After several breaks and finishing off the waterskin, he broke through. After finishing the last of the food, he broke a hole large enough to walk through. He was right. There was a tunnel behind the wall. It was pitch black inside.

He walked over to a nearby torch and took it from the sconce. Afterwards, he walked back to the entrance and leaned in. It was a stone tunnel with no discerning features. He took a step inside. Nothing happened. He walked in fully. Nothing.

He let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. He may not be any safer in here, but at least it wouldn’t instantly kill him. He began the trek inwards, leaving the hammer behind. It was nowhere near wide enough to allow for proper swings.

It was deathly silent in the tunnel, save for his own footsteps. The ground was cold, much colder than the rest of the mausoleum had been. The torch only marginally helped in staving off that cold, but his legs were still forced to suffer the chill. The breeze didn’t help.

Wait, breeze? Why is there a breeze in here? Oh man, wherever it’s coming from has gotta be important.

He doubled his pace, speedwalking through the tunnel. He hit a crossroads where he could go either left or right. After taking a moment, he figured out that the breeze was coming from the left. So wherever he was going, it was likely behind the altar. He walked left.

There were offshoots coming from the left every few steps, but they didn’t concern him. There was no breeze coming from them, which he assumed meant they led to draugrs and possibly other monsters waiting to enter the mausoleum proper. If he tried to fight every monster in these damn tunnels, he’d be dead long before he found whatever he was looking for.

Footsteps. They were in front of him too. Damn, he was going to have to hide in an offshoot. He slid into the nearest offshoot and walked down it. He needed to make sure the torch flame wasn’t visible, and that meant walking further down the offshoot than he was comfortable doing. No way in hell was he putting it out.

He heard a growl in front of him. Perfect. He’d drawn a draugr’s attention. Indeed, he heard the unmistakable clanking of boots charging at him. He pressed himself up against the wall on his left, then poked his foot out. The draugr ran into his leg, tripped, and ended up sprawled on the floor.

Harper pounced on the opportunity, running over and pressing a knee into its back. He then felt around the draugr’s waist, cringing when he felt cold squishy flesh. Not that side. He checked the other side. Bingo. There was a dagger.

He withdrew the dagger just in time for the draugr to buck him off. He took two steps backwards, dagger held in his right hand and torch in his left. They stood across from one another, watching for any sudden moves.

The draugr moved first, charging in low and fast. Harper responded by sending his knee flying upwards, hitting the draugr dead in the face. The helmet it was wearing had wasted away enough that it broke away like chocolate. The draugr reared back, holding on to its face.

It can feel pain? That’s… weird.

He shook his head; a fight wasn’t the right time to contemplate that. He had given the draugr enough time to recover. He tried juking to its right, then stabbing its left. He was greeted with a gauntleted fist slamming into his right side, cracking more than a few ribs. He hacked as he slid to the left, where another fist was waiting. It cracked him in the jaw and he saw stars.

It followed that up with a kick to the chest, whereupon he slammed back against a wall. They’d reached the end of the hall. The fight was drawing to a close. It stood and stared at him, clearly gloating.

Harper did his best to stay standing, spit out a tooth, and stared at the draugr.

“I didn’t hear no bell.”

He rushed forward low, mimicking its charge from before. Only he saw the knee coming. At the last possible second, he twisted right. He then smashed the torch high into the draugr’s face. It let out a panicked growl, taking a step back and clutching its face.

He took the opportunity to rise with an uppercut, slamming the dagger into the underside of its jaw. It choked and coughed, scrabbling at the dagger with both hands. It scratched at his right hand frantically, but he was unperturbed. Instead, he ripped the dagger out and stabbed the side of its head full force. It collapsed to the ground, bringing the dagger with it.

He reached down and ripped the dagger from its head. He walked off and out of the offshoot without looking back.

He continued on his path to the left. Thankfully, he went undisturbed for the rest of the walk. At the end of it was a smaller replica of the giant door that formed the entrance of the mausoleum, only this one had a doorknob.

Harper turned the knob and pushed. Nothing. He sighed and pulled the door open. Not a creak. It was as though the door had been freshly oiled.

He stepped through the doorway, leaning down to avoid hitting his head. He held his torch up and scanned the room. His jaw dropped.

On the right was a table with two draugr playing cards. It looked like the one closer to him was currently winning. The one opposite was destitute, though it didn’t seem to be losing badly enough to justify its extreme sorrow.

On the left was an honest to goodness bar, complete with stools, shelves, and a barkeep. It had a variety of liquors on the shelves. Some were from Earth, most clearly weren’t. One just plain looked like lightning bouncing around in a bottle. The barkeep was, surprisingly, not another draugr. It was a minotaur, presently polishing a mug.

There were three more draugr sitting at the bar, as well as a pair of satyrs that were making out at the end of the bar. He tried not to look at them for very long. It was quickly becoming… graphic.

Every being in the bar, other than the satyrs, turned to look at him. He’d walked into a wild west saloon, and clearly he just stepped on the creaky floorboard.

The barkeep slammed down the mug he was polishing. It shattered against the bar, and he sighed. “Who the void brought the hammer out again?”

The sad draugr from before raised its hand. Ah, so that was why it was so depressed.

The barkeep threw his hands in the air. “Damn it, Karlos, we tell you every time! ‘Don’t bring the warhammer, the prisoners are gonna use it as a sledgehammer.’” Karlos the draugr growled in response. The minotaur rolled his eyes and turned to face Harper. “You. What’s your name?”

Harper pointed to himself. “Me?”

The barkeep pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you see anyone else who isn’t supposed to be here? And you two, knock it off!” He threw a mug at one of the satyrs; it smashed against the back of their head. They begrudgingly untangled themselves and stared daggers at him before turning to face Harper.

“Uh, thanks. That was getting uncomfortable.” The minotaur shrugged in response. “Well, my name is Harper. And yes, I am one of the prisoners.”

The barkeep laughed. “Of course you’re a prisoner, you look like a disheveled pauper. Now come on, you’ve got maybe 5 minutes before the boss comes in here and finds you. What kinda drink you want?”

Harper didn’t move from where he was. “Is this some kind of test? Am I going to get blown up again?”

The barkeep’s eyes widened. “Don’t even mention her powers, she’ll know you’re talking about her.”

Harper balked. He was then pushed aside by an invisible figure. Ah, Alvieri. He planted himself at the very end of the bar closest to Harper.

The barkeep’s eyebrows raised. “There’s two of you?” He looked Alvieri top to bottom. “Oh wow, I’m guessing you’ve got the Heal skill huh? Yep, it’s quite a risk to use.” He walked over to Alvieri and leaned against the bar. “Now, what’ll you have?”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Alvieri cleared his throat. “Golshek Tears.”

The barkeep nodded with one hand on his chin. “Mmm. A Devran, eh? I’m wondering how you even got this sentence, your planet doesn’t usually breed extreme powerhouses.”

Alvieri shrugged. “Don’t know.”

So he doesn’t know either? Do any of us prisoners know what we did in our past life? Seems unfair to imprison us for crimes we don’t even remember committing.

The barkeep poured his drink, then slid it over. He popped a straw in it for Alvieri as well, considering he couldn’t pick up the drink. He then looked over at Harper again. “You getting something or what?”

Harper snapped out of his trance, speedwalking over to sit by Alvieri. “Bay Breeze, please.”

The barkeep froze. “Are you… human?”

Every being in the room looked back over at Harper. Only this time, they all had one thing in common: Their eyes were filled with fear.

Harper hesitated. “Y-yes? Is that a—”

He slammed his palms onto the bar. “Penelope!”

A loud cursing sounded from around the corner. “Cosmic damn it, Donahue, what is it?! I don’t want to go over there yet!”

Donahue didn’t move his eyes from Harper as he turned his head to shout back. “One’s a human!”

Thunder sounded in the entire room. A red scaled lamia with long strawberry blonde hair appeared. She looked over at the two interlopers in the room and scoffed. “Are you sure about that? They look pathetic.”

Donahue nodded. “He asked for a Bay Breeze. And he confirmed it himself.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Why didn’t I say no?! Why the fuck didn’t I say no?!

Penelope slithered over to Harper, then looked him over from top to bottom. She then whipped her tail forward, grabbing him by the ankle and lifting him into the air. Her tongue flitted out as she hissed. “Too slow, too slow. Make it interesting at least.”

Harper looked around while upside down. He turned back to look for Alvieri, but only saw his empty seat and mug.

Of course he left, that fucking coward.

Penelope twisted him around so he was facing her again. “Look over here, human. Your friend is gone. No one will save you.”

Harper’s face hardened. “He’s not my friend. And I don’t need anyone else to take you down. Void Touch!”

Penelope hissed as her eyes widened. “Void wh—”

Harper grabbed Penelope’s face. It vanished in a ball of black. He fell to the floor, hitting his head on the cobblestone. Somehow, it didn’t kill him, but it hurt like hell. “Son of a bitch!”

He felt an arm reach under his armpit and pull him up. He didn’t resist, taking the opportunity to stand. He could barely hold himself up from how little muscle mass he had left, and his concussion didn’t help. When he looked over, he saw Alvieri.

“Need to leave! Can you run?” His eye switched to blindness and then back. A moment later, two dead draugr slid into view, having collapsed mid run.

Harper tried taking a step forward, forcing Alvieri to catch him when he nearly collapsed. “Alright, normal way won’t work. I got an idea, but it might kill me.”

Another dead draugr slid into view. “Hurry!”

Harper turned to look at the exit. “Just don’t get in front of me.”

“Wh—” Before Alvieri could finish his sentence, a spear pierced through his head. His eye rolled back in his head.

Harper’s voice cracked as he screamed in shock. “Christ!” He looked over to see Donahue holding a spear. At the back of the room, the two satyrs were armed with bows and ready to shoot him. The two card playing draugr were right behind Donahue, one holding a flail and the other a warhammer.

Donahue looked down at him. He didn’t immediately attack. He was afraid. Good.

Alright, I know what to do. Get the hammer, leave this place, get the hammer, leave this place, get the hammer, leave this place.

“Primal Fury!”

Primal Fury(Rank 0) RP: 3/10 > 4/10

His pupils dilated and his breathing quickened. He let out a barbaric scream as he rushed forward.

“Oh shit!” Donahue didn’t even try holding him back, dodging out of the way.

Harper slammed shoulder first into Karlos, dislocating it. He also knocked the draugr to the ground and sent the warhammer skittering. It ended up between the two satyrs. He growled, shoved his arm back into place, and sprinted forward.

The satyrs aimed for him and pulled back on their bows. He grit his teeth, frothing at the mouth. “Clones!”

Clone(Rank 4) RP: 2/10 > 6/10

Four clones exploded from his back, joining him automatically in sprinting forward. The satyrs shot at him. Quick as a flash, a clone dashed in front of him, taking an arrow to the skull and an arrow to the ribs. Harper sprinted through the dust cloud that once was his clone, grabbing the arrows from the air.

On his right, another clone exploded as the flail draugr had finally caught up. It tried to swing for him, but he ducked down, causing the satyrs to fire over his head. Behind him, Donahue shouted in pain.

“Rrragh! Watch it you idiots!” He finally started sprinting forward, the pain of being shot seemingly knocking him from his shocked state. The thundering of hooves told Harper he didn’t have long.

Luckily, he didn’t need long. He’d just made it to the satyrs. He stabbed the arrows into both their chests. They both let out loud bleats and punched him with their bows. He was knocked backwards. Before they could nock new arrows, the last two clones arrived. They jumped into them, restricting the satyr’s motion but somehow not knocking them down.

He heard a clanging sound behind him. He turned his head and saw Donahue’s spear inches from his head, currently tangled in the draugr’s flail. Clearly, they didn’t know how to fight together. Good. He grabbed the warhammer.

The room had turned into a circus. The clones were riding on the satyrs, which were sprinting around and bleating like mad, the draugr and Donahue were currently playing tug of war with their weapons, and in the middle of it all was a concussed, frothing Harper.

“What is the meaning of this?!” A man with black hair, pallid skin, and a size that would put Malgren to shame walked around the corner. “I go to sleep for 15 minutes and Penelope gets respawned and is crying to me that there’s a human back here?” The man stopped in his tracks and looked at the cacophony filling the room.

Harper, still delirious from Primal Fury, saw that as his prime opportunity to run and took it. He sprinted full force for the door, which slammed shut in his face. He fell back and growled in frustrated confusion. He stood back up and smashed the warhammer into the door repeatedly.

“It’s made of venalite, that door’s not going anywhere.” When Harper didn’t stop, the man let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for the love of…”

Harper was suddenly immobilized and floating in midair. At least this time he wasn’t upside down, but he was thrashing around and screeching. He floated over to the man, screaming and biting at the air the whole time.

The man put his palm on Harper’s forehead, and Harper suddenly found himself back to normal. Normal weight, normal brain function, normal everything. It felt as though he was freshly awakened from the best sleep of his life.

The man clapped his hands together. “Better? Good. Now… who are you? How did you get back here?”

Harper looked deep into the man’s eyes but sensed no ulterior motives. “Harper James Westbrook, sir. And as for how I got back here, well that’s apparently Karlos’ fault.”

Karlos was busy sitting in his chair from before again. It seemed he had taken advantage of the cacophony to try and cheat at the card game. When everyone turned to look at him, he had the wherewithal to at least look ashamed. He held his hands up to either side and growled as if to say, ‘Can you blame me?’

The man in front of Harper grunted. “Uh-huh. Why am I not surprised it was Karlos again. I thought I told you all not to let him anywhere near the warhammers? Those are for the later draugr only. And before you go complaining Karlos, you need to get more kills if you want to be placed further in.”

Karlos waved his hand dismissively as he growled. The hand promptly lit on fire. Karlos cried out and ran over to the bar, dipping his arm in the nearest liquid. This was apparently potent alcohol, as the fire simply spread further up his arm. The frantic growls redoubled as he sprinted around while waving his arm in the air.

Donahue held out an arm, clotheslining him to the ground. “Roll. Now.”

Karlos did as he was told, rolling on the floor until the fire stopped. He curled up in a ball and cradled his arm, growling sadly. Harper almost felt bad for him.

“Now then, as for you. You can’t be back here. This is their rest area. Not only that, you’re a human. That kind of reputation scares my employees. We can’t have that, now can we?” He looked down his nose at Harper, making him feel sheepish.

He shook his head. “N-no, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize. And please, my name is Marik.” He held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I only wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.”

Harper felt his right hand be released from the invisible bounds he was still held in. He reached out and shook Marik’s hand.

“Excellent. I’m glad we could reach an amicable consensus. Now, unfortunately, I do have to kill you. Terribly sorry about that. I’ll make sure your pack is brought to the front entrance. And please, do try completing the mausoleum again. The proper way this time.” Rather than looking at Harper, he eyed Karlos, who was glaring at Marik.

He sighed. He wasn’t surprised to hear that. “Will it hurt?”

“Just a pinch.” Marik then pinched Harper, and he unraveled like string cheese.