The week that had elapsed since Charlie spilt the beans about his new life had been nothing short of bizarre. His parents, who he'd initially thought would be sceptical, had plunged headfirst into accepting this new reality. After speaking with Tyler's nan, they had even allowed Tyler to stay over, something she was grateful for, given Sean's sudden return to town. The guy had been suspiciously quiet, making polite visits to their nan and asking after Tyler's well-being. It baffled Charlie. Could a leopard really change its spots? He highly doubted it; Sean had been a thorn in their sides for years. The guy had a track record of bullying and manipulation, and Charlie didn't buy this new, courteous version for a second. But Sean was the least of his worries right now. The dungeon's loot room was set to open when it advanced to Level 3 tomorrow.
For the moment, Charlie was back in their makeshift base inside the dungeon, eyes narrowing as he focused on a distant target across the cavern. Practising had been a logistical nightmare this week. Tyler, ever the gym enthusiast, had convinced him to work out, showcasing his own realm. Charlie had to admit it was kind of thrilling. While he was close to Tyler's level in terms of raw strength, his physique was different, leaner, built more for agility than bulk. Probably a by-product of his stats, he thought; balance would be key in this new life.
His parents, meanwhile, had gone into full-on parent mode. They'd practically reinvented his wardrobe despite his protests. They had also transformed the base camp, adding better cooking amenities and a basic bathroom setup. But the pièce de résistance was the barricade. The eight-foot-tall wooden wall was a marvel, considering it was built in just a few days. All it took was a massive delivery of logs to their home, and Charlie's ring did the rest.
His dad had been practically buzzing with excitement. A project like this would usually take weeks of hard labour. But with the ring, the logs practically stacked themselves. They even managed to add a catwalk for added surveillance. At the centre was a solid metal gate, operated by a pulley system, much like a medieval portcullis. When lowered, it slotted into grooves in the logs and ground, rendering it unmovable from the outside. It was weirdly satisfying to see it all come together so efficiently, to see his parents and Tyler adapt to this utterly insane chapter of his life.
Charlie unleashed a volley of three Arcane Bolts, each glowing with a vibrant blue energy. They struck the spare wooden log he'd designated as a target, making it rock back violently before splitting at the point of impact. A grin crept onto his face. It was evident that firing off three bolts simultaneously had a sort of compound effect, dealing far more damage than if he'd launched them one at a time. "Fucking brilliant," he muttered to himself.
His eyes then darted to the translucent stat sheet that hovered before him, particularly the "Mana" value that had appeared last week when he first deciphered the scroll. His max mana was listed at 39.6. Charlie had worked it out fairly quickly; it was a simple equation tied to his Intelligence attribute. Currently, his base intelligence was 12, and thanks to the 10% bump from his title, it had been boosted to 13.2. The total mana was then this intelligence multiplied by his current level. What this meant was that every time he levelled up, he'd see an increase in his mana pool.
However, the mana regeneration rate was a bit more complicated. Currently, his mana ticked up by 0.66 points every minute, taking exactly an hour to recover from zero to full. At first, Charlie had suspected that this rate was somehow tied to his Wisdom stat, which also sat at 13.2 thanks to that title boost. If his math was right, he was recovering at a rate of 5% of his Wisdom stat every minute. It was still a theory, but he couldn't confirm it unless he increased his Wisdom higher than his Intelligence. If the regen rate increased, then he'd know Wisdom was the influencing factor. If it remained the same, well, maybe one hour was just an arbitrary recovery period.
Walking back through the barricade, Charlie settled into one of the camp chairs surrounding the firepit. Carter, the only other person present, handed him a cup of coffee before sitting next to him. A stretch of silence unfurled between them, a tension that felt weightier than the average pause in conversation.
Charlie observed Carter from the corner of his eye, picking up on his friend's fidgety movements. Carter was usually like the Energizer Bunny, always talking, always active. So when Carter went quiet like this, Charlie knew it meant something serious was on his mind. Urging Carter to speak would likely just elicit a wisecrack to break the tension. So, Charlie opted for the quiet approach, letting his friend fill the silence in his own time.
He took a sip of the coffee, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for the espresso machine back at home. It was a small comfort he missed in their rather austere setting.
"I'm worried about Tyler," Carter finally said, breaking the silence. Charlie looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. He could tell that while Carter was speaking the truth, that wasn't all he wanted to say. Looking at his friend, a wistful smile tugged at Charlie's lips. He was now the same height and slightly more muscled than Carter, who'd always prided himself on his athletic agility. Carter looked deflated, shoulders slumped and face drawn.
Yeah, Carter was jealous, of the attribute gains, the magic, the newly chiselled physique. But Charlie also knew that his friend was proud of him for those very same things; he had seen it in Carter's eyes when he beat him at the Ninja Warrior obstacle course last week, a glint of genuine happiness and pride masked by feigned annoyance. This wasn't about jealousy.
"His nan turns 80 next week, Charlie," Carter continued. "Tyler's freaking out about what might happen to her if shit hits the fan. She's lived in that house for 60 years, mate. Tyler tried to talk to her about moving, just as a 'what if' kind of thing, and she shut it down immediately. Said she'd die in that house." Charlie felt his stomach tighten. The implication was clear, and it added another layer of pressure onto his already burdened shoulders.
"He's scared, Charlie," Carter said, his voice tinged with raw emotion. "If you fail, he thinks he might lose not just his best mate but his nan too, the moment the dungeon overflows."
The weight of Carter's words hung in the air, merging with the flickering shadows from the firepit. Charlie took another sip of his coffee, no longer noticing its lack of quality, his mind whirring as he processed the gravity of what had just been shared. It wasn't just his own life and newfound powers at stake. The risks were far-reaching, affecting people he cared deeply about. And damn, that was a heavy load to carry.
"I'll give everything I have to prevent that," Charlie said, his voice thick with emotion, his breath catching in his throat. "That's the fucking problem, mate," Carter shot back. "Tyler's afraid you'll give everything, that you'll die trying to stop it instead of giving up. We all know you'd do exactly that, and that's why we're scared shitless."
Charlie was taken aback for a moment. Was he really that relentless? Sure, he'd tackled every hellish obstacle this shitty life had chucked his way. He'd stood up to bullies, never backing down even when it would have been easier. That's how Tyler had become his shield in the first place, and as he pondered it, he realized that he'd already been gambling his life in these deadly dungeons, all for the sake of protecting the people he loved.
As his eyes met Carter's once again, he noticed that Carter was staring intently at him. His friend's gaze was so focused that it looked like he'd finally settled on what he wanted to say. "I'm not like you, Charlie," Carter confessed, his voice tinged with an emotion that Charlie interpreted as self-reproach. "I think I would have run away." His eyes looked hollow. "Last time the dungeon changed, I found out I'm a coward. You, my disabled best friend, ran straight toward a bunch of six-foot-tall murder bunnies to protect us. And me? I was sitting in a fucking camp chair, pissing my pants."
Carter's eyes were wet now, the tears spilling over. "I did nothing. I was too scared to move. There will be guardians tomorrow, and the thought of standing there doing nothing while you fight them makes me sick. I'm scared that I'll die and get you killed in the process." Charlie was speechless for a moment, the gravity of Carter's admission settling in. Then Carter added, "When this all started, I kept wondering, why you and not me? But now, I know you're exactly who should've been chosen. I'm bloody proud to call you my friend."
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Carter got up to leave, but Charlie, rising to his feet, spun him around and pulled him into a tight hug. Through tears of his own, he whispered, "When the time comes, I know exactly who'll be by my side. And I don't for a second believe you'll leave me to face it alone. I'm scared too, but losing you all is a fear that tops it. So, I'll fight to make sure that never happens." They held each other for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Carter finally broke the silence, his voice shaky but laced with relief. "Prick."
Both burst into laughter, the tension evaporating in the warmth of their friendship. Carter, now seemingly back to his old self, sat down again and wiped his eyes, but the weight of their words lingered, grounding them in the gravity of the challenges that lay ahead. Charlie sauntered over to the barricade, his eyes falling on a couple of spears leaning against the wooden planks. These were the same ones he had snagged from the kobold village's storage room. Picking them up, he turned and tossed one towards Carter. As he'd expected, his friend's reflexes didn't disappoint; the spear was caught mid-air with a swift motion.
"Come on," Charlie goaded, a grin tugging at his lips. "You're fucking useless with a bow. Let's give this a go; you've got to be good at something." The slight chuckle in his voice was just a jab, a nudge to lighten the mood. "You're on," Carter replied, laughing as he rose from his seat.
Both boys moved away from the glowing embers of the fire pit, seeking out a clearing that would serve as their makeshift arena. Carter's expression was a mix of excitement and nervousness, a cocktail of emotions that Charlie knew all too well. But despite Carter's recent confession about his fears and self-perceived cowardice, Charlie couldn't help but believe in his friend's abilities. After all, Carter had been a constant in his life, a source of unwavering support even when things went sideways.
They squared off, eyes locked, each reading the other's body language. For a moment, the weight of the world, the dungeon changes, the guardians, and the threat to their loved ones, faded into the background. Right now, it was just two friends sharing a moment of reprieve before the storm.
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Charlie perched on the barricade, peering down at the pulsating portal below. He was geared up, sword at his side and a shield strapped to his back, waiting for the dungeon to shift and the next round of guardians to make their appearance. Despite the impending battle, a sense of calm pervaded him. If the guardian turned out to be the massive, monstrous Leviathan, the plan was straightforward: everyone was to get the hell out of there before it could fully materialize. Simple as that.
His mind raced through the strategies they'd discussed. If the pattern held true to their last encounter, they'd be up against three Kobold leaders. They'd painstakingly built this barricade, speculating its location to be just within the guardians' roaming range based on their last bout. It was a gamble, but Charlie doubted the guardians had full rein over the entire cave system. The barricade would offer them a fighting chance, a layer of defence they'd lose if forced to venture out into the open.
Looking at the faces of his friends, Carter, Ellie, Tyler, and his brother Ryan, Charlie couldn't help but think about how much they'd all adapted to this chaotic, life-or-death world. Though he was itching to test out his arcane bolt, the urge was eclipsed by something else, something more important. He wanted them to experience battle, face down their fears and come out stronger on the other side. And what better, or safer, way to do that than under his watchful eye? He hadn't shared this little detail, this tiny tweak in the plan, but he was resolved. If it was the Kobold leaders they were to face, he'd stay back, ready to intervene but allowing them to take the lead. Let them test their own mettle, he thought. God knows we're going to need it for whatever comes next.
Surveying the ragtag band beside him, Charlie's eyes first landed on Carter, who stood gripping a spear, visibly shaking. "You look like a shitting dog, mate," Charlie thought, his lips curling into a half-grin. Charlie couldn't shake the memory of yesterday's spear training with Carter. They had both started clueless, holding the spears like oversized toothpicks, uncertain and awkward. But after watching a handful of YouTube tutorials on basic stances and thrusts, Carter had immediately gotten the hang of it. His friend's arms had moved with a newfound fluidity, spear-point consistently hitting the makeshift target they had set up. The transformation had been swift, almost unbelievable. Carter's knack for the spear was undeniable, yet here he was, shaking like a leaf. "Nerves," Charlie surmised. "Just nerves."
His gaze shifted to Ellie, her eyes locked onto the cavernous void before them. She was battle-ready, bow in hand, an array of arrows at her feet. The taut line of her jaw and the concentrated furrow of her brows made her look fierce, like some ethereal archer pulled from mythology. Her blonde hair, usually flowing loose, was now tied up in a high ponytail, revealing the curve of her neck and lending her an air of unwavering focus. A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through him as his heart rate picked up, an almost involuntary reaction to her warrior-like appearance. "Damn it, focus," he inwardly scolded, forcing his eyes away.
Charlie cast a sidelong glance at his older brother, Ryan, who stood gripping a longsword with a seasoned warrior's ease. They had spent the past week training, not with the real deal, but with wooden staves meant to mimic the heft and length of a sword. Despite being a novice, Charlie had taken to it naturally, each swing and parry feeling almost second nature. His body had moved as if it had known the form and technique all along. But a real longsword was a different ballgame; a quality piece could easily run into thousands of pounds.
His dad had offered to buy one, a generous gesture, but Charlie had refused. He wasn't ready to let his family drop that kind of money on a whim. "Maybe the loot room will have something," he thought, clinging to that small hope. Besides, his ideal sword had to meet a litany of specific criteria.
At first, he'd romanticized owning a katana, the kind glorified in films and anime. But Ryan had been quick to burst that bubble, scoffing at him to get his "head out of the clouds." Katanas weren't the end-all-be-all, and they certainly weren't going to magically make him a better fighter. No, what he needed was a longsword—a versatile piece that he could wield with one or two hands. Something balanced for quick, fluid movements but with enough weight to do some serious damage. Yet it couldn't be so large that he'd be hamstrung if they ended up in another tight space like those damn tunnels, and maybe, just maybe, the loot room would deliver.
Tyler stood a little farther down the barricade, clutching a fireman's axe like it was an extension of his own arm. It was a heavy, unwieldy thing for most, but in Tyler's grip, it looked deadly, every bit as menacing as a medieval weapon of war. He'd opted for the axe because, frankly, it suited him. Where the spear demanded precision and finesse, the axe only required power and will, attributes Tyler had in spades.
A spear was propped against the wall next to him, just in case. He'd admitted that in a pinch—say, defending the wall—the spear might offer a reach advantage. But for now, the axe was his preference, and the way he wielded it, it might as well have been the weapon of legends. His eyes had that glint, that look of a man ready to face down any odds. With that axe in hand, Tyler seemed like a figure plucked straight out of some ancient saga, ready to carve his own myths into existence.
Meanwhile, Charlie's parents lingered near the entrance of the cave, a complex dance of worry and resolve playing across their faces. His dad was outfitted in old, somewhat battered training armour that had been stashed away in their garage, armour that had once served Ryan in mock battles. The older man gripped a fireman's axe similar to Tyler's, a look of quiet determination etched into his features. He had wanted to join his sons at the barricade, yearning to stand beside them, but ultimately chose to remain back.
Charlie knew the unspoken reason well enough; Dad wouldn't leave Mum vulnerable, alone at the cave's entrance. She was the reason he stayed behind. She wasn't a fighter, but her presence carried its own form of strength—silent but potent. The look in her eyes as she watched her family prepare for combat was a cocktail of love and terror, mixed with a dash of undeniable courage. She was their rock, and Dad's duty, as he saw it, was to stay beside that rock, a last line of defence should anything go awry. At that moment, gazing at his family and friends, each bracing for whatever lay ahead, Charlie felt a sense of complete, albeit anxious, unity.
Charlie's eyes locked on the portal as its surface began to churn, oscillating between different shades like some cosmic mood ring. About half a minute, he thought, his internal clock ticking each second away. It was an excruciating wait, each moment stretching taut as a bowstring. He could feel the tension hanging thick in the air, almost tactile, like a heavy mist. His friends, no doubt, were experiencing the same jittery anticipation, weapons at the ready for whatever hellish guardian would come forth.
Then the portal stopped its swirling dance. The colours merged into a glaring white, so vivid it seemed almost unnatural. Charlie blinked, adjusting his eyes. Any second now, the guardians would appear, or so he thought. Instead, a notification popped up before his eyes, overlaying his vision with text.
The Conclave of Precursors has started
You have one week
What the hell was that supposed to mean?