Uno
It was fun.
There was chaos, screams, and spurting blood.
The battle continued unimpeded as my Golem kept smacking around its undying opponent, each hit it delivered painting the surrounding walls red. I could hear Big Jon’s bones breaking over and over and a moment later they were slowly snapping back in place. The giant human - or maybe just a primal beast that remained in his place - howled and screamed while continuing his assault on my iron servant.
The rest of surviving adventurers - Knut, Mudan, Silence, and his crippled follower - were currently busy huddling in the corner, observing the developing situation. They reeked of fear, sweating heavily and trying to breathe as quietly as humanly possible. Scared and desperate, that was how I would describe them.
Yet it was said desperation that often pushed humans when all seemed lost. There were whispers exchanged in the dark - Knut and Mudan slowly rose, a flame of hope reignited in their eyes. Sadly I couldn’t hear the contents of their conversation due to Big Jon’s obnoxiously loud screams.
“Meat!”
“Give!”
“More FLESH!”
“More BONE!”
“And sweet, delicious MARROW!”
“Fooooooood, here I come!”
“AN’ EAT… EVER’TING!”
The big man’s words were turning less and less coherent as he accumulated the damage. Minutes later his weapon and armor broke, ground down under his crazed assault and the Golem’s unforgiving retaliation. In the end, Big Jon was forced to use his fists to attack, his flesh reforming after each successful strike.
He ignored the fact that his bones and nails weren’t strong enough to break through the Bile-brain’s armor and continued fighting. It was only after some time that I understood his aim - or was it just a simple instinct?
While it was true that the metal chest plate, greaves, and helmet worn by his enemy were sturdy enough to stop most of the hits, they weren’t completely covering the Golem’s body. Noticing that flaw Big Jon’s fingers were continuously digging deeper and deeper. He discovered a weakness with each attack while searching for a way to crush the wildly pulsating Golem’s core hidden underneath the metal.
[What are you doing?] A frown appeared on my face as I started to get angry. There should be no need to micromanage this fight. According to my knowledge, the trial monsters were much stronger than this rag-tag band of adventurers. [Just pick him up and then throw him away!]
The monster followed the command to the letter, lifting Big Jon like my old world’s wrestler, and then chucked him away in a grandiose fashion. I breathed with relief. We had gained a few seconds of respite before that meat-devouring madman would return.
I had to think of a solution.
The way this fight was going Big Jon was sure to beat my monster and then devour his companions. I had other plans, though.
My contemplation was cut short by a suspicious noise.
*CLANG*
...which came from Big Jon’s direction. I re-focused on the bloodied walls only to giggle with glee at the developing situation. While I didn’t plan for it there was no need to discard any advantages. The humans mirrored my reaction - in a less pleased fashion.
“Oh, shit…”
“Goddess preserve us!”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Two of them?”
With a loud rumble, the second pair of doors opened, and the stone door revealed a stout silhouette. It was another Golem - this time armed with a menacing bastard sword. It was quite long at 85 centimeters, with a sleek and clean blade. Yet under that mundane shell radiated a subdued aura of power. A moment later a blue box appeared before my eyes.
Trial of Greed random reward has been generated and set!
Trial of Greed - Sword reward has been randomly generated.
Trial of Greed - Sword reward has been set to:
Berserker’s Blood Sword
Now it was clear what happened. Big Jon’s flying body accidentally pressed the button, letting another of my servants in. A lucky coincidence I wasn’t planning for.
[Analyze.] I mumbled, interested in the Trial’s newest creation.
Berserker’s Blood Sword
A magical weapon forged from mundane iron and enchanted with an ability to greatly increase cutting power when bathed in blood. At the same time, the curse placed on it forces the wielder in direct contact with the blade into a powerful rage at the sight of blood - turning him/her into an unstoppable killing machine.
Any biological entity equipping the weapon will be immune to psychological effects but also unable to make a distinction between allies and enemies when enraged. The battle rage lasts a maximum of 10 minutes. After the berserk state ends the user’s physical abilities will be weakened. It is however possible to immediately enforce another bout of rage.
This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not usable by dungeon creatures.
Warning! Equipping the item results in a forcible change of class!
Oh.
That kind of power was certainly interesting.
And, more importantly, it was also strangely compatible with the helmet. One would heal the wielder, keeping him or her alive, while the other would make sure that all obstacles in the user’s way were destroyed.
These items were perfect. It would be nice to accidentally send a few pieces to the human side… and watch the carnage. Now the only question was should I let one of the survivors leave, or should I rather push the introduction back in time?
As I was trying to decide the battle continued.
Big Jon was trying to ignore the freshly added enemy, trying instead to rush towards the Trial’s Boss in a hunger-induced rage. This was a stupid move. Even my iron dolls were able to land a hit on such a predictable target.
*slash*
A sickly sound of metal cutting flesh resounded in the chamber as the cursed sword bit into the adventurer’s shoulder. Even Big Jon’s thick bones had no choice but to snap under the Golem’s strength. Not to mention that the blade turned out strong enough to carve the giant up even without activating its blessing.
“Gyaaaaaaaaa!”
Big Jon screamed like a wounded animal.
At the same time, I made up my mind. The humans were going to get their present. Full of resolve I returned to observing the battlefield.
On the other end of the hall, my Trial Boss was currently hunting the three remaining criminals. Silence’s subordinate had been already disposed of, his head smashed open like a watermelon.
“Dodge!” Knut screamed, his voice already hoarse. “For fuck’s sake! Now!” He fell flat on the ground, and - a moment later - my Boss’s claws swooshed over his head. Black-clothed Silence standing behind him wasn’t as fast, the attack successfully drawing red blood.
“Argh!” He yelled while flailing around.
[Pursue the black one!] I ordered, seeing my Golem obsessed with Knut. He was pretty good at drawing the monster’s aggression. [Always go for the wounded one!]
The minion stopped glaring at Silence, whose face turned completely pale…
And then stomped away to gang up on Big Jon…
Of course.
Of course, this stupid piece of shit would interpret everything literally.
[Stop.] I spoke coldly.
[Good. Now go back and fucking squash the black-robed human!]
The iron man turned in unhesitantly and started, once again, pursuing his enemy.
“Look out!”
“It’s coming back!”
“Gods…”
“We can’t defeat it!”
“Then try to confuse it!”
“And how we should do that?”
“Uhhh…”
“It had problems with choosing its target! Let’s just… run around!”
“Aren’t we just dodging?”
“How the fuck are we supposed to win?”
[A valid, if somewhat shortsighted tactic. If I wasn’t here to give orders, I mean.] I murmured, my anger quickly cooling down.
The three surviving humans started to dodge the Golem’s attacks, their figures flicked in and out like ghosts. They changed places every second, moving dangerously close to the monster. My servant turned its head left and right, claws poised to strike, yet it was still not able to attack.
This situation persisted for a few more minutes accompanied by Big Jon’s screams as he was being hacked apart. This (unsurprisingly) strained the survivors’ nerves.
“H-how m-much l-lon-ger?” Gasped Silence, his legs already trembling from exhaustion.
“M-move! D-don’t t-talk!” Knut answered angrily, barely avoiding another wide sweep of the claws.
[And here we have it.] I nodded. [Were they seriously trying to compete in endurance against an iron doll? A mechanical contraption?] I held my head. [Now. Who will be the first to take the fall?]
Seconds passed and the one to slip up was the person in the worst physical condition. The one who didn’t even have any strength left to speak.
Mudan.
He comically tripped on flat ground, barely managing to lift his head before the Golem kicked him as one would do with an overly fat ball.
It was nice. It meant my servants were learning.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!”
A long, tearful scream resounded as Mudan sailed through the air before hitting the ground a few meters away. His body tumbled three more times and then collided with a nearby wall. He stopped, and collapsed in a heap of twitching flesh, blood, and urine.
“Mudan! May the Gods curse you, monster!” Knut shouted, breathing heavily. His daggers were prepared to strike the enemy.
“What the hell are you doing?” Asked Silence, his face even paler than before.
“We need to go on the offensive. It’s the only way to survive.”
“Are you retarded? There are only two… three of us.”
“I know. That’s why we need to focus on the weaker opponent. If we just wait, then our fate will be sealed.” The lanky man smiled grimly. “I’ll try to distract this fucker. You help Big Jon with his foe.”
“Hell no!” Silence glanced at the bloodied, yet still energetically screaming giant. “He will attack me too!”
“I will gladly trade, then.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” The Family’s leader's eyes were swimming.
“The clock is ticking.” Knut reminded him while avoiding the Golem’s lukewarm strike. “Is it giving us time to decide?” He muttered, his eyes squinted in suspicion. “Are they intelligent?”
The black-clothed man straightened his back. A shallow wound bled on his chest. “Get to Big Jon. I’ll try to buy you as much time as I can.”
Knut patted him on the shoulder. “If we survive I’m buying everyone a mug of beer!”
Silence brushed off his hand. “You wish.” He scoffed, before grumpily whispering. “I’m more of a wine guy.”
“Haha, that’s the spirit!”
With a wide, mad smile Knut rushed towards the bloodied giant. There was hope in his eyes, a wild energy present in his step.
And strike he did, his sudden attack nearly severing the Golem’s arm, as he lodged the blades in it, using the metal as leverage. My minion was instantly forced to defend. Under all the armor there were weak, human-like bones hidden, after all.
[Yes. This will do.]
I had decided who was going to become prey and who would emerge as a sole survivor.
[Do it now.] I ordered. [Decapitate him! With flair!]
The suppressed Golem stopped retreating from Knut’s wild attacks, instead choosing to compress its body a bit. The daggers bounced helplessly from the armor, leaving only scratches on their surface.
After resisting the attack my minion sprung forward, ignoring the attacker and instantly reducing the distance to its target. A scream of warning followed behind its back, it was however much too late.
The Golem put the sword in a two-handed grip, and - with a single swift motion - swung it from left to right, cutting the flesh, bone, and spraying blood everywhere.
The world stopped.
A sound of metal hitting the ground remained in the air for a few seconds, before Big Jon’s body fell. His severed head slowly rolled near Knut’s foot.
[Perfect. I didn’t know such a level of control was achievable.] I was proud of my accomplishment, even if I was only giving orders.
“Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!” Knut screamed in a broken voice, before collecting himself and reaching for his friend’s severed head. Death wasn’t merciful to his former companion, his mouth and eyes were open, full of hungry rage. “You will be avenged.” The man mouthed quietly.
His dark moment was cut short when a struggling voice cut the air.
“H-help meee!” Silence was currently being pressed by the Boss Golem, his injuries mounting. His earlier bravado was already gone. “I-I can’t take it anymore! I’m sorry!” He screamed before rapidly retreating.
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Hidden behind him was barely conscious Mudan, his battered body hastily lifted in a half-sitting position. Now, that the Family’s leader had run away he would be easy prey for my monsters.
This sight enraged Knut. He gnashed his teeth before taking off Big Jon’s cursed helmet. Then, with a sad expression, he returned the severed head to the floor.
“There is no other way.” I could hear him whisper. “With this… I’ll be stronger.”
“First, take control of the sword.”
“Second, destroy the big Golem.”
“Third, murder the coward.”
“Fourth… save Mudan.”
After saying so he put the cursed helmet on.
[Hook, line, and sinker.] I smiled.
Unlike his dead friend, Knut wasn’t immediately turned into a beast. I saw some changes - constantly gritted teeth and dry gums, for example, but nothing serious. Not yet. After donning the magical tool he charged my sword Golem without any hesitation, his lean body curled up in a crouched running position.
The iron servant hesitated, not knowing how to react when deprived of my direct control. It tried to do an overhead swing, only to miss atrociously, leaving only a few harmless sparks on the ground. Knut managed to use that opening wisely, his body climbing the opponent like some parkour expert.
Yet, just as his daggers claimed the Golem’s core, one of the opponent's claws also found its target, tearing Knut’s chest all the way through. It landed straight in the middle, piercing the sternum and damaging his internal organs.
“Guh!” A single, gurgling scream escaped Knut’s mouth before my Golem slowly collapsed before him.
[Was it a conscious decision or some kind of a self-destructive urge?] I wondered as my cameras worked hard at recording this cruel battle. [Should I show it to Guardian and his kobolds? They specialize in direct combat, right? Hmmm…]
Unaware of becoming a center of my attention Knut breathed out slowly, observing his disappearing wound.
His eyes widened in a sudden realization. “This artifact… what it grants… isn’t’ that an immortal body?” He mumbled, before suddenly shouting out in pain. “Y-you?” Blood dripped from his mouth.
“S-sorry… it’s the only way to survive.” A bloodied dagger was buried in his heart, Silence’s pale fingers clamped on the handle. “As long as I have the helmet… Somehow… I will escape this place.”
“T-there is a second one, you f-fool!” Knut sputtered, red blood flowing from his lips.
“I know. But I still need something to have my freedom back, right?”
“W-what are y-you talking…” The lanky criminal fell to his knees before finishing his sentence. A red pool spread around his body.
“Now, to slit his throat… just to be sure.” Silence did the deed without hesitation. It was clearly not his first time. Then his gaze turned to the slowly advancing Boss Golem. “And now… for the finale.” He smiled, a small tic appearing in the corner of his mouth.
“The blade should be magical too, considering how easily it cut off the big guy’s head.” He picked it up and then… just stood there, shocked.
“Wha-what the hell is this!” He let out a surprised scream. “M-my class! What does…” His eyes widened as he looked at the invisible screen. “B-berserker? No way... NO! I refuse! I don’t want this! M-my future!” He shouted to nobody in particular before throwing away the Blood Sword, acting like this act would mean something.
A moment later he froze as the blade hovered about three meters from him, before falling to the ground with a loud *clang*. When he took a step back the weapon lying on the ground suddenly dragged its metal body towards him, retaining the distance.
“No! I don’t want to live my whole life with this cursed thing in my hand!” He roared, glaring at the slowly moving weapon.
“It’s good that you don’t need to, then.” A raspy voice came from behind before two daggers were embedded in Silence’s eyes.
“Gyaaaa!” His scream was short and painful, the last member of the syndicate flopping to the ground like a discarded piece of meat.
“T-that was close.” Knut mumbled, touching his throat wound. The skin and flesh were still raw, slowly mending under his fingers. “Even with the aid of the skill, I was too late to react. If not for this… thing.” He touched the helmet comfortably resting on his head. A moment later his gaze turned to the sword. “And here goes another one. A Berserker class, eh? If I heard it right…”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” A wry smile appeared on his face. He surged forward and then picked up the item.
“Argh.”
“That stings…”
He muttered, clicking his teeth. “Now, the effects.”
“My class really had been changed. Berserker. I like the feeling it carries. Anything more that’s new? A skill. Right. Overhead swing. Doesn’t seem too impressive, but at least it’s straightforward.”
Knut’s gaze followed the slowly advancing Golem. “This place… is it truly dead? The magical items, new and dangerous monsters… Or am I just a fool and all Forgotten Dungeons are this crazy?” He grumbled.
“Not that it matters anymore.”
“Let’s just dance.”
As he started to run I ordered my minion, caution no longer necessary. [Kill him, Golem.]
The monster lowered its center of mass, before sprinting in Knut’s direction. The metal appendages struck the floor in a hypnotic rhythm.
Despite his own high speed, the monster’s target easily managed to evade, throwing his body away from the Golem’s attack. A moment later the chamber trembled with the noise of torn metal, my servant ramming straight into the nearby wall.
Using this gap Knut charged ahead, his weapon cutting with ease through the Golem’s armor. Just as he smiled widely a sudden backhand broke his nose, before throwing him away.
“Fuck! It still hurts!” He screamed, instinctively raising his hand to wipe out the blood.
And then his eyes fixated on it, his pupils growing larger and larger before a loud roar escaped Knut’s chest.
“BLOOOOOD!”
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!”
“I-I… CAN’T! CAN’T!”
“S-SWORD! NO!” He took a deep breath, recognizing Golem’s figure in the distance.”ENEMY! KILLLLLLL!” Then his gaze suddenly focused, teeth bared like a wild animal.
The earlier cautiousness was gone, replaced with unadulterated rage.
He ran straight towards the monster, throwing away any tactics or planning. In a few seconds, my servant and the crazed adventurer collided with each other, sword tearing the iron and claws piercing the flesh.
Knut howled like a beast, trying to cut out pieces of the Golem’s flesh, his mad rush chipping away more and more metal parts. At the same time, he stuck close to the monster, not letting it free its right claw and strike again.
The Golem’s left claw was however free to continue its attacks, trying to blindly tear the human apart, to damage some important organs, and bleed him dry.
It succeeded in shredding the flesh only for the damage to get offset by the helmet’s healing. This stalemate continued for twenty more seconds, while metal and human pieces were starting to pile up on the floor.
My Boss Golem roared as Knut cut off its arm completely and when his sword started to shear iron closer and closer to its core. It barely managed to lift the enraged opponent into the air, likely remembering my earlier lessons.
A while later Knut also flew through the air, a surprisingly common occurrence in this battle. The bleeding piece of flesh that was formerly an adventurer landed on the floor with a wet sound. For a second I thought that this was it, that the battle was done, and all the humans were dead. Then the berserker twitched violently before slowly getting back up, cut muscles, and broken bones returning to their places with a sickening, slimy noise.
[Seeing all this… I wonder who is the real monster.] I mused, calmly observing the artificially made calamity. [This much power should be enough. When he returns to the surface my protection will be guaranteed. After all… despite their unnatural sturdiness, these berserkers of mine are far from immortal.]
As I spoke the battle commenced again, Knut slowly cornering the remaining Golem with his rage-fueled attacks. His swings were wild and quick, often resorting to trading a wound for a wound. Yet it was an effective tactic. Without any weapon but its claws and already heavily damaged my minion didn’t even last three minutes, turning into mangled pieces of metal strewn about on the battlefield.
The doors to the Trial opened again.
The fight was won.
Yet Knut was not done.
He knelt on the floor, before releasing his grip on the weapon. The sword fell to the floor with a loud clang as its master gulped down the cold, underground air.
Then he stood up, his reddened eyes turned towards the only other survivor - heavily bleeding Mundan, crumpled on the floor.
The fat man's face was scrunched in a painful expression, yet he still managed to whisper a few words of encouragement. “Ha-haaaa… W-we somehow made it, friend. Help me bandage the wounds.” He stopped speaking for a moment, his eyes clouded with pain. “I’m l-losing a lot of blood here…” His pleading took a higher note when he saw raw hunger in Knut’s eyes.
“K-Knut? F-f-friend? W-what is going on?”
Walking closer in an ominous silence the lanky, half-naked adventurer stared at his best friend before growling a few words under his nose. “Momma always said that the best meat is fresh meat. No matter where it came from.”
“W-what?”
“W-what are you doing?”
“Please, oh Gods!”
I closed my eyes.
A loud, panicked scream was cut short by repeated sounds of bashing, bones breaking, and then…
...then it was only slurping and gnawing.
Seconds passed, then minutes. I waited patiently.
[Kill.] Non whispered in my ear not once or twice.
I always responded the same. [No. He is needed for my future.]
In the end, it took nearly an hour before Knut came back to his senses.
And then even more hours passed as he cried, self-mutilated his body, devoured the flesh of the dead, and then cried again.
It was a rather boring experience. At least I learned that it was pretty hard for a man to decapitate himself. And that the cut-off limbs could still be regenerated.
Leaving all that behind I was staring at Knut, who just sat there, in the middle of my Trial Room, staring at the wall.
I was afraid that I broke him.
He kept me in suspense for a few more minutes before rising lazily from the bloodied floor. His hand was already gripping the magical sword.
“A Cannibal Berserker, you say?” He barely mouthed, his tone devoid of feeling. Only now I understood that he was watching the system’s blue box. “I guess I deserve it. And to think I never believed in divine punishments...”
“What… what should I do?”
“Everyone is dead. Even this worm of a man.” He spat down on the floor, where Silence’s body once lied, now replaced by a few pieces of flesh and bone.
“Should I just… head for the surface? The trial is over. Our reward... “ He glared at the second helmet, lying innocently on the floor. “Our reward dispensed.”
“Should I die too?” He mused. “Or… maybe… revenge? On whom?”
“Wait.” He paced from one part of the room to another. “Were we set up? This whole expedition - it was too easy.”
Color returned to his face, a perspective of purpose suddenly animating his body. “And I heard that we weren’t the only ones with such plans.” Knut stopped, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Was I… a fool?” He glanced at the bloodied Trial Chamber.
“There is no other way. I can always die later. Let’s return to the surface and check if there is a trap waiting.”
With a low hum, he collected the second helmet and retreated to the second floor. His way back was quick and painless, my monsters ordered to avoid his path.
He used pieces of cloth and leather to cover his bloodied flesh and easily emerged on the first floor only to be immediately accosted by the patrolling guards.
Their accusatory tones easily broke through the man's self-control, forcing him to draw his weapon.
Long story short - he had been captured but not before slaughtering or maiming two dozens of guards. It was Master Vincent who ended up ending his rampage. In the beginning mage master just blew the adventurer up, angry at the wasted time. However, when he observed the regeneration first-hand his eyes had changed.
A magicked iron was brought out, one I would very much like getting my hands on, and Knut was skilfully cornered and then chained. After that, he was dragged into the prison, away from my surface cameras.
Too bad.
I was curious about the experiments they would subject him to.
At least the incursions to the third floor had been stopped.
The second-floor battles still continued, though - the humans were clashing with my Ratlings pretty much every two days. I understood that they weren’t only exploring but also grinding levels… so I focused on my own power-leveling.
On the fourth floor, new rooms were being dug out by my Anima Drones, and sarcophagi made from green glass were being constructed. A large tank full of slime-like food solution was also added to the plans and already connected to my network of tubes.
It would be needed soon.
The days passed, my minions battling the invaders away while humans bustled on the surface like a colony of monstrous insects. I didn’t know what was happening up there, as most of the important meetings were conducted under the outpost roofs.
This continued for some time until one-day not-noble Charles went for a picnic, probably bored with the low-class environment he was confined to. Anyway, I was watching as he enjoyed the silvery trees and bronze grass while sipping on some expensive wine.
A few guards were stationed around him, their presence noticeable yet conveniently out of hearing range. Apart from that, only silver-haired butler Adam was allowed nearby, a stack of papers resting in his hands.
“So are you saying that the dwarven outpost at the Snake Pit dungeon had stopped answering our calls?”
“Yes, master.” The old man nodded serenely. “Our iron caravans returned after hailing them for a few days. They barely had enough provisions to do so. The dwarven territory is off-limits to our people, so it’s hard to tell what actually happened. It could be a change in their internal politics, some catastrophe, or even a plague. All that we know is that no more snake meat will arrive in the predictable future.”
“Are our diplomats in the Holds saying anything?”
“No, nothing.”
“Dammit. How are caravans sent to the Kingdom, then?”
“Its too risky for small merchants and we don’t have anything enticing to the large companies. Nobody in their right mind will undertake this long journey only to move some iron, rat meat, or third-rate magical tools.”
“The Lightning Maces aren’t selling? Why?”
“It seems like information about their limited capacity had been somehow leaked.”
“Haaaah… What is Outeles even doing?”
“I don’t think putting a Dross merchant in charge is a good solution, master.”
“There are no other choices! The only human resources that are constantly flowing in are lowborn peasants and the capital's scum!” Charles shouted, before slamming his hand on the table. “There is no noble or merchant stupid enough to journey here!”
“I apologize for upsetting you, master.”
The former noble waved his hand. “No, it's not your fault. I had spoken too much.” He gulped down another glass of wine. “How goes procuring food in the Silver Oasis dungeon, then?”
“Master Vincent’s apprentices have some limited success.”
“Oh?”
“The first floor was a complete letdown. The rat meat and some green plant growing on the walls were all that we could get.”
“Are they even safe to consume?”
“During the attack, some of the civilians ate them, yet none of them feel ill… at least at the moment. Their nutritional value is however very low. ”
“I understand. Speaking of ill, how are my bodyguards?”
“No changes, master. They remain in deep sleep.”
“It’s been weeks from the assassination attempt… how are they even still alive?” Charles shook his head before motioning Adam to continue.
“On the second floor, we had some success. A few interesting and edible plants had been found. None of them are tasty or filling, but with the number of bellies we have to fill…”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“Yes.” Adam flipped the page. “We found some kind of yellow berries, there were also hard, rock-like fruits with both plant flesh and water inside…” Adam stopped talking before sighing deeply.
“And?”
“And a weird, rotten smelling obsidian plant with green, fleshy insides.”
“Oh… now I wonder what remains on the third floor.” Charles smiled wearily. “The prisoner said that there was a whole community of rats farming down there. Can you imagine that?”
“Master…”
“Yes, yes I know. Too dangerous.” A bitter expression appeared on Charles’s face. “Anyway, any more news extracted from our prisoner?”
“Master Vincent said he talked.”
“Oh?”
“But he is not coherent. Some things he says… They’re not possible.”
“Still… a new class.”
“Master… any Cannibal class should be forbidden.” Adam’s face hardened into an unreadable expression.
“We do what we must to survive, though.”
“Master…”
Charles waved his hand in dismissal once again. “Yes, yes… what’s that?”
“Please, don’t change the topic!”
“No… the earth… it moved?”
As he said so I also felt something. A slow, deep rumbling of a mental voice.
[Master… where… master.]
[Who are you?] I asked immediately.
[Servants…]
[And who are you exactly? And where are you? Show yourself! Show yourself before me!]
[Yeeeees…]
The ground trembled again, and then... I saw them.
Or rather, I saw a part of a human outpost building bulging out and then spraying pieces of stone and wood everywhere. Screams of panic followed as a monstrous hand appeared, clutching the building.
A three-meter tall figure slowly rose from the ruins, its muscular and humanoid shape reminding me of… something.
[Analyze.] I muttered.
Abhuman Gigantic Anima Lifeform
AGAL’s are a middle ground between humans and monsters - capable of acquiring a class, yet remaining outside the sentient races boundary. They’re large, powerful humanoids created after ingesting large amounts of Anima and changing in accordance with the core-less human tendency.
They’re intelligent enough to both use tools and understand simple commands. Their social structure and ability to use magic are currently unknown, as no individual has ever evolved.
While these specimens are effectively dungeon monsters, their offspring will not necessarily be so. Their mere existence is a slight to the system aNd I LoVe iT.
Threat level: Sentients don’t have a threat level
Wait. Wait. Wait.
If I’ll ignore all the other weird stuff and even Gangria’s unmistakable allusion there was one thing I wasn’t going to just silently agree on.
[Hey, hey, hey! They’re clearly Ogryns! What the hell do you mean by AGAL’s?] I screamed mentally in the ether. My complaints had some effect as the box blurred, some words changing, before becoming readable again.
Ogrekin
Ogrekin are a middle ground between humans and monsters - capable of acquiring a class, yet remaining outside the sentient races boundary. They’re large, powerful humanoids created after ingesting large amounts of Anima and changing in accordance with the core-less human tendency.
They’re intelligent enough to both use tools and understand simple commands. Their social structure and ability to use magic are currently unknown, as no individual has ever evolved.
While these specimens are effectively dungeon monsters, their offspring will not necessarily be so. Their existence is evidence of the system's corruption.
Threat level: Sentients don’t have a threat level
[No! No! It’s not correct! Not Ogrekin! Ogryns! OGRYNS!] I shouted again only to get completely ignored. The Analyze window remained unchanged.
[Moving… hard…] A slothful, deep voice broke through my ruminations as I returned my attention to the human anthill. Which was currently on fire and under the assault of five gigantic figures.
Or so it seemed at first. The Ogreking seemed just… clumsy, constantly falling down and adding to the overall confusion.
Why do I always get the stupid minions?
[Don’t move.] I ordered, only to see their large figures trying to stop with legs still in the air. And with their sense of balance...
They fell one after another, demolishing another building.
[Sorry…]
[Just… try to blend in with the humans, fulfill their orders, imitate them! From now on you’re ordinary humans! You don’t know anything else!] I quickly ordered before courageously retreating from the surface.
It was an old and well-known tactic of sending a hot potato straight to your neighbor!