Chapter Six

“Is he dead, Daddy?” a small voice said.

“No, honey. Just…sleeping.” A deeper voice replied.

Ambrose Severen stirred, twisting his face as consciousness returned. He blinked his eyes. What…oh. Right. He remembered the roots that encased him in a dark, wooden tomb. The fog that covered his mind began to recede, and Ambrose immediately assessed where he was at, and if there were dangers. Ignoring the pain that flared in his broken nose.

In some kind of cave. People were around, including one large, bearded man near me and a little girl. No direct threats. Ambrose took a breath and leaned up.

“Whoa! Easy, easy there.” The man said, putting a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder. Which was no longer armored. Ambrose looked down at himself, running a hand over his chest and feeling the rough brown tunic he now wore. The people around him wore similar clothes, not at all what they had been wearing in the cages previously.

“How long was I out?”

“A long time!” Piped up the girl. Ambrose identified her as the little girl he had first seen when laying eyes on the camp.

The man beside her looked like a bear made flesh. He had huge, thick forearms with corded muscle and thick brown hair all along them. His full, brown beard would have made Vikings envious.

He laid a hand on the girl, who had to be his daughter since they shared the same warm brown eyes, though her hair was blacker than a raven's feathers. His hand threatened to engulf her, that was how big it was.

“My little girl isn't half wrong. You've been out for hours.”

Ambrose took stock of the large cave they were in, the sounds of clanging on rock could be heard. The man answered Ambrose’s unasked question.

“They moved us. Took us on boats across a lake. Took us deep into this cave and made us mine these crystals. We are on break now.”

Ambrose nodded, gesturing at himself. The man shrugged.

“Had us remove the armor from you. Reaver took it and your axe.”

Ambrose arched a brow upward.

“That's the bald-headed meanie head,” the little girl answered, her face twisting in obvious disgust.”

Ambrose didn't have his cloak, either. He could feel it though, the warm presence of Noelle now one of concern and fear. For him. In a way, that's nice. Ambrose thought. At least someone still cared about him.

“What are your names?” He asked.

The bear man put a hand on his impressively wide chest.

“Darren. My daughter is Jenny.”

A bullet of grief pierced Ambrose, his eyes suddenly watering as if he had been stung. His heart thumped, and he clenched his hands tight, his throat constricting like a boa constrictor.

“You okay, mister?” Little Jenny asked, worry lining her face.

Ambrose took a breath, closing his eyes. Master yourself. Just like Raylen had taught him all those years ago. Ambrose swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Any plans in motion to escape?”

Darren snorted, an impressive sound from him.

“And go where? We didn't even get here on purpose. When the System hit, a portal just opened up and swallowed us. We appeared in the middle of this forest a long with a bunch of others and those root monsters captured us.”

Ambrose looked around at the weary, scared expressions of the others. A man with bronze weathered skin spoke up, stroking his long white beard.

“Besides, escape is impossible. We'd all just get killed, facing those root nightmares.” His voice was as weathered as he was, but lighter.

Ambrose leaned back against the cave wall.

“So what? You'd all rather just give up?” He tried to keep the heat out of his voice, the judgment. He didn't entirely succeed.

Darren growled at the same time the old man crossed his arms, bringing his eyebrows together.

“We'd rather live. That's what we'd rather do.”

I can't believe they'd just give in like this. Ambrose shook his head. He opened his mouth but Darren made a chopping motion with his right hand.

“No. We aren't trying to escape, get it, stranger? It's a death sentence.” His eyes flicked to his daughter, who looked very uncertain.

Ambrose pressed his lips together and nodded tightly. I'm not going to force them. Not quitting, either.

“Do any of you have a class?”

Head shakes all around. None of them are level ten, then. That is a bummer. Even with that setback, Ambrose couldn’t imagine just giving up.

“I'm Ambrose,” he stated.

Darren nodded, shaking his hand. The old man glared dagger at Ambrose, huffing out a breath.

“Thomas,” he said curtly.

The other woman looked up from a corner. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and her features were too sharp to be beautiful.

“Andrea,” she said softly.

Ambrose nodded at them all. He walked to the roots that were shaped into tight bars to hold them all in. He gripped them and pulled as hard as he could, his muscles bulging tight against his skin.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“No use,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a finger.

“Ah, our little troublemaker is awake, hmm?”

The bald man strode into the chamber, a wry smile on his lips as he regarded Ambrose with his feces-colored eyes.

“Anyone ever tell you your eyes look like droplets of shit set into your skull?” Ambrose inquired.

Reavers face instantly went purple, swelling up as he lifted a finger and jammed it at Ambrose’s face,

“You shut your mouth if you know what's good for you, stranger. I think we'll drain you next.”

Spittle flew from his mouth, splattering against Ambrose's face.

Faster than a striking viper, Ambrose grabbed Reaver's finger and yanked him against the roots with one hand. His purple face slammed into the roots, the sound echoing around the cave, Reaver letting out a startled cry.

Ambrose reached out with his other hand and gripped Reaver around the throat, squeezing. Reaver's throat constricted under his hands, his strength stat putting in a showing.

“I don't know what level you are. Higher than I am, for sure, but you're a mage if I ever saw one. Know what my wife used to call mages?”

Ambrose smiled at the man wolfishly as he squeezed, and squeezed, he leaned inward.

“Squishees. Apt, don't you think?”

Reavers eyes were wide, inflated looking, like bulging white and brown cysts. The veins were starting to look like leeches.

“You have one chance to live. Just one. Open this cage.”

Instantly, the roots formed. The cage around them fell apart like someone had sprayed them with pesticide. Ambrose lessened his grip just a bit on Reaver's throat.

“Thank you so much.”

Then he redoubled his efforts, his lips spreading upward in a polite little smile as he squeezed the life out of Reaver.

Reaver produced the dagger from somewhere, trying to stab Ambrose, but Ambrose was ready and jerked him to the side, handling him as easily as you would handle a child's toy. He missed with the dagger and dropped it a second later as Ambrose slammed him into the wall of the cave, splitting his head open. Blood ran in a stream from the wound, staining the cave wall and passing over his hands

A child screeched. Ambrose ignored her, still squeezing, staring into Reavers bulging eyes. Fire coalesced in Reavers hand, the heat hot enough to burn him. Ambrose was a practiced hand at ignoring the pain.

He slammed Reavers' head into the rock again, this time the sound of crunching bone filling the air. Someone made wrenching, gagging sounds. The fire in his hands went out. The light started leaving Reavers' eyes. His throat was bulging in and out, and his chest was attempting to bend inward. The mage was thrashing now.

Almost there. Ambrose thought as he calmly strangled the mage. A second later, it was over. Reaver's body went limp, his muscles becoming more akin to flaccid dish rags. Ambrose kept squeezing for a bit to make certain. A notification unfurled in his mind.

[Trait Gained-Ruthless [Uncommon]: You have established yourself as willing to perform cold, ruthless actions. You have gained +10 in strength and +20 in willpower.]

[You have defeated Reaver-A level 35 Warlock! You have gained increased experience due to defeating an enemy beyond your level. You have advanced to level 22 and may select two new skills from select generated options. See skill choices now?]

Ambrose dismissed the notification for now, choosing instead to loot the body.

“You’re looting the dead!” The blonde hair woman shouted.

Ambrose said nothing. Under Reaver’s robes he found a simple brown bag, looked to be made of burlap. Ambrose used [Insight] on it.

[Lesser bag of holding.]

Ambrose spread his lips in a smile. Alice used to say that bag of holdings were goated. Ambrose extended his thoughts toward the bag like he would a skill and clenched his fist in triumph. A mental inventory of the bag contents appeared within his mind, and his armor and axe were there. He quickly put on everything.

“Daddy! He’s naked!” Jenny widened her eyes, opening her mouth in a little ‘o’. Darren covered her eyes, watching Ambrose warily. The blonde-haired woman blushed but drew her eyebrows together, tugging her lips downward as her eyes gained a wary look. She took several steps away from Ambrose as he hefted his axe after donning his armor. He turned to the others.

“As I see it, you have some choices to make. You can stay here, and I am sure a replacement for our friend Reaver here will be a long. You’ll be able to continue being slaves and likely sacrificed to whatever they’re doing down here,” Ambrose began ticking off fingers as if going over a list.

“You can go it alone and try to get out. Finally, you could come with me, and we can attempt to leave together. All these choices are dangerous, but at least with the latter, you might retain some dignity and have some hope of a better future than this,” Ambrose waved a hand around the room.

Ambrose put his axe in his bag of holding, which he belted to his waist and crossed his arms. His foot began tapping as he regarded Darren and the others. They shared glances before stepping away from Ambrose, hushed whispers emanating from the huddled groups.

Little Jenny tried to stick her head out of the small group, looking at Ambrose warily as if he were a dangerous animal that she wanted to pet regardless. Ambrose smiled gently at her, his chest tightening slightly. A memory surfaced unbidden as he looked at the little girl's face.

“We are going to have a boy, a little prince all our own! What should we name him?”

Alice was in his lap, looking up at him as they sat on their living room couch. Ambrose tucked a raven lock behind her ear.

“I told you we’re having a little princess.”

Alice stuck her tongue out at him, slapping his chest.

“And I told you that we’re having a boy. Now come on, names. Gimme.”

Ambrose’s lips twisted upward. Traitorous lips, he thought.

“Fine. Only if we get to pick out a girl's name, just in case.”

Alice rolled her eyes,

“Deal. I’ll seal it with a kiss if you want.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. Ambrose chuckled, his chest rumbling; he bent down and captured his wife’s lips with a loving kiss.

“Alright. What my princess wants, she gets. How about Ryan?”

Alice pulled away, eyes low, a smile making her lovely face even more radiant. A moment later, she tapped her chin with a finger.

“Mmm. I like it. Ryan. Yes, it’s perfect!”

Ambrose tapped her nose.

“How about Daisy for the girl's name?”

Alice wrinkled her nose,

“No thanks. I knew a Daisy once. Absolute monster.”

Ambrose cocked his head, chewing on his tongue. Alice spoke up.

“How about…Jennifer? Jenny for short.”

Ambrose smiled widely. Yeah…it’s perfect.

“Hey! Mister? You there?”

Ambrose blinked his eyes, looking down. Little Jenny was tapping his knee, frowning. Darren and the others were closer now, looking at him.

Ambrose swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, spaced out. What did you all decide?”

Darren stepped forward, pointing at the corpse.

“You put us all in danger with that stunt. Acted without thinking about any of us. If we come with you, we want assurances that you won’t do that again.”

Ambrose arched a brow before shaking his head.

“I did you a favor. That man was going to use you up for labor and then kill you for something. I'm not sure where it is now, but I saw the dagger he killed that woman with. It drained something out of her. That was going to be your fate. I’m going to do what I need to do. I want to get you all out safely and communicate where possible, but I have my own goal. I will achieve that goal. If you come with me, that’s the deal.”

Darren looked at the others, all of whom shifted their faces into expressions of uncertainty. The blonde, Andrea, blew out an explosive breath, throwing up her hands.

“For God's sake! We don’t have much of a choice, do we? At least he knows how to fight. Our best chance is with him! Even if he is a crazy person.”

“I think he’s nice! The bald meanie hurt people. Mr. Ambrose just stopped him. Like Batman or that deadly-pool guy!”

Darren rubbed at his face, muttering,

“Should have never let you watch that with me.”

He looked up at Ambrose, eyes narrowed,

“Fine. I guess we don’t really have a choice. Lead on.”

Ambrose nodded.

“In a minute. I have some advancement to see to. Then we will get going.”