Besides, stranger things had occurred in dungeons.
Like when the leader of the top American S ranked kill team, operating under the codename of ‘Arigorn’, entered a dungeon alone. Only to exit the portal before anyone else could follow him, accompanied by clones of his entire kill team. Who also happened to be ten years older than their originals. Unintentionally setting two records. Fastest dungeon ever cleared, and highest ranked dungeon cleared solo.
Or another incident where hunters were body swapped with each other then trapped on open plains. Upon their eventual return, the hunters claimed to have experienced life on the plains for thirty thousand days, roughly eighty two years and now held a deeper appreciation for the bodies and welfare of their compatriots. But the time outside the portal registered a mere eight hours.
Nox shook his head, chuckling at the thought of anything unusual occurring at an E gate, the lowest ranked gate. Arriving at the medical humvee, he dug out his wallet, quickly swiping his hunter’s license at the terminal. Humvees like this one were purpose built for supporting dungeon raids, the passenger doors were replaced with armored windows and a security drawer that could slide between the interior and exterior. A necessary precaution due to the nature of therapy hunters, given that injections were more than a rush, they were physical and sometimes mystical power. Nox always smiled when he realized the armored glass was meant to keep other hunters from stealing a fix. It felt good for someone –anyone really– to acknowledge the power he supposedly held.
‘Rejected’ appeared on the terminal, beeping angrily at Nox’s lack of funds.
A military nurse groaned, rising from their knees and setting a trash can down on the interior counter. He fumbled with a clipboard and the kits he was holding, juggling them aimlessly until he dropped a dozen therapy kits into the trash can. Nox’s eyes bugged out of his skull, once a hunter’s therapy allocation ran out the Hunter Corps charged ten thousand dollars for each kit! Discarding a dozen of them nearly gave him a heart attack. The nurse scanned his own screen in the humvee’s interior, suddenly jerking as if slapped.
“Dafuq? Kid, I’ve been here since the third LA gate opened, but I ain't never seen a card as screwed up as yours. E rank therapy hunter, unactivated blood hunter? One hundred and eleven raid points but the highest dungeon ever cleared is E rank? You some kinda clown, or do you just like carrying bags?” Asked the militant nurse.
Nox bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that snapping at the nurse would only earn him more embarrassment.
“Both parents are blood hunters, so are my all siblings… but my venatorus gene cluster never activated… So when mom, dad, and everyone else got drafted the Corps took me too. Couldn’t leave a minor unattended, not when the entire family has the activated cluster…” Nox explained, flushing pink at the nurse’s low whistle.
“Ain’t that just the bureaucratic lottery of bullshit.” He said, slashing his finger across his terminal screen. “Hunting for three years? Brooooo, what are you doing with your life? You need real therapy, not synthetic muscles!”
“I keep telling that to my bank account, but he doesn’t seem to simp-athise.” Nox said, hoping to change the subject with an off kilter pun.
Nox knew the gene therapy was as permanent as a wet band aid. But couldn’t picture a life where he returned to human society without a single member of his family. Ashley was a conscripted hunter, she would die in the dungeons, just like their father, Gray. Who had been so savagely devoured that only his legs were recovered. Meanwhile their thirteen year old brother Mike, and eleven year old sister Katherine were forcibly moved to one of America’s ‘hunting academies’, a nonconsensual form of preparatory school where the only books were army manuals concerning C4 detonators, and education was limited to physical combat. Fine and dandy for medieval squires, but barbaric beyond modern comprehension. A factory for child soldiers. And finally Elizabeth Hawke –their mother– who’d spent too long in an under-evaluated gate, and was now suffering from Aetheric Lithogenesis, a fancy term for the human body becoming oversaturated with mana, causing tumors of mana crystals to form within the bloodstream and soft tissues. She had already lost one eye, and didn’t have much time left. Maybe a couple of months if the surgeons continued to hack off chunks of cancerous flesh. Once she died… Nox bit his tongue, not wanting to think about it.
Gene therapy could reduce the buildup of tumors, which is why Nox was out. I just need to buy her time, one day the sapien doctors will figure out a cure for mana cancer… The dungeon portals are new, only showing up in the past decade or so, mana cancer affects sapiens too, surely they’ll find a cure soon. Thought Nox, knowing that even if a cure were invented, his mother would be at the very last recipient.
His pun got a chuckle from the nurse, ripping him out of his thoughts like an elephant might tear apart a berry bush. A genuine chuckle that made Nox look at the nurse for the first time, and consider him something more than another dungeon snack. Checking the nametag to find ‘Samson’ was written across his RealcamoTM fatigues, an older man, mid forties, with a belt covered in hand grenades and a race-tuned Titanium Nitrided 1911 in the holster on his right hip. Blue light leaked from the mana crystal bullets within the magazine. Explosives, and a pistol that fired the rare specialty rounds, Samson was a man who understood the danger of dungeons.
“Sorry kid, your stipend refills tomorrow, nothing I can do unless you got the cash. Pfizer doesn’t pass out these injections for free, each and every one of these needles has a serial number and recyclable airtag.” Said Samson.
They both glanced at Nox’s open wallet, seeing the single twenty dollar bill he had left. About enough for a candy bar…
Samson sighed.
“Cmon kid, one hundred and eleven dungeon points as a therapy hunter? Mmmmnnn nnmmm family or not, you gotta save yourself! Listen here, give up on activating those genes and retire! I’ve seen ten thousand hunters walk through gates, and I’ve watched them come back, looking like a gecko made out o’ chewing gum. Used gum that’s lookin like fido’s favorite squeaky toy, all chewed up, missing limbs, tails, family and friends. Get out before your ticket gets punched. Juicing therapy aint worth it man, specially not for an E gate like this one. Sheeeeet, gate’s so weak it nearly snipped the wire rat’s tail.” Said Samson, referring to the wired drone the hunting corps used to scout each portal and obtain a rough approximation of dungeon mana levels.
Snipped the wire rat? Hmmm, how did they mis-measure the dungeon so badly? Thought Nox, glancing towards the nearby rangers. Cleanshaven and fit, they were also younger than he was, eighteen year olds full of testosterone and piss. Raw trainees who couldn’t read the wire rat correctly, if the sapien scientist even made something that worked…
Mana seemed to be an airborne particulate as well as an electromagnetic wave, somewhat similar to light. Which naturally caused mana to interact destructively with light, creating intense distortion in electronics that corresponded to mana levels. Quite literally rewriting the laws of physics. Things that Samson couldn’t concern himself with.
“You’re a younger guy, enlist, become a nurse if you’ve got some smarts or a reservist if you don’t. It’s a cushy job ninety percent of the time, and the other ten percent… Well, one hundred and eleven raid points is more action than my whole platoon gets in a whore house.” Said Samson.
Action…? If only you knew how right you are Samson. Five minutes ago I was dead… Nox flexed his calves, pushing against asphalt. I’m alive, Ash is alive. Should I just give up? Nothing is physically stopping me from taking Ashley home right now. Except I won’t have therapy for mom… Or enough credits for this month’s quota. I go through that gate, or I'll be thrown into the next one as part of the penal legion. No more stipends for any of us.
Nox stroked his jaw, glancing around the Wally World parking lot as he thought. Dozens of temporary barricades and pillboxes had been dropped in the parking lot, instant cover for soldiers and anchor points for the heavy weaponry. Fifty caliber ‘ma-duce’ machine guns and MK-19HE grenade launchers were attached to every concrete structure and vehicle. A quick count told him there were twenty ma duces pointed at the gate, enough firepower to deal with a few goblins, and ten MK-19HEs mounted on humvees, their ammo belts of high pressure grenades neatly stacked inside the vehicles.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
However, conventional weaponry was highly ineffective against dungeon creatures, no one truly knew why, especially when some hunters used bullets created from goblin teeth or mana crystals to good effect, but those were bespoke items. Custom weaponry for high performing hunters who were sponsored by PMC groups or ‘guilds’, way out of his league. Besides, C4 was one of the few things the Corps was generous with, often handing out the retired explosives instead of properly disposing of it. Since recycling explosives cost money, and anything that was left within a dungeon after the gate closed, had never been seen again.
The firepower on display should have comforted Nox, instead it made his bowels churn. How much C4 would it take to down a minotaur? That’s a B or an A ranked boss, so… way more than we could carry, even if I steal a humvee packed from floorboard to roof with plastic explosives. Thought Nox, glancing towards the two refrigerator semis and the score of miners. They were greasy temps whose entire job revolved around getting into low ranked gates, tearing mana crystals out of the walls, and then getting out before mana sickness set in.
“Hey Samson, think those Mark nineteens are enough to blow the horns off a minotaur?”
“A minotaur? Kid, cmmmoooonnn! I love those MK-19s but they wouldn’t shave a minotaur’s balls. That’s at least a B rank creature, an A or maybe even S rank if they are in a labyrinth. We’d have to call in an airstrike if one showed up. Even sweet delilah here–” Samson patted the pistol on his hip “-- couldn’t chip a minotaur’s nails.”
We’re all going to die. Thought Nox.
Again.
Then the minotaur would bulldoze the reserves. A high ranked kill team, or one of the rare private military contractors that hired retired soldiers after they -very conveniently- activated their Venatorus clusters, would have to be called in. At best –if they were being airlifted home– it would take a half hour, at worst… The minotaur would be loose in Wally World for days.
“Kompassion for Kobolds.” Echoed across the parking lot.
As one of the protestors started bullhorning about monster’s rights, making Nox chuckle darkly. Keep it up, and I'll introduce you to a minotaur. Why protest for monster’s right? Why not just You should be protesting for our rights, not monsters. We won’t dismember you or crush your families into paste like a minotaur would. He thought, turning to Samson.
“I got a feeling that this is my lucky raid. Gonna walk right out of that gate with a cowhide and the dungeon’s core. Probably become a blood hunter too.” Nox said, entirely serious.
Samson blinked once, then laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks, knocking him against the wall for three whole minutes. Nox’s neck blazed as he felt his kill team turn and stare at the commotion. A whispered curse sauntered across the parking lot to his ears-
“Great, one more sapien junky trying to pass as a hunter. On an E gate no less. How pathetic can you get?” Said a voice that sounded a lot like Taylor’s. Who was the wealthiest, and weakest blood hunter.
“Oh god almighty. Haha, ah- I can’t let you die after that one. Here, I’ll trade you these expired kits for any empty kits you have on you. They won’t last long, might even make you sicker than a dog, but eff it, why not. I can handle a lil extra paperwork. Haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Ha, awaken in an E gate. Maybe if there was an F rank haha.”
Four empty kits went into the drawer, exchanged for four full kits, fresh from the trash can.
“Thanks Samson, I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me nothing. This never happened.” Said Samson with a wink, disappearing into the humvee’s storage area before anyone could guess his deception.
Nox stowed three of the kits, opening the fourth. Hunter Gene Therapy Kits, HGTs, or just ‘kits’ came in thick plastic cases. Supposedly to make them waterproof and ‘shockproof’, AKA corporate marketing drivel that never withstood contact with a dungeon. Sapiens had no idea what dungeons were like, and all of human technology reflected that fact. Ignoring the two prepackaged 1 ml injections Nox went for the full course. A 10 ml vial and syringe, which he deftly filled and injected into his system. Shivers ran down his spine as the treatment circulated. In seconds his hearing transcended mortality–
A boot scrapped against asphalt. Skin ssshheed across skin as two hands shook. “Good to see you Jon, think you can keep up with that limp?” Said Taylor.
“Hunter shortage, I’d take a vacation but the bastard sapiens gave me a D ranker’s quota. But this E gate should be nothing. Especially after my last C gate, spent three hundred years in a broken old lady.” His hair silently swished across Nox’s ears, in an audible headshake.
“The lonely old bat kept getting aroused by the rutting goatmen. It was awful! That’s something so letcherous only Mary-sue could enjoy the attention.” Said Jon.
Acrylic nails flipped through silky hair, interrupted by distant honking. “For an old man, you’re kinda an incel Jon. I would say eat a dick. But, you’d probably enjoy anything touching you, even a goat’s cock.” Retorted Mary-sue.
A pause, but hair pricked on Nox’s neck, detecting the flow of mana. Most likely Mary-sue healing Jon, she wasn’t as adept at healing as Ashley, but mealing magic was still a miracle by any standard, sapien or venatorus.
“Haha! You’re a gem May. Thanks! And don’t worry, no matter how difficult or unattractive you are, there is a match for you somewhere. Mine just happens to be a horny lawyer. Whose been an incel as long as I have! But oooh baby! She finally pled my case to the Supreme court!” Said Jon, clapping with glee, “I can return to society. Finally go home, sleep in my own bed, with my own wife! And the Corps lined up a teaching gig for me, I'll be instructing hand to hand combat and dungeon basics to newly activated and underaged hunters.” Said Jon.
“Great, good for you, go back to being a filthy sapien. Hope nothing happens to you when the president gets assassinated, again.” Sneered Taylor, footsteps, he was walking away.
“Tay, can you grab our backup bag? This dungeon feels off and I want the firepow–” Began Mary-sue.
“Yeah, whatever May.” Said Taylor.
“Hey,” Whispered Jon, quiet, distorted, as if something was blocking his mouth. “We had three hundred years to plan in that C gate, half the squad’s already gone underground, and i’ll be able to handoff information from classes to the Venators– mmph.” Said Jon, interrupted by a hand clamping down on him mouth.
“Shut your frog mouth Jon. Do you have any idea how many people could hear you blabbin? Save it for inside the dungeon.” Snapped Jesus, the most accomplished hunter in this kill team.
Cool hands slipped around Nox’s free elbow, gently returning him to his body. Where the gene therapy rush slowly faded. Ashley caught sight of the empty vial, mouthing the words ‘all of it?’ in stunned amazement. He winced, knowing the side effects of a massive overdose would kick in soon. You weren’t supposed to see that Ash…
“You numbskull. We are going home.” Grumbled Ashley, pulling him towards their car.
“Ash, we’re behind on our quotas and we already skipped too many raids this month. If we leave now, then I’ll have to pick between mom’s therapy and joining a penal legion. Please, I, –we don’t have a choice.” Said Nox.
Ashley planted her feet and twisted her hips, looking like she was about to give Nox a roundhouse punch to the face. He met her gaze, ready to accept the violence. Visually tranquil despite his internal screaming. Aaahhh!!! Don’t give me a way out Ash, its hard enough going back into that dungeon! Don’t give me another excuse! It might have been a dream, or a hallucination, but please, this has to be real… Thought Nox.
“I’m not trying to get high. I just wanted to take point, earn a shot at an extra mana crystal or two. Since this is the only gate weak enough for me to try.” Nox said, stepping towards the portal, coincidentally closer to Ashley. And it’s the only way for me to see the truth of my nightmare, I didn’t really go back in time did I?
He leaned in a bit too close, and Ashley stopped him with a hand to his jugular. Anchoring him in place. Fingers tightened around his throat, squeezing the air out of his neck. As a D ranked blood hunter she was exponentially stronger than him, to the point she might not be intending to strangle him. Such strength was intrinsic to blood hunters, despite Ashley being a diviner –a supporting mage– without the genetic specializations to convert mana into physical strength. She held Nox’s throat for ten seconds. Just long enough for the primal fear of suffocation to reach Nox’s brainstem.
Sorry Ash, I know you don’t want to see me get hurt again, but we have to do this.
“Remember that feeling, cause if you die I’m going to strangle you!” Ashley growled, letting him go.
“Yes Maam.” Gasped Nox, rubbing his throat.
Jesus Garcia –a veteran and a C ranked blood hunter– gave them both a disapproving look, “Nox, Ashley, what are you doing? I got eight siblings, and we fight like cats and dogs… But your family means more than this E gate. It’s the lowest rated E gate ever recorded. No point in fighting over it. Your bond is more important than a few dungeon clear points.”
Nox jogged past him, bee-lining for the flickering gate, worried that Jesus might make them hug it out if he lingered any longer. Which would steal any nerves he had left. You’re living up to that name of yours, but i can’t let you crack me open just yet, we got a minotaur to slay. The blue disk began to shrink, narrowing as the trap dungeon began to close.
“Don’t you have sisters Jesus? That’s just how she casts my buffs.” He called over his shoulder, hoping the others wouldn’t be quick enough to follow.
None of them had died cleanly in their last run, and Nox had no desire to re-live their deaths. In fact, he could still smell the scent of fresh blood, taste the bile of a broken sword, and hear their last cries of ‘help me!’ or ‘I don’t want to die.’ His stomach plummeted, freefalling with the sense of an impending surprise.
The gate expanded, opening wider than miasma-man’s unhinged jaw. Ten feet of sparkling blue energy rushed forward, warping reality as it extruded around them, swallowing the kill team in an instant. In one unceremonious barf the men and women were puked into the first room of the maze. Surrounded by thirty-foot tall marble walls, oddly bright against the endless void of space rising above them.
‘Hehehe, if you ran away I was going to send the minotaur after you. But walking in here willingly? Ahaha! Good boy! That’s so much more… interesting. And I wouldn’t want to cheat you.’ Said a familiar voice. Its words were crisp, slicing into Nox’s consciousness without troubling his ears. ‘Go ahead, slay the minotaur ten times. Otherwise you’ll start over, right in here.” Said Miasma man’s stupid voice.
Behind them the portal vanished, disappearing just like it had in Nox’s previous life. Bells echoed through the dungeon and something bellowed from deep within the maze, marble walls reverberating from the beast’s voice. The minotaur was already hunting them. This wasn’t like his last life, the minotaur hadn’t started hunting them until hours after their arrival!
Nox gagged, wanting to vomit. This isn’t a dream… Its really happening again. Miasma man’s words haunted him, ‘don’t want to cheat’? How was altering the past not cheating?
“This is why I hate surprises.”