Rocky cautiously moved along the tunnel. The group he was trailing didn't bother to do anything to mask their presence, leaving a clear trail of muddy bootprints and dead rats. Soon enough, he started to hear human voices, and his nervousness increased.

""

He was true to the Goddess, but wasn't as sure of himself. His gang of minions was small, but had good war potential since they were herding the most massive rat in the dungeon: the original rat to be contracted, now a truly monstrous beast the mass of four minions that could likely make a man its prey all on its own. However, there were seven up ahead.

""

The shouting got louder. Soon the intruders themselves came into view, although because of the lighting the reverse wasn't true. Rocky snuck a bit closer to observe while the others struggled to keep the Ur-Rat restrained.

""

The one which acted like a leader spat on the ground, while a henchman held up a scared minion by the back of the neck. A few others carried full sacks: some struggling, others still. A half-dozen more lay motionless on the floor.

A large group of unlucky minions must have been cornered in this dead-end tunnel. The invaders seemed to be making an effort to capture them alive, although not much of one. While Rocky didn't feel anything like empathy looking at the mangled corpses, there was something else...

Not Die... Must..... Revenge...

The voices were much louder than usual. Rocky felt he might regret giving them what they wanted this time, but it was his sense of duty was stronger. Her could give no less than his all in Her service.

Rocky stepped out of the shadows and began to chant. He remembered the time the Goddess had channelled a miracle through him, and attempted to replicate the sensation he'd felt then. However, it was an imperfect copy. A dim light gathered at the head of his cane, but the expected gold was tainted with green, and some other, incomprehensible hue.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

At first the enemies didn't notice, being too preoccupied with the 'sport' in front of them. But as the spell neared its climax, the light grew brighter.

""

Too late, the light had already reached a critical mass. Rocky couldn't control it with finesse like Kat, though, so it burst across the room like a wave. One man cried out:

""

The 'unconcious' minion he'd been trying to stuff in a bag suddenly jumped out and mauled his throat. The fell green light lay in its eyes, as it attacked with a fury not seen from it before The sacks with minions in them squirmed even more violently, and then...

The bodies on the floor began to move.

""

""

"Sard!"

""

The men panicked. If they had calmly worked together, they probably could have destroyed all of the possessed minions with just the one casualty, but instead each individual tried to put his own skin before the rest. Every last one of them turned and fled, desperate now that the terrain which had worked in their favor before allowed them to be the ones cornered this time.

One man's hamstring was torn by a bite, and fell down. Two more tripped over him due to the restricted space. The remaining three didn't even slow down as their comrades cried out behind them. They passed by Rocky, who had half-collapsed from exhaustion, and kept running.

The Beast was waiting for them. It tackled one, and horrible squelching and crunching sounds were produced as it began to feed messily. Another was caught by the acolytes, but a sole survivor managed to elude their grasp.

Rocky got up, and slowly moved to regroup with the others. Behind him, a dropped lantern had broken open and the oil which spilled everywhere caught fire.

Having already fulfilled their purpose, the Abominations were simply left to burn.

----------------------------------------

Desimir ran, trying to ignore the screaming. Was he even being chased? The tunnel was pitch-black and his lantern dim, and he couldn't pause for even a second to check. He didn't even have the time to wonder about what just happened or what he'd done to deserve it, his focus was entirely consumed by his desire to escape.

"Come on... Come on you stupid woodchip, do something!"

The only thing he spared a thought for was the simple carved trinket in his hand. It was a cheap, one-Pent charm he'd bought from a back-alley soothsayer, who said it would help "get out of danger".

While he was a superstitious fellow, if he'd been thinking more rationally then he would have been satisfied with having successfully run a gauntlet that had claimed half a dozen others, but Desimir wasn't being rational at the moment. Instead, he was concentrating all his remaining will on the charm in the vain hope of it having some sort of effect.

Or rather, it would have been in vain... If he wasn't in a dungeon.

*Blink*

Desimir ran into a wall.

When he recovered from the daze, he immediately put his arm over his eyes. There was a light strong enough to hurt them, even through the lids.

...Was he dead?

No, that wasn't it.

He could still feel the sores on his body. He could hear some voices in the distance too, and they sure didn't sound like an angelic choir, nor the cries of the damned. As his eyes adjusted, he was soon able to take a look at his surroundings.

Somehow, he had arrived back on the surface.