Martin stood up, and Darryl pulled himself from his contemplations. Time to see how the man planned to enact his grand design at all, considering the immediate issue of being trapped in here.
Martin might've beaten him in wordcraft, but Darryl knew they held the advantage despite the stalemate that Martin managed to squirm his way into. His friends were blocking the way out of the Safe Zone, after all. Murder gave Martin levels and several golden boxes of weapons and apparel, but no experience using either while he was outnumbered and lacking skill levels.
When counting Martin’s new flock, then his group actually outnumbered Darryl’s. That was purely theoretical though, he highly doubted that these people were willing to fight and risk their lives for Martin’s sake before they had an actual taste of the rewards he promised. He was the one offering them an easy start, and like the vultures he expected them to be, he’d have to deliver on that first before getting anything out of it himself. All his arguments would be moot the moment that the people realised he wasn’t negotiating from a position of power.
Martin got up and calmly looked at the people, and a few gulped under his gaze. But he merely looked and waited, mysterious and in control only because he gave no sign of the opposite.
It might just be a bluff, Darryl realised.
Much as Martin didn’t seem trapped or panicked, for a moment Darryl cherished the hope that the plan had already found itself in a dead end, smothered in the cradle by bad luck. Martin hadn’t planned for Darryl’s party to arrive before he got his gear and his followers, and as he only got his gear just now there was no way he had the clout to convince anyone else beforehand.
There was one way Darryl could think of that would allow Martin to escape; by using the same trick that Darryl used to escape the Woolf. But that didn’t work when players attacked players, Martin would freeze as a penalty rather than teleporting out.
It was possible that Martin picked up a brindle grub and pocketed it, but that would’ve required him to see this coming and plan accordingly. For all that he turned to murder and now had the charisma to convince others to do the same, Martin was no devious mastermind from the comics that thought ten steps ahead.
Yes, he likely considered and planned for the obvious issues and hurdles, it would be folly to think otherwise. But in the end he was still just a nearly retired middleclass citizen with six days of dungeon experience. Even wearing those robes and standing confidently, one could still clearly see that this was an ordinary man out of his element.
One who might turn to empty bluffing when his luck ran out.
“Those of you who seek to survive in this unfair underworld, join me.” Martin said.
“You can just leave, or stay here. Three of my team members are right outside, and together we are beyond what he can handle even with those shiny new items.” Darryl said. “If you leave now, then you can safely walk away from all of this without him stabbing you the moment you leave.”
“Leave now and you will die when that timer runs out.” Martin sagely said. “I am not telling you to kill your fellow man in order to corrupt you, I’m giving you an option to survive. The best and easiest option you’ll get, and quite possibly the last real chance you’ll have. Your only alternative is death by the dungeon’s hand.”
No one replied, and the spark of hope in Darryl’s chest grew.
These people accepted Martin’s twisted proposal when refusal would have them end up on the chopping block, but accepting wasn’t committing. Especially not with them not yet having a single irreversible act of 'commitment' to their name binding them to his cause, while the sword over their heads was gone.
The gold and platinum boxes were still there for the taking, sure, and for some that fat reward had been enough before the other arguments were brought up. But most were followers of the guided path, walking because they were told to walk. And being told that they could just walk away or stick to the old plan carried the same weight, if not more, than Martin’s easy start.
No, it was no idle hope that Martin’s speech would turn out to be nought but words in the wind. The will of his ‘flock’ was still a shallow conviction that wouldn’t survive a single demand made of them.
Sure, in a completely random group one person might’ve been the first to step forward and allowed others to follow, to be the one that broke the dam. But those that would make such a decision, they already left the dregs to explore the dungeon by themselves or joined the parties that protected the rest. The people that Martin was looking at now were the dregs, those that didn’t have it in them to be decisive and grasp their own future even for greed and long-term survival.
There were still situations where one might’ve stepped forward, or where the mentality of these people held. And given time and success, Martin might have shaped them into fanatics that didn’t need to decide themselves for their will to be decisive.
But if no one reacted, every heartbeat that passed smothered Martin’s movement in the crib further. Every second would be an ever more pressing silence on the audience to stay in place and be quiet.
“I guess that’s the end of your plan, Martin.” Darryl softly said. “Put your items and all your tickets on the table and step out of the door with your hands on your head, and you won’t be harmed.”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Martin said just as softly, but with the silence of the audience his every word could be heard clearly nonetheless. “I’m doing this for my daughter, and for those few that may live given a second chance.”
“All these people will die if they keep sitting around waiting like they do now, so why wouldn’t we use them to save what few can be saved? Why should we let their sacrifice go to waste? Why would the will of those willing to fight have to yield to the stubborn desire of others to lie down and wait for the end?” Martin continued. “I will not let this single setback stop me. I won’t let a hundred setbacks stop me. The moment I took my first life, I committed myself to this path until the end. If I gave up now, if I give up ever, then and only then would their sacrifices be in vain.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Your sins will be in vain regardless, Martin.” Darryl said. “Hasn’t your Tutorial Guide told you? No one gets past the thirteenth floor, no one ever has in the history of this fucked up show. What the announcement from the surface said may have been bait to lure us into this place, or some legal obligation.”
Martin flinched.
“I fight to live a little longer, that’s just our instinct. To cling on for as long as we can.” Darryl pressed his advantage. “But only a few dozen make it past the ninth floor and there’s no way out of the dungeon before then. Those people we see on the recap, the ones that got god-like items by luck or being fucking insane? Those might survive long enough to be offered a gig to become a Guild Master or a waiter like the Bopca here.”
The Bopca snorted and pulled a finger covered in yellow guck out of his ear at the very moment that Darryl directed everyone’s attention to him, and the strange hairy gnome didn’t seem to care that his nasty habits suddenly had an audience.
“Ask yourself, Martin, do you really think that these people have it in them to be amongst the last few? To fight odds that make this floor seem like the easy playground that it is, and claw their way to the next Staircase every time?” Darryl continued. “Soon there won’t be any Staircases that can be entered without defeating Borough or City Bosses, and nigh unbeatable boss monsters will roam freely just to make sure that we don’t hole up somewhere. Would the people that lack the mental fortitude to face the training area without your help manage to make it on their own?”
“So they should just die, is that what you’re saying?” Martin said.
“So they shouldn’t be driven to kill each other over what’s inevitably an empty hope, is what I’m saying.” Darryl said. “Your path might extend their life for a few days, at the cost of their dignity. The only gains here are for the people watching this, I’m sure your murderous rampage will be most entertaining to them.”
“We’ll find a Stairway, and these people will be given the option to pick a class and change their race.” Darryl switched tone. “If they have the will to fight, then they can pick a body that will be the weapon and armour that they now lack. They can get a class that gives them some options for combat, without killing their fellow men.”
“And with so shallow a second chance they’ll never make it to the tenth floor.” Martin softly whispered. “I thank you for telling me this, it does change some things.”
“I have killed three people, and I will not let their sacrifices be in vain.” Martin said louder. “I’ll stay my path, no matter the challenges I’ll have to face.”
There were dismissive whispers from the small crowd. To his relief Darryl saw that their opinion was quite unanimous now, and not in Martin’s favour. The revelation that death was pretty much inevitable had shocked many, but Martin’s words had since taken the shape of denial and stubbornness rather than hard truths and selfless sacrifice. And where he reaped more sympathy than he should with his tragic personal story, the weakness he showed now weighed heavier than any argument made prior.
“But you speak true, it’s foolish to think that just anyone could take a knife to their fellow man without the challenges rendering their sacrifice anything but folly.” Martin said. “Consider my offer rescinded. I shall not offer my second chance to anyone who can lash out only because they found themselves cornered, these tickets will have to be earned by act and choice.”
“Fuck you, murderer!” A woman in the crowd said.
She picked up a mug from the nearby table and threw it at Martin’s head. The mug popped out of existence the moment it touched his temple and the woman froze with the word Naughty hovering over her head, but there was no need for a jeering mob throwing more items at him for the verdict to be clear.
“It matters not.” Martin said, stepping to the door.
“Don’t try to fight your way out, Martin.” Darryl said. “Whether you die in vain or take someone with you, it only leads to needless violence and death. Don’t let your last act be desperate hypocrisy.”
“I’m not leaving. Not yet.” Martin said.
He took out one of the Eviction Stickers and stuck it on the door. A timer notification popped up over it, showing 06h 00m 00s before beginning to count down.
Dungeon Eviction Notice Sticker
The creators of this show found out real quick that their seasons were short and underpopulated when the tunnels came without safe havens. A circulating watch at night is apparently a lot harder to apply for you cavemen than it looks, and lone crawlers making it to the third floor was pretty much a pipe dream! Not to mention how the amount of people dying from diarrhea because they ate uncooked monster parts, putting their claim of being an ‘intelligent’ species to question!
But making these Safe Zones comes with its own issues, namely that it keeps you guys from killing each other like animals! Which is usually fine, but sometimes we want some action, betrayal and drawn-out conflict that doesn’t end in a dungeon-enforced stalemate. Yawn! These notices are our answer to this issue. All you need to do is stick one on the door, and in a few hours everyone in the Safe Zone will not be so safe no more!
One-time use item. Countdown: Six hours. Duration: Permanent. These stickers can also be used on Tutorial Guild and Toilet doors. Also comes in yellow, pink and turquoise.
Warning: The Bopca and Guild masters remain non-combat NPCs, attacking them will be punished according to Dungeon Crawl rule 17 subsection 43 even after the Safe Zone is removed.
Darryl studied the sticker closer and tried to peel it off, only for it to give no purchase to his nails. Even when taking out his spear and trying to scratch off a beginning, the sticker wouldn’t budge. An inviolable item?
“What good will this do?” Darryl asked.
“These people are relying on the protection of this place as if it’s a right, as if it’s more than a temporary solution.” Martin said. “That by itself already moves them to choose inaction over all else.”
“These Safe Zones are as much a curse as they may seem a blessing, allowing people to just shut themselves in and refuse to heed the troubles of the rest of us out there because it doesn’t involve them. No more. I’ll take away this safety net so that the people will have to choose. Fight for themselves, or die once there’s no one left to protect them.”
“No more hiding in these Safe Zones.” Martin said. “Perhaps then some will take things into their own hands.”
“And join your mad cult to kill for their own benefit?” Darryl said.
“No. Most will die, until we reach a point where the group has dwindled enough so its protectors can defend their charge. They’ll die regardless, as you’ve said.” Martin said. “A few may be saved, and I’ll make sure that my daughter will be amongst those few. But no one will survive by hiding in a Safe Zone until someone worthy found a Stairway.”
Martin opened the door, and it swung open to reveal that Dave and a few others had since joined his friends. Weapons were brandished and people readied themselves.
The old man didn’t seem impressed, and instead calmly looked at them. He was level 8 now, thanks to his two claimed tickets giving him two levels after the experience for the three kills was enough for a third. That put him above Dave and the reinforcements he brought, and in terms of item quality he equalled Darryl’s crew, but he was still just one man trapped in a box.
But the moment that Martin leaned in to glance at the hallway behind them while not leaning over the doorstep of the Safe Zone by but the slightest margin, Darryl knew something was wrong. Martin hadn’t been cornered entirely after all.
Taking a strange step that made his new shoes softly glow for a brief moment, Martin turned to mist that shot past the group. A split second later there was a gurgled scream behind them, and Martin pulled his wicked dagger out of a man’s back before making a run for it.