Arroane

Before they entered the dungeon, Arroane made a point of turning back to look up at the sky. He’d never cared for the old adventurer’s tradition, but those he cared for did. It was a habit now, whether he liked it or not, and he wasn’t breaking it anytime soon. Especially not on a day like today. If he was lucky, this dungeon would be the one that offered what he desired.

Arroane had cleared hundreds of dungeons in his lifetime. So why did this one feel different? There was something off about it. If circumstances had been different, he might’ve even called off exploring it. But today he wasn’t venturing with people he cared about. His partnership with the cultists was one of mutual convenience and nothing more.

They were pawns.

“I know this is last minute, but I’ve just decided. Group A is to remain here and guard the cage. Group B will go into the dungeon with me. Swap gear quickly and prepare to enter the dungeon,” Arroane told them.

That surprised all of them. The leader of group A stepped forward. He was tan skinned and had only a small patch of hair atop his head. “Sir, we’re supposed to go with you. Group B is full of acolytes. Surely you’d prefer more experienced support?” he asked.

Arroane smiled. “In most cases I would, but it occurs to me that our lower ranking members will never progress without experience. Leave them to me. Our casualty rate might be higher, but those that survive will surely reach even greater heights in the name of Lord Cendra.”

The man looked like he wanted to protest, but despite his high rank within the cult, he was fully aware he was no match for his superior. He lowered his head and spoke softly. “Yes sir. We’ll guard the creature with our lives.”

Arroane forced himself not to sneer. That word. Creature. He hated when they referred to it as that. He turned to look at the leader of group B. The man was skinny and looked younger than most of the others around him. Early twenties at most. “What was your name again?” Arroane asked.

“Jo…John,” he stammered. To be fair, Arroane had just said a lot of group B would probably die. He couldn’t blame them for being nervous. But if they valued their lives, they should’ve taken a different path in life. One that didn’t annoy him so much.

“Excellent, let’s go John.” Arroane didn’t wait to see if they followed him. He knew they would. He heard them working quickly to swap gear with the members of Group A. Their footsteps fell in with his own after just a moment. With everything in order, he crossed the threshold of the dungeon and ventured inside. Group B consisted of only about fifteen members. It was half the size of group A. That was exactly the reason he was leaving Group A behind. He needed to ensure the cage and its inhabitant were safe in his absence. It made sense to leave the stronger group behind to protect it.

John quickly caught up with him. The group’s footsteps echoed through the dungeon as they walked.

“So, how should we approach this?” John asked. He was unarmed. Arroane raised a brow. A caster? He wondered what kind of hex John had. He’d see soon enough. They were heading into a dungeon, after all.

Arroane held a hand up toward him. “Relax and follow my lead. Dungeons are all different. I like to say they have personalities. It’s unlikely we’ll get too deep inside this one without learning something about it. What kind of beasts are within its walls? Is the structure simple or complex? What are its goals?”

John blinked at that. “Goals, sir? Do dungeons really have goals?”

“If we’re lucky, this one will. The ones without goals are pointless.” That would mean they weren’t sapient. The entire purpose of this search was to find an intelligent dungeon core. With things moving as fast as they were recently, he was running out of time. This could be his last chance.

He reached out and ran his hands along the walls of the dungeon. They were crudely designed, but not sharp or painful to touch. Just rough. The ground beneath their feet seemed ideal for walking. It wasn’t muddy like the ground where they’d built their camp, and their feet didn’t sink into it or anything. The ceiling was a bit higher than usual, but otherwise it was all normal. Normal wasn’t a bad thing. Some dungeons were more particular about the minor details, others focused on…well, violence.

He turned to look at John. “The first attack,” Arroane said aloud.

John’s eyes widened, and he looked around. “Where?”

“No. I mean, we’ll learn a lot from the first attack. It’s inevitable that something tries to hurt us. The question is, what form will it take? That will tell us the most about this dungeon. That’s what you need to keep your eyes on, John.”

Behind them, a few men unsheathed swords. A faint hint of multi-colored lights adorned the walls as foolish casters preemptively summoned hexes. An utter waste of magic potential. Group B really was full of acolytes.

That was the thought he had when the first attack occurred. John was nervous. Nervous people sometime walk faster than usual. His pace put him in front of Arroane. Just in time to trigger the trap.

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Snap.

Arroane heard something move quickly through the air above them. He shot forward to get some distance and then wheeled around. John kept up with him as well. A few of the men cried out.

“What?” Arroane asked.

The trap had only managed to get a handful of them. Four men. It looked like some kind of netting had caught them. The men struggled to free themselves, but the netting was stuck not only to their bodies but also to the ground. A few of the other cultists pulled out knives to cut their companions free, but the blades stuck to the netting as well. He noticed the blades appeared black where they touched with the netting.

“What do we do?” John asked. “How can we free them?”

“This was the first attack? Very interesting,” Arroane mused. He’d started with fifteen, and now four of them were stuck uselessly to the ground. Freeing them would take time. “Leave them for now. We’ll get them on the way out.”

“Sir? What if a creature comes for them?” one of the others asked. Arroane held his arms out. “Look around you. We haven’t run into any creatures yet. We have passed no openings or holes in the wall. The only way something comes after them is if it comes from outside the dungeon where the rest of our group is waiting or gets past us. As long as we don’t let any creatures pass us as we move forward, they’ll be fine as they are. Let this be a lesson for all of you. If you slow the group down, you’ll be left behind.”

The others looked at John, hoping he might speak up, but he simply lowered his head.

Arroane smiled at that. Smart move. Cowardly, but smart. “Let’s go,” he commanded, and the others reluctantly fell in line.

A tripwire and some kind of black paint on the netting. A dungeon core couldn’t have done that. It was the work of a human, or a hex beast with opposable thumbs. What bothered him the most, though, was that the trap was non-lethal. Dungeons killed humans. It was a fact of life. Doing so strengthened them. It helped them survive and grow their sphere of influence. So why the hell would this one set up a trap like that?

Was there something else going on? Were there adventurers up ahead setting traps to ensure they had the dungeon to themselves? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

A quick glance over his shoulder told him morale was low. Even men like this didn’t enjoy leaving a comrade behind. If they only knew what serving Cendra meant. What it really meant. Those men would be the least of their concerns.

“Arhhh!”

Arroane’s head perked up. He could see movement in the tunnel ahead of them. That noise was familiar. He’d certainly heard it before. “Get ready, men,” he called out.

John held his hands up, and a hex formed in front of them. Arroane quirked a brow. A diamond hex. Interesting.

“What are they?” John asked. The group of approaching beast were gaining ground on them quickly.

“Scalers,” Arroane said. “Go and get them, men.” Around him the cultists surged forward. Those with weapons shot to the front, while the casters rained magic from behind. The scalers leapt forward, responding in kind.

Arroane relaxed his shoulders and watched the fight. If he got involved, it would be over too quickly. He needed time to observe.

Swords met claws and teeth. Several scalers scaled the walls and leapt to attack the cultist’s backline, taking down casters. Bursts of fire and other elemental magic repelled others. Arroane could see how John had risen above the others and become a group leader. His command over his hex was impressive, if not a bit basic.

“Diamond Hex Defense!” John cried out. The shimmering white and blue hex flashed as the scalers assailed him. Each of them was repelled by the magical shield in turn. If the boy used his imagination a little more, he could be a capable fighter.

The scalers avoided Arroane entirely. He wasn’t an active threat, and they were focused on those that were. Whether they were unusually intelligent for low-level beasts or they could sense the power gap between them, he didn’t know. But regardless, they left him alone.

The fight didn’t last long.

Neither side had gained an advantage over the other. A few of the cultists were down, and a few of the scalers. But there was still plenty of fight left on both sides. That was why it surprised Arroane when a cry came from further within the dungeon.

“Arca!”

A moment later, the scalers retreated. They took their injured brethren with them, dragging them behind as they fled. Arroane squinted. He turned to look at the casualties on his side and realized they weren’t casualties at all. Sure, they were hurt. They were covered in bites, claw marks, and bruises, but they were breathing. Every single one of them.

John realized it too. “We survived!” He huffed in a breath. “We did it!” he shouted. The other cultist cheered. They thought this was a victory, but their trek into the dungeon was just beginning.

No casualties on either side. Injuries were plenty, but no casualties? That was odd. That was intentional.

Of the eleven men, three weren’t in any condition to keep moving forward. Only Arroane and eight others remained. He allowed them to take a moment to tend to the wounds of the injured, and then he gave the order to press onward.

“Sir, is everything alright? You haven’t said much since the fight,” John asked as they walked.

“We’re in the middle of war now, John. Vigilance is key. By the time we reach the center of the dungeon, only a few of us will remain. See that you’re one of them.”

John blinked in surprise. “Yes, sir…” he said.

Arroane returned to his thoughts.

This dungeon was having a conversation with him. It was saying something. He wasn’t sure what yet, but he knew something without a doubt in his mind.

The dungeon was intelligent.

It didn’t want anyone to die on either side for some reason. He’d find out why soon enough. For now, all that mattered was that his search had finally reached its end. At the end of this dungeon was everything he’d been seeking. Soon, he’d accomplish his goal.

Even if he had to destroy the core to do it.