Returning to the dungeon felt something like a homecoming to Colt. This place was dangerous, sure. In it, he’d already faced more blood and violence than ever before. But it also came with a thrill. His heart picked up when stepping out into the cold, desolate atmosphere of the dungeon—his eyes turned upward, and even knowing it should be the day, all that was up there was the same moon. Unmoving. Leering and grinning from on high.
Colt shook his head—then looked in either direction.
The kobold corpses from yesterday were gone. Dried blood was the only evidence the fight happened at all. Whether the dungeon had a way of cleaning itself or other cannibal kobolds came and took advantage of the bodies, it was impossible to tell.
If I had to, suppose I’d eat them too. Colt thought as he picked the way to the right—the opposite direction of last time.
Finding the boss was a priority; even though it would have been safer to tread old grounds, he wanted to see new things.
He crept through the alley, his feet light and with a knife in his main hand. His eyes kept on a swivel, looking for the shadow of a creeping kobold anywhere along the pathway. He didn’t have to worry much. In the initial alley, it was empty.
Colt took out a black Sharpie as he got to the end of the alley. Then, he scribbled a mark on either side of the corner of a brickwork building. A trick to find his way.
With one last look at the faded light behind him that marked the kitchen, he turned the corner.
The pathway here went from the lazy concrete of a dark Nashville alley to a narrow urban alley lined with graffiti and neon lights. Pipework spread out through this place like veins—along with shutters like garage doors. As he moved down the alley, he saw a hastily sprayed image of an Oni in black and red. It was dirty. Cardboard, trash, and junk decorating the floor—but overall, it was less like a rough neighborhood and more like he’d just walked into a Cyberpunk world.
After passing several garage-like shutters, Colt finally gave in to temptation and tried to open one.
It resisted, of course… Then he pushed and pushed further. His back muscles screamed in protest as the metal screeched. It gave before he did. The whole shutter lifted with a groan—revealing a dark interior filled with nothing, simply a cube of brickwork.
Disappointing. But also not a bad find. It would make a safe place to rest if he needed it.
Colt tried another with the same result. When he opened the third and got nothing, he gave up.
It’s all a front.
This whole dungeon was nothing but an elaborate construction that went on and on, meant to look familiar but in reality were empty shells. Colt guessed every building, every door would probably be the same.
He went back to the alley.
And waiting for him was a massive rat about nine feet away. Its sharp canines glittered with the reflected neon pink of the lights, and the hair on its head was done up in the style of a bright red mohawk. Colt’s jaw dropped as he fired off an inspect.
———
Punk Street Rat - Level 12
Description: Rebel. Eat. Sleep. These rats care little for anything or anyone other than themselves. And they’ll eat just about anything they can get their hands on, including you.
Noteworthy Skills:
Screech [Uncommon] - Level 2
———
That screech skill sounded nasty. The level was above any kobold—the mere fact something else existed in here was a surprise, but… Well.
Monsters were monsters.
Colt sent a knife flying. The rat had just noticed him, which gave it almost no time to notice the quickly flicking piece of metal flying through space at it. In a desperate bid to survive, the creature scrambled to the side, but the weapon caught it, digging deep.
He moved in. Follow-up was important. This thing had three levels on him—so it was essential to overwhelm it before it could activate its skill. Colt closed the distance and thrust his sword deep into the monster’s flank.
Then, the rat screeched, and the whole world shook. Colt's legs wobbled as his sense of balance went off-kilter. The rat flung itself on him and brought him to the ground.
Next came the biting.
Hot searing pain in his chest where the creature snapped and tore. Without a choice and with a yell, Colt dropped his sword and went for a knife, slamming the weapon into the rat.
Blood spurted, hot and gushing as it ran down his torso. The rat took another slice of him, and he stabbed it again and again. Two jabs for the cost of his flesh.
It bit again. It got stabbed again. They kept on like this.
Until it stopped biting.
———
You have leveled up!
You have gained 1 point of Endurance!
You have 2 Stat points to spend!
———
Colt let out a deep breath; his abs hurt, the pain of the raw bites harsh and searing. He’d broken his leg once, and sure, that hurt more. But if he had to rate it on a scale, this was a solid seven.
After throwing his two new points into endurance, that pain dropped to a six. Confirming that endurance also had to do with how many hits one could take. Maybe also healing. Games sometimes used the ‘constitution’ stat for stuff like that, but here, it seemed endurance was the catch-all.
Colt pushed the rat off him and put a hand to the wounds. They were slick with blood, and touching them brought up the pain, but they didn’t go deep.
Despite those long fangs, they couldn’t sink in too far. His muscles felt more solid than ever—almost like steel beneath his fingers.
Setting aside that, Colt got up and collected his weapons, then cut his outfit into a strip, wrapping it around him to stop the bleeding. As he moved, the pain began to reduce to a dull thrum, something he could tuck away in the back of his head.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
With a sword in one hand and the knife in the other, Colt continued onward; injury or no, he meant to gain levels. More points in endurance might help him heal faster, too.
The same cyber-punk-esque alley yielded a few more rats; each, at least, was alone. Ranging from level - 9 to level - 12. Each of them seemed to have the Screech ability, but the trick to it was, as he found out at the cost of a couple of more bites, that it mostly affected balance.
If he braced against a wall or lowered himself to the ground, he could react quicker and avoid most of the damage.
The cost was more wounds.
———
You have leveled up!
You have 2 Stat points to spend!
———
One point went into endurance, and the other into strength. Healing came quicker, or maybe the pain faded faster. After two hours, the bite marks still stung, but they didn’t have the lasting pain that he would’ve thought.
The next handfuls of rats he took down were easier, having gotten into the fighting rhythm. It helped that they only came solo or, at most, a pair. Easing the ability to strategize and prevent himself from being overwhelmed. They took a bit more work to kill than a kobold, but after adjusting his fighting style to minimize their special skill, those encounters only left a scratch or two.
It was… Different, fighting alone. Better in some ways. Worse in others.
The cyberpunk alleys split off into two directions; the route he took the lead through was narrower than before. All of the buildings were colored a light tan, and suddenly, there was sand under his feet.
Rats became kobolds, which, since they came in waves and groups, were a bit more difficult to handle. Their levels, though, were lower. His advanced speed, reaction time, and strength made them easier—killing them often in one or two hits. He used his throwing knives to the best of his abilities.
The fights bled together, and the notifications suppressed themselves as he slinked through the alleyway, shifting from the sand-colored buildings to a more demure and almost office-like place: cubicles, boring, drab walls, and a carpeted floor. Rats were present here, too, in place of the kobolds. Only, these ones came with little ties and a nasty skill called Drone, which gave him a splitting headache when used.
After a few of those, he got used to the fight.
With how surreal the world was, he slipped into what he saw in front of him—Kobolds, rats—anything with levels was his to slay. They were the entirety of his existence.
They were all of a challenge to overcome. Not monsters. Not a threat of death. Just another thing to barrel past and grind for levels.
As he moved he became one with the dungeon, with this reality, yet another string threading its way through these endless alleys. It began to feel familiar. Never comfortable. Every fight was laced with danger, but when he found the next kobold, he reached the precipice of what he was capable of; he trusted himself, his body, and his skill to carry him through alive.
Kobold after kobold. Rat after rat.
It wasn’t until Colt finally went into one of the weird office cubicles in this place and sat down to eat a bit of lunch and drink water that the notification of his gains finally appeared.
———
You have leveled up!
You have 2 Stat points to spend!
Swords Proficiency (Basic) has gained a level!
You have leveled up!
You have 2 Stat points to spend!
Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Basic) has gained a level!
Swords Proficiency (Basic) has gained a level!
You have leveled up!
You have gained 1 point of Dexterity!
You have 2 Stat points to spend!
———
“Three levels.” He said, then took another bite out of his Texas toast. The taste of the butter that seared into the outside was a welcome relief from the taste of blood he’d had. As he savored the flavor, he distributed four of the points, intending to hoard two for the Soul stat later on. Two went into strength, and two went into dexterity.
The instant rush of the change hit him, seeing each point get spent yet another drop of dopamine. He’d earned them, slain monsters for them on his own.
Good.
“How much time has it been?”
Impossible to say, really. His phone had died this morning. Quicker than normal. As if the dungeon drained the battery out of it—he’d even tried conserving it by leaving it off. With all of the stalking around and fighting, it had slipped by.
He’d come to a startling realization, too.
This was good. Fighting like this was good. Yes, it’d been nice to have both Nate and Sarah backing him up.
But alone? Out here on the verge of life and death and seeing how far he could go? Being able to sit in some ethereal and odd cubicle in the middle of a dungeon?
This felt free. Everything was exciting.
No minimum wage. No dead-end job. No shitty boss yelling his ear off. Just him, some knives, a sword, and a trail of kobold and rat corpses.
He moved on to the porkchop he’d taken—cold but seared. A nice charcoal-like flavor from where they’d cooked it on an open flame. Turned out the fire alarm didn’t work in the kitchen anymore, just like their phones. Like this place was leeching away anything electrical, as Colt munched, he pulled up his Status sheet to see how far he’d come.
———
Name: Colt King | Race: Basic Human
Icon: [Empty] | Class: [Pending]
Level: 14
Edicts: [None]
Skills:
Inspect (Basic) - Level 5
Knives/Daggers Proficiency (Basic) - Level 7
Swords Proficiency (Basic) - Level 3
Hide Status (Basic) - Level 2
Stats:
Strength: 20
Endurance: 16
Dexterity: 19
Intelligence: 10
Willpower: 8
Soul: 3
Unassigned Stat Points: 2
———
Strength at 20? Double what he’d started with?
Do I feel twice as strong? Almost twice as fast?
Honestly, he felt more than that. At fifteen points, he’d felt more athletic than ever—at twenty? There wasn’t a massive chance to test it yet with labeled weights, but hauling things around or pushing kobolds was almost too easy. If he had to guess, it was a bit more than double.
Colt finished the rest of the pork, then got back up. There was more to explore.
Eventually, the office-like alley turned into one that reminded him of those old Victorian streets. The carpet morphed into delicate cobble-stone. Windows on either side—some lit, others closed. Gas lamps dotted every intersection. Oddly, though, he stopped running into groups of kobolds. No, instead, every so often, he found the cold dead body of one; its insides cut open and missing.
Not a good sign, given that the dungeon identified an optional boss whose name was ‘the Ripper’
The fog began to roll in thick, and as Colt looked into the blank windows of these shell-like buildings, he couldn’t help but wonder if those set of red eyes would stare back at him. Once, every so often, he felt a chill as if cold eyes were hidden in this alley, peeling back the layers of his flesh to see what was beneath.
Another dead kobold lay on the ground; this one’s blood was still warm.
Colt’s steps went quicker, his grip sharper. If this boss would pop out, he needed to be quick enough to get off a hit. Maybe then, things would go easier.
He took the nearest turn—and found himself not in an alley for the first time since coming to this dungeon. Rather than that, it opened into a wide octagon; the cobblestone path became a much more elaborate decorated set. In the middle was a massive pavilion; black steel fencing ran around the outside, and on the inside was a gothic blackwood stage filled with discarded instruments.
The wide-open nature of this place utterly conflicted with the rest of the dungeon, and to him, it could only mean one thing.
Boss arena?
Colt looked at his stats, then biting the bullet, spent the two remaining points. One to dexterity, one to endurance. Better to spend them now than to regret it later.
He could head back. He could get his allies, sure.
But no. As Colt traversed the dungeon, he came to a sense of understanding. To get what he wanted from the world, he had to grasp it with his own hands. He had to take risks. That’s what freedom meant. This felt good; he was here to gain power on his own terms.
If this were a boss, he’d go in, take a look, and see if it was something he could face. It's better this way than dodging through that alley, worried that those red eyes would find him again.
Colt spun the chef knife in his left hand and entered the octagon.
———
Quest Received: Ghastly Concert
Rank: F+
Goal: Survive the Ghastly Ball, enjoy the phantom orchestra’s last performance; leaving the area is not and option, but then again, who could leave such an award winning experience. Unfortunately, you are not the only one who has decided to enjoy tonight’s show! Be careful. The crowd at the Ghastly Ball can get quite rowdy.
Reward: Spirit’s Knife
———
The path behind Colt flooded with a thick white mist. More concerning, though, was the music that started as the previously discarded instruments in the middle of the stage rose into the air and began to play themselves.