"You're leaving!?" Valkner spouted in absolute disbelief. "You can't be serious! What will you do on the outside!"
The devastated throne room's silence stung more than any roaring boos. The Slime Queen grimaced and passed in front of the Demon Prince, her hands quickly placed upon his chest.
"Prince Valkner, please no! You know your wounds might act up! This isn't-"
A hard clank of armor against the ground draws all the gathered elite demons' gazes -- even the mediating Queen -- to the dissenter. The Fifth Prince of the Southern Orc Tribe's onyx black armor cracked the stone and indented the flooring from its weight alone. Nearly eight feet tall and wider than a horse, the massive snot-green colored man had never looked more defeated than now. For the first time in all their days, he wore not a confident, smug smirk or boastful grin. His lips now were slighted, twisted into a scowl as he pointed a finger accusingly at the Queen.
"You're all fools if you follow that weakling! We've spent ten years trying to scrounge this place up from ruin! The war is over! My father is dead, my siblings scattered... the orcs need leadership!"
The gooey woman's blue gel shifted and waned, bubbling with anger. Valkner didn't blame her but still, his hand pointed beyond her and at the giant. In the twenty years they had known one another, the prince had grown from a young orc into one of the biggest he had ever known -- his wives had been evacuated months ago and for the first time he knew why.
"And you're going to be it!?" Valkner hissed. "You dare betray the Demon Prince? I will have you know that I'm to be the Demon King when I-"
The prince's face twisted in agony and his chest burned, forcing him to his knees and drawing all eyes back on him. The Slime Queen lowers and gently pressed her hand to his wounds, hushing him and looking back to the Fifth Prince.
"Please! As the southern tribe, we need you to stay with us! If we have you then we'll still have a chance! This is for the future! For all our children to not be butchered by the humans!"
Valkner's eyes strained and he craned his head back enough to try and see one of his oldest minions. All this time he had been so demanding. This time, he could ask as a favor. As a friend. Maybe that would-
"No." The prince's words shatter Valkner's hope, scoffing before he turned his back on all of them and faced the dungeon's exit. "Our chance died when our leader lost. If there's going to be a future for the orcs... then clearly I need to find it working with the humans. Maybe they'll spare the orcs and embrace us as they did the elves and dwarves. I am leaving... consider this the last time we meet as allies."
All the others in the chamber started yelling, rushing up around Valkner as they tried to coax the Orc Prince back.
But he wasn't coming back and Valkner knew that deep down.
----------------------------------------
"Is everyone ready for an adventure?"
Jigalta beamed -- positively radiating excitement -- as she pranced around the trio giddily. She had adopted the cloak of her disguise and taken a small knife from the kitchen supplies. It painted a tremendous picture of incompetence but her chest being thrust around for the cleric did a fine job of keeping him interested. This was supposed to be a routine study or resource collection for them -- even with the original dungeon key granting them access to the primary dungeon, the danger level was low. The real danger for the monstrous human and his slave was, in fact, the element of surprise Jigalta had. Seeing a slime -- even a half-slime -- get killed certainly wouldn't be desirable for Valkner. So he even carried one of the kitchen knives himself; even a steak knife in the hands of someone without skills could still be enough to save her.
It was actually a tad ironic to be entering his dungeon in this fashion with a half-orc. It was a rather merciless turn of fate when he heard about the four orc tribes yielding to humanity. How could any of them have known what would come? Out of the four, only the Southern Tribe's prince was spared in exchange for their crimes during the war. They had ensured he lived long and saw many of his people branded as slaves.
When he died about a sixty years ago, it had actually made Valkner burst into laughter. It earned him a bit of reputation with travelers for having a good sense of humor.
The Plate Knight stepped forward and settled their hand on their hip impatiently, forcing Valkner to end his reminiscing and walk past Jigalta and the cleric with the seal in hand. Dangled by its string, he raised it toward the doorway and shook it; the energy from it pulsed and washed over the entrance. Even if he couldn't read the words on the seal, he had memorized the full creed of his dungeon long ago.
"Shelaadanan-shelaadilee." The fragment shook as etched marks moved, pulling free of the seal and writhing through the air. "Gaustein come forth; challengers beseech thee!"
Both Jigalta and the knight took a few steps back, eyes fixated nervously on the magical vine-like tentacles coming from the seal. It was no surprise -- most demons never saw it unless they were messengers or escorts. In an age where most of the elites were gone, there was no reason for half-bloods to be familiarized with such a sight. The cleric's familiarity, however, meant he had likely been to a dungeon or two -- an impressive feat considering his low level and focus on research.
The creeping energy of the medallion grasped at Valkner's bare arm, inked into his illusion's skin and his real skin with its intricate pattern in seconds. The innkeeper lowered the seal and took a quick look at his arm before finally stepped through the doorway.
The layout of the dungeon was as ingrained into his memory as the words to open it -- the entrance of it lay in what was known as the "Dungeoneer's South" like most dungeons. Most of the exceptions were dungeons on the other end of the world that faced north. It had supposedly been a means to draw off natural energy in the world as it spread, drawing it into the depths and storing it. Dungeons fed on this magic and apparently used it as a means to stay in good shape.
Yet the stones of his dungeon were still worn and covered in dust. Jigalta and the pair came in behind him and the bubbling slime-girl sprinted a short distance ahead, peering down the first hallway branching off within the dungeon. Her curiosity didn't have her running out of sight but it gave some pride for Valkner to have someone interested. The dungeon itself was far less grand and expansive in its current state but it was still a tremendously historic locale for any demon.
"I never imagined it would be so... dusty." The cleric walked up alongside Valkner and looked down the halls. "I hope you are right and there are some beasts here. But I must ask... do you know the tale of what happened to Gaustein's Gang?"
"Yeah, better than most."
The cleric laughed but only because he must have thought that "Valentine" had simply learned it from running the inn. Valkner doubted he would laugh if he knew that the leader of the gang was the one holding the only key out of the dungeon on his arm. Jigalta's attention shifted to the man and she ignored the armor-wrapped knight as they moved to the junction. The slime girl couldn't help herself, wrapping her arms around her waist as she watched the cleric follow his aide.
"What happened? I mean, some say they were some of the strongest in the land, right?"
"But of course." The cleric halted and shrugged his head toward the armor-clad half-orc's back. "My companion there is the great-grandchild of the Southern Tribe's King. He was the one who recounted it to history. You see, he abandoned the gang in the death of their leader..."
Their voices trailed off as Valkner's eyes turned to the indent in the floor of his dungeon. Much damage had mended despite the layer of dust and cobwebs... but the mark of that fateful day still wore itself into the floor. Perhaps it was destiny that the descendants of that tribe had shown up here; maybe the greater powers wanted him to watch his spawn die at the hands of Jigalta or even his paltry steak knife. If he hadn't abandoned the dungeon, maybe they could have turned things around -- perhaps he could have found a way to teach Valkner the skills needed to start anew.
If he didn't leave, maybe they all wouldn't have been separated.
"Valentine! Come on!"
Jigalta's voice echoed down the hallway, forcing him to dismiss the debate from his purview. He stepped into the indent and ground his boot into the floor.
"I'm coming. I just had to squash a bug."
The group rallied at the second junction so it wasn't a far walk. Jigalta slipped to the rear and to his side, smiling as they made their way to the left. The sound of chittering lay ahead in one of the dungeon's few rooms; long ago it had been a chamber used by the demon nobles. Now, as they entered, it was home to a trio of Mystery Bugs. A lift of his finger triggered [Identity Check], watching the cleric raise his staff and the half-orc step forward. Jigalta drooled.
Basic [Identity Check] skill used.
Result: Success
Level 6 Mystery Bug
Level 3 Mystery Bug
Level 4 Mystery Bug
STR: ???
END: ???
AGI: ???
INT: ???
CON: ???
LCK: ???
STR: ???
END: ???
AGI: ???
INT: ???
CON: ???
LCK: ???
STR: ???
END: ???
AGI: ???
INT: ???
CON: ???
LCK: ???
Even if they had impressive levels, none of the trio was dangerous to him or the others. Mystery Bugs were similar to a mix between mites and cockroaches with scythed forearms; all three of them were the size of human dogs and could kill someone who didn't have their guard up. In most dungeons, however, they were fodder creatures. Mystery Bugs were almost entirely pacifist; any aggression was considered a species irregularity.
Their jobs in dungeons and demon lands were to traverse their floors or the wild and clean up bodies. It wasn't until they got older, stronger and bigger they became something more deadly. The intelligence of them wasn't exactly low, but many Mystery Bugs were seen as pets back when Valkner was younger. Yet that wasn't the case now or for humans; the cleric pointed his staff at the strongest and barked at the armor-bound knight.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
"Get in there!" He clanked his staff against the ground, pointing his palm outward at her back. "If you bleed, it might attract something bigger so try not to kill them too quickly!"
The knight's hesitation didn't go unnoticed -- both Valkner and the cleric frowned; Valkner hated losing the bugs but the cleric hated being doubted. His hands clenched tighter and the knight flinched, quickly turning and charging with a ferocious battle cry. Jigalta laughed in awe and slipped closer to the cleric, shouting as the bugs and knight meet.
"Whoa!" She gasps when the strongest of the bugs clashed its bladed arms into her gauntlet grip. "They fight without a weapon? Isn't that dangerous for those without the right class?"
The cleric chuckled and gave an expected answer. "They can take it. They've always fought barehanded."
It placates Jigalta -- since she simply giggles and walks a bit closer to keep watching -- but it makes Valkner sick. He had a perfectly good greenskin and wasn't even arming them. Not only that but they were supposedly the great-grandchild of the Southern Tribe's Fifth Prince? How could humans be so shallow as to look a strong demon in the mouth? It took a lot to keep his elf guise calm, stepping alongside the cleric and looking to the man.
"Would you mind teaching me some of that healing magic? If they're fighting unarmed alone then they'll surely suffer wounds. I always heard I had an affinity for magic so maybe I could pick it up?"
The cleric looked at him with disgust but shielded it as he finally turned toward the knight as they kicked the strongest bug away and began fighting the weakest. "Very well... I think they wouldn't appreciate it but... perhaps having another healer would be wise for collecting materials. We could make it much further inside if we have more than one healer, too..."
Val smiled and watched the cleric's hands eagerly. That was too easy! The staff's glow was familiar and the rune was only two brushes of the finger. Learning such a trivial spell had to be easy!
Except as they stood there and the healing spell mended some of the knight's wounds, he didn't get what he expected.
Spell [Heal] Prerequisites: Not Met
Skills Required: [Mana Manipulation], [Basic Casting] and [Magic School: Light]
Skill [Basic Casting] learned. Skill mastery level is Basic.
Instead of learning a spell, he learned one of three prerequisites!? Casting skills alone meant he was more to help someone else cast!
"Just make the same gestures." The cleric said. "It will amplify my power -- understand?"
"... Y-Yes. Of course." Valkner's answer was muffled through his teeth bit his disguise hid it behind a grinning smile. Jigalta looked back as he traced the gesture in anger. Without any control over mana at all, he was simply making the cast sign for the cleric -- it was akin to doubling the spell. His mana concentrated around Val's finger and basically used him to store an extra use. It was popular among adventurers to have someone learn to cast to support a mage or healer if they became injured. But for Valkner, being used like this stung the cinders of his pride.
Was it because he was half-elf? It felt like this cleric looked down on every monster species like the average faith-worshipper.
The knight's boot crunched down and squashed the head of weakest bug, looking back to the trio for help. A tap of the gnarled staff drew the mana away from Val's finger, etching out the rune he had mimicked moments before and emitting a glowing aura over to mend the newest bit of damage. Even without a weapon, the knight's armor was tough; it had only a few dents while the level six Mystery Bug bore bruising and the new bug stepping forward was afraid. Demons and humans varied in power but it was staggering to see just how strong a greenskin could be. Jigalta's awe wasn't withheld either between her drooling; the half-slime openly looked at the strong giant and back to Valkner.
She wanted to do it now -- to strike when they least expected it. She paced back to the cleric and continued cheering on the knight's fighting, turning her chest just enough to show off her cleavage to the caster.
"Your friend really is impressive!" She giggled and faced the cleric, drawing his eyes to her with a simple brush of her fingers. "You heal them so well! I'd say they'd be in real trouble without you!"
Valkner drew yet another symbol and watched her hand settle on the cleric's belt. The man jumped in shock but immediately looked to her with a lecherous smirk.
"Of course -- we study these dungeons so I can forward my research! My deity blesses those who hold knowledge after all. Better power, better bodies..."
The knight punched the bug away but the stronger one struck just then -- it headbutted her in the stomach hard enough to launch her off her feet. Even before she had hit the ground, the cleric had snarled and turned his attention away from Jigalta's sultry advancements.
"What are you doing!? Get up!"
"N-Ngh... no..."
Their voice and response made Jigalta turn in confusion and the cleric turn red in the face. The stronger Mystery Bug stepped in front of the wounded one, raising its blades defensively. Valkner didn't think it possible but maybe the knight had realized why the giant bugs were so docile. The one that had been punched had a bigger rear half of their body and the bulge of an egg clutch.
"Why you!" The cleric curled his finger warningly. "Get up or I'll activate it!"
The knight looked back at the cleric and the angle let Valkner see the fear in their red eyes. Greenskins feeling fear was rare but seeing it now sickened him. Humanity had broken that iron spirit that permeated generations. Plenty of half-orcs had never lost their iron will even under the death of their tribe or human parent. Yet seeing the red-eyed knight staggering to their feet and turning grimly to the pair of bugs triggered something inside him. The finger that had been casting fell with its hand, clasping the hilt of the steak knife and drawing the blade. Jigalta and the cleric turned their attention an instant ahead of the orc but all of them saw it.
Valentine -- the half-elf inn manager -- swung his knife through the cleric's throat. Blood trailed with the blade in a light splatter but chunks of flesh fell free with his sloppy cut. If he had any swordsman or knife skills, it wouldn't have been so shoddy yet in a way he preferred it. A jaggedly-made cut that still went deep enough to silence the cleric's voice beneath gagging on blood. He stumbled backward but takes the staff in both hands, swinging it with all his might. It cracked against the top of Valkner's head but only the illusion. Reality meant that it struck his horns and ricocheted, giving him another chance to grab the staff and tug it free.
"Ghnk... fughkin-AUGHHHHH!"
The cleric's gurgling for words turns into agonizing screams as Jigalta's illusion ruptures and her slime explodes outward all around him. Her body closes tight around the cleric and she immediately deforms; she squeezed his wrists and simply broke them, using the pain to get him to open his mouth wider and move his hand from his throat. The brutal method of killing for a slime was one that actually caused little damage when done right. Half-slimes had less to work with; her skeleton restrained him while her slime gushed deep down his throat and filled in his wound. Both of the cleric's eyes rolled back and his neck violently spun, snapping and cracking multiple times as she tore his spine to shreds and even ruptured his skin.
Cleric Thaldon slain by party member Jigalta. Receiving 50% EXP split.
Required experience for Level 2 met. Level-up.
Party member Jigalta acquired Skill [Masochist]. Skill mastery level is at Basic.
The cleric fell backward with her and slammed to the ground with his head almost entirely decapitated from her killing blow. It left Valkner standing over them -- with the staff in hand -- and turning to face the knight. He didn’t have time to care or celebrate the success; his full attention needed to be on addressing the now emancipated half-orc.
"... If you want to leave, then go. I won't stop you." Val lowered the staff into one hand and looked over to the bugs. "You tried sparing them... so it's only fair we let you go, right?"
Jigalta was too busy noisily dissolving and absorbing the man's flesh into her slimy body to protest skipping the meal. But the knight didn't turn to leave; they instead reached up and beneath their collar. Their clasps noisily unfastened and they pulled their helmet off, tossing it to the dungeon's stone floor. Beneath the helmet was an effeminate face -- unlike Jigalta's youth, they were a woman in their thirties. Two tusks pushed free of her lips -- each nearly an inch long -- but she carried the beauty of a human girl in curves. Her blue hair brought back memories of her great-grandfather alright; it was cut in the same short style to fit any helmet.
"No." Without her helmet, she sounded louder but more lonely. "I... would only be enslaved again. You saved me so... I should swear my life to you, shouldn't I?"
"... Why would you?"
Val watched her features shift and her lips turn to a frown but it didn't phase him. His question had been asked because he truly believed she had no reason.
"Your great-grandfather was supposedly the Southern Tribe's Fifth Prince, wasn't he? If you swore your life to me, you have to be here forever. Could you really be in the place he abandoned and sullied? The tales he told about this place-"
"They were just tales of course -- my mother told me so."
Valkner hesitated but the half-orc turned her gaze toward the pair of Mystery Bugs before she chuckled.
"All of us are supposed to pass down the story he gave us after they made the deal. When the time came that humanity trusted us, we would rise up and avenge the Demon Prince who fell here. The other chieftains never understood why but he insisted that he had been warned... so he would repay the favor. In a few generations time -- when we have spread abroad and began acquiring rights -- he would know humanity would fall from the inside."
She bursts into laughter but Valkner's stays silent; his fingers squeeze and strain the staff's wood as his anger builds.
After all this time, that bastard had surprised him. Even after renouncing Valkner, he had chosen to orchestrate such a terrible plan as some form of revenge? The lie about Valkner had likely been forced on him but still, it hurt learning that the Southern Tribe had members with such a story. Jigalta's noisy eating draws his attention and reminded him of an important fact. He poked the staff's end into the blob of slime and furrowed his brows.
"Make sure you don't eat anything besides his body -- we need his stuff!"
Valkner carefully squeezed the staff, watching the two surviving bugs scatter off to the dungeon wall and through a crack.
"... I guess there'll be more Mystery Bugs roaming the dungeon soon. We can take the dead one and part it out as loot -- that should be enough to turn a profit." He paused and looked at the laughing half-orc. "After all, you're going to need to pay for your room unless you work for me."
Her laughter ends and her red eyes widen. It was likely she didn't know how she could help out -- but being a half-orc meant she had a lot of usage in the inn. And it took only a few seconds for her surprise to turn to resolution; she knew equally how impossible it was to get around without working for a half-elf in managing some inn. Most of the bigger greenskins were born with a desire to become legends in battle; this would soundly end such dreams for the foreseeable future.
Yet she lowered to one knee and set her palms flat against the ground, lowering her head to Valkner just as her ancestor had done the day he met the Demon Prince.
"Very well." She sighed. "If you will take my arm to serve you, then you shall have me. I, Tuscetta, will join your inn... in service to you."
----------------------------------------
"What do you think things will be like when we're in-charge Prince Valkner?"
The young orc prince's smirk grew as he stood and circled Valkner's table, hands on his hips. Even though they were in Valkner's royal chambers, he saw fit to bug him often. The southern tribe was always vying to get close with the Demon King and his many children.
"I don't know!" Valkner grumbled, leaning back in his chair and swishing his tail to make the orc back away. "Why do you care so much? I'd be the one ruling! You'd just be a general or something!"
Despite being so drastically younger than him, Valkner couldn't help but appreciate the Fifth Prince's motivations to fight. Orcs were always eager to prove themselves. The Fifth Prince settled into a chair across from Valkner and tapped his head.
"Because if I don't care then how can I see you become a wise Demon King? I heard you're getting a dungeon soon too; once I finish my duties I'll be heading out there to join you. We'll be able to defend it and become stronger than any humans who dare challenge us!"
Valkner smiled at the idea of getting to crush some pathetic humans. "I suppose you have a point there. But it might not always be easy. What if we lose?"
The concept of defeat rolls off the prince's determined smirk, adjusting to a more heartfelt smile as he clasped his hand to his chest.
"Then as long as I have my tribe and you live, we will try to find a way to beat them. If our people live on, we can find a way for demons to live freely, can't we?"