Several other groups entered the dungeon while Elijah and Avery waited. Group sixty-one had three small, green-skinned creatures in simple leather armor wielding crossbows, and a bearded behemoth of a man with no shirt and two sizable hammers strapped to his back. Sixty-two seemed to be lacking in quality. Of their four members, none were more intimidating than the man they’d seen at the recruitment stand back in Volville.

“Group number sixty three!” shouted a red haired woman in Goldwing attire. She looked down her hawkish nose at them as they approached.

They arrived to find David and another woman already waiting. The woman had long black hair kept in a bun and wore gray and purple armor that had seen its fair share of confrontation.

“Are you the last two members of group sixty-three?” the red haired woman asked.

“We are,” Elijah said. “Do we get a prize?”

“No,” the Goldwing clerk said, deadpan. “Here is our current map of the dungeon. The green areas mean safe, red means dangerous. Your job is to go into the red and kill any monsters. Make sure to find and mark new areas that are unmapped. Any questions?”

The woman snatched the map from the clerk’s hands and started to study it

David opened his mouth to ask a question.

“No? Great. On your way, then.”

“Actually, ma’am, I do have one question,” the unknown member of group sixty three piped up. Her voice was nasally and shrill, as if she was midway through a cold. “What is the chain of command like down in the dungeon? Who will we be reporting to about our findings and accomplishments?”

“You report to any full Goldwing member.” the clerk said, waving her hand. “And I don’t care. Figure the rest out yourselves. Now get going.”

“Right away, ma’am,” the woman said. She spun on heel and strutted toward the dungeon, then glanced back over her shoulder when she realized that nobody was following. “What are you waiting for? A written invitation? Get moving.”

“You sit on a stick on the way over?” Elijah asked as the three fell in line behind the woman and headed into the dungeon.

“Very funny. Humor isn’t going to get us anywhere in the dungeon,” the woman said as they descended into the darkness. Lanterns lined the walls, casting faint green light onto the mossy steps. “The map says we’re in the green for at least the next ten minutes or so, so we might as well establish who’s in charge.”

“Let me guess,” Elijah deadpanned. “You’re volunteering yourself?”

“Do you have issue with that? The Goldwing organizers told me that I was the highest level in our party - I’m level 7. Unless they were misinformed, and you’re actually higher than you reported?”

“Guys, we should just all try to get along,” David said, clapping them both on the shoulders. “Do you want to hear the story of the time I fell out of a tree and landed perfectly on my head?”

The woman flicked his hand off, disdain in her eyes. “Don’t touch me, please. It’s clear that none of you have ever been in a dungeon before.”

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

“Actually,” David started.

“Therefore, since I have no choice, I will take the burden of leadership.”

“If everyone were as magnanimous as you, the world would truly be a marvelous place,” Elijah said. The sarcasm was so thick on his words that it practically dripped.

Avery shot him a sharp glance, but he gave her a one-shouldered shrug in response. He couldn’t help it. The woman reminded him a bit too much of the organizers back on earth that had assigned him his tasks. Bureaucrats. Elijah grimaced. He hated the lot of them.

“My name is Beck. Everyone, share your status with me so I know how to best use you in a fight. Here is mine.”

Beck Dell

Elf [Level 7]

Class: Mage

Strength: 12

Agility: 12

Endurance: 10

Intelligence: 21

Wisdom: 15

Charisma: 14

Luck: 2

ABILITIES

Ice Blast

Illuminate

Grasping Vines

Telekinesis

Elijah rolled his eyes, but they all brought up their stat screens. He and Avery both revealed their truncated, almost worthless screens. Beck’s eyes narrowed as she read them.

“These are cut up. You’re missing information.”

“Correct,” Elijah said.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Are you trying to work against us or something? We need to work together down here,” Beck said, turning down a fork in the tunnel and coming to an abrupt stop. She moved to face the rest of the group and crossed her arms, cocking an eyebrow.

“I killed too many orphans and got an achievement for it,” Elijah said, his voice flat. “I’m ashamed of it, so I don’t want to share.”

Beck’s eye twitched. “And what about Jane?”

“Also orphans,” Avery said. “But is this really necessary? Joe and I can both handle our own. He’s a close range fighter and I’m ranged. My main focus is strategy, though, so I could-”

“Strategy is the leader’s job. I’m the leader,” Beck said, glaring at Avery. “Since neither of you are going to be cooperative, I’ll just have to work with what I’ve got. Derek, you’re going to be our tank.”

“You mean me?” David asked. “That’s not my name. I’m David.”

“Whatever your name is. Go walk up front. That’s where the tank goes.”

“Uh, sure,” David said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’ll have to tell me when we get to the red area, though. You’re the one with the map - unless you’re going to give it to me?”

“No. I’ll navigate. Joe and Jane will walk behind.”

“Wouldn’t that make it difficult for me to get to the fight if we’re in a tight tunnel and something goes wrong for David?” Elijah asked. “It would make more sense for me to be up front with him.”

“No, we need our melee fighters spread out in case we get ambushed,” Beck said.

Elijah shrugged. He really couldn’t care less, and he suspected Avery felt the same. If Beck wanted to play the leader, she was welcome to. Her survival wasn’t necessary, and the two assassins could take care of themselves. If anything truly went south, he was pretty confident they’d be able to escape.

The group started off walking again, now in their new formation. David tried to start a conversation several times, but Beck always cut it off before he could get anywhere. For that, Elijah was almost thankful. Almost. He found that he actually preferred David’s incessant chatter to the stiff woman.

Over the course of the next ten or so minutes, they pressed deeper into the dungeon, winding through halls and passing battle-scarred rooms. The lanterns grew more and more sparse until they stopped completely, replaced by faint glowing moss that lined the walls and floor.

“Here,” Beck said, holding a hand up. “This is it. We’ll be entering a red zone right after this curve. Do whatever you need to in order to be ready to fight.”