Coach Russell led me and uncle Uter down the dungeon stairs. His whistling was the only sound that could be heard in the oppressive spiraling hall and each step seemed to resonate with the beat of his tune as he casually ignored the unease me and my uncle were feeling.

For his part, uncle Uter was putting up a show of calm professionalism. Projecting the feeling that he was in his element down here and certainly not scared out of his mind.

'Maybe that's the secret.' I thought sullenly. 'Maybe I won't be scared if I keep pretending not to be scared. Worth a shot at least.'

Surprisingly, it kind of worked. I felt far less nervous around the Rippers now. At least, compared to how I'd been on my first day.

Each of the brief skirmishes would see one or two of them creeping in from the darkness, like specters hungry for blood. The low light of the stairs making their thick black fur shine like polished obsidian while their bright glowing eyes shone like gemstones. I would lunge with my spear, finding that I was ever so slightly faster than they were and finish the affair by impaling their throats. One after the other.

Coach Russell chuckled from the back.

"See what I meant kid? That's some real talent right there. You didn't even flinch this time and you haven't even been training for a full month! Tell me, what changed from yesterday?"

I stopped to consider the question.

"The spear tip went in and out more easily. It got stuck a few times yesterday." I hesitated for a second, looking at uncle Uter and wondering if I should keep going.

He looked, astonished. Giving no hint that I should be withholding information.

"They also felt... weaker. At least, weaker than the ones that live on the proper parts of the first floor."

Coach Russell's eyes shone like diamonds in the shadows. His grin so wide that it came across as maniacal, rather than elated.

"Care to be more, specific?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm asking you what about them you found weaker? What part of them was inadequate?"

I shrugged.

"A bit of everything, I guess. Their eyes weren't tracking me as well. The Rippers on the first floor always give me the impression that they know more than they should. Their eyes are always alert and they move a little bit every time I move in any direction. They even react when I twitch or when I shift my hands around my spear. The ones up here just kind of, stare out into space. Like they're zoned out or something. They're also slower when they do react. The ones on the first floor always turn their bodies and heads at the last minute. Even after you crippled them. They fight with everything they've got until the very end. These ones, they can't seem to muster up the same amount of energy."

Coach Russell's laugh was as loud as an erupting volcano. Almost shaking the very foundations of the dungeon walls as it echoed down into the blackened depths.

"You see!? You see Uter!? That's what I'm talking about! Your nephew is, what, fourteen? And he's already noticing details like that! You've got a damn prodigy on your hands I tell you!"

I started feeling heat gathering around my face and ears.

Then, I felt the embarrassment giving way to bitterness.

'He says that, but Marco, Ramji and Drew are all my age and level 1. Without the explosive boosts to their stats. Any one of them could make me look like a toddler in diapers without putting in any effort.'

Maybe coach Russell thought this was an easy way to win me over. Excessively showring me with compliments until I started being more receptive to his methods.

'Nice try old man. I'm not that easy to trick.'

"I, is that so? Yes. Of course." Uncle Uter said, straightening his back and taking on an expression that was flushed with pride. "Cecil has always been talented. I'm glad he's adapting so well."

I blinked. Several times in quick succession. Not quite believing how fast his somber mood had turned.

Coach Russell noticed my skepticism and gave me and softer, knowing smile.

"I don't need to be a mind-reader to know what you're thinking Cecil. You shouldn't put yourself down like that. Again, you haven't been doing this for very long, while your schoolmates have been prepping for delving their entire lives. Your progress is nothing short of incredible, but talent is only 20% of that. Your hard work so far is the biggest reason for your gains. Keep it up and you'll catch up in no time at all."

I nodded slowly. Recalling my goal.

"Yes coach. Lead on."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The first floor was just as dark, musty and dingy as it had been yesterday. Its stone trees casting deep shadows where the faint light struck them.

It retained a harrowing stillness even now. Despite it being filled to the brim with hostile lifeforms. Sound had a way of passing through the solid trunks and the deadened branches that made any errant whisper seem like it was both near and far away. So much so that I'd often find myself turning around in panic, convinced that there was a Ghoul right behind me, only to find nothing but empty stale air.

Coach Russell, who'd been walking at the center of the group and to my right, didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Uncle Uter wasn't so composed. If anything, he was turning around more than I was.

Though, perhaps that was a blessing. An indication that he wouldn't be taken unawares so easily.

The Rippers down here were definitely stronger and swifter than the ones on the stairwell, so paranoia was completely warranted. They were smarter and more coordinated too. Slipping in and out of cover and darkened corners like ghosts in a cemetery. Testing our reactions in groups of three or four at a time. Two coming from one side while another pair flanking us from the back. Their sharp yellowed teeth a stark contrast to their natural camouflage, so that they sometimes appeared as floating, slobbering jaws with bright eyes hovering over them.

Uncle Uter never failed to whimper when he saw one. Coach Russell yawned on occasion, but otherwise remained silent. Curiously, his bored demeanor spooked the Rippers to no end and they tried trudging around him in order to have a better position from which to get at us.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Coach Russell would end their pretensions by kicking off the ground. So hard that a small crater formed in the spot where he'd been standing. His movements were followed by loud squelching sounds and clouds of erupting viscera. As if someone had thrown a rotten carcass from very high up and allowed it to explode against a layer of concrete.

The Rippers in front of us only moved their eyes. A motion that would have been imperceptible to me a week ago.

I saw my chance and lunged. Thrusting my spear as I did charged forward so that the momentum carried over to my blow.

I took the left one in the eye, causing the right one to leap forward. Razor-sharp fangs splitting the air in front of them and aiming for my throat.

I abandoned the spear in an instant and dove to the side. Dodging the bite entirely while putting some distance between us.

The Ripper gave chase. Murder and vengeance evident in its cruel stare.

It took two strides, and yelped. As uncle Uter swung his battle-axe at its torso. The hefty thing penetrated the thick fur but got stuck in the thick cords of muscle beneath. The Ripper reeled and turned its attention to him. Discarding any semblance of self-preservation in favor of taking down one of its attackers. I drew a spare knife from my belt, just as coach Russel had taught me. In a motion so swift and graceful that it almost stunned me into inaction. I hadn't taken the time to aim. After all, I hadn't meant it to be anything other than a distraction. A glancing blow to take its attention away.

But the blade didn't land on its torso or its back or its legs. Instead, the tip found one of its eyes and kept going and going. Lodging itself deeply into the socket.

The monster staggered, mouth slacking and drooling. Then it fell onto its side. Unmoving.

I stared at it. Stunned.

Uncle Uter also stared. Somehow more surprised than I was. He looked at me, then at the Ripper's still warm corpse and then back at me again.

We just, stood there. Stupefied by how, well that had gone, until a whistle cut through the silence.

"That, was some show! Good job guys! Especially you, Cecil. Those reactions were top notch. Now then..." He said, stopping in between us. "Make your way over here gentlemen. I've brought down 14 of them on my end and they need to be finished off."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We kept our current pace for another hour. Striking down six more groups of Rippers and a group of Ghouls before we came upon our destination.

It was a wide cylindrical stone that rose up from the ground. Roughly one meter tall and seven meters across. Four people were sitting atop it. Legs crossed as they chatted about this or that.

None of them seemed to care about the hundreds of rapidly dissolving bodies re-uniting with the floor beneath.

I recognized one of them as Coach Homer. Sporting a bloodied tank-top and stretchy yoga pants. Next to him were the other members of my team. Marco, Drew and Ramji. All of them wearing the same kind of heavy plate that me and uncle Uter had been given.

Their conversation stopped abruptly once they saw us and my schoolmates sauntered over excitedly. Once more ignoring the piles of shattered bones they had to step over in order to reach us.

"Hey man! Good to see you." Marco said, patting my back in a jovial manner. "We were getting kinda worried you know? Haven't really seen you around town, haven't seen you delving, haven't seen you fishing. There was a rumor going around that you couldn't move anymore."

I looked over at him. Noting the way his armor appeared much smaller than it actually was when he was wearing it. His thick cords of muscle stood out far more than any other characteristics and the poor suit looked like it was about to snap at the seams at the slightest flex. It was, nothing short of impressive, even drawing some of my attention away from the hefty club that he balanced on one shoulder.

Which was saying something, because the thing was bigger than he was.

My smile was, a little forced.

"I've been doing a lot of running. And drills. And studying. But mostly running."

"Yeah, we've been running too. Coach Homer made us sprint all around the first and second floors all day yesterday."

"Is that, normal for you guys?"

"Nah man. I thought I was gonna die."

"Yeah." Drew agreed. "That was really uncalled for. I mean, I got a new skill so I ain't complaining too much, but damn. That was really rough. Ramji almost cried."

"Hey! I wasn't crying! Stop lying to the new kid!"

Drew made a rude noise.

"Yeah right. You weren't crying. You were just moistening up your cheeks. Is that it?"

Ramji waved her off.

"Don't listen to her Cecil. If there's anyone you can count on, its me. I'll have your back today."

"Yeah you will. In that, you'll be behind him when he's fighting."

"Hey! What are you trying to say right now!? Are you saying I'm scared?"

Drew put her hands up and retreated somewhat.

"I mean, you said it. Not me."

"Don't worry about it man." Marco cut in. "We know you're only scared of long blue blouses."

Ramji stammered. Then reddened.

"First of all! I didn't see the laundry line and it was dark! I thought it was a ghost! Second of all! I told you that in confidence!"

"Yeah. That was fine. I can keep a secret. But you also told Emma and she can't keep a secret to save her life."

"Dammit Emma! How could you do this to me!?"

"Chill out man." Drew snickered. "Only twenty or so people heard."

"Twenty!?"

"Yep. Well... twenty, so far."

Part of me expected one of the coaches to say something. To break up the spat so that we could get on with our business today.

Neither did anything however.

Coach Homer stood off to the side. Visibly annoyed, but content to wait until the squabbling had ceased. Coach Russell was snickering at the comments. His face betraying the fact that he would have loved teasing them both right then and there.

I rolled my eyes and went back to where uncle Uter was standing. His face was pale. A fact that stood out even in the poor lighting of the stone forest.

"Uncle Uter? Are you all right?"

"I, yes. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Uncle Uter, you said you were fine three times in a row."

"I know. I'm just, a little winded. My training so far hasn't been this, fast paced. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll make sure you're okay."

My eyes sauntered over to the coaches again. My mind recalling how utterly overpowered both of them had shown themselves to be.

"Maybe it'd be better if you trained a little bit more upstairs before coming back down here uncle."

"Nonsense. I'm an adult. You guardian. I have to be here for you. Especially if you're going to be in danger."

I paused at that. Feeling a pang of guilt overtaking me.

Uncle Uter sounded like a patient on life support and was wheezing like someone who'd been smoking two packs a day for the last fifteen years.

'He needs a break.' I decided suddenly. 'He's too old and too out of shape. Any lucky hit could kill him.'

I realized just how true it was as soon as I'd thought it. Uncle Uter had lived a mostly sedentary lifestyle before coming here and it showed. The mere act of running would have been a struggle. Not to mention doing so while wearing heavy armor and lugging around a massive axe.

No.

This was way too dangerous for him.

I needed him to back off. At least for now.

"Hey, uncle. What does your Analyzer say? What's you highest stat?"

"Endurance. At 1.2."

I really, really tried to keep the pity out of my expression.

'He's been trying so hard. Coming back half dead every single day. All that training. All that running and fighting, for a measly fifth of a point. How? Is it his age? Or is this the difference in talent that coach Russell was talking about?'

Belatedly, I realized that there was real possibility of him stumbling at a critical moment. So that he didn't come back home.

'No. I'll make sure that doesn't happen. Uncle Uter can relax. I'll do the fighting for him. For all of us. It won't matter what kind of core he gets if I get a good one.'

"So? Let me see yours."

I flinched.

Turning my head to my own device and showing him.

Name:

Cecil Fowler

Core:

None

Level:

0

Vitality:

1.8

Endurance:

1.7

Potency:

1.4

Precision:

1.5

Fortitude:

1.5

Skills:

None

His eyes went as wide as saucers while his jaw hit the floor.

His own expression was a mixture of pride and shame as he turned his head to face me.

"This only means that I need to work harder for you, Cecil. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you worked harder for this family than me."

I smiled at him. Genuine relief washing through my body and mind.

"Don't push yourself too hard uncle. This might be because of the whole talent thing coach Russell was talking about. I'm not working nearly as hard as you are." The lie came easy and I saw that it made him feel better.

"I'm fine, really. You can take a break after today. Do some paperwork for the company. You know, the thing they hired you to do?"

"I...I...uh." He took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly regaining some of his color as the blood rushed back to his face.

"No. Absolutely not. I am your guardian and this is a literal murder hole. You are not going anywhere without me."