As soon as the truck squeezed into the dark portal, the scenery around them changed. The truck appeared in the middle of a vast landscape studded with squat trees, maintaining the same gentle acceleration as when it drove through the entranceway.
Used to teleporting about due to [ Flash Step ], Roman felt perfectly at ease. From the sound of it, some of the others had chosen to look through the slots in the walls and couldn’t handle the disorientation of seeing the world switch perspective before their eyes. He hoped he wouldn’t have to remind them to clean up after themselves.
Outside, dark, heavy clouds obscured the sun. Enough light broke through to reveal the savannah they had been teleported to clearly wasn’t part of Earth. Or, at least, the old Earth. The foliage was a sickly purple color, tinged with deep red blush like an infected wound.
In the side-view mirror, Roman could make out a slight distortion in the air from where they had emerged. The dark portal, as expected, was only one way for the Players until the dungeon was completed. In the meantime, the monsters that periodically slipped out into the real world would continue to use the gateway to enter the grocery store. If the path remained clear and the Parties didn’t address the invaders, they might return to a menagerie of abominations on the other side, laying in wait to ambush them.
All the more reason to complete the dungeon as fast as possible.
Before Roman could ask the others what they were expected to do, text appeared across his vision.
[ New dungeon completion quest available: Free the Food. Infiltrate the compound and attempt to lead the captives to freedom. Destroy the regional boss. Reward: variable based on performance. ]
Not much to go off of. At least there wasn’t a time limit or any particular number of captives that needed to be saved. They just needed to make an attempt, though he suspected if they didn’t put on a good show, the rewards would be lackluster.
Mixie accelerated lightly. The upgraded vehicle handled itself well, swaying side to side over the bumpy terrain like a ship across water.
“You see something?” Roman asked.
Mixie nodded. “Straight ahead. Some sort of hillside fortification. Guards on the wall. Minor protection and reinforcement wards. Nothing impressive.”
Roman saw absolutely nothing, but he had full faith in Mixie’s diamond eyes. They traveled for a couple minutes in relative peace before he could make out the rectangular smudge on the horizon that Mixie must have been talking about.
“My quest says to infiltrate the compound,” Roman said to John. “Should we try to sneak in or what? Are you able to scout for us?”
John shook his head. “There are restrictions to what we can do in dungeons, since we have the potential to ruin too many traps or other aspects meant to make it more exciting for the Watchers. I can’t move farther than twenty feet away from you.”
“Typical,” said Roman.
“Honestly, as reckless as it seems, a full frontal assault may be the best thing in this scenario. You have to limit the straight up wide-scale devastation to not risk injuring whoever the captives are, but there’s not much to worry about there. This group aren’t exactly nuke-droppers.” John tilted his head to the side and added, “Well, except maybe Mary.”
The high estimation of the wine-drunk older lady made Roman reconsider her in a new light. Maybe he had judged her too harshly. He had to admit that if he had ended up taking refuge in a liquor store, he would probably be in far worse shape than she was right now. The situation called for a certain amount of hysteria. What mattered was how she handled herself when it was time for business.
“Guess our best advantage is the truck in the first place,” said Roman. “Can’t exactly sneak this thing in there, can we?”
Mixie grunted. “The time for that is long past. They have already noticed us. We will soon intercept the monsters that were heading toward the exit.”
Roman leaned forward, attempting to catch sight of whatever Mixie was referring to. The dark blurs of their figures were nearly impossible to track until he activated [ Hunter’s Eye ].
Four figures shaped like oversized panthers loped across the savannah, their shadowy auras standing out in stark relief against the surrounding grassland. It looked like they were moving even faster than the truck, which was making its way at a respectable fifty miles per hour.
Roman cursed and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Sit back, Mister Miller.” Smiling, Mixie reached out and pressed one of the buttons on the dashboard. A panel on the passenger’s side of the truck retracted and the Weatherby Mark V rifle emerged, attached to an articulated ivory mount.
The shadow panthers surged across the landscape, converging on their location. Despite Mixie’s calm words, Roman prepared to [ Flash Step ] out to meet them. He doubted the mounted rifle would do much to
Before Roman could throw himself into the fray, Mixie pointed in the direction of the panthers. He jerked his hand six times, as if firing off imaginary bullets, and the rifle discharged six rounds.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Roman remained skeptical until each of the panthers fell in quick succession, spraying dark ichor. The final one, larger than the others, took the final three bullets before finally going down in a mad splay of limbs, its own momentum keeping the corpse tumbling along.
[ Shadow rodent defeated. 750 experience rewarded. ]
[ Shadow rodent defeated. 750 experience rewarded. ]
[ Shadow rodent defeated. 750 experience rewarded. ]
[ Shadow rodent leader defeated. 1250 experience rewarded. ]
Roman stared at the experience notifications for a moment before realizing he had received them because of being in a Party with Mixie. He had somehow forgotten that they split their experience and loot. Until now, Mixie had been the sole beneficiary of their little arrangement, and now he was almost at level eight without lifting a finger.
He liked how things looked much better from this side.
On top of that, one of the beauties of the Mercenary contract was that experience wasn’t automatically split between the two Parties. If he and Mixie helped out the others, they would receive a share of experience based on their participation, but the reverse wasn’t true unless another Player landed the killing blow.
The truck pulled to a stop next to the fallen corpses. In death, the shrouds of shadow had dispersed from the four-legged creatures, revealing their true forms. As their names implied, they were sleek and hairless, more like newborn rats than felines. Cords of lean muscle bulged against their translucent hides. Their sinewy, whip-like tails had curled up in death.
These were supposed to be a step-up from the Flesh Guardian? Granted, it probably wouldn’t have fared much better under the same circumstances. With their speed and coordination, the pack of shadow rodents would have been a nightmare to fight in the confines of the grocery store. Not so scary out on an open plain.
“Nice work,” said Roman. “But why did we come to a stop?”
Mixie glanced over. “They died so easily because the bullets were made from gashadokuro bone. Meaning they are priceless artifacts that need to be dug out of the corpses so we can recycle them into new cartridges. Meaning go fetch their corpses.”
“Won’t the bullets have gone straight through them?” said Roman. “What’s the chance there’s even anything to get out?”
“High enough.”
Grumbling, Roman left the truck and gathered the corpses of the shadow rodents. Despite them being the size of a small pony, his strength was more than enough to fling them into a pile near the back of the truck.
He knocked politely until Abigail opened the back door.
“What’s all this?” she said.
Roman lifted one of the rodents by the scruff and held it up to her. She stared at the creature, lips twisted in distaste, then stepped back to give him some room. He tossed the corpse into the back of the truck with a heavy thump.
“Really, man?” said Leo.
Roman ignored the complaint. “These creatures just attacked us. They’re the next wave that was supposed to leave the dungeon. I’m sure some of you saw that we ended up shooting them. Unfortunately, while these bullets are very effective, we only have so many. From what I’ve seen, only one of them has an exit hole, so hopefully the rest of the bullets are lodged up in there and easy to recover.”
“So you want us to do your dirty work?” said Leo.
Roman finally glanced at the man. “I know you’re still crying because we got off on the wrong foot, but get over it. It wasn’t a big deal. And no, I don’t want you to do my dirty work. I want Alexander to do my dirty work.”
The pudgy man looked surprised at the mention of his name, but he caught on soon enough. “Yeah, I could harvest them pretty quick, sure.”
“In exchange, you can keep the bodies and everything else.” Roman put on his best smile. “How about that?”
To his surprise, the rest of the group shut up, and Alexander nodded excitedly in agreement. Roman suspected throwing in that last little nudge had tipped the scales out of his favor. Whatever. He wasn’t going to nickel and dime them over some animal carcasses.
Alexander took Abigail’s place, allowing Roman to smoothly pass the shadow rodent corpses along into the back of the truck.
Afterwards, Roman returned to his seat, a strange smile on his face.
Teamwork and delegation. Both concepts he was beginning to explore for the first time. Turned out they had their advantages.
Roman’s heart pounded in his ears as they steadily closed in on the compound. The buildings were set atop the only hill in the area, overlooking the relatively flat land. From their vantage, the defenders had no doubt already caught sight of the vehicle. Dark smudges in the distance hurried along the high walls like ants.
The vehicle picked up speed.
A sudden, harsh screech blasted out from the dashboard, followed by a cacophony of discordant instruments. It took him a moment to realize it was music. Death metal blared out through the stereo system, resolving into a familiar track from the CD he had left in the player.
Roman smiled and leaned back in his seat as the vehicle approached the base of the hill.
Metal projectiles rained down from the walls, either missing or pinging harmlessly off the vehicle’s osseous frame. Unimpeded, the truck began climbing up the base of the hill, on a direct course straight to the entrance.
The compound was clearly inspired by medieval human architecture, with its high stone walls and the iron portcullis gate. Though the entrance had been closed, the armored truck headed straight for it, picking up speed as it rumbled up the uneven terrain. Head bobbing up and down to the blaring metal, Mixie pointed out of the driver’s side window, jerking his hand periodically to fire off an obliterating shot into one of the defenders on the wall.
[ Goblin guard defeated. 250 experience rewarded. ]
[ Goblin guard defeated. 250 experience rewarded. ]
Roman shoved away the growing list of notifications out of his vision. He rolled down the passenger’s side window and stuck his head out.
Seconds before the armored truck rammed into the portcullis, he cast [ Flash Step ] and appeared thirty feet in the sky above. His body maintained its forward momentum from traveling inside of the truck, causing him to sail over the compound. Looked like four separate buildings tucked inside the fortifications, with dozens of figures scrambling about in a panic. For a weightless moment, it felt like he was flying, then he reached the end of his parabola and plummeted toward the wall on the opposite side of the compound.
Like a meteor he crashed into the top of the rampart. Roman tucked himself into a roll, absorbing most of the impact, but the sheer force of the landing rattled his bones. He came to his feet, roaring.
Not ten feet away, a small, misshapen figure no taller than his waist stared at him in complete shock. Fine steel armor covered most of the child-like goblin, and a bow almost as tall as the wielder dangled in its gauntleted hands, forgotten. Its wrinkled, hideous face froze as it tried to come to terms with the looming giant charging in its direction.
Roman had to admit, it was fun being the invader.