Jack parked his car under the shadowy canopy of trees, the branches above bending low like a shroud. He cut the engine, and for a moment, the night pressed in around him, thick with silence.
Getting out, he glanced around, his gaze sharp, then he reached into the trunk and began pulling out his standard gear with practiced efficiency - his camo poncho, waterproof hiking boots, a well-worn machete, a small rucksack with basic survival essentials, and finally, his Ruger .357 Magnum revolver. He checked the gun with a quick, smooth motion, the weight of it in his hand familiar, almost comforting. He loaded up on ammo, slipping extra boxes into various pockets.
He had grown up in a world where such things were a luxury, and so the moment he returned to Earth, he had made it his mission to have the best quality items he could afford. And he could afford a lot.
Satisfied that he was as prepared as he was going to be, he draped a large camo tarp over the car, concealing it from prying eyes.
Jack stepped back, surveying his work with a nod of approval. Not bad, he thought.
Anyone who happened by wouldn’t even know a car was here. They’d have to be specifically looking for it in order to find it. Satisfied, he turned and slipped into the woods, his footsteps silent, his senses humming with anticipation as he trusted his instincts to lead the way.
***
He spotted the perimeter from a distance - the blaze of floodlights cutting through the night, an unnatural glare that shattered the darkness around the dungeon’s entrance. Jack edged closer, crouching at the tree line, careful to stay just beyond the harsh circle of light that would make anyone inside blind to the world beyond.
A collection of government vehicles were haphazardly arrayed in a loose circle, officials and troopers milling around in disorganized chaos, their voices blending into a cacophony over crackling radios. Each person seemed to be talking, gesturing, barking orders or updates into walkie-talkies, their faces tense under the glaring lights. Jack grimaced, watching as they stumbled over one another, looking more like a gaggle of amateurs than a prepared strike force.
What a goddamn mess, he thought, shaking his head.
He settled in, hunkering down just outside the floodlit perimeter, waiting, watching. He could feel the pressure building in the air, a heavy stillness that hinted at something about to break. And then, right on cue, it did.
A sudden shout pierced the night, and Jack’s eyes snapped toward the dungeon’s entrance. He saw them - a writhing mass surging from the dungeon’s dark maw, spilling forth in a nightmare of claws, pincers, and segmented tails. They were half-human, half-scorpion monstrosities, their bodies powerful and sleek, exoskeletons gleaming beneath the harsh lights. They moved with brutal efficiency, a deadly swarm of fury as they swept over the unprepared line of soldiers.
“Shit,” Jack muttered under his breath, gripping the handle of his machete in white-knuckled frustration. “Are you kidding me? What the eff kind of luck is this?”
The government force was in chaos, completely unprepared for what hit them. Soldiers shouted, some firing wildly, the shots ricocheting harmlessly off the creatures’ armored carapaces. Jack watched as an Arachnae warrior, a hulking beast with eyes like burning coals, tore through the first line of vehicles with a single swipe of its claws, the metal folding under its strength like it was nothing more than tin foil. Soldiers screamed, scrambling backward, some too slow to avoid the lethal sweep of barbed pincers or the deadly sting of venom-laced tails.
There was no preparing for that, he knew.
Jack gritted his teeth, his thoughts racing. Arachnae warriors… what the hell are they doing here? He recognized them - powerfully built, fierce fighters blessed by their dark goddess Tiamat. He’d seen enough of them in the Otherworld to know that even the weakest among them couldn’t be taken down by mundane weapons, only spells or enchanted weapons could hope to deal with such a threat. These poor fools don’t stand a chance, he thought grimly.
Besides their powerful defenses, they had equally mighty weapons. Their claws, pincers, and their poisonous tails filled with the deadliest of venoms. One sting, and you were done for unless you had a legendary resistance to poisons, or a masterfully skilled healer on hand. Or at least a potion of greater cure or better.
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Around him, the floodlights wavered as monsters struck the portable generators, plunging sections of the perimeter into darkness. The soldiers closest to the creatures screamed as they were pulled down, limbs twisted and broken in brutal displays of strength, some of them pierced by stingers that delivered a swift, fatal dose of venom. Even from his hiding place, Jack could feel the weight of their fear, could see the looks of terror that passed from one soldier to the next as they realized how hopelessly outmatched they were.
These idiots don’t even know what they’re dealing with, he thought bitterly. His mind ticked over the options, assessing the threat. Arachnae soldiers were a minimum of Class B monsters, which put this dungeon at least at a Tier 5. Jack had only ever encountered a handful of Arachnae warriors of a lower tier, and even those had been hell to deal with.
Only once had he seen them range all the way up to Class S, but that had been an Adamantine-type Warrior Priest of Tiamat, and Jack was pretty sure that nothing of the sort was going to make an appearance here. He hoped.
There was no way a Tier 5 dungeon would spawn a Warrior Priest blessed by Tiamat herself.
Damn it, he thought, his fists clenching at his sides. I really hope I didn’t jinx it by thinking that.
He forced himself to remain still, his breath shallow, as he watched the scene unfold. Another squad of soldiers rushed toward the dungeon entrance, only to be met with a fresh wave of Arachnae creatures, their claws slicing through armor as though it were tissue. The smell of gunpowder and blood hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of fear.
The Arachnae soldiers ripped apart the arrayed vehicles with their claws and pincers as if though they were made of cardboard. And the officers and soldiers who did not retreat quickly enough were unfortunate enough to experience the same, or worse, as some were struck with the lightning-quick stingers of the Arachnae as they systematically worked their way through the human fighters.
In a few terrifying minutes, the monsters had reduced the government perimeter to a chaotic battlefield. Vehicles lay overturned or shredded, the ground littered with abandoned weapons and the fallen bodies of soldiers who hadn’t managed to escape in time. A few officers scrambled toward the trees, their faces pale with panic, shouting over their radios for backup that would arrive far too late.
Jack exhaled sharply, his eyes hardening as he took in the devastation. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in any of this - he’d left this world and its chaos behind once, and he hadn’t looked back. But here it was, and here he was, in the thick of it again.
He reached for his revolver, his fingers brushing over the smooth, familiar surface of the handle. I thought I left all of this behind me, he thought, the resignation heavy in his chest. But there was no escaping it now.
Jack steeled himself, feeling the familiar rush of anticipation course through him. His senses sharpened, his battle instincts snapping into place like pieces of armor as adrenaline surged, flooding his veins with an electric pulse, the feelings flooding into him like a thunderstorm.
Nothing for it. Time to get to work.
Unslinging his machete, he admired the runes he’d painstakingly acid etched along its length -to match his Fae’Ri tattoos- each mark a memory, each symbol resonating with a power he once thought lost. He had done it out of habit and a bit of nostalgia, as he knew at the time that they were defunct. There was no magic here on Earth. He had checked.
When he’d first returned to Earth, he had tested for magic, for any sign of the abilities he’d known in the Otherworld.
It was the first thing he had done when he awoke in a clearing along an empty railroad in the middle of nowhere. Literally Nowhere, Kansas. He had tried to activate his runes and his tattoos, though he was hesitant at first, he steeled himself and… nothing happened. He was relieved, as that meant it had worked. Then he attempted to access his personal Vault. The loss of that one actually hurt. He had a lot of memories stored within it, and to lose it was a wound he would be long to heal, it was something he still carried like a phantom ache.
But here, on the cusp of battle, with the fires of conflict burning before him, he felt a familiar pull, the long-dormant rhythm of war calling to him, and he realized how deeply he’d missed it.
But now, with the fires of battle raging before him, he fell into old patterns, the rhythm of war beating its drums through his soul, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed the feeling until it was upon him, and so his body practically hummed with anticipation. An electric wave of energy coursed through him as he readied himself.
Without wasting another moment, he took a breath and raced forward into the conflict before him, a blur of motion as he stepped into chaos.
And there it was -something he had half dreaded, and didn’t dare to hope for, happened- the faintest glow flickered along the blade, a deep, smoldering blue light. The runes pulsed with a power he’d given up on, an energy that crackled to life as he approached his first target - an Arachnae warrior poised to strike down a helpless soldier. Fingers of blue lightning licked along the blade’s edge, sharpening it beyond reason. Jack’s lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. All right, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.