“Well, that ruins a few plans I had for dealing with bosses.” Thomas said.
“You and me both.” A blood-soaked Mr. Geruet said. “If the bosses can leave their boss room to fight in the gathering hall, a lot of cheesy exploits go right out of the window. Including your idea.”
“Damn, so you’re saying I can’t just open the door and look at the boss for a minute before we go in?” Ben said. “I've been planning for that strategy for days now!”
“That would be a tactic, not strategy.” Thomas said. “And about my idea, did you succeed in step one?”
“What idea?” Elise asked.
“I suggested that they should go pay the Llamas a visit and get themselves all the meth they can get.” Thomas said. “Repeat the strategy Ben used on other bosses by throwing a bag into the Boss Room a few hours before facing it. Debuff it before we fight.”
“We succeeded half, more a consolation price for our troubles than the big haul we were hoping for.” Mr. Geruet said. “We both got one of those test samples that the Dealer hands out for free and looted a few bags from Llamas felled by the Krutnik. But the Llamas loot their own and took offence to us trying the same, and they were holding well enough at the time that betraying them carried serious risks.”
“Not worth the risk even before we learned of this little hick-up.” Thomas nodded. “You made the right choice. Now, for more important matters, I guess we owe you an explanation for what happened before.”
That immediately killed the mood.
Elise shuffled away, walking towards the felled neighbourhood boss with the excuse to go get the map. The thing was called a Bubbling Boil, some kind of horrid monster that the lore suggested was a literal tumorous boil that was scratched off of an elder giant and became an independent lifeform.
Though it wasn’t strong enough to kill the two well-armed French men, the three boss-grinders hadn’t been so lucky. Whether it was surprise or just a poor match was unknown, but the mystery of their sudden disappearance had been answered.
With every new creature described to him, Darryl grew more and more convinced that many of these monsters were made up, or at least caricatures of the real species. This creature further confirmed this belief, even if he was going purely on what Raphael told him of the fight. A massive boil of blood that somehow grew vein-like legs that shot blood and pus with enough pressure to punch through wood, relying on hearing and smell when it had neither ear nor nose? Ridiculous.
The small critters that this boil spawned were no less weird and dangerous, and there were still a few wandering around. The leeches jumped onto your skin and merged with it, turning into a festering boil of pus that could only be gouged out along with a chunk of your flesh if you didn’t reject them with a heal spell fast enough.
The Sickened Constitution debuff was bad, but the Foul Symbiont buff actually made the critters a possible boon for certain play styles. At first. While the debuff made you more frail and sickly, the buff healed you and gave temporary adrenaline and constitution boosts to keep its host alive after taking damage. Trading a worse first hit for regeneration and buffed health could be a fair bargain if you were a skirmisher or already fairly tanky.
Then came the second stage; zombification. There were two human corpses around here that had been mindless mobs for a while; the boils had spread until they reached the brain and took over. The host would then wander to the Bubbling Boil and wait in line to be digested.
For some reason, being digested until there were only hollow bones left didn’t cause one’s inventory to disappear. Raphael already looted the two skeletons, but the notification that opened into several empty slots still hovered over what had been people less than a day ago name and all.
As he saw Elise make her way over to the biggest chunk left of the boss, who literally exploded into gore when it died, Darryl felt like doing the same. So did a very uncomfortable Ben, clearly, but Darryl looked at him and shook his head. Out of all of them, Ben was the one that absolutely had to be part of this conversation.
Raphael, for all that the bouncer had a steel poker face and the gallows humour to not be grim about the boss’s kill count, now seemed just as uncomfortable as the rest of them. After a single step away he steeled himself to stay and hear what happened, but it was a reluctant resolve.
Thomas and Mr. Geruet were the only two here that didn’t seem that affected by the mood. Though both seemed to adhere to social guidelines enough to not openly jab at exposed nerves, the lack of emotion in their expression didn’t make it feel all too genuine.
“Very well. Let’s hear it.” Mr. Geruet said, neutral voice suggesting no prejudice on the situation.
“Though she does not share responsibility for what happened, this started with Elise.” Thomas said, nodding at the redhead currently prodding through bits of gore with a spoon looking for loot that wasn’t there. Sad as it was to admit, Darryl knew that he too would resort to something that morbid and disgusting to avoid this conversation if he could.
Thomas gave a clear-cut and accurate story leading to the death of one of the French crawlers in chronological order. Mr. Geruet nodded and asked several questions, prodding for sources or confirming whether a detail was factual or hear-say.
Darryl already had some suspicions before, but this confirmed that his high Intelligence score was affecting Thomas. The way that Mr. Geruet had some eerie similarities in neurotic tics and detachment was proof enough for him. It wasn’t that Thomas lost his emotions, rather they were submerged in a layer of pragmatism and an almost neurotic need for precision.
The part of the story that Thomas deferred to Ben came with more feeling to it. Ben’s part of the story was more a long apology than a telling of what transpired, but he got the important details in there. He misjudged the situation and thought that Darryl was under attack.
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“I see. It’s a good thing that we already kicked Gunther out of our group for immediately bailing on us when the Woolf appeared, it saves us a hard decision. He might not have guessed that his lies would result in this, but he should've known that it could've ended in bloodshed.” Mr. Geruet said when Ben finished. “And I get that the three of us cornering your friend might’ve been a lot more intimidating with those… false accusations, hanging over our heads.”
“It’s still a horrid way that you killed him.” Mr. Geruet said.
Darryl remembered the scene of Ben throwing a pot of boiling oil, fries and all, in Louis’s face before stabbing him. Death Watch Extreme made sure to take the most vivid and brutal angle filming that moment, making it hard to forget.
“I know.” Ben immediately agreed, hanging his head low. “I'm sorry.”
“On the other hand, if you hadn’t shown up we’d be twice dead by now.” Mr. Geruet. “Whether your participation facing the Big Bad Woolf was voluntary or not, we shouldn’t forget that debt here.”
“Twice?” Thomas asked.
“The Krutnik plague got really out of hand around the end, and we were stubborn enough to hold our ground until the last six hours when we arrived at the stairway half an hour early.” Raphael grunted. “If it weren’t for our Silver Boss Boxes and your staff, there’s a good chance that we wouldn’t have made it.”
“But we did, getting both those extra six hours and plenty of experience.” Mr. Geruet said. “About the staff, I suppose I should return it to you.”
Thomas looked at the staff when Mr. Geruet handed it over, no doubt weighing the advantage of getting it back to the gains of letting the Frenchman keep it. He took it before Mr. Geruet could rescind the offer though, and twirled it in his hands.
“I don’t suppose you have something to trade for it?” Thomas said. “You do have a light spell that makes it more valuable in your hands than mine.”
Mr. Geruet didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes glazed over suggested he was discussing something with Raphael. The bouncer seemed appalled by whatever was being said, and Mr. Geruet seemed frustrated for a moment before relenting.
“Yes, I suppose that trading his armour for the staff would be morally wrong, considering who’d be wearing it.” Mr. Geruet said.
“The blood and grease stains are still on it.” Raphael said.
Darryl glanced at Ben, who looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. He was the only one who could still wear anything on the chest, aside from maybe Elise. But remembering Louis’s size and body type, the cuirass probably wouldn’t fit her on top of all the other things.
“Yes, you keep the staff.” Mr. Geruet said. “On the story and the debt…”
He glanced at Raphael, and Darryl could see the dynamic between the two clear as day. Mr. Geruet was willing to forgive and forget, but put it on Raphael to make that choice to account for emotions disagreeing. As much as the bouncer clearly wasn't the emotional type, he wasn't the cold pragmatist of this pair.
Raphael contemplated for a while, but then sighed. “Damn if it makes me sound like a bad person, but we’ve only known him for a few days. Shady fellow, too. Can’t say I wasn’t glad that he never got weapons and gear good enough to shift the balance of the group.”
He turned to Ben. “You seem like you’re truly sorry, kid, and that skull is probably going to give you its fair share of issues in the weeks to come. I won’t make it worse. I forgive you for what you did, and I can only hope you learned from this.”
Ben nodded gratefully and was about to stammer something when Mr. Geruet interjected.
“Then let us clear the board. With the staff returned there are no more debts between us, all is in the past. New beginnings as acquaintances.” He said. “What you’ve did to us and what you’ve done for us is now buried and gone.”
“But not forgotten.” Raphael said sharply. “Nor held against you, I agree, but never forgotten.”
“A-Actually, one more thing before we call it all even.” Ben said, stammering a bit louder this time. “The kill got me a loot box, and I don’t think we should keep what I have lingering between us. Here.”
Ben took out two tickets, and for the first time Mr. Geruet seemed taken aback. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t think that it would be trust built if we hold those tickets.”
“Why not? You may trust me, but there would be always be some doubt on whether I destroyed the tickets if I wouldn’t do this.” Ben said. “Here, take them and do whatever you want with them.”
Raphael grabbed one of the tickets, read it and grunted. “The kid’s right. Think we were fed false information, or just wrong assumptions? Twice hardly makes a pattern.”
Mr. Geruet quickly swiped the remaining ticket from Ben’s hand and read it. “You’re right! It’s my name, not one of yours.”
“Excuse me, what’s going on?” Darryl said. He remembered that Ben got his mask from the silver murderer box and wore it because the Darkvision and the Hunter’s Mark and Assassinate skills were just too good to pass on, but he hadn’t heard anything about any tickets.
“When you kill another player, you get a box with tickets.” Raphael said. “In both stories we heard, the tickets were numbered equal to size of the party minus the killer and had the names of the other party members on it. Not this time, I guess.”
“What? I didn't know anything about that.” Ben said. “I would've given these to you either way, of course.”
“The rewards of this place aren’t as random as they seem, and the creators seem eager to push us to do selfish and horrible stuff for their entertainment.” Mr. Geruet wryly said. “I suppose that since the two of us survived, the AI preferred continued hostilities between our parties over internal betrayal.”
“And shit, with such crazy rewards I can even see people agreeing to it.” Raphael said, studying the ticket. “A platinum and three gold boxes, as well as a level? It’s like they want, no, I now know that those sick fucks want us to kill each other.”
"Good God, this dungeon truly seeks to tempt us into sinning for its amusement." Martin said, speaking up for the first time since they reached the Frenchmen.
“Not going to happen now.” Mr. Geruet said. “As long as we keep these tickets in our own inventory, there shouldn’t be anyone with extra motivation to kill us. Thank you, Ben.”
Ben nodded. “So, what now?”
“I suggest we go our own ways for a while. There’s more demand for a few small groups of able-bodied adventurers than one big elite group, at least right now.” Raphael said.
“Agreed. There’s a Safe Zone and two Tutorial Guilds in this neighbourhood but no Staircase. We have to keep looking.” Mr. Geruet said, his distant gaze suggesting he was studying the local neighbourhood map. “We take the left, you the right?”
“I’ll go back to the camp and get some more people to bring to this new Safe Zone.” Martin said. “Feel free to peruse them yourselves first, it always takes a while to escort a group without combat skills.”
“We’ll exterminate the leftover Boil Slithers first, doesn’t seem smart to allow those to roam free when you’re bringing in fresh blood.” Thomas said. “And on the bosses, are they any different from the first floor aside from their outgoing personality?”
“Nah, pretty much the same. This one, at least.” Raphael said. “And we’ll stay behind to barricade the door, make sure those grubs don’t get inside and gorge themselves. Or at least that they can’t get out once they turn into these wasp creatures.”
Elise sighed as she returned to the group. “Sounds like a plan. I don’t suppose you’ll want to take those two out of our hands?” She said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the two women standing near the entrance. Neither had the stomach to enter the gory place, granting them some peace and quiet for the paltry price of dealing with the thick stench of death and ammonia that hung in the air.
“No debts remain and all is in the past.” Mr. Geruet said with quirked lips. “That’s a no.”
“Figured.” Elise sulked. “How about we just leg it? I bet they can’t keep up with even the slowest amongst us.”
Darryl looked at the two women that were impatiently eyeing them and almost seconded her proposal. But no, they shouldn’t.
Yet.