Chapter Six
Fred knew that Jackson needed to go and wasn’t too upset about it. He showed Jackson the exit from the safe zone and pointed to some stairs not too far away. They went up and then down.
“That’s the exit, lad. It leads upward or downward to the next floor. I genuinely wish you all the best.” Fred held out his massive hand, and Jackson clapped it with his own. They gripped each other's forearms. Jackson tried not to wince and instead smiled. Fred nodded at him, and then it was time for him to go.
Jackson bit his lip and took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt concern build within him. He didn't want to go. With Fred, he had been mostly safe; at least no one was directly trying to kill him. Now that the time had come to set out again, he was confronted with the fact that he would be in danger again. Sure, he was a little more prepared with his katana strapped to his belt and his bag of holdings filled with rations and bombs, but it didn’t change the fact that once he headed out, he would face peril.
He closed his eyes and opened them, allowing himself to feel determined. He had things to be about—a rat to kill, a quest to finish. He would see it done. Confidently, he began to stride forward, toward the unknown and all it represented.
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Jackson emerged into a corridor covered in thick webs. The stuff was incredibly sticky, his face twisting in disgust, his lip curling. He gripped his katana tighter as he made his way forward. The whole area smelled of rotting milk and bone. He had to hack some of the web so he could get through. It was during this process that a thick, wet glob of something splattered on his head.
A chill went down his spine, and ever so slowly, he looked up. Eight red eyes stared at him with undisguised hunger, saliva dripping from its open mouth. That was enough to give him nightmares, but it didn’t stop there. It was large, grey, and black with thick bristle-like hair all over its bulbous body. Its massive eight legs tensed, and Jackson’s eyes widened as he pushed himself back just as the spider monster launched itself at him.
Needless to say, he tripped on the webbing and fell to the ground, his katana flying out of his hand with a muted clang on the web-covered stone. He scrambled towards the blade just as a spider leg tried to spear him where he had laid. The spider chittered angrily at him, eyes swirling with hunger.
Jackson quickly analyzed it as he scooped up his blade and scrambled to his feet.
Plague Spider Level 10!
“That sounds pleasant,” Jackson muttered to himself as he readied his blade.
He was preparing for it to charge him, or maybe leap at him. It did none of those things but rather lobbed a dark green glob of goo at him, the substance bubbling and hissing. He didn’t have a lot of options; the space was narrow and covered with webs. He couldn’t dive to either side as the walls blocked him. His only option was to roll under the projectile. As he did this, the spider leaped at him, fangs flashing. He felt a drop of the goop land on his arm. Pain bloomed as the goop, which he now understood to be acid, burned his flesh, turning a small patch of it a sickly dark color.
Jackson howled as he brought his blade downward, meeting the spider's leap. His blade cut through the monster like it was a rotten melon, dark insectoid skin parting, spilling green ichor and dark guts all over him as the monster gave a dying screech.
You have defeated a level 10 plague spider! You have increased your level from 2 to 3. Your katana skill has progressed!
Jackson was covered in smelly, rancid spider monster guts and blood. His arm was burning with acidic pain, his breath a little heavy. But he was alive. He had won. He grinned at his victory, which quickly faded as more chittering filled the tunnel.
The cold grip of dread reached around his heart and squeezed as his face drained of color. He slowly turned. A portion of the webbing down the tunnel had parted, revealing three more plague spiders that had dropped from the wall beyond the webs.
Their red eyes flicked to their fallen brother and then to him. Jackson gulped. At least he had two more lives.
He raised his katana, grip sweaty around the handle. He would spend this life fighting at least.
An emerald green burst of power slammed into one of the spiders.
“I hate spiders so freaking much!”
A crimson-haired player strode forward from behind the spiders. She wielded a staff in one hand, a grimace of disgust painted all over her face. She looked like she had just picked up something gross and was trying to get it off her hand, especially from the way she rubbed her free hand against her robes.
Jackson blinked, feeling like he had seen her before. He didn’t get a chance to think much about it. The other spiders turned, hissing as they leaped at her.
A boom echoed throughout the area as a blonde-haired man in basic, dirty armor rocketed forward, kite-shield slamming into one of the spiders, sending it crashing into the wall with such force that the creature squelched, breaking from the pressure. It fell to the ground like a swatted bug, twitching.
An arrow slammed into the final spider, piercing its brain with a hiss of force. Another arrow collided with the twitching spider, causing it to go still as green ichor burst from it. Jackson stood there, awkwardly, smelly, and uncertain of what to say. A woman with hair as white as fresh snow on a cold winter day strode into the area, green eyes flicking around to identify threats. Satisfied, she nodded.
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“Quit being a baby, Riselle. We’ve dealt with worse.”
Her attention turned to Jackson. He got the sense that she was the leader here. Her nose wrinkled as she regarded him, her eyes focusing on the blade he wielded.
“Hey there. Looks like we came just in time.”
The warrior spoke up, the mace he held shifting on his shoulder.
“Melanie, look! He’s a swordsman.”
His voice was a youthful rumble. The flame-haired woman, Riselle if Jackson had heard her name right, perked up, hazel eyes bright.
“Mels! He could…”
The white-haired woman held up a hand, her lovely face tightening.
“I know. Sorry for them. The redhead is Riselle, and the warrior is Adaran. We were headed this way to clear out these spiders. Should be the last of them. Listen, do you want to come back to our camp? It isn’t far, and you could get cleaned up there. I have a proposal for you.”
Jackson chewed on his tongue, shifting a bit as his eyes darted around the room. He had to admit, he was a little reluctant. He had done well on his own so far. Yet without them, he would have surely died, spending another life and being down to just one. At this point, he felt like he owed them at least a conversation.
Besides, he did want to get cleaned up.
He nodded, “Okay, yeah, why not? Lead on.”
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Their camp was a few small tents put up in a corridor with a dead end that faced the way they came. There was a fire going on, built with bricks to make the fire pit, wood, and some kind of moss. There was a lookout as well, a black-haired man with a bow and piercing brown eyes that Jackson knew saw far. Others were in the camp as well: more archers and a few more warriors. All told, there were about seven of them.
They all nodded with respect at Melanie, but they eyed Jackson suspiciously. Melanie sat by the fire and indicated he do the same.
When Jackson sat down, Adaran smiled at him as he set a water bucket with a rag in front of him. Gratefully, Jackson cleaned himself as best he could.
Melanie smiled, “Don’t worry, we won’t bite, I promise. Honestly, we need you.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow at that. Needed him? He voiced the obvious question, “What for? I’m just a passing swordsman. I haven’t analyzed you, but I bet you’re all at a higher level than I am.”
“It’s not your level that matters, but rather your class and skill. See, there is a man, Dylan Roache; he is a swordsman like you, except his sword is different. A hand and a half blade. Dylan and his guild are forcing other players to enter into slave pacts with them; if they don't, he hurts them. Dylan doesn’t kill them because he doesn’t want them to despawn, but he does torture them until they give in. It’s barbaric,” her face twisted until it was full of rage and disgust.
Jackson took the opportunity to interject. “That is horrible, but where do I come in?”
Riselle spoke up, “We need you to fight him.”
Jackson looked at her and tilted his head. He was a little perplexed.
“Again, I am low level; if he’s forcing players into this and has a guild that follows him, I doubt I could win.”
Melanie shot Riselle an annoyed glance and looked back at Jackson. “What Riselle means is that we need you to challenge him to a duel. A swordfight. Dylan fancies himself the best swordsman in this dungeon, and he looks for every opportunity to prove it. He killed three of my fellow guild members, all officers, just because they wielded swords. He wants to kill me as well, and given the chance, he certainly would.” Her eyes gained a hint of sadness, but steel was in her voice. Jackson could tell the deaths pained her, but he still did not know how he could really help.
“I understand that, but you’re looking at the wrong guy. He'll probably kill me too.”
Melanie nodded and admitted, “He might, but that doesn’t matter. You don’t need to beat him. It will be a distraction. While you’re doing that, I will have my archers get into place, and Riselle and Adaran will charge into battle at my signal, and chaos will ensue. We rain arrows down on Dylan and his crew and win the day. All thanks to the element of surprise.” Melanie smiled, satisfaction rolling off her in waves.
Jackson didn’t know how much he liked this plan since it hinged on him lasting long enough for all of them to get into place. That said, if this Dylan really was doing what Melanie said he was, Jackson didn’t think he had much of a choice but to try and stop it. Still, he wanted to try and get something out of the deal. So he asked, “Do you know where the stairs to the upper floor are?”
Melanie nodded, “I do. Why do you ask?”
Jackson rubbed his hands. “I will help, but in exchange, I want you to show me those stairs. I have unfinished business on that floor.”
Melanie thought about it, her eyes looking at the others, but eventually, she nodded. “That sounds like a deal to me. However, you will need to wait. Dylan isn’t at camp yet and likely won’t return for some time.”
Jackson sighed and settled back. “How do you know that?”
Melanie shrugged, “We scout his camp. He does tend to leave at times; it isn’t that surprising. He will be back, though, likely in a few hours.”
Jackson rubbed his face, but there was nothing for it. He settled back to wait.
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Melanie and the others talked for a while, but eventually, their attention turned toward Jackson.
“So, do you remember anything? You know, from before this," Melanie waved her hands as if to encompass everything. Jackson shook his head.
“Not a thing. Sometimes I get an idea, maybe, of what kind of person I am, but no memories. How about all of you?”
Melanie and the others shook their heads.
“Essentially the same thing you have experienced, we have. Little bits of instinct, but that is all. How did you end up here?” Melanie inquired.
Jackson felt his face heat up, and he rubbed his neck. “I, uhh, well, I kind of died.”
He coughed. Melanie chuckled, “It isn’t anything to be ashamed of; this dungeon is dangerous. In fact, I believe the world is very dangerous. I think that if I hadn’t banded with Adaran and Riselle here, I would have died much earlier. What about your Domain, have you been able to access it yet?”
“Yes, I have. It’s interesting to have a whole world inside of you.” Melanie and the others nodded at that. Before Jackson could comment further, Riselle’s stomach rumbled, and her face flushed.
“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t eaten in a while.”
She looked down, her hair hiding her face. Jackson laughed and reached into his bag, pulling out some of those so-called premium rations he had bought.
“I don’t know how appetizing this is, but you’re welcome to it. I have enough for everyone,” Jackson said, smiling. Soon enough, he had passed out extra rations, and all of them tucked into them, the fire burning with a merry flame. As they ate, they swapped stories of their adventures so far. Jackson told them of how he had been killed by the giant rat, and Adaran let out a belly laugh.
“You just thought one slice would do it, eh?” he said, his eyes twinkling. Jackson scowled, but it was in good humor.
“It had been up until that point,” Jackson said a little defensively.
Adaran laughed again, shaking his head. The others talked about fighting off goblins and finding a treasure chest full of EC, which is how they bought their equipment. They talked for what seemed like hours, laughing and ribbing at one another. Jackson finally started to feel like he had found allies.
It was too bad; they would be in a lot of danger very soon.