“Monster population has shown to have doubled over the past two years. Adventurer deaths have increased as a result leading to a decrease in recruitment. Guild halls petitioned city officials to let the Saints regularly cleanse the Dungeons. The petition will be disputed in front of his holiness.” -Records of Dungeon trends found in the Guild’s archive room.

The claws raked across Simon's chest, staining his shirt red as the beast advanced toward him. The pain caused him to step back, slashing wildly in an attempt to ward it off. Behind him, Bannin played his lute, pulsing with light, as the fight raged around them. One of the jackal-looking beasts had snuck around, leaving only Simon to protect the musician. It was quite ironic that a bard had to protect another bard.

He did his best to look intimidating, waving his dagger in front of him, but all it did was make the jackal just lick its fangs. His short blade shone red from a lucky swipe earlier, but he had come dangerously close to getting his hand bitten off in the process. I’m going to have to get in close, he thought. If he ever got out of here, he was definitely buying a longer weapon than a dagger.

The jackal suddenly lunged at Simon, but he leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding its claws as his back hit the tunnel wall. Bannin was now unprotected to his left as the beast growled at the halfling. He had to do something fast before it attacked the bard.

"Hey, you mangy coyote!" Simon shouted, trying to get its attention. “Come take a bite out of me!”

Thankfully, the beast turned its hungry eyes from the musician towards him. It looked like it wanted to finish off his first prey before he moved on. It moved swiftly, too fast for him to dodge with his back being against the wall. The beast's fangs aimed for his throat, and Simon knew it would kill him. Acting on instinct he raised his arm to protect his throat. Intense pain spiked through his forearm as the beast's fangs sank into the leather bracer. Stifling a scream he raised the dagger in his right hand now able to reach the beast.

Ohtli had once told him that bards could influence people's bodies or minds, affecting them through the music they played. As Barrin's song filled the tunnel, Simon felt like his muscles were at their strongest. The jackal in its frenzy to bite through his arm was distracted enough for him to strike. With a yell mixed with pain and determination, he stabbed into the beast's temple. The dagger sunk to its hilt in its skull as its jaw slowly started to slacken. The next moment its red eyes glazed over and it let go of his arm as it slumped to the ground.

He did it! Simon had… killed it. Looking at the jackal lying in an evergrowing pile of blood he felt bile begin to rise in his throat. Uncaring about the battle around him he supported himself against the wall and hurled.

This was supposed to be the part of the story where he felt triumphant at having defeated a monster. Instead, all he felt was the intense pain in his arm along with a mix of disgust and fear that had settled in his chest.

Cradling his arm, Simon refocused on the fight raging around him taking up his position to protect Bannin once more. The sounds of beasts howling, magic booming, and Gadar fighting filled the tunnel. He saw the orc chop a jackal's head off, his muscles glowing with blue veins as he laughed amidst a pile of other fallen beasts. Lost in his frenzy he didn’t notice as one of the jackals slipped past him towards Calista the healer. Before he could shout to watch out, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Following his body’s warning he ducked down just as a bolt of blue energy narrowly missed his head. Still looking forward he saw the bolt pierce straight through the monster leaving a baseball-sized hole in its chest. It toppled before it could have done any harm to them. Would it kill them to yell "duck"?

Looking behind him, he saw Remus muttering under his breath as he raised his wand at another jackal. Would it kill him to yell "duck"? Simon glared at the horned mage who had fired the blast, but the mage ignored him acting like he hadn’t just nearly blown his head off.

The battle continued as everyone fought the last of the jackals. Remus launched a fireball into the last two monsters trying to flee down the tunnel. Their screaming died down quickly but a scent of burned fur and flesh was left to linger. Plugging his nose at the foul scent he leaned back against the wall, nursing his broken arm. When the song ended, he felt his temporary strength recede from his muscles as Bannin wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead. Sitting there the reality of what he was going to have to go through to receive his answer was beginning to dawn on him. Was every encounter going to be this crazy?

“Remain still. I shall heal whatever wound you received,” said Calista, as she walked over to him.

Unsure of how she was going to heal him he let her examine his forearm as she knelt in front of him. Thankfully, the jackal's fangs hadn't pierced the bracer, but the pain made him suspect that something might be broken. It took one painful minute for her to remove his bracer revealing the red skin underneath. Laying her hands on his broken arm she began to pray softly to herself. Her hands began to glow with a soft light like the sun as faint warmth spread through his arm. “May the feathered serpent of light show mercy to us mortals. Let the light of the sun mend what has been shown warmth.” When she had finished praying she reverently stood up and left him to ponder what her prayer meant. Is this feathered serpent one of the Gods Azrael mentioned? He absentmindedly checked and prodded at his arm and was astonished to find it perfectly healed.

After standing up, she moved on to inspect a blood-drenched Gadar who was laughing uncontrollably. It seemed he was still feeling his high from battle as he grinned a tusked smile. Watching after her he was left to ponder what kind of God this feathered serpent was. He felt like he was on the cusp of remembering some important detail but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

Barrin approached him and reached out a small hand to help him up. Taking it with his healed arm he let himself be helped up. "Thanks for protecting me," Barrin said, giving Simon an odd look. “I thought I was a goner when that beast had turned to me but you called out to it saving me. I’ve never seen another Bard fight like you did. The way you let it bite your arm to get a clear shot at it. You’re mad.”

“I tend to do things my own way. If it wasn’t for your song I’d be dead,” said Simon, sincerely.

“It wasn’t much. It’s about the only thing I can do. Besides, who taught you all of this? Your way seems a little unordinary.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Shit, why’d he have to ask about something he hadn’t thought about yet. Wait, I have a valid reason. I just have to bend the truth a little. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to respond, "I'm mostly self-taught, and there's still a lot I need to learn. I just woke up one day and decided to be a Bard."

“You what!” exclaimed Barrin in disbelief. He would have said more if it wasn’t for Gadar sauntering over still drenched in blood.

"He's a better bard than you, Barrin," Gadar chimed in, approaching them. "You should be more like Simon, fighting in the thick of it like a real man. I was surprised you didn't cower behind us. Next time, join me up front in the fight!"

"I think I'd rather risk getting bitten by another jackal," Simon joked, knowing very well that he would be dead within seconds. "Is it always like this?" he asked, gesturing towards the aftermath of the carnage.

Remus, the horned mage, spoke up. "This is a Dungeon. Of course, it's always like this. Calista, my dear, could you help me extract the essence? I need to buy a new tome."

Turning away from the blubbering Barrin he watched the two others scavenge through the bodies. Perplexed, Simon observed their actions as Calista used a small dagger to carve out the crystals embedded in the beasts' chests. Now that he had the opportunity to examine them closely, he noticed that all the creatures possessed these crystals. They were not particularly large, barely bigger than pebbles, but they emitted a dark crystal glow. By the time they finished extracting, they had collected a small handful of them.

Curiosity piqued, Simon gestured at the crystals as he asked, "What are those?"

"This? It's the entire reason we're down here," Gadar replied, tossing him a crystal, which he swiftly caught. "Each of these is worth its weight in silver. If you weren't with us, we'd be delving deeper into the dungeon, where the crystals are larger."

Staring down at the small crystal in his hand, Simon realized the immense potential for wealth in adventuring. So this was why so many risked their lives. The group pocketed their portions of crystals as they began to set off deeper into the Dungeon. Walking alongside Barrin, his gaze wandered towards the bard's lute, as he contemplated asking for tips on being a bard.

"How did you make me feel stronger earlier? I felt something similar once before in a bar, but it made me feel less tired," he said, recalling Ohtli's performance on his first day.

"You don't know how to do this? This is the fundamental aspect of being a bard!" Barrin exclaimed. However, seeing his shrug in response, he continued, "I understand that you haven't had any formal training, but being a bard is not solely about music. Our purpose is to support others. Sharing stories, playing music, and singing songs in taverns are just the surface-level aspects."

"I know the tavern part well enough. But by playing music and making people feel stronger, we fulfill that role in combat too?”

"Exactly! Leave the fighting to the warriors. We can stay back and enhance their physical or mental abilities, or diminish the negative traits of our enemies. I've heard that some higher-ranked bards can create illusions, influence entire armies, command others with their words alone, and perform minor magic better than anyone else," Barrin explained, his eyes shining with admiration for those esteemed bards.

Simon wondered if he could achieve such feats. He had already grasped what it took to create illusions if he didn’t quite know the specifics of how it happened. It just felt right when he maintained an image of what he was trying to create in his head. He felt like he had a better understanding of the energy within him, simmering and waiting to be unleashed. Maybe he could do what Barrin had done… if he could ever get a lute. Goddamit, I need more of these crystals if I want an instrument.

"So, how do you make people feel stronger or dampen their emotions through music? I know what it feels like internally but I don’t understand what it takes to create that magic.”

"My old master explained it to me like this: you use your internal mana to infuse the intended meaning behind your music. You extend this influence to others by channeling it through music or sound, using an instrument as a focal point to distribute it. Now... Simon, are you following?" Barrin asked, noticing Simon's puzzled expression.

The sequence of events struggled to align in Simon's mind as he shook his head at the halfling. "I guess, I'm still a little confused. Earlier, I felt my muscles become stronger. Can you explain how that happened?"

"That's a good example to use! Gadar prefers me to play songs that boost his strength, allowing him to hold the front line more effectively. So, I try to convey that meaning through my music by infusing it with my internal mana. As long as anyone can hear me play, I can enhance or diminish their physical abilities or emotions. Remember, not all bards have to use a lute; singing, drums, wind instruments, or any instrument capable of creating rhythm can serve as a focal point. As long as you have a focus to convey your meaning, you can influence others," Barrin elaborated.

Left to contemplate how to utilize his "mana," the term he had been using to describe the pressure inside him, Simon began to grasp a better understanding as they continued their journey through the tunnels. He started relating it to his past performances, recalling one of his garage shows—a lively crescendo of sound that drove the crowd wild, making them dance. If he could incorporate this "mana" into his playing, he could heighten the emotions of wildness and excitement in the audience.

As they continued their journey through the tunnels, they had two more encounters. The first was a green slime with a gem at its core, which Remus managed to explode using a mix of spells, splattering the walls with oozing slime. The second encounter involved a trio of hideous bat-like creatures that let out horrendous shrieks, interrupting Barrin's song. Simon felt the pressure inside him stirring, but to his dismay, he failed to create any magic. The fight ended quickly, and the group debated whether to continue or head back. Gadar was still eager for more combat, so they pressed on, leaving markers behind to find their way back.

Although Simon felt like he had grasped the fundamentals of magic, there was still something missing, as if a final piece of the puzzle remained unresolved. Imagination is the key to magic, he recalled Ohtli's words from a drunken night. Perhaps he had been neglecting to combine his imagination with his intent. He reflected on his initial conjuring of the illusory flame and what had been in his mind then.

His chain of thought was abruptly broken when he noticed the group had come to a halt before a large opening in the tunnel. Peering over their heads, he tried to discern the reason for the pause, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger. Scattered throughout the tunnel entrance was a plethora of monster corpses. Some had been sliced in two, others bore deep gashes, and some had even had their heads cut off. Even if they were monsters it still made him queasy to see so much carnage. Slowly they approached the end of the tunnel that opened up to a large cavern with many branching paths.

They heard it before they saw him. As they walked forward in the puddles of blood they heard sounds of fighting as monsters howled and whimpered. When they could finally see the cavern in its entirety they stopped when they saw who had left behind so much death. In the middle of a large circle of monsters that lay slain at the feet of another pack of beasts a lone swordsman fought.

He was a dark-skinned youth who wore white robes intermixed with armor untouched by the blood around him. In his hands, he held a curved sword in the fashion of a katana. Despite being encircled by tens of monsters he seemed to dance around them as his blade sang a song through the air. There was only one adventurer who dared enter the Dungeon alone. A lonely figure he had seen put up a mask of impassiveness to ward himself from the hate directed at him. A Heretic.