The adventurer's guild was bustling as Alaric entered, his pack laden with spoils from his harrowing raid on the Arachne’s Hollow. Despite the exhaustion tugging at his body, there was a faint smile on his lips.
Approaching Garrick, the familiar merchant at the counter, he hoisted the bag onto the table. “I’ve got another batch for you, Garrick. Spider silk, venom sacs, and even a Broodmother’s Fang this time.”
Garrick raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “A Broodmother’s Fang? That’s a rare find for an E-rank adventurer like you.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Alaric admitted, brushing some dust from his tunic. “But it was worth it.”
The older merchant began examining the loot with practiced hands, sorting the items into neat piles. After a few moments, he reached into a lockbox and counted out 150 bronze coins, sliding them toward Alaric.
“You’ve got a knack for this,” Garrick remarked. “That’s a fair haul, young man. Be careful, though. People notice success, especially those who want to take shortcuts.”
Alaric nodded, pocketing the coins. His total savings now amounted to 1,600 bronze—just 400 short of his goal. The weight of Garrick’s words lingered in his mind, but he brushed it aside.
“Thanks for the warning,” he said before heading out.
Unbeknownst to Alaric, a group of hunters watched him from across the guild hall. They had been keeping tabs on him for days, tracking his progress and calculating his growing wealth. Among them was Derek, a level 18 swordsman with a sly grin and an even sharper tongue.
“That kid’s making a lot of coin,” Derek muttered to his companions, a tank named Bran, a mage called Selene, and a healer, Mara. “He’s green, probably doesn’t even realize he’s carrying a small fortune.”
“Think he’s got anything worth taking?” Bran asked, his voice gruff.
“He’s been saving up for something,” Selene said, her eyes narrowing. “We’ll lure him into a dungeon raid and take what he has. Easy pickings.”
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The next morning, as Alaric prepared for another dungeon run, Derek approached him with a friendly smile.
“Hey there, Alaric, right? You’re the one who’s been soloing slimes and spiders, aren’t you?”
Alaric turned, surprised but cautious. “That’s me. Can I help you?”
“We’ve been watching your progress,” Derek said smoothly. “Impressive work for someone your rank. My party’s heading into Arachne’s Hollow again, and we could use someone with your experience.”
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Alaric hesitated, his past life’s memories warning him against blind trust. But the prospect of working with a party—especially one with members stronger than himself—was tempting.
“I usually work alone,” Alaric said, his tone measured.
“Understandable,” Derek replied. “But think of it as an opportunity. With our team, you’ll clear the dungeon faster and get better loot. We’ll split everything fairly, of course.”
After a moment’s thought, Alaric nodded. “Alright, I’ll join you. Let’s get started.”
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The party of five set off toward Arachne’s Hollow, the dense forest buzzing with the sounds of insects and birds. Alaric noted the group’s composition: Derek, the swordsman, led the way, his confidence evident in his stride. Bran, the tank, carried a massive shield and walked beside Selene, who occasionally whispered arcane words under her breath. Mara, the healer, brought up the rear, her staff glowing faintly with holy light.
“This is a solid team,” Alaric thought, though a gnawing unease lingered in the back of his mind.
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The dungeon’s entrance loomed ahead, and the group wasted no time diving in. Spiderlings swarmed them almost immediately, but the party worked like a well-oiled machine.
“Bran, take the front!” Derek ordered.
The tank raised his shield, blocking the spiders’ venomous strikes. Selene cast a Fireball, incinerating a cluster of the creatures, while Derek and Alaric flanked the remaining enemies.
Alaric activated Essence Infusion, drawing energy from a slain spider to boost his agility. He darted between the creatures, his iron sword flashing as he struck at their cores.
“Nice work, kid!” Derek called, though his praise felt hollow.
As they progressed, Alaric noticed something strange: the group seemed to be holding back, allowing him to do most of the work.
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After an hour of fighting, they reached the final chamber, where the Broodmother awaited. The enormous spider hissed, its eyes glowing in the darkness.
“Alright,” Derek said, his voice calm but firm. “Here’s the plan: Bran and I will keep the Broodmother busy while Selene and Mara handle the smaller spiders. Alaric, you’ll support us with those essence buffs of yours. Got it?”
Alaric nodded, gripping his sword tightly. The plan seemed solid, but the unease in his chest grew stronger.
The battle began with a flurry of motion. Bran and Derek charged the Broodmother, drawing its attention, while Selene unleashed a barrage of fire spells at the smaller spiders. Alaric used Essence Extraction on a fallen spider to enhance his strength, diving into the fray to help.
Just as the Broodmother reared back for a deadly strike, Derek barked an order: “Alaric, cover the left flank!”
Alaric moved without hesitation, only to feel a sudden, sharp pain in his back. He stumbled forward, his breath knocked out of him, and realized too late that Bran had shoved him toward the Broodmother.
“What are you—” Alaric began, but his words were cut off as the massive spider lunged at him.
Derek laughed coldly. “Sorry, kid. You’ve been a great help, but we don’t need you anymore.”
Selene smirked, her fire spells now aimed at the ground to block Alaric’s retreat. “Thanks for softening up the dungeon for us.”
Mara, the healer, looked away, guilt flashing briefly across her face before she steeled herself.
Alaric’s mind raced as he dodged the Broodmother’s attack, his heart pounding. The party had used him, exploiting his trust and hard work to clear the dungeon before betraying him at the most dangerous moment.
“You won’t get away with this!” he shouted, but Derek only laughed again.
“Good luck surviving, Essence Sage,” the swordsman sneered. “Don’t worry, we’ll make good use of your loot—and whatever’s left of you.”
The party retreated, leaving Alaric alone with the enraged Broodmother. The massive spider advanced, its fangs dripping venom, and Alaric tightened his grip on his sword.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, determination flaring in his eyes.
To Be Continued...