Five heavy sets of boots shuffle through a deep chamber. The footsteps of two humans, one elf, one dwarf, and one gnome echo their tired beat against the obsidian walls. Joining the beat comes the clatter of bent and chipped arrows in the quiver of the elf and the steady drip of sweat condensing in the dents left in armor that has long since seen the end of its life.
These are adventurers. However, they are not just any adventurers- they are the heroes of the Union of Kingdoms, chosen by the System which presides over them.
Five sets of eyes scan a hall that, were it not for the torches in sconces lining it, would easily be at home in the roots of a volcano. A dwarf boy, still growing the first tufts of a beard from a face pockmarked by acne scars runs his blistered hands over the obsidian tube’s walls.
His eyes catch the uneven markings along the shimmering surface and holds out his hand. “Hold a sec, we got more darts.”
A gnome woman, with a deceptively childish face nods nervously, her delicate hands rubbing the bags under her eyes before reaching into an enormous bag strapped to her back. A long pole with an iron tip marred from constant use jumps into her hands in a practiced motion. “D-do you want to d-do it-“
A scowling paladin man in scuffed and dented armor snatches the pole from her hands with a scoff, striking its end on the floor.
The human could have been handsome once, with long, golden hair and an armor that matched his glowing charisma. Now, a man with matted hair, and thoroughly rusted armor pokes a pressure plate on the floor for what felt like the hundredth time this week.
A flurry of small, black darts flew in front of the troupe, who sigh, waiting for the trap to run its course. “Please tell me we’re close, Jem. Please. I need good news.”
A priestess in thick, padded robes draws a grimoire from thin air, opening it to reveal a dim 3-D illusion of a massive dungeon, stretching up beyond the ceiling of the narrow hallway before condensing to show just one floor, with six glowing dots: one for each of the heroes, and one for the monster king.
A calm, even voice barely over a whisper fills the space around the five, as the saintess named Jem gives her word “we’re at the bottom. He’s close.”
At one time, these words alone could calm the hearts of all those in the room. It had taken even fewer than these to convince the kingdoms to send their heroes into the one-hundred-layer Grand Labyrinth when she received the grimoire from the heavens.
“Grand treasure awaits” she prophesied to the council of nobles gathered in the castle that day. She had been the picture of a goddess incarnate, with dark, flowing hair and robes as blindingly pure as the sun.
That had been a full year ago.
Now here she was, her robes and fair skin stained an unhealthy shade of brown with a magic book that looked more ragged than her father’s old scripture book, with all its dog-eared pages and careless tears from all the times she’d had no choice but to use it in bludgeoning open the skulls of monsters that got too close for comfort.
The hero of faith had seen better days.
As soon as the darts stopped, a shadow tore itself from the wall behind the gnome, scaring her as it zipped to the end of the hall and around the corner with barely a sound. A second later, two long ears peaked back around the corner and an adolescent elf girl waved to the party of four “Clear! What are ya’ll waitin for?”
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A chipper elf, despite everything this Dungeon had thrown at them, remained indomitable. The hero of shadows remained the only one of the party with a clean set of clothes; not a drop of blood marring her dark leather jacket or greaves. However, this was to be expected. She was, after all, in her element.
It had taken three months to convince the neighboring elven empire to loan their hero to the cause while the united human, dwarf and gnome kingdoms’ heroes went on ahead. It only took another two for her to catch up to them, just as they hit the fiftieth floor. Despite going through half of the floors of the Labyrinth on her own, she remained the one with the most energy of all of them.
“Come on, come on, come onnnnn already! The monsters ain’t gonna kill themselves!” The hyperactive dark elf paced while her companions caught up, each one internally shaking their head at the scene of their companion waiting before the next room.
“Looks like she’s got her switch flipped early” grumbled the paladin, cautiously picking his way along.
“Just let her have this” whispered the saintess, her nose stuck in the map, “it’s almost over anyways.”
The party had been together for forty-nine floors, and by this point, it was all too late to voice any concerns the four other heroes had of her reckless ways. She had, after all, proven to be nearly immune to any trap thrown at her.
“Hey, if you guys don’t mind, I could always just go on ahead and take care of the king myself-“ The elf carelessly backed down into a room that could have easily passed for a ballroom if it were not for the crenellations being made of rough stone, or the entry steps that sank under the elf’s feet as she stepped on them.
CLICK
The nervous gnome froze in place, clinging to the dwarf’s arm as the walls of the room slowly creaked open. From shining edifices that resembled the interior of geodes, steel golem dancers stepped into the room.
The gnome froze before shattering the silence between the two groups “m-maybe they just want a dance?”
The steel maidens’ dresses bloomed out into full assortment of blades, their gentlemen partners glowing with magitech runes, each beginning to spin their dance of death.
“You just HAD to say something, didn’t you?” Griped the paladin, as he pulled a massive great sword glowing with holy energy from his back.
“It’s about time! Let’s party!” Whooped the elf as she launched herself into the melee of steel and flames.
* * * Rhubarb * * *
In the deepest depths of the world’s deepest dungeon, a king sits idle on his throne. At three meters tall, the monster king groans. It is he of a hundred horns, he of the red-scaled dragonkin. He who I call… food-giver.
Food-giver sighed and let me out of my mouse cage to sit in his lap.
Into the great behemoth’s lap hops a little burrowing mouse, barely 30 centimeters tall. Its little pink nose twitches and brown fur shivers as it stares up at him with soft brown eyes.
Food-giver had been doing that a lot lately. Another loud BOOM shook the air. I don’t understand why things are so loud again today.
Is that why Food-giver is acting so scared? I can understand that. Loud things that make ears hurt can be very scary. I don’t understand why Food-giver is scared though. Loud noises can’t hurt something with a hundred horns, teeth that could skewer entire cats, and breath that can burn entire dogs.
I nuzzled his big, clawed hand. He likes patting me, and I like being pat. It makes us both less scared, I think.
Another big boom rattled the room. Having big ears is very bad sometimes. The noise hurts a lot.
Food giver started making his mouth sounds again. He says the word “Rhubarb” a lot. I think that’s what he calls me. Either that, or it means “food time.” I never quite figured that one out.
He gave me a tasty purple stick. Ah, then it does mean food time. I have him trained well.
Food-giver put me on the floor and moved his big black chair to hide me and the purple food stick. This is very smart. We must hide the food in case people come.
The booms keep getting louder, and Food-giver began putting on his big shell. He only really does that when he goes to get food or soft things for us to sit on. He doesn’t leave this time, though. People are coming to him.
The noise is coming closer and it hurts. There are five loud things with dirty shells. They hit Food-giver with a scream and make the air turn to fire around him.
The noise hurts so much… I think I’ll hide until the noise is gone.