Chapter 3: The Path of a Million Arrows

Mercy sat atop her mount, sailing through the air, wrapped up in a new fur-lined winter coat. She watched as the sun peaked over the mountain tops, growing on the horizon. Her destination, as she was told, was a temporary settlement that had sprung up near the entrance of the dungeon, at the bottom of the tallest of the three mountains on the edge of the Arian mountains.

The stranger’s instructions had taken Mercy far to the north. Past any Respawn point that she could Fast Travel to. She had teleported as close as she could, to the marker that he had placed on her map and She had been flying for two days straight since then. The landscape below, having long fallen away to a wasteland of rock and snow.

She had been making great time, despite a few layovers to avoid some dragons looking for a tasty meal. And, the quick pit stop at a trading village to get the heat magic-infused coat that she was now using to prevent the bitterly cold winds from sapping at her stamina bar.

It wasn’t much longer until she could see the smoke rising from the campfires of the settlement. As she got closer, she realized that it wasn’t just built at the bottom of the mountain, but rather, it had been constructed on the inside of a massive, naturally formed, crevice. She wasn’t able to make out much else, due to the wall of sharpened logs that blocked her view.

“They call this place Zilea.” She said to her Kirin, urging him to drop altitude.

She landed on the road a few hundred yards away. The entrance wasn’t guarded and no guild or party flag had hung its banner. It was a questionable, but good sign. Too often, when a dungeon was taking too long to clear and word had spread around, a strong guild would set up shop around it, disallowing any other guilds or unaffiliated parties entrance to the dungeon.

There was an unofficial rule, decreed and upheld by the three strongest guilds, that one guild or party could only hold a dungeon for a maximum of one week's time. If the dungeon remained uncleared, then the opportunity would be given to the next guild or party to lay claim.

As there were no rules against attempts to prematurely expunge whoever was currently controlling the dungeon. This was usually the group assaulting them. Occasionally, however, they might run out of supplies, or willpower. In that instance, the chance went to the next group of players who happen to be passing by.

Though not everyone followed the unofficial rules, the big 3 did their best to uphold them. But, even the largest guilds, and their allies, run out of manpower eventually.

The computer-generated world was vast and impossibly large. Whole areas still remained completely unexplored to this day. It was estimated that only about 65% of the game's land mass and only 25% of its oceans had been discovered. Keeping track of everyone’s conduct in that much space was futile. Yet, still, they tried.

Mercy assumed that the lack of an established defense at this location was most likely because no one had actually reached the dungeon to claim it. With the big three around, everyone was probably following their rules of conduct down to a tee. She headed for the entrance, intrigued by what she might find.

She didn’t know exactly what to expect upon crossing the threshold. She was sure it would be civil. But she wasn’t prepared for the reality of what she found. The players were working together; trading ideas, advice, and even equipment. Players from guilds who had long-standing rivalries were sitting down over a meal and helping each other out.

The whole encampment seemed to have one singular focus. And every single player was willing to do anything they could to reach it. If there was one thing every player of Rise of The Broken knew, from newbie to veteran. The harder the challenge, the better the reward. Even if, it seemed, that meant making deals with their enemies.

She made her way through the gathering throng of people. Past the traveling merchants and potion makers calling out their prices. The guy selling Temporary Spawn Points was apparently making a killing and had a line at least 100 people long. It made sense as she hadn't She hadn’t seen a Respawn point for miles. Thankfully she was fully stocked on temps for the moment. The line would brutal to wait in if she hadn’t.

Of course, the smell of food interested her the most, and she stop at one of the vendors selling what looked like breakfast sandwiches on pancakes. Looking over the menu, there were so many foreign and exotic options that she didn’t know what to order.

“How about some Gendorian bacon? with Shen Shen eggs on Kibultz bread?” Said a familiar voice.

The chef pulled off the hood and cowl that were obstructing his face.

“Finrar is that you? What are you doing here?”

“Making a killing. You see how many hungry people are out here?” He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in.

They made small talk about the journey, the weather, and the latest gossip about the guilds that he had overheard, while he diligently prepared her meal.

"Good luck out there today." He said as he handed her her food and bid her on her way.

As expected the food tasted wonderful; a richer, spicier, and gamier version of the comfort staple she loved. She ate with glee while walking towards a crowd that gathered at the back of the camp. From what Finrar had told her, this was the line to make an attempt at getting to the dungeon and she was now at the back of it; exactly where she wanted to be.

Two hours had passed before she made it to the middle of the line. In that time, she had heard just about every failed strategy idea that had been tried; and many new ones that people planned on attempting. The hottest idea currently was trying to hide from the targeting A.I.

Some people were combining fire and water to make steam to hide in, and others concealed themselves in shadows or encased themselves in a thin layer of water so calm it reflected like a mirror. The last attempt was from someone who was able to redirect all the light around their body, making them completely invisible. Just like the rest, his life was ended at the first step.

Although she couldn't see what was happening yet, her fox ears were able to convey to her some information. It all happened in a split second, with a sound like that of thousands of pins going right through a pin cushion; all at the same time. There was no scream, no splattering of blood, not even a gasp.

She continued to shuffle ever slowly forward. One quick attempt after another. She could finally start to make out the entrance of a tunnel; what appeared currently as just a split in the wall of the rock. Pin cushions, shuffle, pin cushions, shuffle.

The next competitor walked forward. Only fifteen people remained in front of her. She was finally able to see the entrance clearly, and passed it, into the cave. Where the natural stone ended, a rainbow bridge of scrolling symbols and words, made purely of mana, stretched out before the new challenger.

He was tall with bulging muscles; and looked to be as strong as an ox. In his hands, he wielded two great tower shields. Each made of 5-inch thick Dragonscale Steel. With a grunt, he lifted each of the shields and braced them against the sides of his body. Enclosing himself within them, like a turtle shell or a clam. Then he stepped onto the bridge.

Once again, just like everyone else before him, he was done for within the span of a blink. His iron-clad defense turned from protection into an Iron Maiden. All that remained of the aftermath was a reddish mist where he once stood.

“Hey! He lasted longer than the last few hundred, maybe he’s onto something.” Laughed one of the men standing by the entrance.

From what Mercy could surmise, he was a guard, posted there to keep everyone in order and issue people through the small tunnel that led to the cave. His companion sat across from him, too caught up in his paper and quill to pay attention to his compatriot.

“30,899, 30,900, 30,901,” He muttered under his breath, quill dipping down into ink, then back to the page with every number said.

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Both were wearing full plate mail made of gold with short white capes accented with red tassels and emblazoned by the seal of the Golden Bull guild. Their armor, while it looked fancy, was the standard issue of the guild. Making them no more than grunts who seemed to have big egos.

“I don’t know why General Ishan wants us to do that. It’s pretty pointless if you ask me. The only thing that really matters is if someone gets to the dungeon.” Pipped up the chuckling one.

The scribe stopped his scribing and looked up from his tally mark.

“The General believes that this could very well be the hardest dungeon that anyone has ever discovered. It could be monumental to the player community. His excellency simply wishes to record things as accurately as possible. Now you there, come on your next.” He said, pointing to Mercy.

He gestured with the feather of his quill for her to move to the entrance. While she had been distracted by their conversation, the line had moved forward, and she hadn’t noticed that she was now at the front. Snapping herself to attention, she obeyed and walked into the small tunnel. What she saw struck her with awe.

The inside of the cave was a perfect sphere. Polished stone slabs cut into concave squares made up the walls. A circle, made from the strange twisting runes of the game systems, was carved into the center of each of the stones. The rest of the area was empty, save for the dungeon door located in the center of the room, sitting atop of what must have been at least a 200-foot tall, 20-foot wide, crystal quartz stalagmite.

The only light in the room emanated from the glowing energy bridge that spanned the gap from the entrance to the dungeon door. It too was made of the same ancient runic script written on the walls. They weren't uncommon sights, often appearing on traps and magic items; most commonly they appeared in the Spell Circles of magic users.

No one really knew what they meant. Even the best translators from all over the world couldn’t seem to crack the code of the secret game language. On the other hand, the effects of the script were well known at this point, and, someone who had studied in magic theory could tell you what a spell would do by just identifying particular symbols within a circle.

She approached the precipice, the air temperature dropped by several degrees, and her nerves started to rack at her brain. Everyone had quieted down behind her. Waiting in expectation to see what she was about to do. She stilled herself for a moment. Taking a deep breath to calm down. She hated audiences.

“Activate Rune: Syleon’s vision.” She whispered. For a moment, her eyes glowed a cyan blue, then, she stepped out onto the bridge.

The Runes were special items that one could collect and slot into their character builds; up to five. Each worked like a special ability and could have a profound effect on their users. The one she had activated changed her perception of time to be equal to that of her movement speed.

For most people’s builds, this was a completely unless Rune. To her, though, it was the bread and butter of her play style and it was what truly allowed her to dodge nearly every attack thrown at her. What put her above all the other competitors here wasn’t going to be her intense speed. But simply the fact that she could see the incoming projectiles; and if she could see them, she could dodge them.

The instant her foot touched the solid mana script, thousands of silver rods launched themselves towards her from the circles on the walls. with her enhanced perception she noticed something was odd about the projectiles though. Behind the rods were trails of droplets; almost as if they were liquid, rather than solid. It dawned on her.

“Quicksilver! No wonder magic had no effect!”

The substance had impressive anti-magic qualities. It completely ignored magical barriers like they weren’t even there and it couldn't be damaged by magic itself. Because of these qualities, master metallurgists and blacksmiths worked hard to stabilize the substance and create alloys from it that could be made into armor and weapons.

The Quicksilver arrows coming at her may not have been made by one of those said smiths but they were still coming in fast; faster than any attack from a monster she had ever faced, but, not as fast as her. Without another thought, she burst forth from the starting point. She made it 3 steps before the metal splinters passed through the spot she had just been standing in.

While she was in line, she had questioned whether, if someone survived the first volley, would the assault continue? Or, was it just a quick burst to deter people from their goal. The answer was quickly revealed, as the magic circle continued to rain hellfire down upon her, making her feel like she had been placed into the worst bullet hell game known to man

The constant rate of fire she was up against would put even the quickest of machine guns to shame. All it would take was one of them to quickly and painfully end her life. Still, she pressed forward, not letting a single drop of quicksilver touch her.

She had made it a quarter away across the bridge when to her right, a thin outstretched veil of glimmering fog began to appear. Out of pure instinct, she leapt towards it. As she did so, the bridge she had been on vanished from under her feet.

She twisted and turned through the air to avoid all the arrows. Then, she slammed down onto the bridge as it reappeared where the mist had been. Without losing her pace she continued running. From then on, the bridge continued to shift places at an increasingly mind-bending speed.

It no longer took a straight path towards the door, but instead, had her bouncing around, all over the chamber. Like a ball in an overly complex pinball machine. Up, down, left, right, horizontal, vertical, upside down. She was moving fast enough that gravity was having a hard time taking hold.

The closer she got to the door, the harder things got. It was taking everything she had to keep up.

When she estimated she was about a third of the way, a new problem appeared. Halfway between leaping, Mercy spotted a small red orb floating nonchalantly in the air. It must ha been no bigger than the size of a marble and moving much slower than the Quicksilver arrows.

Despite its harmless appearance, everything, right down to the core of her being, screamed DANGER! Unfortunately, she was on a one-way path straight towards it with no way to escape.

“Activate Rune: Last Will!” She cried.

Somersaulting mid-air, she flipped over the orb, doing her best not to touch it. Just as she thought she cleared it, it exploded, filling the room with an intense fireball and a resounding boom. The force of the explosion careened her backward's, slamming her into the newly appeared bridge.

Thankfully, Mercy had anticipated this. She had used the impact force of the bomb to carry her body into a roll that brought her back on her feet and moving.

The Rune of Last Will had been her saving grace. If a Player would go from a full health pool, down to 0 while the Rune was active, they would instead be left a single health point. Because Mercy had never put any levels into Vitality, her health pool had always been extremely small, and even beginner-level enemies were able to kill her if they landed an attack. For this reason, the Rune had been absolutely necessary for maintaining her survival throughout the game.

Unfortunately, her particular version of the Rune had a cooldown period of 12 hours and she couldn’t rely on it again to save her. She looked around the room; there were now hundreds of those orbs scattered everywhere.

She pulled out a Health pot from her Quick Inventory and smashed it against her thigh. The bruises and scorch marks that covered her body vanished, as a wave of rejuvenation washed over her. The pain she had been experiencing moments ago faded away.

With that in order, she needed to figure out a solution for getting around the exploding orbs, and she needed to do it quickly. The Quicksilver rods were still coming down in a relentless barrage. She needed to make the next jump, but the problem was she didn’t how close she could get to the orbs before they went off. An idea came to her, and she pulled out one of the throwing knives she kept on her belt.

They had been alchemically modified with a special coating that placed a taunt on enemies; forcing them to attack her and ignore the rest of the party. When she was with the Storm Wolves, she had used them to make up for Barren's lack of tanking. She could easily avoid the attacks that would otherwise take them down. The debuff would be useless here, but maybe she could use the knives to trip the orbs. The game only allowed her to equip seven of the throwing knives, so she was going to have to be careful with them.

The first she threw directly at the next orb in her way. When the blade collided with it, it exploded. Allowing her to jump through the smoke and flames of the aftermath unharmed.

“Good, at least they don't discriminate between objects and bodies.”

She threw another one, this time about a foot from the orb. Like the last one it exploded and she sailed through. On her next attempt, she aimed about 3 feet around the proximity of the orb. It passed by it without detonating. She had found her window.

A few platforms later and things once again got worse. Instead of just one in between the platforms, there were now many. The areas she could pass through became smaller and smaller. Requiring near pin-point accuracy to jump through. Twice more she had had to use her throwing knives to make some space, she was down to only four. How the developers expected anyone to get through this was beyond her.

She imagined the people viewing from the entrance couldn’t discern any of what was going on. To them, it must have appeared as if a long string of firecrackers were going off. Creating an erratic flaming serpent that flew and coiled its way through the cavern.

The next few waves forced Mercy to use the rest of her daggers. There was no way she would be able to make it to the next platform; there were just too many orbs. She glanced at the dungeon door; it was close. From her position above it, there was a small chance that if she jumped she might make it. Ignoring the next appearing section of the bridge, she launched herself with all her might off towards the stalagmite platform. Maybe, just maybe, she could do it.

As her foot left the bridge, a screen of thousands of red orbs appeared out of now were; floating in direct proximity to one another, forming an impenetrable bubble around the exit. There were no gaps, no holes, no windows, no way for her to get through. She knew what was about to happen next.

She screamed out of frustration. If it wasn’t for the orbs, she would have had a chance! She drew her sword and hurled it forward; not caring to aim it. As it made contact with one of the orbs, vines red mana sprung worth and spread; connecting one orb to the next, chaining all of the explosives together. Once the last orb was linked, they detonated simultaneously. There was a flash of intense light and heat; then nothing.

Mercy patiently stared at the blackness in front of her, waiting for the “You have died” message to appear. She knew there was no way she would have made it. She didn’t have the health to survive something like that. Yet, the message never came. Instead, her vision slowly began to return. At first just a blanket of red, then shadows that began to turn into fuzzy objects.

When her vision fully cleared, she found that she was laying on her back, looking up at the cavern ceiling. She rolled to her side to discover that she had made it to the plateau and she lay only a few feet from the dungeon door. She checked her health bar. 1hp.

"How?"

Later she would come to find out that the sheer size and impact of the explosion had sent a shock-wave through the entrance so powerful that it had knocked over a large handful of the players who had been watching and waiting in line. The blast had been so strong, that there were reports that the entire mountain itself had trembled and shook, which had caused concern among everyone in the encampment.

She stood up and walked towards the ledge. She smiled and gave a quick wave to the dumbfounded adventurers still stuck on the other side. As they erupted in cheers, applause, and curses, she turned back towards the dungeon door. It looked different from the dungeon doors she had entered before.

Normally, the doors depicted two great beasts; a prideful golden dragon and a sly silver wolf, locked in mortal combat. This one wasn’t gold, nor was it silver. It was made of black iron, and instead of legendary creatures, it showed a man; or what looked to be one.

He stood, arms outstretched above his head. A sword in each hand. His plate mail was enhanced by three sinister-looking spikes that protruded from each of his Pauldrons. On either side of his head were twisting rams horns and behind him a pair of devilish wings. Shown in front of the man, in the foreground of the image, was a large cracked skull.

Mercy reached forward and grasped the iron ring door handles that dangled before her. She didn't know why the door was different, but that wasn't going to deter her one bit. With a grunt, she pushed open the dungeon doors.