The cave Exill found himself in was dimly lit, the air humid and cloying. He couldn’t identify any source of light, yet could see clearly, as if the walls themselves emitted a dim, uniform glow. Nervously, he checked the straps securing his scrap leather armour for the fifth time.
‘Alright, the plan is to explore for a few hours at most and catch at least one monster.’
Anyone who had remotely known him during the past six months would have been astounded by the sight of the Exill, well equipped, in one of the world’s largest labyrinths. It was an open secret that he had been reassigned from Camp A to B to avoid deployment, despite being one of their most promising new recruits. Why would someone like that enter this dangerous place of their own volition?
The first reason was that Exill now had seven active job slots, and the following had been assigned to them:
Job Level Warrior 9 Hunter 1 Herbalist 3 Crafter 5 Blacksmith 20 Expert Blacksmith 2 Planeswalker 1
He was 90% certain that killing monsters provided EXP to all assigned jobs, this meant he could power level multiple jobs at an unprecedented rate. The second reason was that this was the only known way to gain EXP for jobs such as [Planeswalker].
The final reason was money. He had heard stories in camp that even novice mercenaries could pull in ten to twenty Denars a day, and that was factoring in the entrance cost of five Denars which was currently being waived! Even Exill was willing to set aside his cowardice… for a price. He just had to be careful, alert, and take things gradually.
Inching his way across the rocky cavern floor, he nervously reacted to the sound of loose rubble and echoing water. There was a foreboding crack in the opposite wall, wide and tall enough to let a person through.
He approached it, and made his way through a narrow tunnel to be greeted by a steady buzzing noise. Stepping back to confirm his suspicions, he quickly flipped through the Mercenary Field Guide while keeping an eye at the end of the corridor.
‘It sounds like there are flying monsters up ahead, and according to the Guide they could be acid bees, blaze flies, or mud flies.’
He peeked around the corner to see four bloated flies the size of a basketball. They were covered in hairy black chitin and had large bulbous eyes. ‘They must be mud flies…’ he thought with disdain.
Exill retreated back and sighed. He was glad they weren’t acid bees or blaze flies. It would have been difficult to counter their acidic sting or flame magic, and he would have likely exited the labyrinth immediately.
As it was, the mud fly’s most dangerous characteristic was their needle like proboscis and greater numbers. Exill was reasonably certain he could hold them off in this narrow tunnel as long as he didn’t let a single one slip behind him.
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His breathing turned heavy as he confirmed in the Field Guide that mud fly wings were commonly used in health potions, and their innards could be used as compost to grow rarer ingredients. All in all, he was looking at twenty Denars in profit! ‘Am I chewing more than I can handle, right from the get-go? Didn’t I promise I would take things slow?’ Exill hesitated for a while, before the thought of two large copper coins slowly won him over. Greed truly was poison to man’s soul.
Before he could change his mind again, Exill got up on his feet and stood in the middle of the corridor, spear at the ready. He started making noises, steadily growing louder in the hopes of luring a curious fly on its lonesome.
He could hear the buzzing growing louder, and a single fly turned the corner and started accelerating towards him. The iron tipped spear was held steady. He had learnt a valuable lesson from the combat assessment back in Camp A. It was better to wear down the opponents instead of going for the kill, not taking unnecessary risks.
The fly angrily buzzed up and down in front of Exill, its full range of movement limited by the narrow tunnel. He just held his spear steady, always pointed at the centre of mass despite the fly’s jerky movements. Eventually the fly accelerated, sharp proboscis extended, only to find itself swiftly impaled by its own momentum. ‘That was the easiest five Denars I have ever made.’ He thought gleefully.
The fly was dragged behind him, careful not to tear the wings and the earlier strategy to lure them was repeated. This time all three flies rounded the corner. ‘You can do this, just hold to centre mass, and let them impale themselves.’
The first fly impaled itself mindlessly against Exill’s spear. He immediately pushed back to free the tip of the spear and the disembowelled fly was flung backwards into the remaining two.
The two flies dodged their weakly flailing companion, seemingly more cautious, displaying a disconcerting level of insect intelligence. The flies could only approach one at a time, making jerky movements up and down to fly around the tip of the deadly spear.
Suddenly, one of them flew forward, impaling themselves.
Before Exill could free the tip, the remaining fly buzzed angrily below its' dying sibling and lunged at the surprised spearman. The needle like proboscis pierced easily through the scrap leather armour and into his thigh, followed by six hooked legs grasping his legs for support.
The proboscis started throbbing as it immediately started draining his blood. Exill yelped in pain and brought the haft of his spear heavily onto the feeding fly, killing it instantly.
The proboscis had snapped but red blood continued to pump out of its narrow aperture. Falling on his rear, he backed himself up against the cool tunnel wall. The leg plates were unstrapped with trembling hands, slippery with blood, and with a moment’s hesitation, he yanked the shattered needle in one fluid movement.
Propelled by the urgency of his bleeding leg, he tried to untie the twine around a tightly bound leaf, before giving up and impatiently biting through it, spilling some of the coagulating powder in the process. With shaking hands, he spilled the contents of the leaf on his thigh and wrapped it tight with linen to apply pressure.
Only then did he allow himself to relax, and his breathing slowly returned to normal. ‘It’s only been thirty minutes since I entered the labyrinth and look how greed nearly killed me.’ He thought wearily. Exill rested for ten more minutes then staggered up, careful not to put weight on his wounded leg.
He limped over to each of the downed flies and snapped their wings off at the base, and gingerly put them into his ruck sack.
The last fly had been reduced to a pulp when Exill struck it with the back of his spear, and it was a lost cause. He instead gathered what remained of the other three and tied them together using twine, before slinging both the ruck sack and bundle of chitin over his shoulder.
His free hand leaned heavily on the spear as Exill successfully exited the labyrinth one hour after his intrepid entry.
Mercs nodded at the pale faced youth as he crossed the hallowed grounds, the internals of the Tower looming overhead. This in itself was not an uncommon sight and no one lent a hand as they passed, respecting the determined look on the lad’s face. As Exill reached the outside to the afternoon sun, he was quickly surrounded by street urchins.
“You look hurt big bro!”
“Woah, did you hunt ‘em yourself?”
“We can carry you to Old Savta for five Denars, she’s the best healer in Ark!”
He shooed the kids away. Fat chance he would spend precious Denars on overpriced healers ever again! He gathered his breath and moved forward, one step at a time.