Chapter Thirty-Five: The Djinn

As I gazed out over the market, the pungent aroma of burnt spices and charred bread from a nearby vendor's stall enveloped me, while the sorrowful sounds of merchants and the creaking of old wooden tables conjured a pang of guilt in my chest. What did I do? And then that guilt was forgotten as I spotted a loaf of uncharred bread on a lone table. No one is around. I could easily hop down, and! No! Stop! As I eyed the lone, uncharred loaf on the table, a shadow flickered at the edge of the market—patrol guards.

Any move towards the bread could draw their attention, but my growling stomach urged me to risk it. I had almost jumped down. A brief shock of pain passed through my body as I relived my last death. I clenched my fists, willing myself to wait just a little longer. Once I had my gold, I could buy food.

I glanced down at the open window below, a mere ten-foot drop. With a deep breath, I swung off the ledge, my fingers finding quick purchase on the sill, and slipped inside with a thud that echoed in the empty room.

I walked further into the room, and the familiarity hit me like a punch to the gut. The arrangement of books, the lack of wardrobes, the stark absence of chairs – everything was identical to the previous room. Just as I was taking it all in, a floorboard creaked softly behind me.

“Hello. Can I help you?” A voice inquired gently. I spun around, my bowstring pulled tautly, and faced the intruder. Wait, I’m the intruder here. I immediately lowered my bow.

The green crystal hovering above the penitent's head seemed to pulse with a soft, gentle light, and I felt a sense of wonder at the sight before saying, "Woah, you’re a penitent, too?." He was about six feet tall and had copperish hair cropped reasonably close to his head. His eyes had a warmth and humor that mine had lost since coming here. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm Rod. Guards are currently chasing me, and I need to change my armor so I can hide from them."

As we spoke, our voices echoed off the walls, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation creeping in, my hunger pangs, and the guards' pursuit weighing heavily on my mind. I needed to get to my corpse.

"Hello Rod, quite the predicament you've found yourself in," Klericho chuckled, tapping his staff against the ground. "I remember my early days well. The guards? Always itching for a fight. Gave up trying to dodge them eventually. We have an understanding now.” His fingers tapped a staccato beat on the worn wooden staff, his eyes glazing over as his gaze drifted away.

“Anyway, I'm Klericho. Been stuck here on the second floor for a while. What run are you on? I can tell you're running the Archer build. I could never get the hang of it. A lot of useless abilities like Scan."

My eyes froze on his face, and my mind momentarily blanked as I took in his words. Is this guy crazy or something? Frustration bubbled up inside me, my words laced with a touch of sarcasm. I couldn't hold back, “Scan useless? Just when I thought you might be worth talking to. I’m on my Fifth run, and I know more than you already.” I turned to leave, headed away from this waste of my time.

“No! Wait, I promise you don’t want to head out just yet. I know you’re hungry, and it’s not a good idea to be around food here when you are.”

I paused, thinking back to how I had been unable to control myself when I exited the sewer. “That’s why the guards are after you, isn't it? What’d you do, steal a loaf of bread?” The other man laughed, thinking he was back in control of the conversation. So, I changed topics for him, hoping to keep him off guard.

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“If Archer is so bad, then which classes are worth using? Which one are you right now?”

A shadow of something, maybe anger, crossed the man’s eyes, but he responded kindly.

"Cleric.” I grimaced—the worst class. “I would be a Summoner, but it's on cooldown for me. It is the best class. Elemental coverage through these cute little summon things," He looked wistful as if he was imagining his past again. “And then the class comes with staff mastery, too.”

I furrowed my brow, my eyes narrowing as I repeated, “Staff Mastery?”

“Oh, it's great; it means infinite staff casting without fear of the staff breaking. It's impressive with the Goblin's poison staff, but it's way better if you can get that necrotic bolt staff from the Necromancer boss. It's almost impossible to die with that class. It’s crazy powerful, especially against the lower-level goblins you’ll be facing soon. You can easily clear a horde of 20 Goblins.”

My stomach growled loudly, and I noticed a glint in the other man’s eyes. But I ignored my stomach, needing the information the other man was sharing. I knew it. I knew magic classes were the way to go here.

“What? If that’s the case, why are you still stuck here?”

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Well, about that. The floor is currently broken. There’s no way to beat it.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. How could a floor be broken?” I shook my head in disbelief, mouth agape and a pit burrowing in my stomach. Of course, my stomach took that as a sign it needed to grumble again.

“It’s because of the Djinn,” he said, pausing dramatically as though I should know the term.

“What’s a Djinn?” I asked, feeling stupid.

“Well, you’re just full of questions, aren’t you? It’s a demon, essentially.”

“Oh wow. A demon. Very helpful.” His dour face told me he did not appreciate my sarcasm.

“No one is sure how, but The Djinn, the secret boss of the floor, usurped control. He’s practically invincible. And no matter how many times you clear the

“Look, I’m just tired. I feel like I’ve been in this place for a week without sleeping.” I faked a yawn. It wasn’t exactly true, but I was tired of the conversation.

Klericho raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face, yet he continued. “Tell you what, 20 gold for the night, and I’ll even throw in some bread for now and a warm meal for when you wake up.”

I was about to protest and say I wasn’t hungry when my stomach growled uncontrollably. “That obvious, huh?“

“You did say you were avoiding the guards. Wasn’t that hard to put two and two together. Breakfast will be ready for you around 10 hours from now. And make sure you close the shutters. The sun never sets here.”

“But I’m not sure I can afford it.”

[You have plenty of gold, Rod].

“Crystal says I only have 15 gold.”

[What did I say about lying, Rod, this isn’t a good idea.]

“Now I know for a fact that is a lie. I’ve run through the first floor over 60 times; the lowest amount of gold I ever made out with is 25.” His eyes narrowed.

I shifted nervously on my feet.

“It isn’t a good idea to lie here. It attracts unwanted attention.” His eyes flickered side to side as if looking for something.

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. “Yeah, Crystal has told me a couple of times.” His anger faded swiftly. He sighed, “Just give me the gold, and we forget this happened. Cross me again, and we’re done, though. I don’t have time for the unrepentant.”

I was so hungry I didn’t even process what he had said until I was squared away in the bedroom holding a loaf of bread. I devoured it in seconds; the dry, hard dough tasted better than anything fresh from the oven.

When I was finished eating, a bare straw bed awaited me, its single pillow forlorn without a blanket. I hadn’t felt tired, but the second I hit the pillow, I blacked out.