Chapter Seven: The First Death
~Run 1, Room 1R, Floor 1, Sewers of Aerlyn~
Burning with a desire for revenge, I burst into the room with a battle cry, only to be met by an unsettling emptiness. The room was starkly barren, too: no torches, no chests, no monsters, and notably, no stench of rotten bodily waste. It felt like an afterthought, a forgotten corner of the dungeon, devoid of purpose or presence. Or was it? “Crystal? Are there secret rooms?”
[Yes, but there is not a hidden room here.]
“So it's got to be back in the Necromancer’s room!” An orb the size of my head and pulsing white light descended from the center of the flooded ceiling. My eyes shone brightly for a second, and then I grabbed for the memory core that had crystallized in front of me.
{Memory core 2/???}
{Would you like to view the memory core} {Y/N}
~~~~~~~{Memory Core 2 Start}~~~~~~~
I was back in Pauper’s school, sitting at my broken desk that always leaned too far to the right. The cracked wooden surface wobbled precariously under my arms, making it a constant struggle to keep my papers and books from sliding off. Professor Perrod stood at the chalkboard, his back to the class, writing with his characteristic sharp, angular script.
“Little is known about Penance. Rumors and secrets hoarded like currency mean seldom few facts make their way to become everyday knowledge.” His voice was a low, gravelly murmur, but it carried through the room with an eerie clarity. The dim light from the high, narrow windows made it difficult the see the board, but we all managed anyway.
I couldn’t remember his face clearly—the magic of Penance had eroded those details—but his words rang in my ears as if he had spoken them just yesterday. “What we do know is that secrets in Penance are meant to remain just that. The more you uncover, the harder your time in Penance will become.” The students around me sat in rapt silence, their eyes fixed on the professor, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease.
As I listened, a chill ran down my spine. The secrets of Penance were tantalizing enigmas, forbidden fruits that promised both enlightenment and peril. Professor Perrod paused his writing, turning to face us, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Remember,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, “knowledge is power, but in Penance, it can also be a curse. Choose wisely what you seek to uncover, for some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.”
~~~~~~~{Memory Core 2 End}~~~~~~~
I stumbled as I returned to reality—the image of the teacher fading, but the words lingering like tattoos. A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I felt an eerie sensation like an invisible hand tightening around my throat. With bravery I didn’t know I had, I decided to look for a secret room anyway. I backtracked to the Necromancer’s room, deciding that a room as large as that must have a secret or two.
For about a minute, I shuffled through the room, fingers brushing against the central altar's cold stone and the surrounding forest's rough bark; my eyes fruitlessly scanned the room for hidden mechanisms or clues. I kept looking for a trace of hope, for some secret to unveil itself. That hope reached a crescendo as my fingers depressed something on the underside of the altar. But the room remained silent. No hidden doors, no sudden monsters. Only a mystery to solve in the future. Frustration nipped at my resolve as I acknowledged the fruitlessness of my search.
With a crestfallen sigh, I returned to the empty room and through the same grey door with a rusty handle every other room held.
~Run 1, Room 2R, Floor 1, Sewers of Aerlyn~
Upon entering the next room, my hopes and fears were realized. In the dim light of a flickering torch, two rats scurried back and forth past a lone crate. The torch's flickering light cast elongated shadows of the rats, adding to the eerie effect of the sewage defying gravity.
I tightened my grip on my weapons and dashed forward, my weapons a blur as I swung them at the two rats. The dice clattered loudly against the stone floor.
[You deal 4 damage to Giant Rat 1 and 4 damage to Giant Rat 2.]
I grimaced at the damage numbers, thinking they’d be higher, noting it was a bit odd that they both dealt four damage. Maybe the Potency bonuses didn’t stack with each other, or maybe they didn’t do what I thought they did.
The rats, visibly weakened, moved slower, still attempting to attack. I couldn’t help but laugh as their teeth failed to pierce my armor.
"Crystal, are you sure I'm going to die? That Necromancer was laughably easy, and now these rats can't even harm me. I'm going to clear this floor for sure." I laughed even as I read Crystal's comments:
[Hubris does not become you, Rod. These are but the weakest enemies in the dungeon, and the Necromancer took a third of your health in the only attack it got off. It will be challenging to clear that fight in the future especially if the Necromancer has summoned any Minions. Besides, you still need to make it to the boss on the floor. No one has ever cleared the first floor on the first try. Not even Elric when he was here.]
“You mean that story is real?” I said as I struck for both rats again. I missed the rat with my sword, but my mace connected with the first rat again.
[Yes, Elric the Founder was the first penitent to clear the dungeon.] She paused and then, in a more monotone voice, said, [You deal 5 damage to Giant Rat 1.]
Under the crushing force of my mace, the first rat crumpled, its body collapsing like a deflating balloon, much to my grim satisfaction. The remaining rat launched at me but failed to overcome my defense. I brushed it off and laughed, then swung both weapons at it. The dice rolled. The rat tried to dodge, but my mace connected with a satisfying crunch.
[You deal 4 damage to Giant Rat 2.]
I noticed the telltale sparkle, signifying they had loot to drop. The dice rolled, and I got an additional 10 gold coins. I exited to the final room of the floor.
~Run 1, Room 3R, Floor 1, Sewers of Aerlyn~
As I entered the room, the oppressive stench of rot and decay hit me like a wall. The thick, putrid odor made my eyes water and my stomach churn. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint sound of dripping water that practically boomed in the silence. I knew this was the final room because a set of stairs led down from beyond a metal grate.
Sewage defied gravity, flowing upward in a bizarre spectacle. Each droplet sparkled sickly green in the torchlight, splattering on the ceiling and filling the room with an unnatural dance of sickly, green rain. Even with the gravity askew, a lake surrounded the path I was standing on, which was somehow dry despite the sewage everywhere; in the center of a raised platform stood 3 goblins focused on casting a ritual around a sickly green altar the same color as the sewage freely flowing around the room.
My gaze landed on the largest goblin, bile rising to my mouth as I noticed the slimy layer of sewage that seemed to flow freely from his pores. His hulking form was adorned with patches of worn cloth and decaying iron armor and helm. His eyes gleamed with a twisted need to kill, and his long, matted hair was streaked with filth. He wielded a massive, crude club made from a piece of broken pipe, ready to swing it with brutal force.
The second goblin had a sinister grin permanently etched on his face. An odor so foul I could smell it over the rancid stench clinging to every surface of the dungeon wafted from his direction, and my eyes watered. His skin was coated in a grimy mixture of sewage and a black, tar-like oil. He wore an assortment of scavenged metal scraps as a wizard's robe, and his fingers ended in sharp, elongated, blackened nails. This goblin clutched a gnarled staff adorned with leaking vials filled with toxic-looking liquids, hinting at his penchant for poisonous trickery.
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The final goblin was the smallest and most agile-looking of the trio. His sinewy build allowed him to move quickly despite the slippery terrain. He was covered in tattered rags and clutched a pair of sharpened daggers, his eyes gleaming with cunning and malice. His movements were fluid and unpredictable, making him a dangerous adversary.
None of the goblins turned to face me despite the slam of the metal grate behind me, locking me into the fight. I facepalmed, realizing I had forgotten to loot the crate in the previous room. Hubris would be the death of me.
"Crystal, quick," I whispered urgently. "Equip my Necrotic Staff. I need to take potshots and run around the platform. It's my only chance at killing them."
[I am sorry, Rod, but you cannot equip a new weapon while in combat.] My face fell. I couldn't believe I unequipped the staff to dual-wield my weapons like an idiot. Crystal was right. I was going to die.
[Take heart, Rod. Even though you will die against these goblins now, you will reawaken as if nothing has happened; even better, whatever damage you deal before you are inevitably slain will stay through up to 5 runs before the boss encounter resets. Additionally, your loot corpse will stay through up to five runs, so unless you fail to reach this boss chamber, you will receive your rewards. Now, go forth, and die!] Crystal's words echoed in my mind, pushing me into a frenzy. With reckless abandon, born of a desperate need to stave off the pain of death, I lunged forward, my weapons slicing through the air. The dice rolled, and I let out a premature victory whoop. [You deal 4 damage to Gurgle. You deal 3 damage to Gurgle.]
I stared in horror as the goblin didn't even flinch. "How much HP do they have?" I blurted out. Then the attacks came. With a swift sidestep, I evaded the club's deadly arc, but my triumph was short-lived as I gasped, feeling the sharp sting of a dagger biting into my side. Blood began to seep from the wound, but it magically closed as the goblin pulled his dagger back. From point-blank range, the goblin I attacked fired a bolt of magic that looked like gravity-defying sewage into my face.
I sputtered and coughed the vile liquid out of my mouth, vomiting a little as I viewed the notification Crystal sent my way. [Gurgle deals 4 damage. You are not poisoned. Drip deals 1 damage. You do not bleed.]
"Crystal, help me out here. What are their stats? What are these things even called?"
[I’m sorry, but the only information I can give you is their names and classes. Drip the assassin, Gurgle the mage, and Slikk the warrior.]
I glanced at Crystal's message, realizing I had no choice but to fight. Resolving myself to my fate, I charged at Gurgle again, aiming to make my future run a bit easier. The dice rolled.
[You deal 5 damage to Gurgle. You deal 3 damage to Gurgle.]
My attacks left me dangerously exposed, too close to Gurgle. Realizing my mistake a fraction too late, I braced myself as his attack blasted me squarely. I gritted my teeth as a wave of agony washed over me, and I fell backward into the muck below. The dice rolled. [Gurgle deals 3 damage. You are not poisoned.]
Miraculously, I dodged the daggers held by Drip, but I rolled right into the overhand swing of Slikk. He struck multiple times, each blow from his club pounding against me, a relentless drumming on my body. Panic clawed at my mind, a suffocating blanket of fear and pain threatening to knock me out. Knowing the next round would likely kill me; I attacked Gurgle with everything I had. The dice rolled.
[You deal 1 damage to Gurgle. You deal 2 damage to Gurgle.]
I let out a brief, nearly silent cry. A wave of despair threatened to overwhelm me; my attack felt like a feeble pebble in the vast ocean of this battle—three damage. I shook my head, trying to dodge the attacks I knew were coming, but Slikk was faster than I could hope to be. As Slikk slammed the club down on my head, everything went black.
~The Plane Of Torment~
I had no idea what to expect when I died, but it sure wasn’t this. I could still see the scrolls that showed what the Crystal was saying. I continued thinking despite my head caving in. Blessedly, I felt no physical pain, but emotions were a different story. I couldn’t believe I had died so quickly. I wanted to rub my forehead, but whatever was going on, I no longer had a body. Before I could process anything else, Crystal spoke up again:
[You have died. You have earned 1 death boon. End of Run 1]
Inventory
Death Boons: 7
Gold: 50
Name
Amount
Condition
Effect
Description
Iron Helm
1
10/20
Def + 2
A well-crafted iron helm that offers solid protection for the head.
Iron Short Sword
1
16/20
Deals 1-6 damage
A sturdy iron short sword with a simple yet effective design.
“Careful, its sharp!” 4 fingers Lasalle.
Iron Mace
1
14/20
Deals 1-6 damage
A heavy iron mace with a solid, spiked head.
Staff of the Necrobolt
1
17/20
Deals 1-20 Necrotic damage. Has 10% chance to blind target.
An ominous staff carved from dark wood and adorned with eerie runes that glow with an otherworldly light.
Empty bottle
1
0/0
You can put potions in this.
An empty bottle.
Equipment
Slot
Name
Effect
Condition
Right Hand
Iron Short Sword
Deals 1-6 damage
16/20
Left Hand
Iron Mace
Deals 1-6 damage
14/20
Head
Iron Helm
Def + 2
10/20
Chest
Leather Armor
Def + 1
2/15
Legs
Leather Greaves
Def + 1
4/15
Rod
Stat:
Level
Effect:
Health
0/20
Health is burned as fuel to keep you from dying.
Vitality
4
Adds 5 points of health per level
Precision
5
Precision is the likelihood of your attacks hitting your target. Each point higher than the target’s evasion adds a 5% chance to hit.
Evasion
2
Evasion is the likelihood of your opponent's attacks missing. Each point higher than the target’s precision adds a 5% chance to dodge.
And then I felt nothing.