. There will always be those who jealously covet your superiority and seek to bring you low. I push you like this, in hopes what happened to my and my Familia, never happens to you."

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So, this isn't really a story, so much as it is a quest with dice rolls and such, I finished part one of it yesterday, so I decided to post it here and I'll post here every time I get around to finishing a part.