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Our Little Dark Age
7 - If at first you don't succeed, die again

7 - If at first you don't succeed, die again

[Body] Alternating Ruthersday vigor [Common]

Blessed by the good grace of Ruthe for your devotion to a backbreaking craft, you find yourself invigorated on alternating Ruthersdays. On these days, your abilities are increased twofold.

Elia and Rye stared at the smoke, having finally figured out that it would show itself if Rye was the one summoning the smoke. Which had some… interesting implications.

Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I am SO sorry! I didn’t know I’d steal your boon. It wasn’t on purpose!

Elia stared up at the sky that never moved. She didn’t feel particularly different, besides a small tingle in her chest where there was previously nothing. It wasn’t a Ruthersday then and it never would be. In her experience, the useless boons made up the bulk of the million. She wasn’t even mad, just disappointed.

“It’s fine, you can keep it. Shame it’s no fireball, or superstrength, or infinite peaches.” She shrugged, massaging her shoulders as the last of her rampage’s fatigue bled through and passed to tingling nothingness. The miracle water lived up to its name once more. “Welp, time to play the cards we were dealt. Shame about the boon though.”

I don’t think you understand how significant this is, but I have a boon. A BOON! It’s my first one, ever. Outside of trading my inheritance away or marrying some rich old guy, I would never have gotten the chance to get a full set of even twelve common shards before I was already old and wrinkly myself.

Rye’s excitement was lost in a slew of cooing, happy noises, as she poked the smoke with a single hand here and there.

An entire boon and it’s all MINE. It’s so, so… wow. I don’t know what I’d need twice the energy for on a weekend, but I’m thankful, nonetheless. I am sorry, again, that I took it. I don’t deserve this much and I swear I will pay you back for it.

“Oh c’mon, it’s a useless common one.”

Don’t say that! Every boon is a gift of divinity. See? It even says so right there.

“Propaganda. Lies. Deceit.” Elia held her shortsword against the sky. “This is worth a thousand times more.”

Your weird green sword is not important at all. Every shard of a soul can only manifest within a person because the gods sacrificed a part of their power to create us. And even then, most people’s lives aren’t even worthy of twelve common shards. You’re holding a life in your hands, no, more than that. You even have an uncommon boon. That is about ten lives, or maybe one special one. Very, very special. Would it hurt to show a little bit of thankfulness and appreciation?

“Thank you, RNGeesus!” Elia yelled to the sky. Then she continued through the exit with the lion statue, making sure to double check every single corpse on the way for signs of unlife and loot.

Is that the name of your patron god?

“Patron? Is that like a sugar daddy?”

… you know what, forget I asked. Barbarian from the land of dirt indeed.

They walked for a while, happening on not much besides three paths that looped back to the beginning.

“He’s the god of videogames and random number generation.”

So, a god of luck?

“Yep.”

That seems a prudent choice of patron then, given your circumstances. Then I’m sure you’re happy to see my sacrifice to the altar pay off. Without it, I’m sure none of this would have happened like it did.

Elia entered the open area where she had fought over a dozen undead. All was the same as she left it. The fountain which still exuded a pungent smell of algae though now it was mixed with a distinct tang of copper.

“I don’t believe in determinism. Or that anybody with absolute power is not absolutely corrupt.”

Well. I will be glad to prove you wrong. There are so many nice gods, too! There’s Ruthe, Rhû, Worga,–

You have gained: Bone shard [Common] x1

“Oh hey, I overlooked one.”

– Filia, Aurana, Millia,–

You have gained: Wyckwax x1

“Oh look, it’s the wax stuff.”

Wyckwax x1

A dollop of brown cream made of a variety of blessed loams and used to stitch together corpses disfigured beyond death. Smear over wounds to prevent blood loss and infection.

– Amani, Rokokoko. Did I already mention Rhû? He’s my favorite, even if I don’t officially belong to one of his cults. He’s the god of friendship, niceties and–

“Alright, alright, I get it. You’re a polytheist with a good memory. Let’s focus on the way forward, shall we?”

They walked in silence past the second lion statue, happening across three more corpses that were already liberated of all belongings of import. Elia still double checked each pocket, just to be absolutely certain. A vague sense of familiarity was stuck in the back of her mind; she must have come through here during the haze.

So. You said you saw the way out?

“In the brief moment of clarity imbued upon me during a short-lived high velocity flight, I have come to find three ways out.”

Three?

“Yes. The first one: We go past the sorcerous spider.”

Spiders oughtn’t learn magics.

“Uh, yeah, they oughtn’t, but they don’t’n’t. That aside, the maze doesn’t extend beyond the hillock it was guarding. However, without a shield that blocks magic or a lot more speed and stamina, we’re not getting through there.”

Ok. So, number two?

“Number two is where we’re headed,” Elia said, retracing her mental map as she peeked around a corner. “Ahead, the maze just stops at a big fuckoff gate and all, but that isn’t the problem.”

A moment of tension lingered in the air as an undead shuffled past at the end of a shaded hallway. Elia followed only when she was sure it was gone, sneaking behind before stabbing it through the neck.

…the problem is that if you go through the door, you’ll win the bet and puppeteer my body around for all eternity.

As Elia wiped her sword clean on the undead’s rags, she took in a large, green double door to the right that remained closed almost as a warning to all would–be trespassers. Braziers balanced on thin sticks held sooty water from the last rain, floats of powdery incense dimpling upon the surface. Images of some dramatic scene were carved into the surrounding masonry, but time and weather had turned them into little more than faded impressions of human figures.

“The problem is whatever’s between us and there.” There was no other way to the great gate except through here. “One last challenge, I’d guess. The final fuck-you of this gods-damned maze.”

More undead? I hope they’re friendly; I still feel shakes running up and down me from your recent killing spree. You don’t look it, but you sure know how to stab even while semi-lucid. I’d love to have had your dexterity for late nights at a feast; it would have saved me from a few embarrassing moments.

“I would have liked some embarrassing moments.” Actually, she also would have liked a feast. Elia was absolutely prepared to kill for a slice of pickle that had fallen out of a burger, but despite the pervasive magical gambling this world’s economy hadn’t quite reached the fast-food stage quite yet. “Alright. Enough stalling. I’ll figure something out.”

B-by the way, what’s the third option?

“There is no third option. I lied.” Elia placed one hand on each door and pushed with her pitiable strength. Much to the surprise of everyone, the doors started to give. A low, grinding squeak of metal hinges followed by blindingly clear rays of light that fell through from the other side. The gap in between was just wide enough for someone as small as her to fit through, but when she did, all confidence drained from her face.

“Fuck me. That is one heckin large coffin.”

Embraced within the grasp of two gnarled oaks there lay a gray stone sarcophagus six feet wide and at least twelve tall. The lid was devoid of all embellishments except for the faded emblem of a three-headed snake twirling around a white tree engraved into the cold rock.

The open sky hung high above gravestones growing at the area’s edge like stalagmites, the outer walls crumbling into an advanced level of entropy and decay, though they remained just whole enough to squash all hopes of an easy escape. Plastered smooth cobblestone covered the ground with dead moss growing in between, but of it all one feature was so unnerving that Elia could not take her eyes from it.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Corpses. Dead people lay strewn about in front, to the sides, further away and in every corner, as if a child had decided to clean their room by pushing the trash barely out of sight. Every kind of undead she had ever met in the entire maze could be found there; from the most basic robed lunatic to militiamen with kettle helmets, swords, and crossbows to three knights tossed to the side like toy figurines. The cadavers lay strewn in between a forest of rotting and rusting weapons and though the prospect of diving into the treasure-trove of scavenging delight would have sparked tears of joy, Elia only felt dread.

What a slaughter. I- you are seeing this too, right? So many people… it’s horrible.

“I really wish I wasn’t lying about the third option.” Her gaze flicked left and right, nervously appraising every corner for the cause of the massacre, except for the giant sarcophagus. It was the obvious answer and the most dreadful one.

Well, look on the bright side. You can loot all those corpses, not that I approve. You like looting corpses, don’t you? You might even find enough shards for another boon. Oh, in addition if you just get over one more hurdle, you’ll be free!

Elia released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Rye was right, wasn’t she? Escaping the labyrinth had been such an impossible task that compared to it, deicide seemed like a more achievable side-quest. But now, her chance was right there. It was the final wall and she just had to apply her head to it enough times to make it fall. What did she have to fear, but the loss of a few thousand souls and some bone shards?

Then again, she didn’t want to die more than ten times, for more than just the bet.

“Well. Let’s see what god has in store for us today.”

Elia took two steps and the door behind her slammed shut.

Ack!

“No retreat, eh?” She spat on the ground and picked up a battered wooden shield from one of the previous challengers.

Wooden shield

A shield crafted from a jumble of wooden boards, missing most of the metal rim. Few would bet their lives on the protection it provides.

Not like she had much of a choice. “Bring it.”

The lid on the sarcophagus ground open. A single bandaged hand grabbed out from the crevice and pushed it over, the heavy thud nearly shaking Elia from her feet. A titanic figure wrapped in tattered gambeson and frayed cloth took one step out. Hateful red beads shone from behind its polished steel mask, a false face embedded in a chainmail coif. Though the impassively cast face was intended to give an impression of humanity, with all the dust and ash and tattered chainmail hanging like strings of drying algae the giant seemed more like a monster from a swamp or a nightmare.

It howled a long, hollow wail of pain and empty rage. Both Elia and Rye held their breaths as it stepped out onto the cold floor, locked eyes with them and brandished a curved, heavy slab of a sword with one singular arm. The other was missing and the stump was wrapped in bulging cloth but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. Elia laughed as she saw he was missing the other one, a small solace considering how he towered ten foot high.

It’s a giant of Morgenthal! Elia, you can’t fight – wait, wait what are you doing!?

“This is my chance.” She took a step, as if she couldn’t hear her heart pounding and her breaths weren’t coming quick and frantic. “It’s two on one. He’s only twice my size, no pressure, no pressure.”

You have challenged: Forlorn Giant

“Oh great, he’s got a title,” Elia muttered, suddenly very insecure about the smoke’s initiative and the comparatively pitiful length of her own short sword. It was decidedly not as long as her opponent was tall. “Hey limp-dick! You compensating for something? Size isn’t everything, it’s about how deep your quips can cut and I’m a master of banter-fu!”

The giant did not quip. The giant charged.

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You have died

You have lost: Soul x4776

You have lost: Bone shard [Common] x4

Time until lost items and souls dissipate: 15 min

Elia woke up with the vague impression of weightlessness that followed being bisected at the hip. As far as deaths went, it was fairly novel. She couldn’t remember the last time she got bisected by the hip, but that was alright. Dying was not conducive to long-term memory and so she took a minute to reflect, drink some water, and use her psychometry to give Rye a voice again.

…can I open my eyes yet?

“Yeah. It’s over. We won.”

Wait, it is? As she realized that they were still stuck inside the maze, the cheer in her voice deflated until it was as small as a mouse. You lied.

“Yup.”

I don’t understand why you keep doing that. It’s unhealthy, for your friendships and your soul. You could go to hell if you ever died-died.

“Emphasis on if.” With a derisive snort, Elia stood up and made her way back to the final boss of the maze. “I’m pretty sure this is my personal hell. A world imitating a videogame except the pain is real, there are no friends, and every bit of progress is lost to unfair random bullshit. Where’s the fun in that?”

I… don’t know what you’re talking about, again. I’m getting the feeling you’re doing this on purpose.

Elia picked up her toad. “Shit, she’s found us out. Run for it Quibbles, I’ll keep her busy.”

… anyways, maybe just try a different route? The conjuring spider, maybe?

Elia laughed as an undead tried and failed to stab her.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” She reached the fountain room and watched just as the last piece of the patrol left. “We’re gonna have to speedrun this part every single time we die. Shit, at least we’ll get some souls and bone shards from random drops.”

If you don’t die to these folk.

“Yeah. If.”

Contrary to a certain someone’s expectations, Elia made it to the dreaded fight against the giant within less than fifteen minutes. Entirely contained within common expectation was the fact that a two-inch-thick oak shield only helped against one or two glancing strikes from a six-foot curved greatsword until it was sundered into a thousand splinters. The metal chestplate that was responsible for deflecting the rest of the force would have, were it not eons old, chipped in places and brittle with rusty spots.

Elia didn’t die. But she sure as hell screamed. While the giant could hit her from over seven feet away with ease, she herself needed to close within one to even attempt stabbing past his layers of armor, turning the expected duel of the fates into a high-stakes game of chicken.

As she rolled to dodge a stomp of the mighty feet thick as tree trunks, she drew second blood with a vindictive slash.

Then, her back hit a tombstone and all she saw was the flash of a bronze blade before darkness took her once more.

You have died

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“Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

Every jump backwards was accompanied with the minor dread of stepping on a rusting blade or stumbling over the hand of an unlucky previous challenger. Elia was getting the hang of the giant’s range at least, though what she didn’t expect was the sheer speed with which he could swing his sword, in only one hand at that.

A rapid series of strikes forced her back, reminding her in some ironic way of the basic undead launching into a flurry of flails, only to fall over afterwards. On the contrary, the giant did not even stumble, weaving every slash elegantly into the other without pause. Lucky for her she was starting to see a pattern. If only stretching out the fight wasn’t so exhausting.

AAAH! EEK! OH MY GOOOSH!

Rye’s commentary also left much to be desired, but that was fine. Elia had a good feeling about this one.

As the giant made for an overhead swing, she stepped to the side and ducked under the follow-up backhand-strike, which put her directly at the back of her foe. She grabbed her blade like a dagger, dropped her shield and jumped in an attempt to cling to the giant’s back and stab it dead.

When the giant kicked her in the gut without even looking, her pride was hurt more than anything else. But the kick itself also hurt quite a lot.

You have died

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“Oh. Would you look at that. He launched us straight over the door.”

You have regained: Soul x5376

You have regained: Bone shard [Common] x5

“At least I haven’t lost my souls and shards yet. And we’re getting more from fighting our way through the half dozen or so undead on the way here every time.”

That’s great. Yay. Wohoo…

Rye sounded a bit seasick. She was a bit out of it, but there was no time to rest in between attempts because that would require giving up on all of her shards and souls. She was nearly at her high score and losing them now would be her greatest defeat.

“Cheer up. Still got eight deaths until I lose the bet. We can go try the spider instead afterwards.” Elia checked her reflection in a puddle of water. That black vein wasn’t there before. Ten deaths would be cutting it close. “So. Any ideas on how to beat someone twice our size and quadruple our weight?”

…ask them nicely to leave?

“Alright. Apply head to wall it is.”

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You have died

“Turns out, his headbutts are stronger than mine. He’s covered in layers and layers of chainmail as well. You think I should try to mulch his head with a club instead of stabbing him in the legs?”

If you say ‘mulch’ one more time, I’m gonna hurl.

“Oh well, can’t hurt to try. Worst case, he pastes us against the cobblestone wall again.”

Blurg…

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You have died

How can you just get back up and try again like it’s nothing? Aren’t you afraid?

“Me, scared? I’ll have you know I possess extensive experience in the art of dying.”

But, but… how?

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again. Wait, do you hear that?”

It sounds like… metal clonking footsteps. What is The Old Maiden doing over here?

“Ack! Sabotage! The agents of God are onto us! No one expects the Spanish inquisition but me – quick, we must hide behind this suspiciously heavy door!”

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You have died

Elia buckled over, scratching furiously at her hips and shoulder. She found her armor’s clasps but couldn’t undo the leather and brute forced it with her already much too dull sword. After agonizing seconds, the clasps were undone, and Elia pulled the chest plate that was nearly cleaved in two from where it was piercing through her stomach wall.

Elia! Holy grug, you’re bleeding all over! Oh, oh gods, I think I’m gonna be sick again.

“Blurg,” Elia said because bleeding out intestinally was occupying most of her brain power. Hauling herself over a few feet towards the water that healed all was as much of an ordeal as two fights with the giant, but after taking a good long time to get her fill, she felt fit to respond. “Well, that’s our chestplate gone. Not like the shoddy piece did much of anything. At least we’ve got some thin cloth and mail beneath. It’s a bit cut up, but hey, we’re not flashing anybody who cares.”

Oh no. That’s bad. Really, really bad.

Elia shrugged. “It’s fine. With how it didn’t even deflect that last strike, I think we can agree that it was dead weight. Good riddance, shitty armor.”

B-but that was knight’s armor. And armor is safe, armor is nice…

“I won’t deny that my little pious friend. But don’t worry, everything will be fine."

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Everything was in fact not fine.

You have died

Elia shot up, face set into a strained smile. “Let’s try again!

Nooo!

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You have died

“And again!”

Elia!

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You have died

“And aga–!”

STOP!

Elia froze mid step, appearing only peripherally aware that she was at her ninth loop already. Ten or less was the bet. It was an odd thing to focus on in the face of repeated deaths. It wasn’t even binding.

Elia, please listen to me when I say that you can’t keep doing this. For every nick you give him, he cuts us in half, or beheads us, or sends us flying clean over the wall and you don’t seem to flinch, or care. What kind of, of… mockery of a life is this? This isn’t human. Heck, I’m not even sure I’d even want any living being to live through… whatever it is you think you’re doing.

“I’m just testing the waters. Getting used to the giant’s range. Learning the groove of his moves.”

It’s not working. You can’t win.

If there ever was a motivator that got her going, it was spite. “Fuck you, I got unlucky. I just need time!”

…that last life was shorter than some breakfasts I had.

“Well, first of all, ouch.” Elia casually started stretching. It wasn’t her waking-up-routine, but it just felt right at the moment. “But Rye, you haven’t factored in one atom sized mucho important detail.”

I’m listening.

She turned to her reflection in the healing water and set her face into the most charming smile an undead girl could make.

“Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I… have a plan?”