Karsten had been in this world for a whole of two weeks. In this time, he had seen and experienced things he’d only experienced in his wildest dreams - and in some moments, only in his nightmares.
The utter exhaustion he’d felt as he trudged through the Primordial forest.
The pure elation he’d felt when he finally saw a human being.
The gratitude he’d felt when that human hadn’t instantly killed him or denounced him as a murderer due to all the blood that covered him. His own blood.
The groundedness he’d felt when he got registered at the Guild, finally feeling a bit organized despite everything.
Completing his first quest, killing his first insanely overpowered Boss monster. Feeling his back fracture as the Ant Buss rammed into him... and creating his own party of people with superpowers.
…Making a friend, and losing that friend.
Looking at the spot where Henry had just stood, Karsten’s mouth went dry.
The two weeks he’d been here gave him far from enough time to actually get used to this new reality, but the air of normalcy he’d longed for since the beginning had finally started to surround him a little.
He clenched and unclenched his fists.
There had even been a few moments when he and his party members were in the middle of a conversation where Karsten had caught himself in a moment of eased relaxation, the anxiety at being in an alien world somewhat abated in the midst of banter.
The world around him had a rhythm, and Karsten could feel his own rhythm starting to catch up to it.
‘...’
He supposed he’d started to feel comfortable, even with all the things that had been going on around him.
That came to a screeching halt the moment he saw his cousin’s heart in the hand of a smiling Gnome.
Karsten hadn’t known his new pretend family for long, not at all. Even so, the loss of Medoly had affected him in a way he wasn’t sure how to explain.
Karsten had not forgotten. The Ranger had entrusted her brother to him, more so than the other way around.
Yet here he was, unable to move in the face of an overwhelmingly powerful enemy. An enemy that was playing with the heart of the brother who’s safety was entrusted to him by his dead sister.
He turned his head slowly, glancing back at the spot where Henry lied, motionlessly at the floor, his blood flowing freely from his wound.
In the stone wall behind him was a crater, cracks like lines in a spider’s web.
“So,” The Gnome said, interrupting Karsten’s silence, tossing the dripping heart into the air a few times.
“Let’s have a chat, eh?”
“...”
None of the party members spoke, their bodies were taut, tense, ready to fight at the drop of a pin.
“Oh?” The Gnome laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t hurt you,” The Gnome laughed, then turned slightly to glance at all the people behind him. “Right, everyone?”
“Of course, Boss,” They said in near-perfect unison.
‘Great. Not just thugs, organized thugs. Noted.’ Karsten internally scoffed.
Karsten almost felt like laughing, the severity of the situation finally catching up with him.
“What do you want?” Malek asked calmly, firmly even.
Kartsen couldn’t believe the man was capable of sounding as convincing as he did, as he knew the Monk knew just as well as everyone else in this room that if this was to escalate into a fight, he’d likely be the first… the second to die.
“What I want? Well, I already told you, didn’t I? I want to chat.” The Gnome hummed.
“Let’s start with introductions,” The man said, lowering his head in a formal bow, his red right hand pressed flat on his chest.
“My name is Villos Venchant Bermigrate. A pleasure to meet you all.”
He rose back to his full height of half a meter, and met the eyes of each of the party members.
“Go on, then,” He prompted, gesturing for the party to introduce themselves.
“...I am Malek Kalamane,” Malek introduced himself, but did not lower himself, or move a muscle, for that matter.
Luckily, Villos didn’t seem to mind, turning his attention to Haressy.
“My name is Haressy Kalamane,” She stated, but she similarly didn’t bow.
Villos hummed, then turned his attention to the party Rogue.
“And who might you be, Rogue?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know.
“Otis Betterman, sir.”
“How polite! I always love how Rogues tend to understand these situations better than others.”
Otis gave a jerky bow of the head, and Villos moved on.
“Oh, I think we’d better fix up our unfortunate new friend over there. Amanza, would you be a dear?”
The woman who’d been lounging on the couch languidly rose from her seat, walking without an ounce of impatience over to the young Kerdan lying on the stone-tiled floor.
She leaned down on one knee next to the man, and placed her hand on his chest.
A flaming, black smoke mixed with golden light flowed out of her hand, and Henry’s body jerked.
It took a long time, and Karsten could feel the cold sweat flowing down his spine as he stood and watched, careful not to move too much.
He almost expected the Gnome to interrupt the process, but he didn’t. Villos simply stood in place, watching with keen interest as the mysterious woman worked.
If Karsten was correct, the Spell currently being cast was an extremely powerful one. As more than a minute had gone by, it couldn’t have been something as simple as a Revivify.
Many of the people present had already returned their attention to their own games and conversations - all but the brute behind the Gnome and the man himself, that Karsten figured could only be one of the crime lords he’d heard about.
Karsten’s nerves kept building as minute after minute after minute trickled by. In the end, an entire hour passed before, finally, Henry stood up, not only alive, but completely healed.
As the Spearman opened his eyes and saw the Gnome give him a good-natured smile, he did not lash out.
He simply walked back to his party and stood beside Malek at the front of the group.
The Gnome smiled like a grandfather that had just seen his grandson after some time away.
“Welcome back, son. How was your trip to the Underworld?”
Henry didn’t answer, only barely holding the retort that was positively begging to be shot back at him.
The crime lord nodded approvingly, “Very well, young one. ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all’, isn’t that right? Your father raised you well!”
Henry clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, but remained silent.
“Now, your name?”
“Henry Eugene Kerdan.”
The Gnome nodded yet again in approval, then turned to Karsten.
“And you are the mysterious cousin! Or, ‘Idiot nr. 2’, as I called you earlier,” The man had laughter in his voice as he shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry about that, it was very childish of me. I just couldn’t help myself. The two of you looked like classically young, ignorant lambs as you stalked through my city, deluding yourselves into thinking no one was watching you,” He said, and Karsten couldn’t help but tense up even more at the words ‘my city’.
“Now,” The crime lord said, walking a few steps closer. “Your name?”
“Karsten Myhr Kerdan.”
The Gnome nodded, as if it only made sense. “Indeed…”
“What baffles me, Karsten, is that, contrary to my companions’, and even my own expectations, there were no previous records to prove you even existed anywhere we looked. Granted, we did not look very far into the matter, but by any measure, you are far too fascinating. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to erase your traces. You just popped into existence one day, didn’t you?”
He tilted his head as if he was deeply concerned about the matter. “So, how’d you manage it?”
Releasing the tension in his fists, Karsten drew in a subtle breath, trying to suppress his racing heartbeat in front of a person that almost certainly was over the artificial level cap.
Willing his voice to sound calm and collected, Karsten marveled at how well he could control his voice and demeanor when he spoke.
Being a Bard certainly had its moments.
“I don’t know,” He stated calmly and simply.
For the first time since they met, the Gnome’s demeanor shifted slightly, his brows furrowing in real confusion as he inspected Karsten’s eyes.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
The Bard felt like his soul was being read like an open book.
“...You really don’t, do you? How odd. Where are you from?”
Karsten struggled to remember what the town he was supposedly from was called, and thankfully, the name came to him.
“I’m from Golpuse.”
The Gnome’s furrowed brows evened out.
At the same time, chills rose from Karsten’s spine. He realized too late that he’d made a grave mistake.
“I do not appreciate liars in my lair, Bard.” Villos scoffed in a tone of mock offense, though Karsten keenly felt the threat lacing the Gnome’s words.
“...Mandal, sir.”
Villos squinted his eyes.
“Mandal. Never heard of such a city. Have you, Grant?” He asked the person standing behind him, the brute that had risen from his seat on the sofa.
The brute, Grant, shook his head, though his eyes never left Karsten. “No, sir. I haven’t.”
Villos shook his head.
“Well, never mind that, I suppose. Cities pop up all the time, no use trying to keep track of them all. More importantly, son, how did you get here?”
Karsten’s hand twitched almost imperceptibly.
Of course, the Gnome noticed immediately.
“What is it, my boy? Was it traumatic? I’d hate to make you remember something uncomfortable. Please, take your time.”
“I don’t know.”
“‘Don’t know’ what? How you got here, or if it was traumatic?”
“...I don’t know how I got here.”
The Gnome, surprisingly, was silent for a time. He observed the taller man, his thoughts unintelligible from his expression.
After a minute, he shrugged and turned away, walking slowly back to the place he was previously standing before turning back towards the group.
“That may be what it may be, we have a different matter to discuss. I have a merry proposition for you all.”
Seeing no reactions from the party, Villos continued.
“You are all young and inexperienced,” He began.
“Dangerously so, wouldn’t you agree? You were all fooled by little old me, after all, and you even stupidly left a person you killed to rot under the open sky on the doorstep of one of the major cities. All things considered the man deserved it, of course, but let me tell you, when my men found the corpse, they couldn’t believe how not even a single step had been taken to dispose of, or even attempt to hide his body. I made the decision to allow you all to learn from this experience instead of interfering, as I believe you would all benefit from a real-life lesson, more so than a so-called ‘free lunch’.”
The man started pacing.
“I hope you have learned your lesson. My recruiters, and me, admittedly, lowered our expectations of you all after that. That was until you all came back with your lives intact from not just one, but four Abnormal dungeons.”
Karsten’s eyes widened.
“We first took note of you, Mr. Myhr, when you registered at the Guild. We always make a point to keep tabs on potential recruits and potential competition, so we always jot down the basic details and background of anyone who registers in certain important areas.”
He chuckled. “And then, out of nowhere, comes a man without a single legal document to his name, strutting about like he thinks it’ll all work out. Out of sheer amusement at your guts, and, I admit, a keen interest as to who this ‘mystery man’ was, I tipped off the guards and local Officials to go easy on you.”
Karsten thought back to the cheerful Franbanie, and found it difficult to believe the crime lord’s words.
“I was interested to see how far this fool that might very well be a genius would go. Imagine my surprise when I heard the news that an Abnormal level 1 dungeon had been cleared, not by a party of experienced level 2’s or above, but by two level 1 rookie Adventurers, one of them only having a single quest under their belt and the other having exactly zero! It was a truly astonishing feat.”
Karsten briefly glanced at Henry, who remained impassively staring at the Gnome.
“I thought, much like my lovely recruiters, that this was simply too good to be true. Two young geniuses, ripe for the taking. I will say, though, that we were, frankly, doubtful,” Villos admitted, stopping in place and folding his hands politely in front of himself.
“So, we continued observing, and to our shock and awe, history repeated itself - not once or twice, but three times more. First with the ants, correct? A never-before seen incident, truly. And then, with the cute Pinkies, who supposedly are so rare you’d likely never see one even if you spent your entire life looking for them,” He said, looking at Otis.
Otis frowned worriedly, but said nothing.
He was likely the one person in the group that knew best just how helpless they were.
“I made the decision then and there to recruit you younguns into my fold, to keep you under my little wing,” He chuckled.
“But then, my mind was simultaneously churning and tossing with a certain piece of information,” He said, his voice now a bit more even, as if he were talking about an urban conspiracy.
“You all, completely coincidentally, of course,” He looked pointedly at Karsten, “happened upon a mimic dungeon as your fourth and final amazing feat. They are exceptional rarities, even among uncommon dungeons. The people in the know, know that mimic dungeons only occur when something of exceptional dimensional importance happens. It might be something that happens in the blink of an eye, quicker than a Teleportation, and might not leave a single sign that it happened at all. Well, other than the obvious dungeon that might pop up, of course.”
“The dungeon's inhabitants, the mimics, have a tendency to take after what caused them to appear. It is a sort of affinity they gain upon creation, being born from a dimensional rift of sorts, this is where they get their name. Personally, though… I think ‘mimic’ isn’t really the best fit for them. ‘Echoes’ is more suitable, I believe.”
The Gnome waved his hand.
“The name is of no importance. What matters is that the mimics in the newly discovered mimic dungeon looked unmistakably like a certain Bard. A Bard that just so happens to be in our presence.”
The crime lord turned to Karsten, and many of the other pairs of eyes in the room turned their attention back to him.
Villos smiled, as if he’d just remembered something funny.
“It might amuse you to hear that the reason it was found in the first place was because a certain look-alike mimic escaped the dungeon and caused havoc in the surrounding area.”
Karsten’s stomach dropped, the vision of monsters that looked just like himself tearing innocent people apart surfacing in his mind.
“In fact, a small group of them did,” The Gnome continued, and Kartsen closed his eyes. “Four, I think. Watching them run around, causing utter chaos was the highlight of my day that day. Seeing a level 7 among them was interesting, too.”
Karsten’s mouth opened and closed many times, but he couldn’t formulate a response.
He suddenly felt a warm hand on his arm. It was Haressy. She looked at her party member with pity, trying her best to comfort him, before leveling a glare on Villos.
Villos simply shrugged.
“What? I don’t see how this is my fault. My men killed one of them, after all. If anything, you should thank me, really.”
The Gnome sighed at the sight of the frowns on the party members’ faces.
“Really, people needlessly doubt me. Hahh… No matter. The point is, as you should have understood by now if you’re worth the iron in your blood,” He continued, smiling, “This incident told us something very important. It told us, in a very obvious manner, that the cause of this dungeon’s creation was you, Karsten.”
“Now, how could this be? Being a talented young Adventurer is one thing, but to be the cause of a dimensional rift is quite another.”
He assessed the young man before him again.
“But you ‘do not know’.”
“...”
Karsten sighed slightly in an attempt to calm himself, but he felt the crime lord’s stare in the depths of his soul.
Villos smiled faintly.
“There are two reasons why I sought you and your little group out, Karsten. Well, three, technically, but you are not in any place to know or care. Maybe even four, now that I think about it…” The Gnome mused, rubbing his chin,” But that is of no importance to you.”
“What is of importance to you is your party’s safety, isn’t that right?” He said, cocking his head to the side.
Karstens tense lips turned down in a frown, and the Gnome waved his hands placatingly.
“Now, now, it is as I said, I will not hurt you. The previous jab was simply a greeting, nothing more. I don’t hurt friends,” He grinned.
“Reason number one. As I said, I would like to recruit you. You all are seemingly deathbent on killing yourselves in a wild dungeon, but I believe you all already know how incredulously stupid such an idea really is. You must admit, it does not speak well of the soundness of your minds that you planned as such after your particular mix of experiences, hmm?”
Villos clapped his hand together, causing a crisp, high-pitched clapping sound to reverberate through the cavern.
“So I propose a deal. You come under my wing, only for a time, mind you,” He placated, after seeing the clear apprehension on their faces, “and I allow you to use the resources and channels at my disposal to gear up and challenge more suitable dungeons. How does that sound?”
“It sounds,” Henry said through gritted teeth, “too good to be true.”
Karsten was worried Villos would be angered at Henry’s words, but to his surprise, the Gnome only chuckled.
“It does, doesn’t it?” He said humorously, taking a step forward.
“You will be working as a team under my Conquest faction for the next three weeks. You will all be required to bear the insignia of my family for the duration, as well as perform some truly menial tasks for me. Oh, that is reason number two, by the way. That is all.”
“Really?”
Villos smiled broadly and humorlessly.
“Yes.”
Seeing the party hesitate, Villos sighed.
“I hope I needn't provide you all with another greeting. Amanzas Magica pool is sadly not infinite, and Resurrections require enormous amounts of the stuff,” He said, regretfully.
Karsten looked over to Henry. He could see the unwillingness and dejection in the latter’s eyes.
The Fighter gave him a subtle nod, then turned to look around the room with an impassive look on his face.
The Bard turned to the Druid, Monk and Rogue respectfully.
Haressy looked fretful, but resolutely nodded in the end.
Malek was calm. He didn’t nod or shake his head, simply met Karstens eyes in unspoken agreement. He could tell through his stony facade that the Goliath truly didn’t like the situation they’d ended up in, but they both knew they had little choice.
Otis looked at the tiled floors with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly not agreeing with the situation in the slightest. Still, he could tell more so than the others just how many hidden eyes were trained on them…
He met Karstens gaze, and nodded.
Karsten closed his eyes and massaged the back of his head. With a resolute sigh, he looked back to the still smiling Gnome that had been patiently waiting for their answer.
“...It’s a deal.”
Villos’ grin widened.
"Excellent! Marvelous choice..."
~~~
In the narrow hallway on the other side of the grand hall, Karsten and his party followed one of the ‘evil bastard’s evil henchmen’, as Karsten had oh so affectionately dubbed them in his mind.
Though tall for a human, the lady, whose name they hadn’t been told, had nothing on the Goliaths of the Overkill party. Of course, she made it blatantly obvious that she couldn’t have cared less with the way she treated them; With utter disregard.
The same could be said for Otis and Henry.
The only person in the party she talked to - not with, but to, though at would probably be most accurate - was Karsten, as he was the one her Boss had placed the most importance on during their ‘talk’ due to his ‘interesting background’ and ‘strangely unlucky streak’ with regards to dungeons.
“Here’s the armory,” She said in a voice that somehow sounded more like a yawn than a yawn itself did, jabbing her thumb to the side of the hall where an unassuming wooden double-door constructed of a grayish-white type of wooden planks stood. It looked utterly normal, but Karsten wouldn’t place any bets on it being nearly as unassuming as it looked.
He knew enchantments existed in this world,
“You’re not allowed to go in there unaccompanied. Let me or whenever you want to go in there, and I’ll babysit you. Most of the time I’m in the Cistern, so just go to the bar and wait a while and I’ll be there. Or you could ask Grant, or Melling, or Bernie, or something, I don’t know. Just know that I have more patience than all of them combined, and choose your nanny wisely. When you’re in there, keep it short. Oh, also, if you so much as touch the Mythic gear, I’ll skin you. That’s not a threat, it’s a fact. My nickname is ‘Skinner’, so you can imagine what my role in the Family is,” She laughed, leaving the armory behind and leading them deeper into the ant-hill-like complex.
“So what’s your deal, anyway? The Boss never treats people this kindly.”
“...Kindly?” Karsten struggled to understand how she even thought to use the word ‘kind’ to describe the downright diabolical man.
The lady shrugged. “You don’t even have a single unbroken bone in your body right now. He was seriously like a Saint earlier compared to the usual.” There was a slight undercurrent of pride in her voice, and Karsten couldn’t tell if it was because of the thought of how ‘nice’ Villos had been to them, or because of how ‘very not nice’ he was to other people.
“How is he usually, then?”
“Usually he lets Grant do the questioning, though he likes to join in whenever he’s around. He’s technically the supreme head of all the factions, but he’s always taken a special liking to the Torture and Acquirement faction.”
“‘Always’? So he’d been the Boss for a long time, then?”
The lady glanced at him amusedly over her shoulder.
“I admire your efforts to try and gather information, but I think you’ll find we’re a tight-lipped community.”
‘Community… So, not a gang? With the way they use the word ‘Family’ it makes it sound like it’s a crime syndicate…’
A few turns and a slippery stairwell later, the party exited the ant-hill of the evil sect of evil though a moss-covered hatch that led out to the underneath of a suspended wooden walkway that Karsten guessed led back to the city.
Raising their hoods to hide their identities, the party left the dank crypt behind and stepped onto the walkway.
“Go to the Kerrington Inn and Casino in the Pollis district when you get to the city. South-west. Say Donna sent you and you’re out on orders from the Heart, and they’ll let you stay for cheap. Wait there ‘till tomorrow, and I’ll come pick you up. Be good, kids!”
Saying so, she closed the hatch with a thump, and the party was finally left alone.
The group collectively sighed under their breaths in relief.
They had walked though the belly of the beast unharmed- mosty unharmed, though none of them felt like celebrating.
Their muddy shoes thumped across the old, worn-down and mossy-green wooden planks that made up the walkway as the party started trudging slowly back towards the festering city of Kerring.
On their backs were images of white skulls with red jagged-edged spirals for eyes like the branding of an evil God.
~-~ END OF BOOK ONE ~-~