Thrash’s eyes snapped open with a start, his heart thundering in his chest as the sound of splintering wood shot from beside his makeshift bed. He blinked against the dim candlelight, trying to orient himself, but his mind was foggy, clouded by the kind of deep sleep that seemed impossible to shake off. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, struggling to make sense of the scene unfolding before him.
Mush stood triumphantly atop a small pile of broken wood, chirping smugly to herself. The remains of what had once been a perfectly functional - albeit amateur - shelf lay scattered across the floor, his dungeon materials for sale now entangled with splinters and debris. Mush nudged the pickaxe hanging on the wall with her clawed arm, sending it clattering further into the chaos.
‘Mush, why are you wrecking the place?’ Thrash grumbled, sitting up and wincing at the stiffness in his back. He cast a weary glance at the remnants of the shelf, but his irritation couldn’t quite manifest. ‘I was sleeping.’
He checked the clock, groaning. It wasn’t even 6am. His interface didn’t even denote any urgency.
Mush let out a sharp chirp, scrambling from the wreckage to the counter. ‘Mush requires your consciousness. Mush doesn’t believe that Pierre will be joining you today.’
Thrash’s tired body snapped into action. ‘Excuse me?’
He immediately checked his messages, but Pierre hadn’t reached out to him. He scanned through anything referencing Pierre, dread rising through his bones as various possibilities impressed themselves upon him from the depths of his imagination. He glanced across the dark room, his senses refusing to note any outliers.
‘What do you mean, Mush?’ he asked the AI.
She chirped again. ‘A brief portal chime suggested that alternative Adventurers were on the way. I appear to have been mistaken. You should likely clear up this mess.’
He swore at her, but then the portal chimed, echoing into the room. No message appeared on his interface. He looked at Mush. ‘Was that what happened?’
She nodded. He swore again, bringing up his interface. He found Pierre’s name and sent him a quick message, then followed up with a message to Una.
1 second ago: Thrash: Pierre, are you able to come? Something weird is happening on my end.
1 second ago: Thrash: Una, portal chiming but no visitors. Any advice?
Pierre replied almost instantly.
1 second ago: Pierre: I were just about to message yer. I’m getting a restricted access note. Seems yer have a booking for the day?
1 second ago: Thrash: God dammit. Will keep you updated. Sorry, fella.
1 second ago: Pierre: No worries, sir. Hope all is okay. Will work on the farm ‘til yer ready.
An Adventurer is on their way. Please close all interface windows and await arrival.
Thrash, fearful of a repeat of Chuck, stayed behind his counter and placed Sigrid where he could easily reach her. He knelt beside the remains of the shelf, pocketing everything before shooting back up, ensuring his new spell was front and centre. His mind spun as fear circled around him, his body almost convulsing. He swore at his pacifier, wishing upon a thousand shooting stars that he could put anger to his advantage - that he could swap out his fear and be the Adventurer that he used to be. Instead, his hands shook as he drank from Mummy’s Tea Set, his mug providing a 15% increase to his intelligence. At least that would help with his new spell.
‘What am I missing?’ he asked aloud, mind swarming with tension.
Mush buzzed, moving to the top right of the room. ‘A bedroom?’
He swore at her again, rubbing the back of his hand against his sweaty head. ‘Probably, Mush. That and some concrete opening hours. I need a damn wash.’
The portal shimmered, Thrash staring at it from behind the counter. It emitted a pulse, not dissimilar to when Chuck had walked through. It felt different to Una’s entrance, or Thron’s - who he hadn’t even noticed. However, the end result was the same. It pulsed again, Thrash noting two figures stepping through, materialising in the darkness.
Two? Thrash asked Mush.
They are a party - they count as one Adventurer, she informed.
Thrash gulped, his back wet with apprehension. The two Adventurers stepped forwards, their faces finally appearing in his vision. The first was a tall woman, her class seriously having affected her appearance - at least, Thrash hoped as much, for her sake. She wore a cloak of tattered green fabric, its edges wispy with trailing smoke, a hood casting a short shadow over her eyes. Yet, in the dim light, Thrash noted some of her features - especially the buck teeth that protruded through her lips, a permanent sneer on her face. Her yellow, snake-like eyes were darting around the room with a calculating edge, like a predator searching for a weakness. Everything about her felt off - unnatural and unsettling.
Beside her shuffled a small man, no taller than Thrash’s chest, clad in dark green robes that were several sizes too large, dragging along the floor like the train of a wedding dress. He moved with a nervous energy, his head constantly bowing towards the woman as if awaiting her approval. His face was round and heavy, his sunken eyes glittering with a manic devotion. His bald head shone in the darkness, covered in sweat. His presence made Thrash’s senses tingle, uncomfortable.
The woman spared Thrash a disinterested glance before looking down at her minion, who’s eyes shone back up with immense reverence, as though she were a goddess. Thrash quickly inspected the two of them.
Juliet: Level 5
Race: Human
Class: Toxic Witch
Anthony: Level 3
Race: Human
Class: Cultist
Thrash considered the pair as they quietly murmured together. If Anthony was a cultist, it was more than likely that the witch was the leader. The way he looked up at her said as much - and the disinterest she sneered down upon him echoed the fact. Juliet settled her eyes on Thrash’s, while Anthony whispered up at her.
‘Welcome to Starr Eternal, Mines for the Everyday Hero,’ Thrash said, hands on the counter. His nerves were rocketing, his voice almost breaking. He tried to shake the feeling away; it hadn’t been like this with Mary - why was it now?
Mary was small, Mush said. And Mary offered you reverence, Thrash the Brash.
Juliet stepped forwards, the little man leaping to stay in front of her, acting like a bodyguard. He even had his fists raised, eyelids thin. Some of Thrash’s fear dissipated, the sight quite humorous. Juliet opened her palms up to the ceiling, looking up, and then bowed her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony’s gravelly voice took its place.
‘You stand in the presence of Juliet, part leader of the Starr-Crossed Lovers,’ the man said. ‘Offer your deepest respects, Thrash the Brash.’
Juliet’s eyes widened. Thrash initially expected her to speak out against the cultist’s outburst, but instead, she raised an eyebrow expectantly. Thrash felt his temper raise. He was fairly sure that he’d never bowed down to anyone - especially on his own turf - and especially as Thrash the Brash. He straightened his back, flexing the few muscles that he had, and exhaled deeply. He sniffed at the pair, crossing his arms.
Juliet waved a hand dismissively, the bald man glaring at Thrash before stepping aside. ‘Forgive little Ant,’ she said, her voice far more squirrely than he had anticipated. ‘I expect he will hold a grudge for that.’
Thrash assessed the man again. He was decidedly unafraid, despite the trembling in his stomach. ‘No Dungeon Master will bow to an Adventurer - regardless of any grudges. How can I help you?’
Thrash’s interface dinged, Una finally returning his message.
1 second ago: Una: Seemed to be a slight glitch again. I can see that they’re with you now. Let me know if anything odd happens.
Thrash dismissed it, Juliet closing the gap between them. ‘My guild requires the use of your dungeon. Had we known that this was where the mighty Thrash had concluded his training, we might have chosen differently.’
Thrash raised his own brow at that statement. ‘I’ve offended you?’
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Your presence is offending, Mush said. Brigwell was unassuming. You look like a man-child.
Juliet moved towards the stairs, inspecting them as she spoke to him. ‘Your very presence is offending.’
Mush buzzed in silent agreement.
Juliet continued. ‘You represent Adventurers that demolish, break, and ruin - all for personal gain - though, your aura seems to be much softer than I expected. My guild desires equality and fairness, all of us levelling for the greater good.’
Thrash couldn’t help but snort. The two Adventurers were likely as influential as he was in his current state. Juilet’s eyes flashed in anger, but Thrash didn’t hold back his own opinions. ‘When you say guild, you mean cult, right?’
‘What’s the difference?’ she snapped, cheeks red. Her buck teeth inhibited her intimidation. ‘We all strive for the same thing - a chance at the leaderboards. We want to be the best.’
Her eyes darted in her sockets, evidently using her interface, and Thrash spotted the little man doing the same. They were strategizing. He sent a quick message to Pierre.
1 second ago: Thrash: Two Adventurers. Part of some cult; Starr-Crossed Lovers. Ever heard of them? Bad vibes.
Thrash could feel the tension in his body, but dismissed it. ‘Then I wish you the best. Is there a Romeo to help you?’
Ant grimaced, but Juliet simply smiled. ‘Everything we do is for Romeo.’
‘Hm,’ Thrash considered, taking a second to glance at his leaderboards before offending her any further. There was a Romeo listed, but at Level 26. Thrash expected no relation there. Besides, Ant’s grimace suggested that there was some tension there. Thrash could almost feel the cogs in his brain turning, weighing up how to proceed.
‘So, you’ve got a new cult and you need something from Starr Eternal?’ he continued, hands back on the counter. ‘What is it you need?’
‘Mines of Painswick Hill,’ Juliet responded. ‘We’ve heard that a boss can appear between floors one and five. We need the item that that boss drops. You’re going to help us get it.’
Thrash assessed the two in front of him, and then chuckled in disbelief. ‘You’re enlisting my help? The person that destroys and ruins? I’ve a mind to say no.’
His interface dinged again.
1 second ago: Pierre: Never heard of ‘em. Be careful. Cultists are not safe to deal with. Me mother was in a cult, once. Lost all of our money and entertained far too many men.
Juliet held up a small, leather pouch, tinted green like the cloak that shrouded her. Anthony was jumping from foot to foot, the pouch of obvious interest to him.
‘This contains 100 gold pieces,’ she said. ‘It’s yours upon completion.’
Anthony growled up at Thrash. ‘Refuse, and I kill you.’
Thrash’s anger boiled over. ‘Kill me?’ He grabbed Sigrid’s handle, holding the blade up and inspecting its edge. ‘Come and get it over with, my bald little friend.’
Anthony looked up at his master, his eyes watering with fury. Juliet’s expression was almost bored, almost playful, watching Anthony bristle. Her buck-toothed grin stretched unnaturally wide as she ran an almost motherly hand over Anthony’s scalp, tracing over some of the bulging veins on his forehead.
‘Hush, little Ant,’ she whispered. ‘No need to spill any blood just yet, my darling.’
Anthony’s lip quivered, his fists clenching tighter. Thrash could see his forearms tensing, almost as though he were ready to lunge, but Juliet’s grip on his head tightened, her nails digging into his skin. Anthony flinched, his rage momentarily eclipsed by a flash of fear. Soft drops of blood formed at the tips of her fingers.
Anthony hissed, but backed away, his face flushed and eyes wild. ‘You’d better take her offer, Adventurer,’ he spat, his voice a desperate snarl. ‘No one refuses Juliet - and no one refuses Romeo.’
Juliet chuckled, a sound that grated like nails on stone, and released Anthony’s head. She shook the leather pouch, the sound of the coins inside jingling through the room, before pocketing it away. Her smile sharpened, eyes narrowing as she leaned closer to Thrash, close enough that he could see the green-tinged veins pulsing in her neck.
Thrash leaned back against the wall, where his shelf of dungeon essentials had rested earlier this morning. ‘What happens if I refuse Romeo, then? Will little Ant come running? Will his stilts be in place, tall enough to cut my throat?’
Anthony roared in anger, but was subdued again, more blood trailing down his skull as Juliet clamped down with increased force. She refused to let go, the man’s eyes swimming. Her smile widened, but there was a twitch in her cheek, her lips curling as if they couldn’t quite decide on an expression.
‘Without you, we’ll return another day - Romeo at hand,’ she purred, though her tone held an edge that made the hairs on Thrash’s neck prickle. ‘Romeo is always watching, you know. Always judging. You should be careful, Thrash. He’s... very particular about those who cross us.’
Thrash couldn’t help but glance at Anthony, who stared back with a manic grin. Juliet’s laugh came out high and brittle, echoing off the stone walls, as if she had just told the punchline of a joke only she could hear. Then, without warning, her expression snapped back to calm, as if she had put on a different mask. She straightened, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Let's move on, shall we?’ she said lightly, as if she hadn’t just been threatening him. ‘We’re here to use your dungeon, and you’ll help us, won’t you?’
Thrash clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. He glanced at the interface again, hoping for another message from Una, but there was only silence. He forced himself to meet Juliet’s gaze, refusing to look away, even as a cold sweat broke out along his spine.
‘I don’t know about that,’ he replied, his voice barely hiding a tremor.
‘Oh, stop with the bravado,’ she said, her tone almost sweet. ‘My dear Romeo wouldn’t want you to get hurt so soon, Thrash. He has... plans. We have plans. And the item in your dungeon? Well, it’s just the beginning.’
Juliet’s eyes stayed locked on his, gleeful with a twisted pleasure at the tension she’d wound around the room. ‘So, will you accept our generous little offer? Or do we need to make things… more interesting?’
Anthony, still nursing his bruised pride, flashed Thrash a savage grin, his earlier fear melting away into a kind of frantic eagerness. It was clear he hoped for the latter.
I have a question, Thrash, Mush asked Thrash silently. How did Pierre’s mother entertain too many men?
The question caught him off guard. Thrash laughed, the tension in the room dissipating. The two Adventurers exchanged half-worried glances. No wonder every patron thought that he was mad.
Any more than one man is usually too many, Thrash told Mush. Have you got anything on this potential boss?
I can fill you in, now that the bestiary is unlocked.
Thrash swore at himself. I’d forgotten about that. We’ll review it properly later, Mush.
If you survive, she replied.
‘Excuse me?’ the witch said, snapping Thrash back to reality.
Thrash nodded. He wasn’t going to offer either of the party members any items, so pocketed another handful of Health Apples from behind the counter. ‘Set up the quest, then. Leash your little pet, though, yeah?’
Anthony growled again, but a quest invite came in all the same.
Quest Update: Heart of Damnation
Accept quest?
Thrash read through the quest description.
Juliet, one of the two leaders of the Starr-Crossed Lovers, has requested your assistance. She needs you to help her acquire the Heart of Damnation.
Reward 1: You will earn a new skill of your choosing
Reward 2: The Cult of Starr-Crossed Lovers offer 100x gold pieces
Thrash sniffed, looking at Mush. Thoughts?
Mush sneered at him. Brigwell would’ve annihilated them already.
Thrash considered his options. If I accept the quest, does that mean -
She cut him off. Party members cannot injure each other.
Hm, and I’ve not been invited to a party, have I?
You are incredibly astute, Mush noted. What a wondrous turn of events.
‘Are we sure there’s not another dungeon with this set of mines?’ Juliet asked Anthony impatiently.
He grumbled up at her, whispering something that Thrash couldn’t quite catch. He didn’t bother trying to listen, accepting the quest while they spoke. He inspected the two in a little more detail, trying to uncover anything that might help him to understand them a little more. They had spoken as though they’d been doing this for years, but for both of them to be lower than his own level, he had deep suspicions. Other than the threat of this so-called Romeo, he felt quite secure in his position.
Thrash decided to forward one more message onto Una.
1 second ago: Thrash: Ever heard of the cult of Starr-Crossed Lovers? Any chance they’re in cahoots with Zorina? They seem out for my blood - more so than I would expect.
The buck toothed woman smiled, noticing that the quest had been accepted. ‘Excellent. Romeo will be pleased. Shall we head on?’
Thrash eyed the little man, who’s blank, empty stare sent shivers down his spine. The absence of emotion was far worse than the glare of hatred. ‘One wrong move, and your little Ant will be squished.’
Juliet walked to the stairs, holding a hand out to them. ‘Ant will behave, won’t you, Ant? You know what’s coming, my darling, so be good.’
The cultist nodded, eyes still wide and empty. Thrash felt the woman choose their destination, the floor beginning to crumble beneath him, his legs collapsing as they entered the first floor of the dungeon. He received a message almost as soon as he’d landed.
1 second ago: Una: Never heard of them. Must be fairly new. Be careful, though. Cults can be dangerous. Lots of hidden benefits.
Thrash’s vision cleared as he landed upon the first floor. He squinted. It seemed as though a dozen mobs had already spawned, each looking like another version of Anthony. Their eyes were just as wild, their robes dragging across the thorn-covered floor like they had crawled up from the underworld. Above Juliet’s head, a message hovered:
Skill Activated: ‘Reclaimed Cultists’
Juliet’s grin widened as she raised her hands. The air around her shimmered with a sickly green glow, and the dozen figures solidified, each of them bearing the same frenzied devotion as the original Anthony. Their hands clutched crude daggers and twisted staves, ready to serve her dark purpose.
‘Well, Thrash,’ she sneered, her voice taking on a darker, more manic edge. ‘Did you really think I’d walk into this cursed place without a little insurance?’
Who could’ve seen this coming? Thrash asked Mush sarcastically.
I believe their intentions were clear from the start, she replied. Have fun, darling.
The cultists’ eyes glinted with malice, mirroring her twisted smile. Thrash tightened his grip on his blade, a chill crawling down his spine. He could see their party now - a dozen cultists having been hidden from his view - twelve more names of Adventurers riding above his own in his interface. He scanned their levels, not one above Level 3. Each was bald, and a handful of female cultists stood amongst the men.
Thrash drew Sigrid, rolling his shoulders. ‘Lets get it over with.’