Grand Game 20-29 (Patreon)

Chapter 20: A Surprising Discovery

The third branch was different from the others.

Where the first two tunnels had twisted through the earth, the third one rarely varied in direction, and while it was not as well-lit as the stone-paved corridors of the dungeon, the tunnel contained noticeably more patches of glowing mushrooms than the others.

After a few minutes of slow but careful exploration I began to cautiously hope that the third branch at least would be different. But that hope was quickly dashed.

The tunnel ahead had widened into a large cavern as its two sidewalls extended further and further apart from each other. The cavern was the largest expanse of space I had yet seen in the dungeon. Its roof arched high overhead and was dotted with luminous crystals that bathed the cave in blue light.

But that was not what made me pause. It was the murmur of voices that did. There were people up ahead. I had finally caught up to some of my fellow candidates.

Immediately, I dropped deeper into my crouch, making sure I remained concealed. I was not such a fool as to assume those ahead would look on me kindly.

Better to learn more of them before I reveal myself, I thought.

Tiptoeing forward, I inspected the area ahead more carefully. Despite its size, the cavern appeared full. There had to be a few dozen candidates within it at least. My brows drew down. What were so many of them doing together? None of the parties that I had observed entering the dungeon had been this large.

Even more puzzling, the candidates did not seem to be on the move. Amongst the crowd of people, I spied bedrolls and tents. Even ignoring the mystery of where the candidates had gotten all their gear, I didn’t understand why they would be resting. It hadn’t been that long since we’d entered the dungeon after all.

It also didn’t escape my notice that all the candidates were better equipped now. I saw dwarves in full—if battered—plate armor, elves in brown leather hides and carrying longbows, humans in chainmail, and mages of all kinds sporting robes and bearing staffs.

There was a distinct undead presence in the candidates’ camp, too. Bone bats winged aloft, mindless zombies shambled behind black-robed mages, and squads of skeletons roamed the camp.

As I drew closer, I began to pick out individual voices from the background noise.

“Hey! Gimme that, that’s mine!”

“Haha. Not anymore.”

“…long are we going to wait?”

“Until Saben gives the word…”

“…how much for that skillbook?”

“More than you can afford.”

“…think they’ll give in to Saben’s demands?”

“Nah. Morin and her crew are too stubborn by far. They’ll...”

“…do with the prisoners when we leave?”

“Torture them, I guess.”

The snippets of overheard conversations were intriguing, and left me with the impression that candidates had formed into factions—factions that didn’t seem well-disposed to each other.

The mention of ‘prisoners’ disturbed me too, and inching even closer to the mass of candidates, I focused more intently on the pair that had spoken of them. They were on the perimeter of the camp themselves and seemed to have deliberately drawn away from the others.

“We can’t let him hurt them!” the first said, sounding distressed. The one who had spoken was a dwarf clad in heavy plate armor. Tufts of his black beard poked through his helm and his voice rumbled when he spoke.

“Keep your voice down!” the second hissed. She was a wiry human woman dressed in leather armor. “If any of Saben’s goons hear you speak that way, they’ll take it for mutiny and we’ll both end up with the others.”

“But they are our friends, Soya,” the dwarf protested.

The woman—Soya—sighed. “I know, Jah,” she said, lowering her voice. “But what can we do? Saben is too strong to oppose. Even if all of us ‘pledged’ band together, we can’t overcome his thugs. No, the best chance the prisoners have at life is to pledge themselves to our glorious leader as well.”

Jah fell silent and swung his head to stare at something on his left. Following his gaze, I saw a bedraggled group of candidates in the camp’s center that I had failed to notice before. Unlike the others in the camp, this group of about ten wore no armor, and bore no weapons, and more tellingly, their hands and feet were bound in thick ropes.

They’re prisoners, I thought. Even as I watched, six well-armed fighters walked up to the group, and without any exchange of words or gestures that I could see, began beating them.

Bare fists met soft flesh, and hard capped boots crunched into defenseless bodies. One after another, the prisoners were left writhing on the floor, but still the beatings did not stop. Only when all the prisoners were senseless with pain did the brutes walk away, but not before spitting contemptuously at their victims.

My gaze flicked back to Jah and Soya. All color had drained from the pair’s faces, and the dwarf clenched his axe in a white-knuckled grip. Yet neither rushed to the prisoners’ aid.

“You know most will never bow to Saben’s will,” the dwarf said, breath heaving with emotion as he resumed his conversation with Soya.

“I know,” the woman said softly.

Meanwhile the thugs had formed a line a little way away from their victims. Their leader—an imposing half-giant—raised his head. “This is what happens to those who follow Morin!” he shouted. “Those of you thinking to rebel: don’t.” He sneered. “Or do, and let me crush your worthless hides.” Turning on his heel, he disappeared into the camp’s interior.

The dwarf watched the retreating half-giant for a moment before turning back to his companion. “Maybe Morin will save us.”

Soya snorted. “Don’t count on it. She’s tried once already and failed. She’s just lucky her people managed to get themselves killed in the effort. Otherwise, they would be in the same boat we are in right now.”

“But what if—” the dwarf began.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you!

My head snapped around at the Game message. A few yards to my right, a shambling zombie was peering with befuddlement in my direction.

Damn, I cursed. I had moved too close to the camp and had attracted the attention of one of the undead. The shadows in which I had concealed myself were still dense enough to hide my presence, but staying here any longer was too risky.

Keeping a wary eye on the zombie, I slipped away. It was time to decide my next move.

Chapter 21: Realizations

“What did you make of all that, Gnat?” I asked once we were safely back in the third leg’s final chamber.

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” the skeletal bat said with a yawn. “The candidates usually band together for survival by rallying around the strongest.”

I frowned. “What do you mean ‘usually?’”

The familiar cocked his head at an unnatural angle. “What? You didn’t think yours was the first group of candidates the Master has sent through his trials, did you?”

I narrowed my eyes and took a second to digest the bat’s revelation. “So the Master does this regularly?”

Gnat nodded. “This is not the first trial, nor will it be the last. Although,” Gnat grumbled, “the Master insists on changing the dungeon configuration each time, which only makes my job harder.”

The familiar’s words left me wondering exactly what his job was, but choosing to remain focused on the matter at hand, I didn’t pursue his offhand remark. “Why does the Master do all this though?” I asked. “What is the purpose of his trials?”

“The Master has already told you that,” Gnat said, sounding exasperated. “The trials are a means of finding those worthy of joining his cause.”

“And what is the Master’s cause?” I asked.

“That I cannot tell you,” the bat said. “To find that out, you must complete the trials first.”

I rubbed at my temples in frustration. “But surely the Master can devise better methods of recruitment?” I waved my hands around at the dungeon. “All of this is so… inefficient.”

“Whatever you’re imagining, Michael, it’s been tried before,” Gnat said, with amusement tracing his voice. “The only way to find those capable of surviving the Game is by having them play the game.”

I sighed. “And is the Master fine with what’s going on in his dungeon? With his candidates enslaving other candidates?” That is what I concluded this Saben character was doing. The ‘pledges’ the dwarf and human had spoken of sounded like little more than a euphemism for slavery to me.

Gnat laughed. “The Game is ruthless, human. And to play it you must be ruthless too.” He paused. “Or you will perish.”

I bowed my head, perturbed by the bat’s answer. The dungeon’s challenge I could accept, if perhaps not agree with. Survival of the fittest and all that. But what Saben and his cronies were doing, what the Master was allowing them to do, that was more than ruthlessness, that was casual cruelty of the sort that did not sit well with me.

I thought back to the Master’s parting words to us. Am I evil? I wondered. I hoped not. Despite the Master’s insistence that I was, something in me was repulsed by what Saben and his ilk did. No, it was even more than that.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on what my subconscious was telling me. My hands were trembling I realized. And it was not from fear. Disgust, I thought, is too mild a term to express what I feel.

Rage was a better word. I am trembling in fury.

Whoever and whatever I had been was appalled by what Saben was doing to the candidates in his clutches. But what could I do to help them? Nothing. I swallowed bitterness. The candidate camp was too large, and me by my lonesome—and significantly unequipped by comparison—was not going to be able to free the prisoners.

I opened my eyes and saw Gnat was watching me carefully.

“What are you thinking?” the skeletal bat asked, almost nonchalantly.

I shrugged, instinct guiding me to keep my thoughts hidden. “Just wondering if I trust Saben’s people enough to join them,” I replied blandly.

Gnat snorted. “You would be a fool to do that,” he said before turning away and seeming to lose further interest in the conversation.

I took a moment to ponder my options. Trolls. Trapped trench. Or Saben’s gang.

Which should I tackle?

~~~

In the end, there was only one viable choice really, and with a heavy heart I made it. I could not sneak past the trolls, nor could I defeat Saben’s gang, but there was still a chance that I could cross the trapped trench.

So, despite my reluctance to abandon the prisoners to their fate, I did just that and set about planning to cross the trench.

It took me nearly an hour to drag about a few dozen corpses from the dungeon’s third leg to the edge of the trench. Finding the bodies was not a problem, there were plenty of corpses in fresh supply in the dungeon, but it was back-breaking work that left me feeling unclean for desecrating the dead.

The first half of my plan was to use the corpses to create a ramp down into the trench. One, by one, I threw the bodies into the hole and piled them high at the closest end of the trench until they were nearly at ground level.

I checked the mound height with a few glowing mushrooms and verified that the slope they formed was navigable to the bottom of the trench. On the lower half of the mound, the sharpened tips of the stakes poked through, conveniently anchoring the pile of corpses.

The trench was too large for me to attempt to fill its entire length with bodies, and besides, I doubted I could have thrown the corpses far enough to reach the far end, to say nothing of how arduous and repulsive a task it would be to drag a few hundred corpses to the trench.

With my landing in the trench secured, I returned to the third leg of the dungeon and set about removing one of the many torches affixed to the wall. It was harder than I expected, and by the time I was done I was drenched in sweat from all the tugging and pulling I had to do to free the precious light source from where it had been bolted onto the wall.

You have acquired a torch. This item has sufficient fuel to last three hours.

Finally ready to begin my crossing, I returned to the trench once more.

Chapter 22: Crossing

Standing at the edge of the trench, I stared down at the pile of bodies that would serve as my stairway. In the flickering light of the torch, the eyes of the dead gleamed as if alive and seemed to stare at me accusingly for violating their remains.

I shivered involuntarily. That’s just meat, I told myself. The spirits that housed them have long since fled. Unsurprisingly, my words did little to alleviate my trepidation. Somehow walking on the dead seemed a greater desecration than carrying them.

Gnat peered around me to study the fruits of my labor. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Think this plan of yours will work?”

“It better,” I replied grimly, trying not to imagine what failure would mean. Holding the torch high above my head with my right hand, I placed one foot tentatively onto the mound of dead and tested my footing. The pile did not so much as shift under my feet.

Feeling more confident, I stepped fully onto the mound. The corpses deflated as my weight squeezed their insides out, spurting blood and offal. I swayed and felt my feet begin to slip beneath me.

Fighting the urge to panic, I windmilled my arms frantically to regain my balance. The corpse beneath me settled and I found firm purchase again. I heaved a sigh of relief. “Phew,” I muttered, “that was too close.”

I glanced down at the pile of dead, realizing that while the mound looked stable, it would shift and move under my weight. I would have to be wary of my footing. The smell, of course, was awful too, but after hauling around corpse after corpse, I had grown accustomed to the stench of the dead and it didn’t bother me as much as it should have.

Bending my knees, I lowered my center of mass to better balance on the precarious mound. I took a careful step down the slope. Then waited. The corpse underfoot shifted slightly before settling.

I took another step, making sure to spread my feet and place my second foot on another corpse to keep my weight distributed. I waited. The mound did not move. My footing was secure. Continuing my crab walk, I made my way down the slope.

Not so hard, after—

Landing on something wet and slippery, my right foot shot out from under me. Before I could even think to regain my balance, I fell.

My head and rear shot back, thumping against the mound of corpses before sliding down the slope at an ever accelerating pace. I flung my left arm outwards and tried to slow my fall, not caring what I grabbed onto. My right hand still held the torch aloft. Keeping it burning was my first concern and I dared not abandon it.

Realizing there was no stopping my plunge now, I swung my head forward and found myself staring at the sharpened end of a stake.

Bloody hell!

I wrenched myself right and avoided being impaled, but I wasn’t able to completely throw my body out of the way. Pain—a throbbing white-hot sensation—tore through my mind as the stake punctured through my left hand. I jerked to a halt, my skewered hand acting as an unwitting anchor.

A wooden stake has critically injured you!

The torch went flying and disappeared from my sight. I had no attention to spare it though. Anguish consumed my world. I bit off a scream. Even in the throes of agony, I retained enough presence of mind to know I didn’t dare scream. Anything could be lying in wait beyond the trench.

Momentum dragged me around in a half circle and my feet brushed up against other wooden stakes. Thankfully, it was against their rough-cut sides and not their pointed tips.

I slowed to a halt, still dangling from the stake that had skewered me. “Gnat,” I gasped, my breath heaving as I struggled to think around the pain.

“Here, Michael,” my familiar said from somewhere above.

“Can you see the torch?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s still burning.”

Good, I thought. I can still survive this disaster. “Where am I Gnat?”

“You’re almost at the bottom,” he said. “Your feet are inches from the ground.”

Better yet. Straining against the pain, I finally looked at the stake pinning me down. The sharpened end had gone straight through the center of my palm, ripping apart skin and tendons, and exposing bent and broken bones. Just looking at my damaged hand caused me to go weak at the knees.

Get it together, Michael. You have to free yourself, and quickly. Likely upended, the torch wouldn’t keep burning forever. I gritted my teeth and slapped my right hand around the stake for leverage.

Then, I pulled my left hand outwards.

My mind went blank with pain, and I nearly passed out. Clinging desperately to consciousness, I slowly drew my skewered hand off the stake. “God, that hurts,” I moaned softly, but didn’t stop yanking on my hand. At least a foot length of stake had buried itself through me. After a torturous and seemingly never-ending few seconds, my left hand came free.

Your left hand is crippled. Your left hand is bleeding. Ongoing damage sustained. Your health is at 70% and dropping.

I released the stake from the white-knuckled grip of my right hand and dropped the short distance to the floor of the trench. “Gnat,” I growled, cradling my damaged hand, “where is my bag?”

“Still on your back.”

With my one good hand, I somehow managed to open the pack. Finding my last healing potion, I un-stoppered it with my teeth and gulped down its contents.

Closing my eyes, I sighed as my left hand first went numb, then tingled with soothing waves as rended flesh and bone were magically mended.

You have restored yourself with a full healing potion. You are no longer crippled. Your health is now at 100%.

I opened my eyes, still high on euphoria from the healing. All I wanted to do was sag in relief, but I knew I didn’t have that luxury. My gaze darted left and right, searching for the dropped torch.

It was two yards to my right and still burning. Measuring the ground between, I carefully stepped around the stakes and picked it up.

You have acquired a torch. This item has sufficient fuel to last six minutes.

The greater part of the torch’s oil reserve was spilled and lost. But a smidgen still remained. Enough for six minutes more of light. Ample time to navigate the trench and climb out, I thought.

Then you can rest, I promised myself. Gathering myself, I set about it.

Chapter 23: What Lies Beyond

I was about a third of the way across the trench, moving carefully, but quickly when a glint of metal caught my attention.

Turning my head to the side, I studied the nearby gnome corpse that was the source. It was not one of the bodies I had thrown in, but one of the trench’s own victims. It was not the first corpse I had run across either, but it was the only one to make me pause. Rather, it was the shortsword by the body’s side that did.

The gnome’s body did not lay far of my course, and detouring to grab the sword would likely not cause me to lose much time. And besides, I needed a second sword. It was worth the risk.

Changing path abruptly, I swiftly made my way to the body and retrieved the sword and its sheath.

You have acquired a basic steel shortsword. This item increases the damage you deal by: 10%.

The sword was identical to the one I had bought from the weapons merchant. The gnome had probably bought the blade from him, too. The dead candidate carried nothing else of value that I could see, and his armor would have taken too much time to remove. Abandoning the body, I returned continued onwards through the trench.

I reached the far end of the trench with only a minute to spare on my torch’s light. Hurriedly, I scanned the wall before me. I had been right, I saw. There were small outcroppings of rock and clumps of dirt that could serve as handholds.

I set down the torch. I would need both hands for the climb, and there was no way I could carry it up with me. Nor did I have a means of relighting it once it died. Better to leave it here and use its last light to manage the climb.

I rubbed my hands together. Right, here goes. Then I set to climbing.

~~~

The climb was easier than I expected, and I scurried up the trench wall in less than thirty seconds. Pulling myself over the edge, I rolled onto my back and took a moment to enjoy my accomplishment.

I had made it. Crossing the trapped trench had been something of a feat in itself, and as a new Game alert opened in my mind, I realized the Adjudicator seemed to think so too.

Congratulations, Michael! You have successfully overcome another of the dungeon’s traps and have gained experience.

You have reached level 6!

You have 1 attribute point available.

I smiled at the message. At least the Game had offered me some compensation for my maimed hand and lost potion.

Sitting up into a cross-legged stance, I took in my surroundings. The torch’s light had died and the area had been plunged into darkness once more. I could make out very little of my surroundings other than I was still in a tunnel.

Before moving on, I considered my new attribute point, and briefly debated how to expend it. I was certain that I would face combat somewhere ahead, and for that Dexterity would serve me best, but I was also concerned about the lack of lighting in the tunnel. If the darkness continued unabated, then Perception would be better.

If I can’t see, I cannot fight, I thought, reaching a decision. Even though, none of my skills were governed by Perception, it was still the better choice given where I was at present and I willed the Game to advance it.

Your Perception has increased to rank 4.

Once more my senses grew sharper. The darkness was pushed back and I could make out more of my surroundings. I was in a tunnel, I realized, and one that was curving sharply to the right. Rising to my feet, I dropped into a crouch and padded down the tunnel to whatever awaited me.

You and your familiar are hidden.

~~~

Rounding the tunnel bend, the first thing I saw was light—light from the red-orange flames of a campfire.

I almost fell back in surprise.

My first thought was that I had been mistaken, and that some other party had found a way around the trapped trench as well, but as I observed the two figures sitting beside the blazing fire, I realized they were not candidates.

They were goblins.

That realization, too, nearly caused me to flee. Surely the pair had spotted my torch when I had crossed the trench? But then I recalled that I hadn’t seen their campfire from the trench either.

The tunnel bend must have hidden us from each other.

I was doubly grateful now that I hadn’t screamed in the trench. The pair would have heard me for sure. Secure in the knowledge I was hidden, I studied the goblins afresh.

The two creatures were camped at least fifty yards down the tunnel, and judging by their size, they were of the warrior caste. Both were dressed in armor of sorts, but from this distance, I couldn’t make out the details.

I wondered at the campfire. Nothing was cooking on it, so why did the goblins need it? Did goblins have as much trouble seeing in the dark as humans? I could only assume so. I debated moving forward to observe the two more closely, but then decided the wiser course would be to retreat and consult with Gnat first.

Slipping back to the trench’s edge, I listened intently for a heartbeat before turning to my familiar. “Gnat, those were goblin warriors, right?”

“Correct, Michael.”

“Can you tell their levels?” I asked.

Gnat shook his head. “No, to determine a foe’s level, you will need the analyze ability.” He paused. “But goblin warriors are rank one creatures.”

I pursed my lips. “That means those two are each level ten?”

“At least,” Gnat confirmed.

Hmm, I thought, rubbing my chin. The pair were too high-levelled for me to tackle head on. “How well do goblins see in the dark?” I asked.

“Their night vision is poor,” Gnat said.

“That’s what I thought,” I murmured, an idea forming. I turned back to my familiar. “Thanks for the information, Gnat.”

He bobbed his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“You have my gratitude anyway,” I said with a smile. Slipping back into the shadows, I tiptoed back to the two goblins.

~~~

I advanced as close to the goblins as I dared, right up to the edge of the light from their campfire. Neither creature gave any indication that they knew I was nearby.

From this close, I could make out every detail of the pair. The goblins were dressed in hide armor, roughly-hewn and primitively stitched together. A bow rested at each creature’s side and a pair of bare daggers were shoved in their belts.

They’re archers then, I guessed.

Both goblins stared fixedly into the fire. Not once did either glance away. While I couldn’t claim to be able to read goblin expressions, both archers appeared morose. One of the goblins, who I took to be the younger from his lack of wrinkles, bore an intricate tattoo of a raven on his face. Some sort of tribal symbol? I wondered.

Peering beyond the goblins, I saw that the tunnel continued onwards. Given the goblins’ seeming disinterest in their surroundings, I didn’t doubt I could sneak past them, but doing that would leave two powerful foes at my back, and I wasn’t ready to do that yet.

Moving carefully, I retreated a few yards and positioned myself against one of the tunnel walls. From here, I could more comfortably observe my targets. Settling down, I readied myself to watch and wait.

The time was not yet ready to act, but it would be soon.

Chapter 24: Epiphany

I jerked awake from the light doze I had fallen into. I hadn’t meant to sleep, but the long minutes of stillness had lulled me into slumber. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I had dozed off, but I knew something had disturbed me.

I dropped my hands to my sheathed swords, poised to act. My eyes flew to the campfire and my tension eased as I saw that the two goblins hadn’t moved from their previous positions.

Then I frowned. The two goblins were still there, but something had changed.

A hoarse laugh floated through the air, and I realized the pair were conversing. Rising to my haunches, I crept closer.

“… why be us!”

I froze as the words reached my ears. The accent was guttural, and the words were clipped and barked. Still, they were decipherable.

I was more than a little surprised that the goblins could actually speak, and even more amazed that I understood them. For some reason, I had assumed them to be primitive savages.

Shaking my head in bemusement, I crept up the edge of the campfire and listened attentively.

“You smart, you shut up. Or Knorl smash you,” the older goblin said.

“Bah! Me no fear Knorl,” the tattooed goblin replied.

“Then you be stupid,” his companion spat. “Knorl speaks for Master. He be chief one day,” the goblin predicted.

My curiosity was piqued at the reference to the Master. They couldn’t be referring to the same Master, could they?

“But why us be here?!” the young goblin whined. “Me no mewling woman!” He thumped his chest. “Me warrior!”

The older goblin snorted. “We soldiers. Not warriors. We listen chief. If chief say watch tunnel, we watch.” He paused. “Chief says if all players die, Master gives tribe reward.” His eyes gleamed. “Beeg reward. Do as chief says. Chief smart. Let dungeon kill lotta players. Then we kill rest.”

“But me wants to kill players now!” the other goblin protested. He bared his teeth in a ghastly smile. “Especially elves.”

His companion chuckled. “We serve Master. Master always fighting.” The older goblin’s humor faded and he stared into the fire. “There be always more elves to kill,” he finished, almost wearily.

“But me want—” the younger archer began.

“Shuddup!” the older goblin barked, seeming to lose patience. “Enough talking or players hear us!”

The younger goblin muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t gainsay his older companion. Presently, both goblins fell silent and I crept away.

The pair had given me much to think on.

~~~

I pressed my back against the tunnel and leaned my head against the cold wall while I pondered what I had learnt. From the overheard conversation it was clear that the Master had not only put the goblins in the dungeon—which I had known already—he had also offered them incentives to kill the candidates.

I don’t know why, but that just rubbed me as wrong. The Master had been clear from the get-go about the purpose the trials served, and I couldn’t fault him on that front, but what I disliked was how much of a game he was turning this into.

I suspected the Master had set the goblins to hunting us for no other reason than to provide him with entertainment. The more I learnt of our mysterious ‘benefactor,’ the less I liked.

Do I even want to pass this trial? I wondered. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Yet what would be the consequences of failure? My eyes shifted to the still and unmoving undead bat on my shoulder. Would the Master kill me? I wouldn’t put it pass him. But the Master’s motives aside, had anything changed? My eyes drifted to the goblins.

No.

I still have to get stronger.

I still have to escape the dungeon.

I still have to kill the goblins.

Closing my eyes, I schooled myself to patience. Soon, the goblins would sleep. Then I would act.

~~~

For the next few hours, I kept a lonely vigil while I watched the goblins. I was determined not to lose focus again, or succumb to sleep. I had no idea on what day-night cycle the goblins were following, but I knew sooner or later, the pair had to sleep.

Four hours later, my patience was rewarded and I heard the first snores coming from the campfire. At last.

Creeping towards the sleeping goblins, I paused at the edge of the circle of light and verified that my targets were indeed passed out before inching forward again.

Both goblins lay on their sides. A dirty sack, serving as a makeshift pillow, was tucked under the head of each. I drew my swords and edged closer to the older goblin. He was the more dangerous of the pair and had to be eliminated first. Slowly, I went down on one knee beside the goblin, my movements slow and controlled.

The goblin did not stir.

I raised my swords, and held them poised above my target while I decided where to strike. Hide armor protected the goblin’s torso, legs, and arms, leaving only a small part of his neck and head exposed.

The neck, I decided. That’s where I must strike.

I narrowed my eyes and tensed my arms, readying myself to bring my blades crashing down. A long second passed. Then another. But still my swords did not whip down. I was hesitating.

Why was I hesitating?

I’ve never murdered anyone before.

The thought rippled through my mind with sudden and shocking clarity. It was true. I knew with certainty that I had never killed anyone, much less committed murder. Despite whatever the Master said, right then I knew I was not evil.

I am no murderer.

I glanced down at my intended victim. If I went through my plan, I would become a killer. Could I become one? Did I want to be one? I had not been afflicted by such doubts when fighting the slimes. But then again, the creatures had clearly not been sentient.

The goblin, for all that he was a primitive savage, was still a person. A living, breathing person with thoughts and desires of his own. But the archer was more than that. He was my foe too. The goblin’s own words bore testimony to his intent: he and the rest of his tribe had pledged themselves to kill me and every other candidate in the trials.

Asleep, the goblin didn’t appear threatening, but I was not fooled. Given a half a chance, I didn’t doubt he would slay me without remorse. My hands tightened around the hilts of my swords.

It is him or me.

I may not have been a killer in my other life, but I had no illusions: if I wanted to survive in this world, I would have to kill—and repeatedly.

But, I swore, I will do it by my own code.

I will not prey on the weak, or the innocent.

I will kill only those that deserve it, or seek to harm me. The Master and his cause be damned.

At ease with my actions, I brought my swords flashing down.

Chapter 25: Ambush

You have missed a level 14 goblin archer. You have critically injured a goblin archer. Your two weapon fighting has increased to level 2. You are no longer hidden.

I bit off a curse as the blade in my left hand missed my target completely. Thankfully though, the sword in my right hand found its mark.

Yet it was not a clean kill. The archer still lived. As my blade sliced open his throat, the goblin’s eyes snapped open and he tried to roll away. Leaping forward, I straddle his body and pinned him in place. I raised my swords aloft once more.

The archer’s eyes grew wide. “Help—!” he managed to croak before my blades flew down again. This time, I struck true.

You have killed a goblin archer and have gained experience. You have reached level 7! Your shortswords has increased to level 8.

At the sound of movement from behind me, I rolled off the corpse and narrowly escaped the unseen attack of the second goblin.

You have evaded a level 10 goblin archer’s attack. Your dodging has increased to level 4.

I growled in frustration. My mishap had cost me. The older goblin’s cry of alarm had warned his younger companion who was now alert to the danger and eagerly rushing to engage me again.

I bounced back to my feet in time to meet the tattooed goblin’s onrushing dagger. Parrying aside my foe’s weapon with the blade in my left hand, I simultaneously struck out with the one in my right.

The maneuver caught the goblin by surprise, and he was not able to bring back his dagger in time to fend off my sword. The point of my blade pierced the archer’s hide armor and sank three inches deep into the lower half of his torso.

You have injured a goblin archer!

I grimaced. I had only superficially wounded the goblin. While the archer had failed to evade my blow altogether, he had twisted his torso far enough away for me not to have hit anything vital.

Favoring his injured side, the goblin stepped back and glared at me. With predatory intent, I circled him, both blades held at the ready. The archer shifted with me, keeping me front and center.

I paced a full circle around my opponent, and when the goblin still failed to attack, I darted forward myself. My blades flashed, the right one descending down from up high, and the left one stabbing forward.

Even injured, the goblin proved my match. He ducked beneath my descending sword while his knife turned aside my thrust blade. I didn’t let up. Dancing to the side, I slashed at the archer from the left and right simultaneously.

Once again, my foe proved equal to the task. Dodging adroitly between my blows, he stepped inside my blades and sent his dagger snaking forward.

I leapt backwards and narrowly avoided being skewered. Bloody hell! How did he do that? I had been pressing the goblin hard, and he should not have had the time to launch his own attack. Yet somehow he had.

From two yards away, I eyed the goblin warily. He was proving to be a much tougher opponent than I’d anticipated. In fact, if not for my two blades to his one, I feared I would have been outmatched already. As it was, I wondered if I would be able to kill the archer.

Seeming to sense my sudden concern, the goblin smiled toothily. “Stupid human. Me kill you now.” He took a threatening step forward.

Before I could stop myself, I took an involuntary step backwards. Idiot! That was the worst thing you could’ve done. Never show a predator fear.

The goblin’s grin broadened. “You die now,” he chortled and hurtled forward.

The archer’s dagger was a half-seen blur as it flashed towards my face. Instinctively, I flung my left sword upwards and parried away the attack, only to be threatened anew as the goblin brought his dagger slashing back before I could recover.

I blocked the second blow with the sword in my right hand and backpedaled desperately in a bid to regain my equilibrium. The goblin followed quickly after, not giving me a chance to recover. In his battle frenzy, the archer seemed to be entirely unhampered by the wound to his side.

My foe thrust his blade forward again. Once more, I fended it away and continued my retreat. The goblin, his eyes crazed, pursued me relentlessly and launched one onslaught after another.

I wove a frantic defense with my twin blades and somehow kept the archer at bay. My plan was in tatters, and I had no thought to spare beyond the moment. Still, it was in the back of my mind that the longer this went on, the better my chances.

Eventually, the goblin had to tire. Eventually the biting pain and blood loss from the wound to his side had to tell on the archer.

Eventually. I only had to survive until then.

The next few seconds passed in a blur as the goblin continued to hound me with his dagger and I tread a slow circle in reverse around the campfire. Not trusting myself to spot the goblin’s quicksilver blows in the darkness, I didn’t dare leave the circle of light cast by the campfire.

After a minute’s harried exchange, and with the goblin showing no sign of tiring, I began to wonder if it was time to flee. I was barely holding the goblin at bay, and sooner or later, his dagger would pierce my guard. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, I told myself. I can’t win this fight.

Settled in my course, I prepared to disengage. But as I was about to do so, I was struck by the change in my swordplay. My strokes were surer, and my grip around my blades firmer. My two blades worked less at odds with each other and more in tandem.

Where at the beginning of the skirmish, it had been a scramble to coordinate my attacks between my left and right sword, I was doing so more easily now. My skill has grown, I thought. Appreciably so.

And from the sideways flicker to my opponent’s gaze, I suspected he had come to the same realization. There had been a constant stream of Game messages in my mind since the battle began, but with my focus consumed by the goblin, I had mostly ignored them.

I pulled up the three most recent now.

Your dodging has increased to level 14.

Your shortswords has increased to level 19.

Your two weapon fighting has increased to level 11.

I smiled. So, this is truly what it means to be a player. The advancements to my skills had had happened so subtly and intuitively, I had barely noticed their individual increases. But their cumulative effect could not be denied.

I turned my attention upon the goblin. He was still faster than me, I noted, but now I was his equal in skill, at least when it came to blades, and soon no doubt, I would surpass him.

This fight is not lost yet, I realized. I let a broad grin split my face.

The goblin sensed my renewed confidence and his strokes grew more frantic. My own, by comparison, grew more graceful as the fear clouding my mind receded and I let instinct guide my hands.

Biding my time, I fended off the archer’s attacks by rote and waited for him to slip. He would too. And soon. I was sure of it. The goblin had lost his confidence and panic was setting in. Any moment now…

There!

In a bid to batter through my defenses, my foe had lunged forward and extended himself an inch too far.

I pounced.

Stepping into the archer’s attack, I parried his dagger away with one blade and thrust towards his torso with the other. Overextended, the goblin was helpless to stop me, and the point of my sword buried itself in his heart.

You have killed a goblin archer with a fatal blow.

You have gained experience and reached level 8! You have 2 attribute points available.

Your two weapon fighting has increased to level 13. Your shortswords has increased to level 20. Congratulations, Michael! Your skill with shortswords has reached rank 2.

Letting the flurry of game messages scroll through my mind, I dropped my swords and sank to the ground.

I had triumphed again, and once more, lived to fight another day.

Chapter 26: Killer

For long moments, I sat, with my head bowed, while I came to terms with what I had done and with what I now was: a killer.

It had been both easier and harder than I expected to slay the two goblins. A single thrust of a blade, and that easily a life was snuffed out.

Yet the goblins had fought hard for their lives, and the skirmish had been as much a test of wills as skill. In the end, my desire to live proved the stronger. I did not regret slaying the pair. Their deaths were necessary for my own continued survival. But I felt the weight of their spirits.

Killing is easy, I thought, but bearing the cost, perhaps less so.

I studied my hands. They were covered in blood, both literally and figuratively. And I stank. Dragging dead corpses back and forth, rolling down their remains in the trench, and now spilling fresh blood had all left me reeking of death—and worse.

I must be a sight, I thought.

“I’m impressed,” Gnat pronounced.

I picked up my head to find the skeletal bat sitting on the corpse of the older goblin. I had lost track of Gnat in the skirmish. I narrowed my eyes and studied him. “Really?” I asked. “And why’s that?” Given my recent reflections on the Master and his motives, I was not feeling too well-inclined towards his servant.

Gnat chuckled. “A candidate killing two warrior-caste goblins all on his lonesome? I don’t think anyone has done that before. I really thought you were a goner there for sure.” The bat’s gaze drifted to the dead bodies. “Who would have believed you had it in you,” he murmured.

Deciding to ignore Gnat’s musings, I glanced around the camp. The first thing I noticed was the large wooden chest sitting next to the still-burning campfire. It had not been there before the fight.

“Where did that come from?” I asked, gesturing to the chest with my chin.

Gnat shrugged. “The Game must have spawned it once you killed those two.”

I looked at the familiar sharply. “The Game?” I asked. “I thought you said the Master designed this sector?”

Gnat shifted uncomfortably and didn’t answer immediately. “The dungeon’s encounters, layout, and occupants are all the Master’s doing,” the bat said eventually.

My eyes narrowed. “But not the loot chests?”

“But not the loot chests,” Gnat agreed. “They are spawned by the Game itself. The Adjudicator decides when a party deserves to be rewarded.”

I frowned. “So where do the items from inside the chests come from?”

“Loot chests are randomly populated with items held by the Game according to an arcane set of rules known only to the adjudicator,” Gnat said.

I nodded slowly and rose to my feet to study the chest containing my ‘reward.’ I detected nothing unusual about it, but once again I had to wonder if that was due to my Perception being too low.

I pursed my lips. I really needed to find a trap detection skill or ability. I couldn’t keep increasing my Perception indefinitely. I’ll do it once more only, I decided. Thereafter I would start dumping future attributes into Dexterity.

Closing my eyes, I willed my choice to the Game.

Your Perception has increased to rank 6.

I studied the loot chest anew, but failed to detect anything amiss. That didn’t prove anything of course. The chest could still be trapped. Admittedly, the likelihood was lower, but the possibility was still real.

I sighed. Right, time for more rigorous testing. Picking up one of the goblins abandoned bows, I began the laborious process of methodically testing the chests for traps.

~~~

Ten minutes later, after warily poking and prodding the chest, and carefully lifting the lid by degrees, I was sure as I could be that the chest was not boobytrapped. With only a flutter of anxiety, I swung back the lid and peered inside the wooden box.

You have acquired 3 minor healing potions. Each item restores your health by: 10%.

You have acquired a basic Class stone. This stone contains the path of: an archer. The archer is a basic Class that confers a player with three skills: light armor, daggers, and a ranged weapon skill of the player’s choice. This Class also permanently boosts your Perception attribute by: +1, and your Constitution attribute by: +1.

I stared at the marble in my hand. Finding a Class stone was the last thing I had expected. A Game message opened in my mind.

You have two available Class slots. Do you wish to acquire the archer Class?

I started in surprise. Become an archer? It was not a path I had considered, but given the equipment left behind by the goblins and my already-high Perception, there was an undeniable appeal to the choice.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Gnat said abruptly.

I blinked. I didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Why not?”

“It will only limit your player potential. The archer Class is a basic one,” Gnat said derisively. “You don’t want to install that in your secondary Class slot, not when you can fill it with an advanced Class. If I were you, I would hold out until you acquired a better Class.”

I frowned. The skeletal bat’s words had dashed my fantasies of sniping goblins from the dark, but… he was right. I couldn’t be hasty in my choice of second Class, and at the moment I was doing well-enough with my current skill mix.

With a reluctant sigh, I stored the Class stone in my backpack. Turning my gaze upon the rest of the camp, I worked through it carefully until I had found everything useable.

You have acquired 2 goblin shortbows. Each item increases the damage you deal by: 5%.

You have acquired 4 iron daggers. Each item increases the damage you deal by: 8%.

You have acquired 2 sets of primitive goblin hide armor. Each set reduces the physical damage you sustain by: 10%.

You have acquired a bedroll. This item increases the rate at which stamina, psi, and mana are replenished when sleeping.

I studied the fruits of my scavenging thoughtfully. I could fit everything in my backpack except the hide armor. They, unfortunately were both too bulky and heavy to fit in my pack.

I will have to leave them behind, I decided and stored the rest of the items in my pack. Feeling too exposed in the circle of light cast by the campfire to dally there any longer, I stepped into the comforting darkness of the tunnel beyond.

Almost immediately, I noticed my night vision was better. The two additional points I’d invested in Perception had made a noticeable difference, and even in the darkest corners of the tunnel, I could make out the blurred outline of the shapes they contained. Good, I thought. My enhanced night vision could prove advantageous in future encounters.

I ventured only a few dozen yards down the corridor before stopping again. I was starving, and it was high time that I took a few moments to rest. Sinking down to the floor, I pulled out my water flask and rations, and sat down to a well-earned lunch—or supper.

Or whatever.

Chapter 27: Tunnels

A single field ration assuaged my hunger and had me ready to forge on. Rising to my feet, I shrugged on my backpack—it was noticeably heavier now—and studied the darkness ahead.

Up ahead, in the far distance, I could make out a fork in the tunnel. I stifled a yawn. It felt like forever since I had entered this world, and I knew I would have to find somewhere safe to rest soon. But for now, the tunnel beckoned.

Dropping into a crouch, I concealed myself and advanced down the passage’s rocky surface. I reached the fork without incident. Standing at the center of the three-way intersection, I stared down the depths of the unexplored paths to my left and right.

Both tunnels were of the same size, and gave no hint of what they concealed. With a shrug, I entered the right corridor. After only another few minutes of walking, I came to another fork. This time, I didn’t hesitate, and ventured down the right fork without pause.

A few hundred yards later, the corridor branched again. Once more, I chose the tunnel to the right, realizing now that I had entered something of a maze. If I wasn’t careful, I could quickly become lost. Just keep taking the right fork and you will be fine, I told myself.

A hundred yards later, the tunnel ended in a dead-end. Aaargh. Filled only with large boulders, the cul-de-sac was barren of life.

Forced to backtrack, I decided to retreat all the way back to the tunnel network’s first fork, and chose the left passage from there. Unsurprisingly, I soon came to another branch. I went left again.

Three forks—and three left turns—later, I found myself in another dead end. With a sigh, I returned back to the starting tunnel and pondered my options.

It is a maze, I decided. Even in the darkness shrouding the tunnels, I could tell they were all of identical size and shape. I would not find my way through by trying to spot the difference between the tunnels. Assuming there is a way out to find, I thought morosely.

I dismissed that pessimistic thought. It was not as if I had a wealth of options at my fingertips. Either I found a way through the maze, or I turned back and faced the trolls or candidate gangs. And I didn’t want to do either of those things.

So how do I do this? I wondered.

I could choose tunnels at random, but if the maze was a large one, that was certain to get me irretrievably lost. Better to do this by a surer means, even if it is likely to take far longer than I like.

I placed the palm of my right hand on the wall on the right side of the tunnel. As long as I kept my fingers in contact with the wall, no matter how much the tunnels twisted and turned, I would find my way out of their depths.

Eventually.

Entering the maze again, I began walking.

~~~

Two hours later, I was still walking.

I had circled cul-de-sac after dead end, navigated fork after fork, and still there was no end to the maze in sight. My head had begun to droop, and the urge to rest was becoming more persistent.

Soon, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist my body’s needs. Just a little while longer, I thought. This damnable maze must end soon.

The tunnel I was in hadn’t branched in a while and I was sure it would do so soon. I couldn’t afford to lose concentration now. Shaking off my stupor, I focused on my surroundings.

That was when I spotted the pit.

I stumbled to a halt. A black maw of darkness yawned open less than three feet in front of me. Six yards in length and extending the width of the passage, the pit was unavoidable. Edging nearer, I peered within and predictably found its bottom decorated with sharpened stakes.

The sudden appearance of the trap was not the most surprising thing however. What caused my eyebrows to shoot up and my forehead to crinkle in confusion was the thin wooden pole stretched across the pit. Someone had already crossed this way and left behind the means to do so again.

Unless it’s a trap too.

The pole was a sliver of wood, only a few inches thick. Kneeling down, I inspected the near end of the pole. Deep bolts had been driven into the ground, and pole had been wedged between them, presumably to secure it in place.

Placing a foot on the near end of the plank, I pressed down gently. The wood flexed beneath me as a sapling would, but did not creak. I pressed harder, and still the pole did not gave any indication it would crack. It seemed sturdy enough to bear my weight. Letting my eyes unfocus, I studied the surroundings again. I could spot nothing else that appeared out of place or that screamed of danger.

With no further reason to delay, I stepped fully onto the pole, and took a second to clear my mind for the task ahead. Very deliberately, I did not wonder if I was acrobatic enough to manage the feat. If I began questioning my ability, I knew I would fail.

Slowly, I stretched out my arms. It would help balance my weight. Expelling a careful breath, I raised my right leg and blocked out everything else but the simple motion of swinging it forward, and placing my foot with deliberate care in the precise center of the pole. Then, transferring my weight to that leg, I restarted the process with my left leg.

Step, by step, I made my way across the pit. The farther I ventured from the edge, the more the pole bowed beneath my weight. By the time, I reached the halfway mark, the pole sagged nearly three feet beneath ground level.

But it did not break. Nor did my concentration.

My world had narrowed to my feet. Nothing else mattered but placing one foot in front of the other. No matter how much my muscles trembled, no matter the dripping sweat blurring my eyes, I let nothing impinge on my awareness and kept walking.

An eternity later, I touched down on the far end of the pit.

To my surprise, I had managed the crossing without incident. Despite the lack of discernable threats nearby, I had half-expected to be attacked at some point. Thoughtfully, I placed my right palm against the tunnel wall and resumed my journey through the maze.

Thirty minutes later, I came across another oddity. A few yards ahead of me, the tunnel broadened into a chamber. It was the first cavern I had encountered since entering the maze. And that was not the only startling thing.

Arrayed on the flat cavern floor in the shape of a square were sixteen granite flagstones. The flagstones were themselves squares, and carved on the surface of each was a luminous archaic symbol. Some of the symbols glowed golden, some shone red, and others were colored blue.

Standing on chamber’s threshold and not daring to enter, I studied its interior intently. To my suspicious mind, the chamber screamed of one thing only: a trapped room.

Except for the flagstones themselves, the chamber was empty. On the opposite end of the room, I spied another exit, but to get there I would have to cross over the flagstones, which I was leery of doing just yet. My eyes darted from one to the other of the chamber’s smooth stone walls, and found three of them to be bare. The fourth one though, the one to my right, contained strange markings, that on first glance seemed indecipherable text.

Ignoring the scrawled writing for now, I lifted my gaze upwards. My eyes narrowed. Covering the entirety of the roof arching overhead were small dark holes. My eyes flitted between the murder holes in the ceiling and the flagstones beneath. It was not hard to imagine how the trap worked: step on the wrong flagstone, and be skewered or boiled alive from whatever rained down from the roof.

I turned back to the text on the right wall. They seemed to have been haphazardly drawn in chalk by someone who was in a hurry. Though no matter how hard I stared at them, I couldn’t figure out what they meant.

“Gnat,” I whispered finally, “what are those markings?”

The undead bat peered where I pointed and studied the text in silence for a moment. “Goblin writing,” he pronounced at last.

My mouth dropped open. “Goblin? Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” Gnat snapped waspishly.

I scratched my head. It was a surprise to find out that goblins could write, much less to discover that they had a writing of their own. But beyond that, what troubled me further, was wondering what they had written here. “Can you read it?” I asked.

Instead of answering, the skeletal bat glided off my shoulder and towards the right wall. Hovering before the writing, he read out aloud, “Red is dead. Gold hurts. Blue is safe.”

I blinked. “Really?” I murmured, my eyes flying back to the flagstones. Assuming the stones bearing blue symbols were safe, there was a clear path across. The real question though was: can I trust what the goblins have written?

My thought drifted back to the two archers. Before this, it had not occurred to me to wonder how the two goblins had come to be where I had found them. There was no evidence that they had crossed the trapped trench, which ruled out them arriving from the dungeon’s third leg.

But what if the pair had originated from beyond the maze?

It would mean that the goblins, too, would have had to traverse the maze—only in the reverse direction from me. It would also explain the pole across the pit. I frowned. Still, why would the goblins leave behind a means for others to overcome the maze’s traps?

But then again, how many of my fellows would have spotted the pole, much less managed the crossing? And could the goblins have predicted that my familiar would have been able to read their writing?

I sighed. There was only one way to be certain. And that was to step onto the flagstones.

Chapter 28: Traps

My foot crunched down on the flagstone. With bated breath and my eyes glued to the murder holes riddling the ceiling, I waited for a reaction.

When, after long moments, nothing happened, I relaxed muscles rigid with tension. I glanced down at the flagstone beneath me. The sigil inscribed on it had been begun to pulse, waxing and waning through different shades of blue. Not wanting to wait and see if that boded ill, I stepped forward, onto the next blue flagstone.

Still, no trap activated.

Growing more confident, I stepped to my left, then forward, and left again, before taking the final two steps forward required to clear the flagstones.

I was through. I exhaled a relieved breath and resumed my way down the next tunnel.

My journey through the maze continued without incident for another two hours. During that time, I encountered four more traps—a stretch of passageway seeded with snares, a deadfall, a trapped room filled with whirling blades, and a collapsing tunnel. Each time, I saw some sign that someone else had been that way, and I grew increasingly convinced it had been the goblins. Which only made me wonder what lay beyond the maze.

Was it a tribe of goblins? I wondered. The chief, the two archers had spoken off? I wasn’t certain, but I knew whatever it was, I would find a way around the challenge.

As the hours passed, despite my determination to stay alert, the day’s excitement and exertions began to claim its toll, and I was lulled into a half-daze by the increasing familiarity and sameness of the maze’s surroundings.

Which was why I was caught off-guard when I exited the maze. One moment, I had been brushing the wall to my right with my fingertips, the next I felt nothing but air beneath my searching hands.

The sudden emptiness shocked me alert. Grounding to a halt, I took stock of my surroundings. I was standing on a high ledge. A few feet away, on all sides of me, the ground dropped away suddenly. I was no longer in a tunnel, I realized. I was in a cavernous natural-rock chamber.

My surroundings had brightened considerably too, I saw, and tinges of red-orange shot through the darkness. There was no light-source within my line of sight, and I deduced that whatever the source of light, it came from below.

Sinking into a crouch, I crept to the edge of the ledge and peered warily down. A hundred feet below, I spied a rickety wooden table with two oil-lamps resting in its center. The rest of the table was strewn with odd bits of junk and food.

Three goblins sat around the table, too, with their heads resting on its surface. From the loud snores emanating from the trio, I guessed they were asleep.

Directly behind the goblins was a grilled-metal gate and mounted on the wall next to it was a large bronze bell. The cavern below was being used as a guard station, I deduced, and the three goblins were guards, if poorly-trained ones.

I turned my attention to the ledge itself. A rope ladder leading to the room below had been conveniently fastened to its edge. My gaze flitted from the guards to the ladder. Assuming the goblins really were asleep, I could make the journey down unseen.

Moving slowly, I swung myself onto the rope ladder. On my shoulder, Gnat fluttered his wings once, but did not break the silence. I lowered myself down the rungs of the ladder and touched down onto the cavern’s floor without incident. I dropped into a crouch.

You and your familiar are hidden.

The rhythm of the goblins’ snores was still unchanged. Padding softly through the cavern in a wide arc to avoid the brightly-lit center, I repositioned myself behind the three goblins.

Unlike the two archers, the trio were armed with small axes and their hide armor appeared heavier. Close combatants then. I drew one of my blades and moved right up to the closest goblin. With his head resting on the table, the back of his neck was exposed. I licked suddenly dry lips, readying myself for what I knew I must do.

I had to kill the three guards, and I had to do it quietly.

The bell behind me was evidence enough that somewhere beyond the grilled-metal gate there were more goblins waiting to respond to whatever emergency arose. I couldn’t let that happen or I would be swamped.

Raising my sword, I positioned it a few inches from the back of the goblin’s neck and deliberately relaxed tense muscles. Do it, I thought. My blade flashed downwards, point first and pierced vulnerable flesh.

For a fraction of a second, my victim tensed. His snores cut-off abruptly, and I felt a shriek build within him. But before the goblin could give voice to his pain, his life fled away and with a gently sigh, his body sagged against the table.

You have killed a level 13 goblin warrior and have gained experience.

With my blade still buried in the goblin, I stood motionless poised to flee or fight. Killing someone without any betraying slip of noise was much harder than I expected, and I was on edge. For a drawn-out moment, I watched the other two goblins, waiting to see if they would react in any way to their companion’s demise.

They snored on, oblivious.

I sagged slightly in relief. Placing my left hand against the dead warrior’s head, I extracted my bloody blade from his neck. Then I crept behind my next target and repeated the deed.

You have killed a level 10 goblin warrior and have gained experience. You have reached level 9!

Once more, I pulled off my assassination without a hitch. One last time, I thought, and drove my blade through the last guard.

You have killed a level 11 goblin warrior and have gained experience. Your shortswords has increased to level 21. Your sneaking has increased to level 24.

I stumbled backwards from the three corpses and coming up against the cavern wall, slid downwards. The killings left a bad taste in my mouth, but I knew they had been necessary. If the three guards had been awake and alert, my chances of surviving the encounter would have been slim, at best.

A flicker of motion on the table caught my attention. A wooden chest had materialized there. I pushed myself to my feet again.

Upwards and onwards, Michael.

Chapter 29: Complications

The chest contained four items only.

You have acquired 2 moderate health potions. Each item restores your health by: 30%.

You have acquired a basic skillbook: heavy shields. This skill is incompatible with your slotted Classes and may not be learned. The skillbook is a single-use item.

You have acquired a pack of six field rations. This item can be consumed to replenish stamina slowly over time.

I grimaced as I saw the loot. The potions and rations would come in handy, but the main item was again one I couldn’t use. Still, I stored it in my inventory.

The goblins, I did not search—or loot. In fact, I did my best to leave them as undisturbed as possible and even went so far to wipe away as much of their blood spatter as I could. Considering the presence of the guard station and the alarm bell, this section of the dungeon was obviously well-populated, and by all appearances under the control of the goblins.

I assumed that at some point, other goblins would come to relieve the three, and not knowing how long I would be stuck in the area, I wanted to delay the discovery of the guards’ fate as long as I could.

There was one last thing I had to do before moving on. Closing my eyes, I communicated with the game.

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 4.

With my chores in the room done, I moved to the cavern’s only exit. Through the grilled-metal gate’s iron bars, I could see that a darkened tunnel lay beyond. The corridor was empty and formed of the same ubiquitous grey rocks I’d found everywhere else.

It seemed like the tunnel network had not ended as I’d hoped when I had exited the maze. In fact, if not for the guard station itself and the presence of the alarm bell, I could almost believe I was still in the maze. I looked down at the grilled-gate. Its hinges had been well-oiled and there was no lock. Swinging open the gate, I slipped into the corridor.

I shut the gate behind me and ducked down in the tunnel. I listened intently for a few moments, but heard no signs of movement. The fact that I had found the guards asleep, suggested that the goblins were in the middle of their sleep-cycle, but I knew it was too early to make that assumption yet.

I padded cautiously down the tunnel and presently arrived at a four-way intersection. I scanned all three other passages, but spotted nothing of interest in any of them. The corridor directly in front of me bent out of sight after only five yards, while the ones to my right and left continued unerringly straight for a few dozen yards.

I was still debating which way to go, when I heard the tread of footsteps. My head turned slowly to the right. Listening intently, I thought I made out the sound of two sets of footsteps. They were heading my way, but were still out of sight.

A faint orange tinge began to seep into the intersection. I cursed softly. The ones approaching had to be carrying torches. There was nowhere to hide in the intersection and even a cursory inspection under torchlight would reveal me.

Which way to flee? I wondered. Left, forward, or back? I wasn’t willing to entangle with two unknown entities in the open tunnel, not until I knew what other enemies were nearby.

Out of time, I dashed forward into the tunnel directly opposite me. The wiser course would have been to flee back to the guard station, but I wanted to observe whoever approached, and it was my thought that I could do that around while concealed behind the corridor’s bend.

Of course, I was assuming that the two who approached wouldn’t turn in my direction, but that was a risk I was willing to take. I crossed the five yards to the corner and rounded the bend. After only a hurried glimpse to confirm that the tunnel stretching in front of me was empty, I spun around and dropped into a crouch.

Then waited.

The footsteps grew louder. From their tread, they sounded unhurried and relaxed. The pair did not talk, nor did they slow as they reach the intersection. Instead, they continued onwards, oblivious of my nearby presence.

I waited until I was sure the two had cleared the intersection before ducking around the bend and padding back to the intersection. Warily, I peered around.

As I had suspected, the unknown entities were goblins. I studied the backs of the retreating pair. Each was dressed in hide armor, and carried a spear in one hand and a torch in the other. A patrol? I wondered, biting my lip worriedly. Has to be.

That complicates things. Attacking the pair was out of the question. I might win in a confrontation against the two, but there was no way I was doing that before they raised the alarm. I could only see two options. Either I tried to exit the area before my presence was discovered, or I took the fight to the goblins… on my own terms.

I chewed the inside of my lip. But before I could decide on my approach, I needed to more completely explore the tunnel network I found myself in. I glanced at the disappearing patrol. And I didn’t have much time to do it.

Spinning on my heel, I headed around the bend and continued down the corridor with renewed urgency dogging my footsteps. Less than a minute later, I stopped short as a shadow of blackness appeared on the corridor’s right wall. A tunnel opening.

I drew up cautiously to the entrance and peered within. The tunnel opened up into another cavern. Although it was shrouded in darkness, I could make out the outline of five large tables and twice as many benches. I frowned worriedly. The cavern appeared to be a dining area, one sized to hold a large gathering.

Just how many goblins are in this tunnel network? I wondered. Going by the size of the dining area, there could be upward of fifty goblins nearby. I hurried onwards, but stopped again only a little later.

Just up ahead, there was another cavern opening on the tunnel’s left wall. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The smells emanating from it were revolting. Breathing through my mouth, I moved to study the room.

It was a kitchen. Well, not really.

It was perhaps more accurate to say the cavern was a food-preparation area. There were three open fire-pits, each filled with coals glowing a sullen-red. Hooks had been inset all around the chamber’s walls. Hanging off them were strips of meat of dubious origin and from the smell, somewhat rancid.

A handful of goblins slept on the floor. Unlike the other goblins I had seen recently, the five were unarmed and unarmored, and also smaller in stature. Worker goblins, I realized.

I was tempted to enter the cavern and slay the creatures, but with every passing minute, my anxiety was growing. I needed to quickly find my way out of this dungeon section. It was clear to me now that this tunnel-network contained the goblins’ living quarters, and if the alarm was given while I was still in it, then my chances of survival were minimal at best.

Leaving behind the kitchen, I pressed onwards into the tunnel. Presently, I came to another cavern. I paused only long enough to ascertain the chamber—a training room if I had to guess—was empty before hurrying on.

I passed another half dozen openings on my left and right, but didn’t stop to investigate. The corridor I was in appeared to be the tunnel-network’s main passage, and I was hoping that sooner or later it would lead me to the area’s exit.

Five minutes later, I noticed the bright orange glow of torches up ahead. My steps slowed and I dropped deeper into my crouch as I crept closer. An intersection lay just ahead. It was the first branch in the tunnel I had come across since running into the patrol at the other crossing.

Beyond the intersection, the main passage continued for only a few more yards before ending abruptly in a thick metal door. The bright orange glow that I had spotted came from the torches affixed on either side of the door. Lounging in front of the door were six goblin guards.

I had found the tunnel-network’s exit.

But to my disappointment, it was guarded, and with greater care than the maze’s exit had been. While the goblin squad standing guard outside the door appeared slovenly and rumpled, they were unfortunately very much awake.

Worse yet, there was also a bell mounted on the wall behind the goblins. If I attempted a head-on assault, the guards were sure to raise the alarm.

Resting on my haunches I considered the problem. Luckily, while the area near the door was well-lit, the torchlight did not extend far, and both the intersection and the passageway in which I crouched were shrouded in shadows.

I have to lure the guards away from the door, I decided. But how? In whatever manner I did it, it would have to be innocuous enough not to cause rouse the guards’ suspicions. Perhaps, if I—

A deep clanging sounded from behind me. I froze. In front of me, the goblin squad tensed suddenly and set hands to weapons. The clanging rose in pitch, and its call was taken up by another.

My pulse quickening, I drew further back into the shadows. I knew what had happened.

I had been discovered.