The twin suns of Camaria continued their rise into the sky as their light shone down through the clear blue sky. It was a perfect morning to be outside enjoying all the wonders of nature, all the vibrant living colors the world had to offer just waiting to be seen. Something Jonathan had no time for in this moment, his blue eyes snapping wide and focused on the blade edge that sailed through the air towards his throat.
Jerking back, he let the tip of the weapon narrowly miss its target, catching only the beads of sweat that were dropping from his brow periodically. Not wasting a moment, Jon then weaved to the right and took a step into his opponent's guard. Bringing his own sword edge up, he activated a skill in retaliation.
[Blade Rush]
Identical to the swing that almost caught his neck a mere instant prior, Jon’s blade and sword-arm cut upward with a supernatural push, tripling the speed of the slash he aimed for the upper thigh of the shorter man before him. Just as quickly, the man brought down the bottom end of the heater shield he had risen earlier to block another blow in this flowing exchange. The very edge dipped into the path of Jon’s blade, causing it to just barely skip over the leg as the scrape of metal on metal filled the space between them instead.
Succumbing to a bit of deflation at the failure, and no shortage of fatigue, Jon was a split second too late to react when he caught the glimpse of his opponent’s pommel coming back towards his head. Attempting to drop his stance down a couple inches and kick back, he instead only managed to take the hit to the topside of his forehead in place of the intended strike to his temple.
This blow sending Jon careening off balance just prior to taking a more solid strike from the shield to the chest that knocked the air from his lungs. An appropriate thud accompanied a gasp of that escaped oxygen as he was sent flying several feet back through the air. Landing ungracefully on the flattened dirt of the training field, Jon laid disoriented on his back for a minute trying to collect his breath once again.
Leaning his sword and shield against a wooden weapon stand to the side, the olive-skinned man who had just bested Jon walked over with a short hearty laugh. “You had me sweating hard with this one Jonny, thought you were going to take it this time.”
Crouching down to his side, the man then folded his legs in to sit beside his laid-out training partner. Having collected his breath along with his thoughts, Jon looked up at Clark for a moment before slowly leaning up to a sitting position himself with a wince.
The two had been doing this a couple times a week for the past few months. It wasn’t too long after Jon had gone solo with the Guild that this openly friendly warrior had imposed himself on Jon’s reclusive lifestyle. At first, like with everyone else in the guild following the incident, Jon was hesitant to let himself get close. Needless to say now however, Clark had solidified himself as one of Jon’s only real friends here in Eastmouth.
“Hardly.” Wiping the sweat and blood from his stinging forehead, Jon sighed, “I was on the back foot from the start with that new skill of yours. The hell was that?”
“[Pointed Mirage], I picked it up after our last job up north.” Clark began to explain with some excitement through his own laboured breaths. Despite Clark being praised as a natural talent coming up in the guild, Jon was often proud of being able to always give the man a run for his money. Even sometimes besting the warrior in some of their matches.
Not that Jon was feeling any of that today, a reality Jon wasn’t too shocked the surprisingly empathetic viking of a man quickly picked up on.
“It was Tom, Clara, and I. Got into a tough spot with some nuts that summoned a Chain Devil.” Leveling his breathing and replacing some of his excitement for his love of storytelling with a worried inflection, Clark changed tacks. “Anyways man, you’ve seemed a bit out of it today. What’s on your mind?”
Letting loose another sigh at the words, Jon glanced to meet his friend’s inquiring gaze. Seeing the kindness and genuine care in the man’s hazel eyes, Jon groaned internally. He hated talking about himself, least of all about his feelings. Clark on the other hand, seemed to love to force him into it. Literally by force the first time. That was a rough period.
It was also why Jon decided to answer after a few moments of silence.
“I don’t know. Things have just felt way too stagnant lately.” After all, it had been almost half a year since Jon was brought to this world. His initial aspirations of being some kind of a hero in this land summoned forth by the Gods to defeat some horrible Demon King had been quickly tempered. It was a rude awakening to have the fantasy of this world collide with the harsh realities it presented, one that had sent him onto his path of a solo adventurer. Yet even with his constant training and his grueling grind for experience, Jon was nowhere near the level he wanted to be. The level someone needed to be in this world if they ever wanted to guarantee the safety of those they care about. He lear - Thud
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“What the fu-” Gripping the back of his head in pain, Jon looked back at Clark as he pulled back from the punch.
“You have a serious problem with getting into your own head. How many times do I have to tell you not to just drop something on me and then leave me hanging for half a minute while you go and contemplate your entire life story.”
“That’s not exactly what I was doing.” Jon clicked his tongue in annoyance as he ran a hand through his short sweaty black hair to feel the new welt already beginning to form. Being Clark’s friend was honestly a hazard in and of itself.
“You could have fooled me.” Cracking the knuckles he just cracked Jon’s head with, Clark got to his feet with his attention presumably on a system screen for a moment before looking down and offering Jon a hand. “Anyways, we’ve talked about this before. But if you decide to change your mind, the guild is forming a raiding party to investigate that unclassified dungeon in a couple days. You’re welcome to join.”
Shaking his head and letting out a final sigh, Jon took the offered hand and rose to his feet standing a couple inches over Clark, joking as he did so. “Maybe if you stopped trying to beat any depression out of me, I’d think about it.”
“Maybe if you stopped being so easy to beat I’d think about it.”
Glaring at each other for a moment with tightened grips, the two let out some light chuckles before parting ways. Clark turned to go grab his weapons while Jon stood in place and stretched out the soreness all over his body, always grateful for the HP regen that slowly repaired his lesser injuries.
“So you’re actually joining the raid then? I thought this was estimated to be a high ranking dungeon?”
Lifting up his shield and sliding his sword back into its sheath at his side, Clark turned to face Jon with a raised brow. “How’d you hear that, the probe only happened yesterday?”
“Linda updated me this morning. If someone walks into that Inn, she’ll drain the gossip out of them like a damn succubus.”
“Of course.” Letting out another hearty laugh, Clark filled in the blanks. “Truthfully I wouldn’t be able to join with my levels alone. The minimum on this one is fifty, with at least one sub at twenty.”
A statement that made Jon whistle as Clark went on. These were qualifications that few in Eastmouth and the surrounding area had, himself and present company included. Essentially you had to be a B-Rank adventurer or higher as a minimum. It was a surprise for a dungeon appearing in such a low risk area.
He went on to explain that one of his frequent party members, Clara the
Leaving that aside, Clark continued on to explain the summary of the report from the squad that had explored the early sections of the dungeon. According to them there was a strange assortment of fiends, even some hellhounds, which certainly raised some concerns amongst the guild. Yet the levels were relatively low.
The mana density was higher than normal for the region, but remained consistent throughout. Coupled with the simplicity of the cave system tunneling, the experts are quite sure that it is a Hollow Dungeon. One formed around a powerful magic item rather than a naturally occuring core.
Jon had shaken his head at that one. Whenever a Hollow Dungeon was involved, there would be plenty of people working outside of the guild that would lose their lives in the hopes of getting that item. Either for wealth or power.
Not that he was one to judge considering his own plans.
“Now, that all said; Clara seems to think that the party the guild is forming to clear this is far more than necessary. I figure that’s why they considered me at all.” Finishing the explanation while he patted off the remainder of the sweat from his own brow, Clark then briefly worked his fingers over his long sandy blonde braid as he prepared to take off. “We both know that you easily belong on it with me in that case. So again, I know how you feel, but if you can put aside the solo act for a while, this is the perfect opportunity to break past that plateau of yours.”
He was right about that, and Jon knew it. He had been running quests by himself for months, constantly grinding his levels and putting his own life at risk to grow at an incredible rate. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Not here. There were limits to what one person could do, and there were people he didn't want to give up in this town in order to go past those limits.
Or rather, that was one of his excuses. One that didn’t apply to this dungeon.
Cracking his neck to finish off his stretching, Jon finally reached down to pick up the sword that had been knocked out of his hand at the end of the spar. “Yeah, maybe.”
“What? Really?” Clark perked up in surprise as his attention snapped away from another invisible screen in front of him. Unlike Jon, Clark had plenty of people looking for his time, which is why he enjoyed taking the time to let loose away from it all with these sparring sessions.
Shutting down the budding hope his friend showed however, Jon decided to deflect the conversation. “No. No, I wouldn’t want to show you up in front of the guild.”
Blinking in confusion for a second, it was Clark’s turn to sigh. This was far from the first time Jon refused to broach the subject. They both knew it.
Waving it off, he instead returned a defeated smirk and shot back with an earnest tone before he turned to take his leave. “Well, I don’t think that would be so bad. If you change your mind, you know the invitation is always open; dungeon or not.”
“I know it.” Jon shot back earnestly himself as Clark started to walk away, neither of them really being the types for drawn out goodbyes. Jon actually couldn’t remember the last time they parted ways without seeming completely sudden and cold to others. They both knew their schedules and could simply tell when a conversation was over. No need to dawdle.
The thought brought a quick smirk to his face before Jon sheathed his own sword and shifted gears.
He had shot down the offer to raid the dungeon with the rest of the guild, but he had no intention of ignoring it outright. Many of the quests commissioned through the guild were limited to parties of adventurers, which seriously handicapped his goals around here. Especially considering the monopoly the guild had on any form of quest in the town. Sure, the party requirements were basic safety protocol, which of course made sense. It just didn’t work for him.
This dungeon however, was different.
By and large, dungeons are claimed either by the guild or by the crown, depending on the size. Of course, there are also cases of individuals, independent groups, or political players gaining this control instead, but there is a single caveat that always remained true;
Without an official raid, it was first come, first serve.