The bustling guild hall suddenly fell silent as the disheveled party of adventurers walked through the door.
Music stopped, all heads turned towards the group, staring in disbelief.
"FILTZ!" One of the patrons shouted from a few tables down.
"You've actually returned."
His words dispelled the shock that seemed to grip the others present in the hall, leading to an avalanche of questions.
"You're back. Does that mean the invaders failed to take the dungeon?" Another asked, walking and grabbing the exhausted paladin by his shoulders.
"They probably stood no chance again Lady Quinn's magic ay?"
What happened in the dungeon still has not fully registered with the party. Their legs took responsibility for their lives, as they ran out of the dungeon and back to the small village where they had first taken up the quest. As the question after question bombarded them, the memories of what had happened began to surface.
Quinn, the party’s mage dropped to her knees and sat there, gripping her staff and trembling. The others didn't seem to be much better. Filtz and Belam'Bal stood like statues, as if not even aware where their legs had taken them. No matter how much the other adventurers shook the paladin, he didn't seem to be responsive.
"Filtz? What the hell happened to you guys?" The adventurer shaking the paladins shoulder took a step back, concern etched across his face.
"Gods! Give them some space you guys." The small figure of the guild leader pushed through the mass.
"Come now you. Sit. Tyrina! Bring them some ale!"
The bar maid nodded and rushed off as the elderly kobold, with the help of the other patrons, got Filt'z party to sit down and begin to calm down. Ale after ale was brought, the shell-shocked adventurers began to unwind. Not a single string was strummed, not a single question uttered, until Filtz and gang finally realized where they were.
Alcohol did its work to loosen their lips and strengthen their spirits, as the party began retelling what had occurred on the sixth floor of the dungeon and their encounter with the human invaders.
The patrons listened, atmosphere in the hall quickly turning somber. Lanterns were lit to ward of the dark as the sun had already begun to set.
Finally, one of the patrons interrupted the party in their story, with a question.
"You guys did get paid right?"
Filtz nodded.
"Yeah. The elves paid in advance."
"How did that man tame all the lizards? I've heard Gungams cannot be trained or reasoned with."
Asked another patron from the back row.
More and more question arose, the patrons of the guild hall burning with curiosity. It seemed to Filtz that their number has seemed to increase, and he was right. The news of them returning from the dungeon spread across the village like wildfire, and any adventurer that was not on duty rushed to guild hall to see it for themselves. Many of them were shocked by the story they had heard, almost unable to believe it.
Platinum tier adventurers that survived only because of one man's mercy.
This went on long into the night. The ale flowed until the barrels were empty. The guild master offered Filtz and his party rooms for the night, to sleep off their drunkenness, free of charge.
Morning after, the hungover party stumbled out of their rooms and down to the main hall for breakfast. Unanimously, they've decided to take a bit of a breather from high difficulty missions, as the money they've gained from nearly losing their lives in the elven dungeon, was enough to keep them dry and fed for a while.
As the others ate, the paladin was checking out the quest board. Looking over the board again and again as if searching for something, he finally turned to the bar maid that was walking past him.
"Tyrina. What happened to the dungeon defense request? I knew it was kept up for a rather long time."
"Oh, that? It was taken down. The guild association has been dwelling on whether to take it down or not for a while now, but your story last night really sealed the deal. Despite how much the Vatur elves are paying the guild to keep the request up, so far, you're the only group of adventurers to actually return from the dungeon." Tyrina explained.
"And considering they've reached the sixth floor, according to you guys, and are probably even deeper in the dungeon by now, the guild association deduced that the adventurers who undertook the quest are dead. Considering the only exit is past the human invaders or the portal gate on the last floor of the dungeon, guarded by elite elven guard. And the latter is more inclined to kill deserters." The bar maid continued.
"We've lost 3 parties, over 20 platinum tier adventurers since the dungeon had opened. Some to the dungeon monsters, most to the invading humans. But the guild association is pulling back and denying all further requests for that quest. There are plenty of other quests and bounties for you guys to take."
She patted him on the back and went back to her duties as Flitz stared blankly at the bullet board for a while longer.
***
Floor Eight. At this point, the advance of the dungeon clearing unit was unstoppable, not that they had much issue with the dungeon to begin with. Most monsters capable of thinking had fled back to their lairs, avoiding to share the same fate as the goblins and adventurers from the upper floors. The only thing that stood between Clyde's unit and finally reaching the portal gate situated on the tenth floor were the elven troops that guarded it. Archers and mages, desperately trying to stop the inevitable. If they turned and fled through the portal, they would be executed on the spot for allowing such an important objective to fall into the enemy hands.
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Composure abandoned them and reason was not far from doing the same. With each step that the human invaders got closer to the next floor, the more violently the elves responded. Fear of death and being backed into a corner with no escape overwhelmed even the most disciplined of minds.
Fireballs, lightning bolts, highly volatile spells that threatened the integrity of the dungeon’s chambers and tunnels, were used without hesitation. Such strategy has offered a tiny bit of success in, at least, slowing down the humans. What they did not know, is that their desperate attempts at extending their lives actually worked.
"Clyde." Jeremy walked over to the tall man, who was leaning against a wall.
"Orders from above."
"Orders?" Clyde responded, raising his eyebrow.
"Yes. We are to pack our shit up and get back out of the dungeon immediately."
"Whaat? But we are so close to the portal gate. Just a few more dead elves and this fucking slog of a mission is done." The juggernaut in heavy armor protested.
The soldier sighed and continued reading the order from his portable screen.
"The Gate Outpost Beta has been entirely obliterated. Along with Spider SAM's 1 and 2. The Crab never made it through the portal."
Clyde's face went from an exaggerated whining expression to a much more serious look. He simply looked at the man, nodding for him to continue reading the report.
"At 22:30 elves launched an attack, took out the smart gun turrets, but were pushed back by the soldiers defending the outpost and the first Spider that had breached the portal. The sudden appearance of a cloaked, glowing figure turned the outcome. Single handedly this mage took out the first Spider, then closed the portal gate by just clenching her fist, slicing the other Spider that was emerging through the gate, in half. Long story short, the unknown mage, clearly an ally to the Vatur kingdom elves, dispatched two of our SAM's, blew up the generator and then burned the entire outpost and all remaining guards there to ash and rubble. No hostages."
"Hmmm, that does sound like a predicament." Clyde clasped his hands together and squatted, as if thinking.
"Dum du-dum, du-du-du-du-du-dum, dum-du-dum." He began humming a tune to himself, clasping his hands to the rhythm, of what seemed like Mozart.
"Clyde!"
"What? I'm thinking!"
"What is there to think about? We've got orders. Besides, that mage might be on their way down here." Jeremy argued with the unit’s commander.
"Hey. Don't threaten me with a good time. But yeah..." Clyde sighed and stood back up, turn to the rest of his unit.
"Alright boys and girls, ready to breathe some fresh air? Pack this shit up and let’s go."
The beauty of modern military, at least in Clyde's opinion, is that everything could be packed and unpacked in a matter of minutes, should relocation be needed. Even Marcel's lizards were pretty easy to transport back to the surface.
Above ground, near the entrance to the dungeon, a camp was made which served as base of operation for the extermination unit below ground. Considering how most people were vary or downright scared of the invaders, and for good reason, the defense that consisted of a fence and a few armed guards on rotation worked perfectly to keep the camp without any issues from the locals. On top of that, the majority of the forces that the elves hired were entering the dungeon through the portal gate on the tenth floor and not the dungeon entrance on the surface, so adventurers did not come near the camp either.
Clyde, despite acting disappointed that they had to abandon the dungeon assault so close to the final floor, was glad. He felt the entire mission so overwhelmingly one-sided, almost losing all hope in this world being able to provide any challenge that can't immediately be gunned down. The mention of a mage capable of taking out an entire outpost and go up against a heavily armed war machine alone excited him. Plus, a man of his stature hated being in small, enclosed spaces for long and on top of everything, the dungeon smelled like mold.
"So, where do you think they'll send us to next?" Marcel asked, catching up to his friend.
"No clue. I hope it's not another dungeon." Clyde responded with a shrug.
After about an hour of walking, the unit finally surfaced. Deep breaths were taking, airing out the smell of stale mold from their lungs with fresh autumn.
"Fuck, this air smells good bruh." The commander said with a grin.
"You know what this place could use? A Burger King."
"Get the fuck outta here." Jeremy laughed, along with the rest of the unit.
"This is the first time you've inhaled un-polluted air, and the first thing you can think about is polluting it."
"Can't help it. I need that toxic grease in my system to stay running. If your arteries aren't clogged by double cheeseburgers, are you really living?"
Laughing and in high spirits, the unit walked back into camp and headed straight to the briefing tent.
Two soldiers inside saluted Clyde as he entered.
"I assume the higher command didn't just pull us out of that hole to have us standing pretty in this here field. So, what are the new orders?" The tall man in heavy armor asked as he sat down in a chair on the side.
One of the two soldiers approached, reading the orders off a tablet device in his hands.
"The new mission is a diplomatic one. One of the natives, an ally to the Vatur elves, has requested an audience with the extermination unit located by the dungeon. That would be us."
"No shit. Continue."
"He requested unspecified help from the unit, offering in return protection within his borders as well as a safe path to one of the portal gates, which are currently guarded by his troops." The man finished reading.
"Interesting. And what is the name of this whimsical character?" Clyde asked.
"Duke Perriman, Sir."
"That's a name or?"
"A title."
"So a Duke? In alliance with the elves, offers us a deal." The tall man nodded, processing what he had just heard.
"They have even sent an emissary to escort us there, so that we can easily enter their borders without having to deal with the guards or soldiers from the Dutchy." The second soldier added.
The unit spent a bit more time getting properly informed one the mission ahead. Duke Perriman, in his own letter, stated that he would be the host and take care of them as guests. The only request he made, was for the unit to ditch their vehicles and heavy equipment, and travel as incognito as possible, as there were eyes on him. Clyde had assumed the Duke implied elven spies were watching over him, which made sense, considering he was an ally to them. He was not a fan of being under equipped for the job, but if those were the constraints of the mission, so be it.
Since the Duke had offered to their host and take care of accommodations, the camp outside of the dungeon was to be disbanded and return to Outpost 1, as it was no longer needed. To keep movement fast and discrete, the unit size for the mission was reduced to almost half its members. Two Warhounds, being Clyde and Marcel, along with the closest members of the unit, being Jeremy and a few more.
Those leaving on the mission had gone to get some shut eye, while the others already began to dismantle unnecessary parts of the camp, so the entire thing could be gone come sunrise.