Day 12, 11:05 AM
A week has passed in the dungeon, and in that week we have mostly done what we have set out to do. Lucy is now a level two acrobat, Fred a level one hunter, and ridiculously enough, Gila is a level three camp follower. The girl has increased her agility to twenty, and now her stat rivals mine. A ridiculous notion, considering I helped the other two level up, but Gila achieved her feat all on her own. I’m positive she’s some type of leveling savant.
Fred got a level when I told him I’d give him my share of floor’s manaria leaves if he killed a centipede for me. I tried a few other things, but I don’t know what’s his next level up condition. Lucy was more complicated, she did all sorts of acrobatics until she leveled once, then she got another level mid-combat against a flightless praying mantis crossed with a cockroach almost as tall as Gila.
My level has stagnated. Once I get an ax and a proper javelin, I’ll level up in a day. Switching classes is still on the table, but Blunt Weapons Master was so powerful, it stoked my greed, and I want to try my luck to see what level five has to offer.
We’re on the tenth floor. Fred just killed the final monster, and we do one last sweep, searching for valuables. Other than the corpses of centipedes, the weird mantises, mutated first-floor lobsters, and other goodies for entomology enthusiasts, we find nothing. We’ve already scoured it clean.
“Let’s go to the next floor!” Fred is full of enthusiasm, and I understand him.
Ten floors and not a scratch. Still…
“I’m not so sure. Difficulty should increase greatly every ten floors.” I hesitate to take the kids down with me. Redo is no longer red.
My crutch and curse, my salvation and damnation. I should live life like there are no redos, like there are no second chances, madness lies down that path. Yet, the kids are begging me with their eyes.
Gila still hasn’t gathered enough money for her purposes. Lucy is certain she just needs one more battle to unlock another level, just as she had been for three floors now. Fred, well, Fred is just as hopeful as Lucy, even more desperate than Gila, and utterly hopeless. He needs more ability points to start walking the path of his dreams and become a guard.
You’re gonna regret this, the voice of reason whispers in my ear, and I know my life would have been better had I just listened to that voice, both this one and the one before and even the one before,. But if I had listened to it, I would have abandoned my wife in the forest, long before we became what we were. If I had listened to it, I would never have met her, I never would have slapped an underworld judge while I was facing judgment for my sins.
“Fine, but as soon as things grow too tough we’re leaving. That means as soon as anyone suffers a scratch!” They almost jump and cheer.
One would say they are immature for their age, but I’ve seen soldiers, storming walls, throwing their lives over a handful of words and wise ministers and advisors jeopardizing their careers and risking their lives, freedoms, and salaries over a couple months’ worth of money. So, I can’t really say jumping with joy at the prospect of increasing one’s wealth and personal power is a childish thing to do.
I can recall a handful of moments when I, a wise king, did a happy jig when nobody was looking.
“And I will test the waters whenever we start a new floor. Meaning I will take the lead, and if I think the monster is too dangerous, we’re going out. Got it?”
They nod like the good little children that they are. Greedy, oblivious of danger, but good. I hold back a sigh. I’m doing something dumb again, but it’s better than letting them delve alone.
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We head back to the stairway. I’m already used to the dark, my eyes seeing more or less fine. Not daylight fine, but a clear, moonlit night. The stairway is hidden behind a rock this time, still close to the entrance. I lead the way down the dark stairway, which gradually grows lighter as we near the bottom.
The eleventh floor isn’t at full luminosity, meaning the dungeon hasn’t regenerated all the monsters since someone had last passed this way. That’s fine, it should make our run easier, even if we miss out on some of the bounty.
The forest is similar to the one above at a casual glance, but mine isn’t casual. The trees and bushes have wicked, hooked barbs. Getting my arms or legs caught on one wouldn’t hurt much, but it could hamper movement at a vital moment. Enough for a claw to clamp around an unwary delver’s ankle, enough for a lobster to snap their leg, or for the tarantula-like thing to stab its stake-like fangs and deliver an unpleasant dose of venom.
After two steps, another part of the challenge becomes apparent. The soil is wetter somehow, easier to slip, easier to stumble, and both of these tiny obstacles will surely hamper Lucy’s strong points.
We step into the forest, our eyes and ears peeled. I’m five steps ahead of the kids, enough to give me room to maneuver. Almost invisible in the foliage, the freaky mantis strikes. Like a serpent, my staff weaves between its sickle-like arms before the slash lands. It obliterates the giant bug’s head and its headless body falls to the ground, spasming and curling up.
“Do you think you can handle that?” I ask Fred and Lucy, who nod without hesitation.
I’m not positive, but if they say so. “This is not a game, you could lose an arm or your life.”
I can tell they are struggling not to roll their eyes. Understandable to an extent. I’ve issued similar warnings plenty of times over the past few days.
My warning was unneeded. Lucy slays a mutated spider, Fred takes out a new critter, a vicious-looking caterpillar covered in foot-long spines. One by one, we kill them all. The floor was infested with several hundred bugs, and clearing it took most of the day.
By the time we’re done, Fred and Lucy are sweaty and exhausted, while I’m just sweaty. I bet we reek horribly, but we’ve been down here a while, getting used to our delightful aromas by imperceptible increments as days passed. If our state persists, we’ll gain a skill that knocks out various lifeforms using nothing but our body odors.
While certainly difficult, the eleventh floor is quite lucrative. The treasures we’ve gained are practically as valuable as everything we’ve gathered so far, and I finally understand why the veteran hunters skip the first ten floors.
We rest for the evening, enjoying a surprisingly succulent centipede. Fred and Lucy split the night’s watch, and I trust the kids fully. I’ve stayed awake the first three nights, making sure they don’t doze off, after which I’ve agreed to a schedule where everyone gets one whole night of sleep after keeping watch for two nights in a row.
Nothing happened so far, but I can bet paranoiacs live longer in situations like this. I wake up in the morning, alive and well, and we visit the twelfth floor, which starts much the same, but I keep my eye out for any sudden surprises.
Edna warned me the difficulty spikes every ten levels, and I believe her.
Lucy’s fighting a mantis, her third opponent on the floor. They are tough for the kids, since they have short reach because of their clubs, which also makes the mantises great training and likeliest level up opportunities.
I hear the bushes rustle before I see it. A tarantula pounces from the forest, biting straight for Lucy’s leg. I jump to help, but I’m too far away. Fortunately, Lucy leaps away, yielding ground to the insectoid monsters.
I’m tempted to tell Fred to help her, but I’m not gambling with their lives.
“The mantis is mine,” I rush towards them, and the tarantula, quicker than the mantis, is already upon Lucy. She brains it with her club and ducks under the mantis’s serrated limb, but there’s no way she could avoid the followup. Too focused on its prey, the mantis sees me too late. My staff caves its chest in, sending it flying through the forest until it strikes a tree.
“Thanks!” Lucy beams me a smile.
“We’re not retreating yet.” Fred’s voice is hard and forceful. I guess he also believes this could be a good chance to level up. It certainly is for our acrobat, she might be pressed into fulfilling her level up condition, but it could also be something like, ‘perform before a crowd of twenty spectators.’ There’s no way to know until I take the class.
As for Fred, his chances are slim. I’ve tried everything I could do to help him, no luck. I hold his steely gaze, and he’s not backing down.
“Fine, but the first cut—”
“And we’re out of here,” all three of them say in a chorus.
Cheeky little bastards!