"PHHHHHIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!"

Breaking the morning stillness, a childish voice shattered the solemn aura of the local graveyard in Preston, WA. The mid-sized suburb of Seattle and largely unremarkable if not for being the first city on Earth to recognize magical races as people just like any other.

A stance pushed largely by one man, Phil, himself, graveyard keeper, and immortal Draugr, he doesn't even require sleep. However, the child's voice still caused him considerable irritation, and various curses were mentally thrown at the kid's parents, relatives, and general bloodline relations.

"What. The. Blazes. Timothy?", each word spit out with so much venom not even the most foolish child around could ignore it.

" WW-W-Well....." The child stammered now that the moment had actually come to ask he was losing his nerve.

"Look, Just spit it out kiddo. I'm not upset with you child. Just a little surprised. " Phil's concern reached his voice as he saw the legitimate nerves taking hold in little Tim. It bothered him. Tim was such a bright and happy child. He'd managed to hold onto that even through the Apocalypse when he was just out of kindergarten. The boy's parents were Divers like Phil and many other powerful people worldwide.

  " It's my birthday today: my tenth birthday, Uncle Phil. My parents said it's OK for me to take on a Blessing if I want to," The boys said. Jumping from one foot to the other as he awaited the older man's response.

  "Oh, Tim. Oh, buddy, You know what you're asking of me right? If I did the ritual for you then your awakening would be different than anyone else's. I'm a Draugr, Tim! Not human anymore! I may still have a connection to the Gods of humans but my connections run deeper with the Gods of Death and Undeath! Is that really what you want!? I-"

  "I don't care! I want to be like you! Like Mom and Dad! My life doesn't have to be like anybody else! Just like you all... Just like my family!" Tim shouted. Shoving away at the much larger Draugr before collapsing in tears.

  " I-" An alarm interrupted Phil as he tried to explain himself. His voice caught before his face just hardened while he began to run. He left behind the Gravehounds, his summon Dead Man's Friend, to guard the graveyard while he was out. " I'll talk to you later, Tim. I swear I only want the best for you."

  Phil ran. No sweat left his pores, he hadn't sweat since he was merely human. Nor did he tire, sleep, or produce waste. He is a Draugr. Something between life and death. Proud warrior of the Gravekeeper God, Hreith. Guardian god of the dead and Undead. Every step he took guided by his chosen diety's Insight, giving him knowledge and experience outside his own to draw upon. An ability shared by all other Paladins, Priests, Angelic Guards, and any class directly bound to a Deity.

  Waving at the city guards, he continued on. The other Divers on-call joined his run to reach the Dungeon Break before too much loss of life. Dungeons are a great treasure source arising in the aftermath of the Apocalypse. Mana purifiers meant to take in tainted, corrupted, or otherwise altered mana and put out monsters. The monsters are a pure and fresh source of mana unaltered by the multiverse or the beings living inside it. Most of them at least. Occasionally, if nobody has gone in for some time it will crack and overflow. The creatures in a Dungeon Break will be more powerful and plentiful than the garden variety; instead of the creatures within escaping, the break allowed pure Dungeon Mana to escape into the world and recklessly create any creature of the same initial tier as the dungeon. Along with that, the original Dungeon dwellers will tier up during the Break and continue strengthening the Dungeon. It is why they are such a threat. Yet due to their importance to the multiverse, no place can go eliminate them. New dungeons are always popping up in places that seek to eliminate them.

  Old friends ran alongside Phil for the final few moments. Jokes and jabs fly back and forth constantly with no apparent regard for the grave situation.

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  "Hiya, Phil. Still mostly alive I see." The rogue to Phil's left commented mid-leap, covering world-record distances from the old world.

  "Yes, Ronnie. I am 'mostly' alive. You dick. Are you still focusing exclusively on your ability to run quickly? What do you think you'll do when we fight something faster than you?"

  " Hehe. Ain't nothing faster than me. I'll be running circles around your grave long after we fight any creature fast enough to lay a finger on me. "

  " As long as you're confident my friend." Phil shot back shaking his head ruefully as Ronnie sprinted ahead, the Dungeon Break becoming visible just ahead.

  The industrial district which had sprung up in the advent of the apocalypse was primarily geared towards the usage of monster parts, harvested from the vast northwestern forests and plentiful dungeons. And Phil, as a well-known butcher, held considerable real estate amongst said industrial district dedicated towards the disassembly of monster corpses for sale later. Matter of fact, Phil owned the very warehouse in which the current Dungeon Break occurred.

  HOW? WHO? WHAT BASTARD DIDN'T DO THEIR JOB? WHO IS LETTING PEOPLE DIE HERE? IN MY DOMAIN? UNDER MY WATCH?

  Phil's rage shook his massive frame and his favored warblade, Tomb, sprang to his hand, ready to dismember whoever could be blamed for allowing a Dungeon Break in one of his own buildings. Only calming down when Ronnie reached up and grabbed his shoulder saying " Let's just save lives first. Punish people later".

  Phil begrudgingly nodded in agreement, his blade still on a hair-trigger within his grasp, as he investigated the Dungeon Break. The dungeon had a deeply unstable outpouring of mana that was as clean as could be, surefire signs that this was the first break.

  " Bad news all," the Champion in front said with a gentle sigh. " First Break protocol, that means Phil you're on the rear, I'll watch over the glass cannons, and Ronnie leads the way. Check your equipment and form up on my voice."

  There were a few glances towards the Draugr. Judging. Uncertain if they could really trust someone not human to watch their backs. This was his building that housed the break. He was a monster and stranger to begin with. These thoughts were running through the minds of certain Divers in the temporary crew. At least until Sebastian called them into formation for the Dive. The initial monsters that had been born of the Break were felled by the patrolling guards, but the task of clearing the broken dungeon fell to the Divers.

  They all moved as one. The team forming up at Seb's call. All signs of joking were gone. The suspicions shaken off as merely momentary thoughts. Phil had proven himself time and time again as an ally to the city and it's people. Those who still doubted were thick in the head, to be sure. Still doubts were an insidious thing, and trust is difficult towards someone who so vehemently defends those that most would dismiss as monsters.

  Passing into the breach in the world's fabric they passed into the dungeon. It was a cave, commonly home to those that don't rely on sight. As protocol dictated from here on, all communication would be in simple hand signs unless there was no other choice. Ronnie took the lead; the rogue’s higher reaction speed and more advanced sensory skills made him the natural choice to take the lead.

  [Move along, full speed, maintain caution]. Orders passed without issue and the group moved along quickly, making as little noise as possible in the pitch-dark caves. Every sense tuned to the environment and wholly directed towards reacting in case of an ambush. The natural lack of light in traditional cave dungeons leads to a certain breed of creatures thriving in such a place. Creatures who either navigate without using sight or creatures who rely heavily on traps, knowledge of native terrain, and etc.

[Stop. Listen]. It only took a few seconds for the rest of the Divers to hear it. Instead of the normal natural noises that exist in even a magical cave there was a steady if inconsistent low whoomping like the wingbeats of a truly colossal monster.

“What the hell is that?” The mage, Alex, asked, his voice low and shaking. The worst possible options leaping to the front of his mind. An unshakeable terror slowly growing from within the depths of his heart as the sound only got closer and closer.

Swish.

Whoompf.

WHOOMPFF.

Shliick.

Click. Click. Click.

Click? The sound was wrong. That was not the sound of a swarm, or a mighty winged beast. That was the sound of a nest on the move. Out for blood. Ready to reap countless lives. Ronnie could feel it, his instincts shaking him loose of the sound’s hold. Breaking his attention from the hypnotic and terrifying noise he bellowed,

“AMBUSH!!!”

CLICK. CLICKCLIKCLCICCICC

A roar of clicking overcame the group. Without a second’s thought or a moment’s warning they all began to move. Like a well-oiled machine they thrust and sliced through flesh and carapace, through air and thread breaking the spiders’ ambush before it could begin. Mage’s fire and lightning began to leap from one arachnid to the next in a desperate attempt to burn them all.