Chapter Forty-Five: Run Fatigue

Ten minutes later, I sat at a run-down wooden table In Klericho's brightly lit kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and tea permeated the small, cozy kitchen, bringing a wave of comfort. The warm, golden light from a hanging lamp bathed the room in a homely glow, and my stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me of how long it had been since my last meal. Stumbling around in that maze took everything I had.

I took a long, deep breath, and my stomach grumbled. “It's called run fatigue,” Klericho said, waving his hands dramatically. His eyes twinkled with the satisfaction of sharing knowledge. I leaned in, eager for any information that could help me survive longer.

He put a piece of bread in his mouth, chewed, and then spoke again. “There's a limit to how many rooms you can explore without sleeping or dying. Depending on the class, it's two rooms for twenty-five points of stamina. It's too bad we can't just choose classes. It always bothered me that I'd get a different one every run. Some have next to nothing for stamina.” He paused, then leaned in as if he was sharing a secret. “That's why I bought this house, figuring it was cheaper than spending 100 gold coins every night." My eyes widened as I stared at the other man. My mind raced as I worried about how I would make it through this next floor, let alone future ones.

"Wait, 100 gold? A night? That's insane; how can I afford that? I barely got 500 from 4 runs through the first floor. That's insane. I can't afford that."

"Again, buy a house. It took me about 50 runs, but it was definitely worth it. I can't help you for free, but I can let you shack up here for, say, 50 coins a night. That’s the best deal you will get on this floor. I'll throw in a hot breakfast, too. I gotta keep myself fed after all."

The coins were barely out of my inventory before I jumped onto the spare bed he pointed out, and I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~Morning~~~~~~~

The following day, I yawned, stretched, and rolled out of the rough cot in the dimly lit, stone-walled room. I hadn't slept that well in years. "Death has been good to me," I laughed at my joke and, almost automatically, walked to leave the building.

"Hey, where ya going? You gotta eat breakfast." Klericho was right where I left him, head cradled in one arm while he lazily ate some bread. He pushed a plate of warm, crumbly cornbread and a steaming cup of Grezling tea towards me, the sweet aroma filling the air. He then gestured to the seat I had sat in last night.

"I stayed up late last night, and I can help you more than I have. Honestly, I felt bad about how much I waved off your abilities. Just because I failed doesn't mean you will. These crystals have a lot more power than they let on. When Crystals meld together, we can form what's called a Chrysalis."

I gave the man a blank look. “It’s like the adventuring parties of old before the king banned them.”

His eyes searched mine for a glimmer of excitement, but I just stared back, unflinching.

I threw up my hands sarcastically. "Adventuring parties, woo!" I exclaimed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Seriously, though, what’s the point?" I raised an eyebrow skeptically, struggling to hide my disbelief. "I just don’t see what you can bring to the table."

"You know, I'm trying to be helpful. You don't have to be such a jerk about it. As I was going to say," Klericho’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Evans, my crystal, can share all the floor information with us," he said eagerly as if revealing a secret weapon. "We’ll know what's coming, which items to go after, and how to quickly kill everything. The only thing I can't give you is how to beat that Djinn." That was huge. Knowing what each run had would make this a lot easier for me.

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Fine, I'll bite," I said, my curiosity tinged with suspicion. "What’s in it for you?"

"Oh, lots of things, but most importantly, I'm coming with you when you figure out how to kill the Djinn. It should probably be on a fresh run, though."

We sat for around an hour at the wooden table in the dusty, candle-lit kitchen, talking about various strategies. Thankfully, the first room I encountered was universally seen as the most complicated of the rooms, but there would be at least three more of the same scope and size. Apparently, I had gotten lucky with how easily I solved it. Klericho recounted the harrowing tale of wandering for days on his first visit to that room, unable to find his way out until hunger and exhaustion claimed him. I didn't say it, but I thought Klericho's failure stemmed more from his intelligence than anything else.

I finally ate the meager breakfast, and my mouth watered. The tea, by comparison, was just, well, tea. Honestly, it was disappointing after how good the cornbread was.

I waved at Klericho as I left, rejecting his attempt to continue the conversation. I never liked long discussions, and an hour was pushing it. I needed to get out of there and do something active.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I wound my way through the bustling market streets, dodging vendors and navigating through the throngs of townsfolk, not bothering to stop at any merchants; I did, however, ask Crystal to store everything I had gained in the first few rooms on this floor, especially the Overcharge rings. With the information fresh in my head, I figured it was best to strike while the iron was hot.

Twenty minutes later, I was on the other side of the maze-like textile district, surrounded by the smell of dye and the sight of colorful fabrics hanging from the stalls. My hunch was correct, and I was back on track for clearing another room.

~Run 5, Merchant’s alleyway, Floor 2, The Fallen Merchant city of Aerlyn~

The moment I stepped into the new quarters, beads of sweat began to trickle down my brow. The stifling darkness of the previous room was now replaced by an equally suffocating sense of constriction as if the very walls were closing in on me.

The world seemed to cave in with every step I took. My throat felt parched and tightened, as though an invisible hand was drawing a scarf around my neck, making it harder to breathe.

The tunnel ahead appeared to narrow with each passing step, its walls crowded with a chaotic jumble of obstacles. Debris from shattered crates and broken weapons littered the path, making it look as if a tornado had wreaked havoc there. Hundreds of destroyed crates, stalls, and weapons lined the hallway.

As I ventured deeper, my mind began to play tricks on me. My breath grew shallow, and my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. Anxiety clawed at my insides, making every step feel heavier. My hands trembled as I reached out to steady myself against the wall of broken and discarded wood. The rough, splintered surface bit into my palms, grounding me in the unsettling reality of this place. I carefully navigated through a large gap in the debris, only to come face-to-face with a sight that made the circus-performing rats seem almost tame in comparison.

A gray-skinned goblin was digging through the debris for something. It was muttering to itself, oddly enough in common, and screeched every time the weapon it pulled out was broken.

"No, no, not here. Not here. Kingsley mad. Kingsley most mad at Thumbs. Thumbs need to find it. Find it." He screeched again as he pulled a sword from the debris. It was plain and silver with a black flourish on the pommel. It was a complete sword and looked impressive. 'Thumbs,' then chunked it at the wall, and it shattered into a million tiny pieces. My jaw dropped. He kept digging, and I had half a mind to shoot it while its back was turned, but my mother had instilled in me the idea that anything with a brain that wasn't outwardly hostile, you didn't strike first. Where had that thought come from?

Dumb rule, especially in a dungeon, but this one time, I figured it couldn't hurt.

“Thumbs, is that you?” I called out, trying to strike a balance between intimidation and politeness. My voice was loud in the slightly confined space, and I braced myself for the goblin’s reaction.

The goblin shrieked in surprise, leaping high into the air. It landed awkwardly, then quickly scrambled to its feet, brandishing a tiny dagger in my direction. I stifled a laugh at the little guy and then made the most critical decision of my entire dungeon career. I asked the Goblin if we could be of help.

“Thumbs, yes! Thumbs help by strang-urr. Need Kingsley blue sword. Have much magic. Help Thumbs!" The goblin's eyes widened with fervor, and it gestured frantically with its hands. I lacked the magical ability to find things quickly, but I hoped that filling my inventory with as many items as possible would ease my claustrophobia and uncover some valuable treasures hidden in the debris. The sound of clinking metal and the rough texture of splintered wood filled my senses as I swept my hands through the mess.

"Hey Crystal, do me a favor; keep the notifications clear until I've finished looting everything. Oh, and scan Thumbs here."

Enemy Entry 0009: Goblin Hoarder

Thumbs!: Level 2 (The Third Tribe)

Goblin Hoarders are amiable and nice. All they care about is hoarding all the loot they can. They'll go for anything, but they like the shiniest things best. Has the Unlock Skill.

Weak point: Put a gold coin down, then smash their head in while they are distracted, you absolute monster.

Stat:

Level

Effect:

Health

5/5

Health is burned as fuel to keep you from dying.

Vitality

1

Adds 5 points of health per level.

Item drops

Amount

Chance to drop

Thumbs’ Dagger

1

100%

I began frantically sweeping my hands through the debris, scooping up anything that seemed remotely valuable. As each item vanished into my inventory, Thumbs' excitement grew, and he started hopping up and down, his screeches echoing through the tunnel.

"Thumbs thinks Bowman has many powers. Fast fast. Items poof." I had to admit; even I was impressed by how fast my claustrophobic environs disappeared down to something much easier to manage.

“I'm sorry, Thumbs, but I don't think the sword is in this area," I said, disappointment weighing down my voice as I picked up the last broken sword. Thumbs' hopeful expression faltered, and I felt a pang of guilt.