The first sensation Barry registered was cold. Not the biting chill of a winter's day, but a deep, penetrating cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. His eyelids, heavy as lead, refused to open at first. When they finally did, the world around him swam into focus, revealing a landscape as alien as it was frigid.
Icy stalactites hung from a vaulted ceiling, their crystalline forms refracting what little light penetrated this subterranean chamber. The walls, hewn from some dark stone, glistened with a thin sheen of frost. Barry's breath misted in front of him, each exhalation a small cloud that dissipated into the frigid air.
He lay on a cold stone floor, his body protesting every movement as he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. His head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed behind his eyes. As he raised a hand to his temple, a series of notifications flashed across his vision, startling him into full alertness.
```
[System Notice: You have gained the Dungeon Minion class.]
[System Notice: Your classes have been merged. You are now a Plague Knight/Dungeon Minion.]
[System Notice: New Quest Received - Survival of the Fittest]
Objective: Survive and establish your dominance within the Lich's Winter Dungeon.
Reward: Unknown
Failure: Death
```
Barry blinked, trying to process the flood of information. "Dungeon Minion?" he muttered, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. "How did I...?" His words trailed off as he realized he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. The last clear memory he had was of swimming through dark waters, guided by a massive serpent, roots of an impossibly large tree weaving around them. After that... nothing.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he found his balance. His armor, the familiar green and gold of his Plague Knight regalia, felt heavier than usual, as if the very air in this place was pressing down on him. As he moved, he felt something shift inside his clothing. Reaching into an inner pocket, his fingers closed around a small, cold object.
He pulled it out, revealing a simple amulet of polished obsidian. A folded piece of paper was wrapped around it, secured with a thin cord. Barry carefully unfolded the note, squinting in the dim light to read the cramped handwriting:
"Don't fall, mate. The abyss gazes back. :)"
The smiley face at the end of the cryptic message sent a chill down Barry's spine that had nothing to do with the frigid air. He tucked the note back into his pocket, but hung the amulet around his neck. Its weight felt reassuring somehow, a small comfort in this alien environment.
As Barry took stock of his surroundings, a low growl echoed through the chamber. He spun around, hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. From the shadows at the far end of the room, pairs of glowing eyes emerged, accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against stone.
The creatures that stepped into the dim light were nightmarish amalgamations of wolf and corpse. Their fur was patchy and frost-covered, hanging in clumps from desiccated skin. Exposed bone gleamed white where flesh had rotted away, and their eyes burned with an unnatural, icy blue light. Winter wolves, Barry realized, twisted by necromantic energy into something far deadlier than their natural counterparts.
There were three of them, spread out in a loose semicircle as they advanced on Barry. Their movements were unnaturally fluid for creatures in such a state of decay, a grim testament to the power animating them.
Barry's mind raced, assessing the situation. His Plague Knight abilities would be less effective against undead creatures, and he had no idea what new powers, if any, his Dungeon Minion class might grant him. The chamber offered little in the way of cover or defensive positions. He was, quite literally, backed into a corner.
As the winter wolves closed in, Barry felt a familiar resonance within him. His Dao of Struggle, newly acquired but already an integral part of his being, pulsed in time with his racing heartbeat. This was a trial, a crucible in which he would either prove his worth or perish. The very nature of his existence was struggle, and he would not go down without a fight.
The first wolf lunged, its decaying jaws snapping at Barry's arm. He twisted away, the creature's teeth grazing his armor with a screech of metal on bone. Barry countered with a swift kick, his boot connecting with the wolf's ribcage. Several bones cracked under the impact, but the undead beast seemed unfazed by what should have been a crippling blow.
The second wolf attacked from his blind spot, clamping its jaws around Barry's calf. Even through his armor, he felt the biting cold of its touch, a chill that went beyond physical sensation. It was as if the very essence of winter was trying to seep into his body.
Barry roared in pain and frustration, bringing the pommel of his sword down hard on the wolf's skull. The creature's grip loosened, and he managed to shake it off, but not before the third wolf joined the fray. It leapt at him, its considerable weight slamming into his chest and sending him stumbling backward.
His back hit the icy wall of the chamber, and for a moment, Barry felt a flicker of despair. He was outnumbered, in an unfamiliar environment, with powers he didn't fully understand. The wolves circled him, their eerie blue eyes fixed on him with predatory focus. In that moment of stillness before they attacked again, Barry's mind raced, searching for a solution.
His eyes darted around the chamber, taking in details he'd missed in his initial assessment. The icy stalactites hanging from the ceiling, the frost-covered floor, the way his breath misted in the air... An idea began to form, crazy and desperate, but it was all he had.
As the wolves tensed to spring, Barry closed his eyes and reached deep within himself. He called upon his Dao of Decay, feeling its energy pulse through him. Decay was a slow, inexorable force, the gradual breakdown of all things. But here, in this frozen hell, decay was held in check by the perpetual cold. What would happen if he introduced rapid decay into this stagnant environment?
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Barry opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the nearest wolf. He extended his hand, channeling the essence of his Dao through his palm. A sickly green mist emanated from his fingers, seeping into the air around him. Where it touched the frost on the floor and walls, the ice began to melt and evaporate at an alarming rate.
The temperature in the chamber rose rapidly as years of decay were compressed into seconds. The wolves hesitated, confused by the sudden change in their environment. Steam began to rise from the floor, obscuring vision and filling the air with a thick, cloying mist.
Barry didn't wait for the wolves to recover from their confusion. He charged forward, his sword leading the way. The blade, infused with the essence of decay, sliced through the nearest wolf with unnatural ease. Rotted flesh and bone parted like smoke, the creature dissolving into a pile of decayed matter before it could even utter a final growl.
The remaining wolves, disoriented by the rapidly changing environment and the loss of their pack mate, turned on each other in their confusion. Barry watched as they tore at each other with fangs and claws, their undead nature driving them to continue fighting even as their bodies fell apart.
In less than a minute, the chamber had transformed from a frozen tomb to a steam-filled sauna. The remaining wolves, more decay than creature now, collapsed into piles of rotted fur and bone. Barry stood among the remains, panting heavily, his armor dripping with condensation.
As the steam began to dissipate, a new notification appeared in Barry's vision:
```
[System Notice: Dungeon Prowess increased!]
[Your status has been upgraded from 'Basic Mob' to 'Elite Mob']
```
Barry blinked in surprise. "Dungeon Prowess?" he muttered, testing the words. It felt right somehow, more fitting than mere 'reputation'. It spoke of skill, of power, of the ability to not just survive but thrive in this hostile environment. He had taken his first step towards establishing his dominance, just as the quest had demanded.
As the adrenaline of battle faded, Barry leaned against the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on the now-damp floor. The exertion of the fight and the rapid use of his Dao had left him drained. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart.
In the quiet aftermath of the battle, Barry's thoughts turned once again to the mystery of his situation. How had he ended up here? The gap in his memory nagged at him, a void that seemed more ominous the more he pondered it. He remembered the serpent, the ocean tree, a body drifting in the waves... but after that, nothing until he woke up in this chamber.
As he sat there, surrounded by the remnants of his first dungeon battle, Barry's mind drifted to memories of home. Not the vast, sun-baked expanse of the Outback that most associated with Australia, but the snow-capped peaks and frosty mornings of Jindabyne.
Jindabyne, nestled in the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales, was one of the few places in Australia that saw regular snowfall. Barry could almost smell the crisp mountain air, feel the crunch of snow under his boots as he made his way to the ski lifts. He remembered the way the town transformed in winter, the influx of tourists eager to experience a slice of alpine life in a country known for its beaches and deserts.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Here he was, in a frozen dungeon that could rival the harshest Jindabyne winter, and all he could think about was home. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the now-quiet chamber. From one winter wonderland to another, it seemed. At least in Jindabyne, the wolves stayed dead when you killed them.
Barry pushed himself back to his feet, his muscles protesting the movement. The chamber looked entirely different now. The stalactites had melted, leaving the ceiling pockmarked with dripping holes. The frost was gone from the walls and floor, revealing intricate carved patterns that had been hidden beneath the ice.
He approached one of the walls, running his hand over the newly revealed carvings. They depicted scenes of battle, of towering figures wielding magic against hordes of undead. In one panel, he saw a figure that looked disturbingly like himself, standing atop a mound of bones, a crown of ice upon his head.
He jerked his hand away from the carving as if it had burned him. Was this a prophecy? A warning? Or simply the delusions of whatever twisted mind had created this dungeon? Barry shook his head, trying to clear it of the unsettling thoughts. He had a quest to complete, a challenge to overcome. The mysteries would have to wait.
With a deep breath, Barry turned towards the passage leading out of the chamber. The way ahead was dark, promising new dangers and challenges. But as he took his first step forward, he felt the weight of the amulet against his chest, a reminder of the cryptic warning. Don't fall. Whatever trials lay ahead, he would face them standing tall.
His Dao of Struggle resonated within him, a silent affirmation of his resolve. This dungeon, this quest, was just another battlefield in the eternal war of existence. Barry had faced drought and flood, bushfire and plague. He had stood against the harbingers of ruin and emerged victorious. This frozen hell, with its undead monstrosities and hidden dangers, was just another hurdle to overcome.
As he moved deeper into the dungeon, Barry's mind wandered back to his friends, to the warmth of the firelight and the sound of laughter. He thought of Matt, of Jay, of the bonds forged in the crucible of shared adversity. A pang of longing shot through him, quickly followed by a surge of determination. He would survive this. He would conquer this dungeon, unravel its mysteries, and find his way back to them.
The passage gradually widened, leading Barry into a vast cavern. Frozen waterfalls lined the walls, their icy cascades caught in eternal stasis. The floor was a treacherous sheet of black ice, reflecting the ethereal blue light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.
As Barry stepped onto the black ice, his reflection gazed back at him from beneath his feet. For a moment, it seemed to smile, a knowing grin that didn't match Barry's grim expression. He blinked, and the illusion was gone. Just a trick of the light, he told himself, pointedly ignoring the chill that ran down his spine.
The amulet felt heavier than ever against his chest as he advanced into the unknown depths of the dungeon. The abyss gazes back, the note had said. As he peered into the shadows ahead, Barry couldn't shake the feeling that he was staring into an abyss far deeper and more terrifying than any physical chasm.
With each step, the ice creaked and groaned beneath him, a reminder of the precarious nature of his position. Don't fall, he repeated to himself, a mantra to keep him focused. Don't fall.
As Barry pressed on, prepared to fight for his survival and his very identity, a small part of him wondered if he had already fallen, if this frozen hell was the abyss itself. But those thoughts were quickly pushed aside. He was Barry, the Plague Knight, the Space Aspirin. He was struggle incarnate, decay given form. Whatever challenges this dungeon held, whatever mysteries lurked in the gaps of his memory, he would face them head-on.
His newly acquired status as an Elite Mob thrummed within him, a testament to his growing power and his potential to rise even further. The dungeon had recognized his prowess, and he was determined to prove it had made the right choice.
With renewed determination, Barry ventured deeper into the icy labyrinth. The true test was just beginning, and he was ready to face whatever the dungeon had in store for him next.
He stepped into the next room and whistled.
"Crikey."