image [https://i.imgur.com/cOzsTPM.jpg]
At the mention of a high-level dungeon, I forgot everything about quests and bleak attitudes. Perhaps a high-level dungeon for a level 18 warrior would suit me. “Really? How high level is it?”
After another folly-of-youth eye roll, the Pentarch shook his head. “Let it go, boy. That hole eats pilgrims.”
“Wait, a minute—I might be able to do this. I’m level 27.”
Sune Njal rubbed his neckbeard as he eyed me up and down. “Twenty-seven, you say? That explains how you beat the centaur. I’m only level 18, although one can only gain so much experience from killing goblins. Perhaps you have the mettle for the task.” Letting the fire die, he turned into his house and collapsed onto a small cot. “We’ll take a closer look at you at first hour.”
I could see where he slept from his open doorway—apparently, he preferred the exposure. I echoed his words to myself. “First hour.” After eating a potato cake and minotaur jerky, I followed his lead, tossed up the Dark Room rope, and retired for the evening. Sore from climbing, I set my interface for a pre-dawn awakening. Sune Njal expected me early, and I wouldn’t disappoint.
First hour denoted the time before dawn when people awoke and ate breakfast. Daylight in winter usually lasted until twelfth hour, a time of dinner and socialization. Aside from a few classes in the academy, the players I started with in Belden showed little use for the system. They rose on a whim between the third and fifth hour. As subterranean people, dwarves used a 24 hour timetable, so first hour fell closer to midnight. To avoid confusion and favoritism, Hawkhurst avoided cultural standards, speaking in terms like daybreak, midday, and afternoon.
The morning light gave me a clearer picture of the plateau’s surface. I already knew reddish patches covered much of Iremont. They dirtied my robe and rubbed onto my hands as I climbed. Yet a near-black deposit of stone ringed the campfire. It wasn’t ash—it looked like flint. When I tapped it with my hammer, sparks flew.
Slapping the ground would have been a novel way to start a fire, but I didn’t want to wake my host. Hoping to win the Pentarch over through his stomach, I Scorched a quick fire for breakfast, cooking ward worm sausages, biscuits, and tea.
A gentle drizzle began when the old general emerged from his house, but it wasn’t heavy enough to affect the fire or spoil the breakfast. Sune Njal eyed me suspiciously. “You brought sausages? Maybe you’re not as hopeless as your predecessors.” While he waited for the meal to cook, he examined my equipment.
“Your kit shows no pretense. You said you came from the settlement below?”
“Yes, sir—Hawkhurst. I’m the governor.”
Sune Njal grunted. “Governor, eh? Where is your short sword?”
I reached inside my inventory for a standard short sword. Ignoring the crude goblin blades, I pulled out the one I’d taken from Tardee in Belden.
“Domesticated officers ought to have a short blade on their person—visible to all. You’ll need it for indoors fighting, security, and discipline.” Sune Njal fixed the short sword into a scabbard and wrapped it around my waist. “Keep this on your person at all times.”
While he fussed, I stood with my arms raised, like a child being dressed.
“There. Now, show me your usual approach if facing an unarmed brawler outside your local pub. He backed away, raising his fists.
“Here?”
“You’re ill-prepared for closed-quarter fighting. Let’s see you in ideal conditions—outside.”
I backed away and reached around for my sheathed short sword.
“No, with your best weapon.”
I shrugged and equipped my hammer and shield. As I edged close, he backed away, scrutinizing my eyes, footwork, and posture. “Your eyes are sharp, too, shifting your weight to counter my stance. Your knees are properly bent, and you shuffle when you walk—that’s very good. Feeling the ground is key, centering yourself for quick reactions. It shows you’re used to fighting alone.” He relaxed and lowered his fists, thus ending the confrontation. “Your grip might be a little tight, but you know your soldiering. Tell me, do you like being a governor?”
I blushed and shrugged. “It has its ups and downs. I don’t always know what to do.”
“Don’t worry about that. People are never happy. Never. And they’ll use every petty complaint to justify breaking from you. But that’s only natural. Aligned interests are brief affairs. Don’t overestimate your people’s commitment. They’ll fight if cornered—everyone does—but they’ll save their skins even if it means betraying you. Don’t wander onto thin ice for anyone else but yourself. It’s the way of the world, pilgrim.”
Again, I cared little for his estimations about Hawkhurst, but his distant eyes steadied my tongue. His expression matched that of his speech about fatherhood. How could someone my age argue with personal advice? The words felt like that of a broken man, and I tempered the weight of his guidance.
Deep sounds from the north cut off the moment, and the Pentarch turned to face them. “That’s the mating call of the centaurs. It’s rutting season, and they’re aggressive. They’re territorial. If you return the way you came, you won’t have to fight another.”
“I’m going north.”
He turned to me. “North?”
I told him about the relics and that I’d learned the Bonepit dialect but omitted who’d taught me. He’d laugh if I told him who I left in charge of Hawkhurst.
“Why would you bother with their language? You’ll get nothing but lies.” He shook his head at my entire plan. “Leave the gobs well alone. Your friend is right. If they get a relic, they’ll head west, raiding more settled lands.”
Sune Njal didn’t know about the ingenuity of other players. Even if goblins renewed raiding humans, the relic would eventually fall into a player’s possession, eliminating my chances of winning The Great RPG Contest. I could almost forgive his cynicism. “Aren’t those your people the goblins will attack?”
“Not anymore, boy. It’s everyone for themselves. Whatever you do, don’t build them a throne. Kneeling to goblins is worse than a death sentence. The shade of pilums is a kinder fate.”
“Pilums?”
“You learned their lingo but not how to fight them? Whoever sent you sure made you ill-prepared. Pilums are goblin javelins—their tips bend when they land, preventing enemies from throwing them back. Regardless, the gobs don’t honor their surrender. It means nothing.”
I nodded. This advice felt more practical. “So, tell me more about this dungeon. Do you think I can clear it?”
“I only know what goes in doesn’t come out.” Sune Njal belched and slapped his belly. “Oh, that was a breakfast. Even at 27, your best bet is heading home. If you go north, you’ll only cause yourself trouble. But go if you want. It’s no matter to me. The gobs will leave me alone as long as I don’t desecrate their mountain with too many buildings.” He gestured to the general center of the plateau. “Or you could save yourself the trip and die inside the dungeon. It’s up to you, pilgrim. Life is so much longer than it needs to be.”
Scratching his backside, Sune Njal turned into his home and flopped onto his bed. Apparently, he wasn’t ordinarily awake this early.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I muttered to myself as I turned toward the mesa’s center. “That was underwhelming. I’m beginning to appreciate Dino’s mentoring a little more.” I reserved the impulse to ply him with questions. Perhaps he required me to prove myself first. By clearing the dungeon, I might jar his sensibilities enough to lure him to Hawkhurst. I let him be for now. Was it possible he could train me beyond level 30?
The day’s light made the plateau’s perimeter and nearby mountains easier to see. Beaker had been airborne since his summoning. Normally not one to miss breakfast, my Familiar couldn’t resist the lure of heights. He hunted for himself, landing with a dead, chubby rodent in his clutches. I praised him for his self-sufficiency.
I turned to Sune Njal’s gaze when he mentioned predecessors dying in a dungeon. After scanning the reddish soil, I spotted a shallow conical depression ending in a three-foot-wide hole. As I drew closer, I noticed similar openings further away. A gentle slope surrounded each hole, their size and shape identical. All the funnels’ uniformity caught my attention. And the thought occurred to me that the mountain itself looked remarkably symmetrical. Was that why the goblins revered it?
Sitting on the nearest cavity’s outer edge, I studied my character sheet before entering the dungeon.
Name
Apache, citizen of Hawkhurst and elder of Forren
Level
27 (4,927/5,000 experience to next level)
Armor
68
Stamina
38 (380 health)
Intelligence
32 (320 mana)
Strength
31 (+31 damage to physical attacks)
Agility
29 (+29% to hit/dodge physical attacks and movement)
Willpower
34 (+34% to spell effects/resistances, health/mana recovery, and influence)
Skills and ranks
Alchemy 15, Arcane Magic 25, Blacksmithing 6, Bludgeoning Weapons 26, Carpentry 12, Command 1, Dark Magic 2, Defense 25, Dodge 26, Equestrian 12, Goblin 9, Governing 12, Leatherworking 12, Light Magic 22, Manuscript Creation 14, Nature Magic 25, Piercing Weapons 27, Primal Magic 23, Ranged Weapons 19, Research 32, Sailing 5, Slashing Weapons 26, Stealth 7, Survival 21, Tailoring 13
Powers
Cantrips Animal Empathy, Detect Magic, Heavenly Favor, Minor Hex, Shocking Reach
Tier 1 Aggression, Animal Communion, Anticipate, Applied Knowledge, Charge, Compression Sphere, Detect Stealth, Hot Air, Imbue Weapon, Mana Shield, Mineral Empathy, Moonburn, Protector, Read Magic, Rest and Mend, Scorch, Thrust
Tier 2 Amphibious, Counterspell, Familiar, Inscribe Rune, Mineral Communion, Refresh Mana, Rejuvenate, Slipstream, Transpose
Tier 3 Dig, Magnetize, Restore
Tier 4 Move Object
Notes—Stats include buff and gear bonuses
I admired the ring I pulled from the centaur. With every ring slot filled, my fingers felt like I wore brass knuckles. I didn’t particularly appreciate how they clinked together, but the improved strength and stamina upgraded my battle performance. Higher damage numbers and larger health pools felt more tangible than willpower. Willpower helped resist spells, but it felt a little wishy-washy.
I had many skills related to combat. A few players may have elevated one or two, but dominating every category meant I could use any weapon. I might have ground them closer to rank 30, but the risk of anything crossing the threshold deterred me. The hardest skills to raise involved magic schools. I couldn’t practice them in the arena, and spamming had so little effect on rank increases that it wasn’t worth performing.
I directed my attention to the menu that I hadn’t yet taken.
Available Spells
Tier 1
Acid Splash, Arcane Missile, Bless, Dim, Eye, Faerie Flames, Featherfall, Grease, Ice Bolt, Just Strike, Light, Lightning Bolt, Purify Water, Scry, Summon Swarm, Tangling Roots, Vegetable Empathy
Tier 2
Arcane Sight, Avoid Ammo, Detect Illusion, Fireball
Tier 3
Polymorph Self, Refresh Health
Tier 4
Mineral Mutation, Rally
Power Points
2
Arcane Sight became a recent addition to my menu. It provided darkvision for anyone wanting to see without a light source. Since I’d already spent a point on Presence, I had little use for it. Arcane Sight didn’t penetrate illusions, so I passed on the spell.
Illusions remained something of a mystery to me. I carried a charm of protection against dark magic, the school of mind control and obfuscation. Who could deny its roster included potent mechanics such as stealth and control magic? But everything about it felt wrong. Illusions felt like a cheat and encouraged dirty gaming. And if one little thing seemed off, the effect backfired the way Winterbyte’s had when we’d first fought her. Besides, every gamer knows the best powers awaited in higher tiers, deeper in a tech tree. They’d be unreachable if I nibbled at every branch.
I unlocked Avoid Ammo, a spell that nearly rendered me immune from non-magical missiles. The orcs shot arrows at us outside Fort Krek, but I don’t remember them being very effective.
Refresh Health provided what one would expect, working the same way as its prerequisite, Refresh Mana. But Refresh Health acted as another channel and a spell I could use only once per day. It would be great if I had a tank or another player to let me use it. I needed another instant, like Rejuvenate, but The Book of Dungeons seemed to dissuade melee healers.
The spell Mineral Mutation caught my eye. I wanted to take it immediately until I read its description.
Power (ability)
Mineral Mutation (tier 4)
Prerequisites
Magnetize, Arcane magic rank 25
Cost
30 mana
Cooldown
2 minutes
Cast time
Channel
Description
Within a 3-yard range, caster transforms a cubic foot of inert mineral per 10 ranks of arcane magic into vegetation or flesh. Each cubic foot of mutation requires a minute of channeling. Concentration must be maintained to sustain the effect.
RPGs typically had stone-to-flesh spells to counter gorgons or basilisks turning people into statues. Mineral Mutation’s channel affected inert minerals. Aside from lead, I knew of no other nonconductive metals. Purchasing this gave me immunity to petrification effects, assuming I could still cast spells while turned to stone.
Understanding runes revealed the relationship between metal and magic. Minerals potent for electrical currents also channeled magic. Hence, Mineral Mutation only affected stone and perhaps inert elements like lead.
The distinction made a marked difference in Mineral Mutation’s capacity for combat. If I couldn’t turn iron into flesh, I might melt flint arrowheads or stone axes.
But the inert condition squashed this dream unless my enemies were foolish enough to wear clasps of weak metals like lead. The restriction frustrated me because of its high and rare prerequisites. Arcane magic wasn’t easy to learn, and I doubted any other player was crazy enough to take Mineral Empathy, so I had higher hopes for Mineral Mutation.
But I already knew how useful Dig had become. The power to melt through rock opened doorways in more ways than one.
I almost spent a power point on Mineral Mutation to make handholds for climbing Iremont, and the centaur’s stony nature hinted that the spell might be helpful inside the dungeon. I wasn’t about to spend one of my two power points prematurely, but I stood on the cusp.
Unfortunately, no new power point candidates appeared in my abilities interface.
Available Abilities
Tier 1
Artful Dodger, Block, Disarm, Double Blades, Edge Strike, Knockback, Multi-shot, Quick Shield, Stunning Blow, Surprising Strike
Tier 3
Enchant Object
Power Points
2
It wasn’t entirely shocking that I hadn’t unlocked more melee cooldowns with my high ranks in combat skills. At first, I hoped to go straight to the ultimate powers by raising my skills, but after seeing more of the game, unlocking them required prerequisites. It boded bad news for my strategy, but it kept the game balanced.
I unsummoned Beaker because he would have screamed his head off if I had disappeared into a hole too narrow for him to follow. After closing my interface, I cast Heavenly Favor and Presence and prepared myself for a dungeon crawl.