Death after Death Ch. 15-16 (Patreon)

Enjoy the next two chapters. New post on 11/14/22!

Ch. 15 - Words of Power

Death by suffocation was definitely on Simon’s top five worst deaths so far. It had all the helpless terror of drowning combined with the pain and horror of having his face melted off. When he woke up in his bed though, he was more frustrated than horrified. How the hell was he supposed to kill something that couldn’t be stabbed and barely had a body to fight?

“Magic,” he said, answering his own question as he looked up at the ceiling of his little cabin. The answer was obvious. Magic was always the right tool to defeat an amorphous monster like this. Anything with fire really. He doubted that a torch would do enough damage, at least not before the slime or the blob or whatever that thing was swallowed him whole again, but a spell like the one that the goblin used to burn him out of house and home in an instant? That would be just about right.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to cast that spell, and he’d be golden.

It wasn’t going to be that easy of course, but Simon took a moment to appreciate just how smart he was. It was because of levels like this that so many of the millions of people that were trapped in this cursed place were stuck here. Some of those people probably never even figured out there was magic here at all, and it must have taken hundreds of thousands of others. years to put it together. Here he was solving the level’s twist almost as soon as he reached it. He was dying a lot more than he thought he was going to. He did have to admit that to himself, but he learned something with almost every death now, and sometime soon he’d be clearing multiple levels with every death rather than multiple deaths with every level as he’d been up until now.

Simon added just enough wood to the fire to make sure it would stay smoldering until this evening, and opened the shutters to let the heat out. After that he had a little of the food, and a little of the wine as a sort of celebration of the string of small victories he’d just had, and then he decided to take a nap. He couldn’t really carry out his plan until this evening, so he might as well enjoy a well earned break and beat the midday heat. His final thoughts before drifting off to sleep were about how happy he’d be when he learned how to cast that goblin’s spell. He wouldn’t even need to learn how to light a fire; he’d be able to create it with nothing but a word.

. . .

Several hours later he woke and started to get ready. He still had hours before sunset, and he doubted he’d see the goblins until then, but for once in his life he had to be early. Once they were out of their lair, there was no telling how they would ambush him, but as long as he was keeping watch on the cave entrance, he didn’t see how they could sneak up behind him.

Simon geared up, and then looked long and hard at the bow on his wall, wishing he knew how to use the thing before he decided to leave it here. It would have been a hundred times better than the crossbow for tonight, but he would have to make do until he found time to practice with the longbow. Once that decision was made, he was off, tramping through the grass the way he remembered going last time to find what was almost certainly the goblin cave.

He made it almost all the way to the cave without getting lost. One quick backtrack later though, and he was hiding behind a boulder with a clear view of the cave itself. From this distance it didn’t smell so bad, so he polished off the bread and cheese without losing his appetite while he kept his eyes on the hole and his crossbow braced on the rock.  It was sort of like a stakeout he thought, but with goblins instead of criminals. It was a funny thought.

Hours later, when the sun had almost completely set, Simon saw the first bit of motion at the cave mouth. As the darkness deepened he saw first one goblin climb out of the cave with a crude spear and take a look around while a second one moved to join him. Simon had spent hours thinking about the relative pros and cons of different ways to handle this ambush, but in the end he decided that once too many got out, he was going to lose, so he was going to holds them here at a choke point until that witch doctor or shaman or whatever he was supposed to be showed up to light him on fire.

Simon took careful aim at the first goblin only once he was sure that the second one was close enough to see it get taken down. He needn't have worried much about that though; his bolt went a little lower than anticipated an the goblin screamed bloody murder as it colapsed on the ground with a bolt through its belly.

“Perfect,” he whispered to himself as he watched the second little coward disappear back down the hole. Once the coast was clear he started reloading his crossbow. He was getting halfway good at this part now, but he still wasn’t so fast that he’d want to try it in the middle of a fight. Once that was done he didn’t put the first goblin out of his misery, he just let it keep writhing in pain while he waited for more of his kin to appear.

He wasn’t disappointed. Almost two minutes later three more popped out of the cave, and Simon shot the third one in the head before charging the other two with his sword. The one closest to the cave quickly retreated, but Simon was able to cleave the last one in two before he got away. After that he retreated to reload again. Now he certainly had their attention, and he was sure that any time now they’d bring out the big guns to teach him a lesson.

That actually took longer than he thought though. The goblins tried to create a beachhead in the clearing three times, and each time they retreated before him as he killed them in ones and twos. An hour later the clearing was littered with the bodies of the dead, but he still hadn’t gotten any closer to seeing magic. Eventually though, that was exactly what he saw. Simon wasn’t able to make out the words that the shaman shouted that made the world ignite, but he saw the flames lash out from the cave, and cascade across the clearing, lighting a few bodies and a couple trees on fire as the sudden burst of fire dispelled the night.

Simon waited with baited breath to see what would happen this time. If he got killed he could always try this again, though he didn’t relish finding out what being burned alive felt like. On the other hand, if he had no other choice he could always kill this bastard and go scrounging through the cave for a spell book. That’s where mages and wizards always kept their spells in the stories after all.

He didn’t have to do either right away though, and so when a couple scouts carefully climbed their way out of the cave, Simon let them think the coast was clear, and stayed hidden until the shaman was out in the open. Once that happened he let them get a little closer before he popped around the side of the boulder and fired off another shot. He didn’t aim for the caster, even though he knew that was the best answer. Instead he killed the ugly little bugger just to the caster’s right, making him jump in surprise.

The goblin responded by shrieking out that awful word again and lighting the world on fire in a series of jagged fiery lightning bolts. Simon quickly ducked back behind his rocky bulwark to avoid the worst of the heat and stepped into the crossbow stirrup as he tried to pronounce the vile word the goblin had said. He was sure that it was magic. Not just because of the fireworks, but because of the way it tried to slip from his mind’s grasp as he thought about it. It was a word that didn’t want to be spoken. Well - words at least. Last time he thought it was one word, but this time he was sure it was two.

“Gerul Levermin! Gervul Menen! Garvul Manin!” Simon yelled, not getting any result besides the faint taste of brimstone in his mouth. That had happened before too, he recalled. Was that the hint that he was almost there? That he was on the verge of this hellish magic but not quite there yet? He pivoted around the boulder from the other side. This time he noticed that there were a few more of the goblins in the clearing than before. He’d definitely kicked the hornet’s nest now. That realization didn’t stop him from killing another goblin before ducking back behind the rock.

“Gervuul Meiren!” the goblin called out again. It was clearer this time, though whether that was because he was listening so intently for it, or because he’d gotten closer to saying it himself he couldn’t say. Not much made sense about the pit to begin with, but nothing made sense about its magic system.

Simon reloaded his crossbow, and opted to pop out over the top of his hiding place this time. “Gervuul Meiren!” he shouted as he released the quarrel, dropping the shaman with a bolt through the chest. That should have been an exciting moment for him, but he was more disappointed than anything that nothing happened.

“What the hell,” he muttered before breathing in to try again. AS he opened his mouth to shout a second time though he felt a sharp sting of pain as something stabbed him in the back. He hopped down causing the pain to double before the shoddy spear thrust in his side to snap.

“You little bitch,” Simon shouted, pulling out his sword and swung it a couple times to end the goblin. It was a canny thing though, and jumped out of his reach. That was when Simon started to back up. If there was one back here there could be more, and if he wasn’t careful he’d be completely surrounded.

While Simon stumbled back he desperately thought back to the shaman. Trying to figure out what the goblin had done that he hadn’t, but he couldn’t think of much. So unless it was the staff that the creature was wielding that was magic, the words should have worked. He wasn’t sure he’d get another chance though. Now he could see four goblins advancing on him in a slowly tightening semicircle. He didn’t know how badly he was bleeding, but he knew it must be enough that they thought that they could just wait him out, and they certainly weren’t letting him go without avenging some of the goblin lives he’d taken tonight.

As the minutes wore on, Simon indeed grew weaker. Soon he had his back against a large tree, and he leaned against it as much to make sure that no one could sneak up on him again as to make sure he stayed standing upright. He had run out of strength to swing his sword, but he still held it meanicingly, determined to gut the first one that came for him. That was a fine thing to want, but as he continued to bleed out the blade slipped from his grasp, and he slowly slid down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting amongst the roots.

That’s when the goblins started warily towards him, still worried it was a trap. Now there were seven of them, and even at full strength he probably didn’t stand much of a chance.

Simon raised up his hand in a warding the gesture to protect his face as the closest one raised a crude looking club. “Gervuul Meiren,” he barked one final time, giving the words everything he had while he imagined the goblins melting like wax on a summer day, and to his eternal shock something actually happened.

It wasn’t quite the fireworks show that the shaman had pulled off, but tendrils of fire and gouts of flame suddenly arced from his hand, lighting half the goblins that were about to tear him to pieces of fire, and sending the rest running for his lives. Simon would have been excited about that, but saying those terrible words hurt so badly that it was hard to care about anything else.

His throat wasn’t raw like the last time he’d gotten into a screaming match with his dad, or when he’d gotten strep. It felt like he’d eaten a burning coal and vomited it back up, but after that terrible moment passed, he looked around at his smoldering enemies and managed to smile. “Achievement unlocked,” he whispered raspily, before he passed out from blood loss.

Ch. 16 - Level Six

When Simon slowly opened his eyes, he felt different, and he didn’t need the mirror to see it, though he did consult it anyway. “Show me my character sheet,” he ordered, as soon as he sat up.

Name: Simon Jackoby

Level: 5

Deaths: 25

Experience Points: -7960

Skills: Archery [Poor], Armor (light) [Average], Athletics [Poor], Cook [Very Poor], Craft [Very Poor], Deception [Very Poor], Escape [Very Poor], Investigate [Poor], Maces [Below Average], Ride [Very Poor], Search [Poor], Sneak [Poor], Spears [Very Poor], Spell Casting [Very Poor], Steal [Very Poor], Swimming [Very Poor], and Swords [Average].

There it was, on his sheet. His spell casting used to be none. Every time he looked at it previously it had taunted him with its absence, but now it was very poor, and that made all the difference in the world. Every other ‘very poor’ on the list taunted him, but not that one. That one he cherished. The way the words still echoed in his mind, it was a wonder they weren’t on his sheet under a new section like ‘acquired spells.’ Gervuul and Meiren. As soon as he’d finally cast his first spell it was immediately clear to him that they were two words, and not just one that had run together. He didn’t know what either of them meant, but he knew that he would never forget them. Even now they both felt like they were branded on his soul, and he was hesitant to get too close to either of them.

Speaking them had felt… wrong. That was the only way to describe it, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing it again. This was just one more thing that wasn’t at all like his expectations for it had been. Manipulating mana, and casting spells - those were supposed to be amazing experiences. He’d spent evenings wondering if channeling the universe like that would be more orgasmic feeling, like sex, or if it would be something closer to getting electricuted while you were high. It turned out it was neither. It was like turning your brain inside out while the universe rebuked you for violating its laws. Saying them had hurt less than a goblin bite, but more than a sucker punch, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing it again.

He was going to have to though, because now that he had his fire spell, he had a way to beat that awful slime. That thought brought him back to the present, and he stood up. “I’ve got a new weapon in my arsenal now, bitches,” he said to himself as he started to get out his armor, “Arcane Napalm!” He pondered the name for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. Nah - that definitely wasn’t going to work, but he’d think of something better in time. Time was the one thing he had plenty of.

Simon decided to leave the chainmain at home this time since he was no longer so afraid of the skeletons, and once he was geared up, he started heading down into the basement. This time he took it a little slower than he had been lately and poked around a bit on levels one and two. There really was nothing in the rat filled basement but produce in wicker baskets and burlap sacks, although he did realize that the walls were only dirt, so presumably if he got really desperate he could dig his way out and see what was on the outside of the basement, assuming that there weren’t just infinite dirt of course. That Seemed like something that Helades would enjoy doing. Making a whole world of dirt to go with her piece of shit personality.

On his trip through the trap floor he noticed a trigger plate that he’d seen a couple times before, but he’d never noticed a trap that was connected to it. This time, just for the hell of it he tripped it just to see what it was. It turned out that it opened a secret room, but the only thing in it unfortunately was a chest full of gold and silver coins. In any other circumstance it would have been a hell of a find, but in this one it was kind of pointless. The gear he had to carry weighed enough already. Sacks of gold? That would be a special kind of hell.

He picked up a few coins just in case he ever found a place to spend them, and then continued on his way. On the goblin floor he tried killing a few of them with his mace, but he discovered what he already knew: it was much more fun killing the little bastards with his sword. He took his time with it so he’d be as rested as possible for the skeletons. Last time that had been a real marathon, but this time it wasn’t even half as hard he remembered it. Simon managed to kill almost every skeleton before the knight even rose from his tomb, and the fight with it was over in less than a minute.

“So far so good,” he told himself as he unlocked the door. “Today’s the day I go down two levels with one life. I can feel it.” After he spoke, Simon went back for the knight’s sword. He still couldn’t wield it, or even touch it, but he wanted to try something, so he scooped it up onto a decaying kite shield from one of his earlier kills, and carried it with him into the cave that would be his next battleground.

Nothing appeared to have changed since the last time he was here, so Simon approached the stream to within a few feet, and then tossed the sword in it before he stepped back. The whole way down he’d been wondering how to get the damn creature out of the water. No matter how powerful his fire spell was, it wasn’t going to do much good there, and Simon didn’t exactly want to bait it with his body again. He’d considered dragging a goblin body down to use as bait, but those things stunk, and the sword might work even better.

Even now he could see a thin rime of ice slowly spreading along the surface of the water. That left the slime or the ooze or whatever it was two choices: it could come out in play or it could stay where it was until it was frozen solid. He didn’t care. He had all day. That wasn’t strictly true Simon realized. He would prefer that it stayed and froze. That way he wouldn’t have to try to cast that terrible spell again, even if he was eager to actually kill something with it.

He didn’t get his wish though, because a few minutes later as the magical frost approached the wall to his left, the slime slowly slid out of the water ahead of it. Simon considered running to the far side of the cave and trying to just get around it, but it seemed like kind of a cowardly thing to do, so, getting as close as he dared, he shouted his magic words when he was about ten feet away from the thing and sure he wouldn’t miss. "Gervuul Meiren!”

He was more than a little disappointed when nothing happened again, and quickly retreated while the slime slowly gave chase at something below walking speed. What had he done differently the other time, he asked himself as he backed away. He’d said the words, and said them right. He’d pointed at the thing. He thought back to that night in the clearing with the fire all around him while he was bleeding against the tree. Was there something he did there that he wasn’t doing here?

All he could remember about that night was how badly he wanted to see those bastards burst into flames. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe he didn’t have intent or visualization or whatever behind him with this slime.

He stopped and focused, imagining lighting this ugly bastard crawling towards him on fire, and then said those terrible words again. “Gervuul Meiren!” This time they ripped themselves out of his throat with the same ferocity he remembered as arcs of fiery death shot out of his hand through whatever he’d done to warp reality. Several of the burning streamers missed the slime, but several others hit the thing, and its skin went from clear to smoldering and ashen across almost a third of its body, which was about right because just saying the words made him feel like he’d been a smoky room yelling over music that was too loud all night. He doubted there were any bars in the pit to celebrate his latest victory in though.

Simon’s thoughts of celebration were rather short lived. Rather than put it down, the slime came after him even faster after that. He yelled the words again, out of fear as much as anything. Less fire arced this time. Simon wasn’t sure if that was because his voice was shot, or because he hasn’t visualized its death as vividly as before. Either way it didn’t matter - the second blast was enough, and the smoldering slime finally stopped making any movement more threatening than twitching as it slowly dissolved into a widening puddle.

The first spell he’d cast made him feel like a chain smoker, but the second one had felt worse than any bout of strep throat he’d ever had. It was pure misery. He honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to cast it a third time any time soon, so he hoped that he didn’t have to. Simon spat on the ground to try to get the taste of brimstone out of his mouth, and wasn’t surprised when he saw blood.

Even though he was pretty sure it was dead, he gave the thing wide berth as he walked towards the waterfall to gargle and refill his water skin. That helped a little, but not enough. It wasn’t like he could do anything else right now though. Only a lot of beer or a quick trip to his next life was going to fix this, and he wasn’t about to die now. He was on a roll.

With that thought in mind Simon walked across the cave, and down the passage on the far side. It didn’t take long before it ended in a bright and cheerful wooden door that looked entirely out of place here. Simon wondered how it had gotten here, but having no other choice, he opened it to find… a dining room of some sort. “Well you don’t see that…” he croaked as he walked inside, shuddering from the pain as much as the sound of his own voice before he trailed off into silence. He knew what he was saying, and he could barely understand himself.

Still, even if it hurt to talk, and even the roast ham on the table didn’t inspire much of an appetite, the mug of dark ale on the table closest to him certainly looked appetizing. Simon looked around but couldn’t see any diners. The state that they’d left the table in definitely spoke to some kind of battle though. Maybe there was a dragon attacking the castle and they’d all gone to fight it, leaving him this lovely feast to enjoy. He strode forward to help himself, but as soon as he picked up the beer, suddenly something charged him from the right, practically knocking him off his feet.

Simon raised his tankered and shattered it against the man’s face. It was only then that his attacker was already dead. It took another few seconds, long enough for the zombie to try to unsuccessfully bite through his leather bracer, for his brain to work out that he wasn’t just dead. He was a zombie. To his credit he didn’t panic or freak out, he just pulled his flanged mace off the loop on his belt and swung it down hard enough to crack the things skull.

It kept fighting through the first and second blows, even after Simon heard its skull crack. When the third one landed though, it crumpled like a rag doll. He smiled at that, surprised to find out that zombies might actually be as easy as he thought they were going to be. He kicked the thing just to make sure it really was completely dead, and then he walked past the disrupted feast to the next door, his weapon at the ready. Having a drink could wait. Now that he knew what this floor’s monster was, he wanted to find out just how many there were.

On the other side of the door was a blonde tavern maid, holding a pitchfork. As soon as the door opened she whirled to face him. “Wiednsval!” she yelled menacingly jabbing towards him with the pitchfork to keep his distance. “Wiednsval? Bidsden Aufriven?”

Her strange accent and her lack of english made it almost as clear as her weapon did that this wasn’t going to go well, but since she was the only person he’d seem besides that damn goddess in what felt like weeks, and she made the plunging neckline of her bodice look particularly good, Simon was certainly willing to give it a try.

“I come in peace,” he said slowly and calmly as he dropped his mace and raised his hands in the air. At least that’s what he tried to say. It came out more as “Ichkom enpeeez.” He had only half a second to realize that he sounded more like a groaning zombie than a person before he realized that the bair maid must have thought the same thing. With a roar of anger she charged forward, plunging all three tines into his chest. His leather armor had been pretty effective at lots of hazards, but they did almost nothing to slow down the farming implement as they penetrated his flesh.

He tried to struggle then, not caring that it made him seem even more like a zombie as he flailed and groaned in pain. It wasn’t any good though. She drove her thrust forward until he was pinned to the wall behind him, and then held him there for a few seconds until the internal bleeding from where her blow had nicked his heart caused enough internal bleeding for him to lose consciousness.