Chapter 1
Belmont
“It’s a trap!” Mikael was smiling as he screamed his catchphrase again. He looked towards the entrance of the old mansion, covered in black tarp and tapestries. His red plastic mask was uncomfortable and sweaty. He looked over at his friends again.
“You’re damn right it is. Also, stop saying that, Admiral Asshole.” Lance answered in his exaggerated Texan drawl. He tipped his cowboy hat back; the look was a little marred by the fact that he was wearing plastic chaps over his expensive jeans. He didn’t go full-on costume as the others did around Halloween, he focused more on the beer. Of which he was currently shot-gunning a can.
“Well, this is it then Bel, you’re the one Alexa invited after all and you’re the exotic foreign meat she craves.” Mikael was smiling with his entire face now.
“Go ahead, step into the mouth of doom and receive your award.” He gestured with a laugh towards the sign next to the door.
In bold exaggerated letters, it read.
Step into my lair mortal and pay the price, those who enter my mouth of doom shall be swallowed whole, and perhaps spat back out! Muahahaha!
Belmont looked towards his so-called friends.
“You all suck. You know that?” He laughed before tentatively moving forward, raising his rubber bone-dagger, a piece of cheap plastic that rounded off his dark mage look, complete with white and black face paint. He poked the tarp but nothing happened.
He had been looking forward to this event for several months now. Being from a different country he always envied the amount of time and energy Americans put into Halloween. Luckily, he was on a scholarship visa and he was older than 21 by a couple of months now, so this night was going to be EPIC!
With a smile he pushed his way inside, pushing at the tarps covering the entrance, gently stepping inside, feeling his way forward with his feet. He was surprised at how long the tunnel of cloth and fabric was and how warm it was. Outside it had been in the lower degrees, almost freezing, now it felt like he was walking outside on a warm summer day. This place that Alexa had rented must have some expensive heating system.
A light marked the end of the tunnel and so far, nothing bad had happened. Perhaps Alexa and her co-planner hadn’t seen them approach the house yet. He was giddy with the idea of getting a drop on them, he loved scaring people.
With a last flourish as he reached the light, he waved his dagger around and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Aha!”
He immediately went silent and his mouth dropped open as he saw what was on the other side. He took a step back just as an arrow slammed into his shoulder and he fell into the black pit just behind him, a pit that wasn’t there a moment ago.
With a scream of fear and pain, he fell into the darkness.
Devon
The Sun was warm against his bare head. Devon loved feeling the sun's sting on his brow and the wind whipping the sweat away.
It was a perfect day for adventure and comradery, but instead, there was a depressing task set before him and his party.
He looked around the clearing, they were currently breaking camp. Liara was stowing away her excess equipment in her backpack. The sun glinted on her white plate bearing the symbol of her goddess. Her shield with the same symbol was strapped to her back and her bright white mace hung at her side. Her pointed ears were visible as her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, a preparation she always took before a battle.
Morgana was keeping watch at the edge of the clearing, her green leathers and chains melting into the canopy, an arrow nocked and ready.
The clearing was tranquil in a way. Devon always looked for tranquility before a battle, that was his routine to deal with the pressure and horrors of combat. A way to endure the blood and gore, the smell of entrails and fear.
The tranquility was broken by the gruff huffs and puffs coming from Korgan, he was struggling to get his massive helmet on his head, his dwarven armor so big it hindered the fine movements of his hands, and the giant gut didn’t help him either.
Amusing as his struggles were, Devon quickly got annoyed by the angry dwarfs rumbling. He walked over to the short man and plucked the helmet from his hands quickly placing it upon the surprised dwarf's head.
“Hmph, must be nice having those dainty human fingers, Chadwick.” The dwarf's voice was rough but he couldn’t hide his smile. His open-faced helmet framed his large nose and small eyes.
Devon ignored the jab at his hated surname. He tried not to think about his family as much as he could but the others liked to tease him about his noble birth at any time possible.
“Shut up Stocky or I'll push you over. Let's get going, we need to find their trail before they enact whatever mad plan they have concocted this time.” Devon led the way towards Morgana and Korgan fell in behind him with a laugh as Liara approached them, her pack shouldered.
“Finally! Dan’Lug’s head start is big enough as it is.” Morgana sounded annoyed as usual. Her red hair made her look as fierce and angry as ever.
“I found the trail just beyond the mountain ridge. They seem to lead deeper inland towards the lone mountain. Something is off there; the ambient mana was steadily climbing the further in I went.” Morgana took the lead as she spoke.
A whistle from the woman and a gigantic wolf appeared from the underbrush. The monster was easily three times as big as a normal wolf. Morgana sent a mental command and the creature leaped away easily leaving them behind in a matter of seconds.
“Those bastards always make me itch. I thought you had a rogue class, not a summoner?” Korgan looked after the fading wolf with a frown on his face.
“Well, you know I’m a Ranger but after that job in Kalakos, I realized we needed more bodies and better tracking so I bought a tome and combined a skill. It cost an arm and a leg but it has been worth it, don’t you think so Liara?” Morgana's eyes never stopped scouting as she spoke over her shoulder towards her companions.
“Yes.” Liara answered as shortly as always.
Liara was in the middle of the group occupied with praying and preparing her spells for the day. Not that she had to do that to cast them, she was just that devoted.
Devon only listened with half an ear; he was focusing on the task at hand.
Their group had been on Dan’Lugs trail for the better part of a week now. The Orc Hexer had recruited three new members to his little cabal and they had cut a swath through the local villages and farms, kidnapping and murdering as they went. Devon and his crew had been hired to put a stop to the madness.
They had faced off against Dan’Lug before and they had killed his former band but the Orc had the luck of the Eternal and had managed to escape every time.
Devon was fast approaching Bronze Tier and he knew that if he did, he would easily be able to stop the murderous bandits. He quickly brought up his status screen, an alabaster white scroll unfurled before him.
Name: Devon Chadwick III
Class: Paladin of Dawn (Warrior Path – Celestial Warrior Specialization)
Tempering: Tin (Flesh Tempered)
Level: 18 (cap 23)
Strength: 29
Dexterity: 14
Constitution: 24
Intelligence: 10
Willpower: 10
Skills:
Swords:
Basic Swordsmanship -Passive
Journeyman Swordsmanship -Passive
Expert Swordsmanship -Passive
Shields:
Basic Block -Passive
Advanced Block -Passive
Armor:
Basic Heavy Armor -Passive
Advanced Heavy Armor -Passive
Offensive:
Holy Smite Level 14
Consecration Level 12
Divine Rush Level 11
Defensive:
Shield of Light Level 9
Voice of the Goddess Level 12
Support:
Hands of the Divine level 7
Traits:
Human, +2 attribute per level
Tempering:
Flesh – Rot-Poison +5 Strength
He was happy with what he saw even though he had 7 Levels to go to the next tier and he also needed to raise his cap before then. But he had planned out his build for a long time before his Awakening. His father was probably still foaming at the mouth thinking about how he went down the Warriors Path instead of a Mage Path or better yet a Ruler Path.
But Devon had always known that those paths were not for him, he wanted nothing to do with his family, and all he ever wanted was to grow stronger and help people. That’s why he formed this party of strays and together they had toured most of the Tin Zones, taking jobs wherever they could, to keep ends meet.
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He smiled as he looked at his companions. Steadfast Liara, mischievous Morgana, and Korgan the rough but kind-hearted Dwarven Berserker.
They were his friends but also more, they were his true family. They were closer than he had ever been to his father and brothers. Only his mother had ever shown him anything else but ambition, envy, or spite. He fled from the memories of her death before they re-surfaced.
The party made their way through the summer's clad forest, following an old hunter's trail. After about twenty minutes the trees ended and the ground turned rocky and steep. Cresting a hill they saw the lone mountain in the distance, closer than what you would expect as the trees of the forest concealed the peak.
It was a magnificent mountain, standing on an otherwise empty plain. An anomaly that shouldn’t exist but yet here it had stood for as long as the locals could remember. It was a lone peak, suitable for a dragon's hoard or some prophetic event that spelled the doom of the world or some other fairy tale nonsense. Devon chuckled at the thought.
But as far as people could tell it had neither riches, dungeons, or spawning lairs so folks just gave it a wide berth as they traveled between here and the nearby towns.
The trail was clear and easy to follow even to Devon's untrained eyes. Broken twigs and bent grass. Then he saw something that made him go cold and just as he saw it Morgana swore.
“They have prisoners, a lot of them. This explains what happened to the missing farmers, it wasn’t rogue monsters that took them as we thought.” Her brow furrowed as she spoke.
If that news wasn’t troubling the rumbling that came from the mountain just then was.
“Change of plans people, double time.” Devon started running at a fast but steady pace. The others quickly caught up. Morgana whistled and Fang the wolf returned to her side a few seconds later.
Two hours later they were at the foot of the mountain, everyone was breathing heavily and were dangerously winded for the fight to come, but there was no helping it. Who knew what plans their prey had for the prisoners or what that rumbling from before was?
“Well, that’s new.” Liara watched the cave mouth with a frown. They had traveled these lands many times and passed this mountain often, but never had there been a cave here.
“It’s not natural, look at the edges, they are smooth and the angle of the tunnel is too perfect. It's like a giant beam of energy had burned a perfect path down, deeper inside the mountain chain.” Korgan was the expert and he spoke with quiet confidence.
“It’s a dungeon birth.” Devon whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There hasn’t been an unpredicted or secret birth in a hundred years at least.” Morgana was smiling at the idea but her eyes betrayed her worry.
“We have to hurry.” Devon started to sprint down the tunnel the others following fast.
“I pray to Dawn and all the gods that we aren't too late.” Liara whispered.
Dan’Lug
Why does bad luck follow me? Dan’Lug thought to himself.
First, he got banished from his stupid clan for “unethical” experiments on clan members, then his first and second parties got killed by bounty hunters and a party of do-gooders and now this stupid spell didn’t work as it should. Plus, the annoying party of light classes was on his trail even now.
Why couldn’t everyone just let him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone important, and when he ascended to Bronze, he would leave. Still fuming he cut too deep and the farmer before him started to bleed profusely.
Cursing he quickly pulled him to the edge of the pit and pushed the man in. He fell with a scream.
Studying the dungeon entrance, information came to him in form of golden letters foretelling his rise to glory.
Dungeon of the Lone Peak – Type Death, Level 24
Trapped Souls 24
Tin
Only one more now until the dungeon could take him to Bronze Tier. Dan’lug’s eyes grew wide and feverish at the thought, but he tempered it. He still needed to cast the spell that would give him the power to take on the Dungeon with his party. He didn’t even bother to feel fear at the dungeon type.
If the damn thing would just work! He paid good money from a shady information broker for this spell and the map leading here. He had even verified that it was an actual spell at the local Mage Guild office, in disguise, of course, he was a wanted orc after all.
Turning towards the altar he built, he unfurled the scroll again. Preparing to read the incantation one more time when a voice spoke.
“There’s only one left now, why don’t we hurry it up so whe can go delving?” The voice was nasal and whiny. Rakus was sharpening one of his knives half-heartedly and his whiskers were twitching excitedly. The Ratkins eyes darted from his work to Dan’Lug and the other two members of the party.
“The spell is not complete yet, Rodent.” Dan’Lug had to stop himself from casting Withering Flesh on the Ratkin. His anger flared at the impudence of the filthy creature. If it weren't for the fact that he needed a four-man team, then he wouldn’t have bothered with the disgusting Ratkin.
“Peace you two, there’s no need for all this hostility. Once we’ve completed the dungeon dive, we can go our separate ways and finally leave this zone.” Zolana’s voice was filled with honey as she once again de-escalated the conflicts within the group.
The others didn’t see her cold dead eyes, though they knew them well, as she was standing away from the group keeping watch for their pursuers. The Dark-Elf was caressing her dark nine-headed whip on her belt as she spoke.
Kain was silent as usual, the giant man sat by the alter, dressed in his black full plate, his giant Warhammer resting on the ground in front of him.
“Then stop interrupting me!” Dan’Lug swore as he went back to his incantations. Muttering in some ancient language he didn’t speak or understand he just read from the scroll's phonetic translation. He would never admit it, but the Orc wasn’t as skilled with magic and mana as he claimed.
Call it divine intervention or something else but he finally noticed what he had been doing wrong the last 24 times he’d tried this. There was a simple spelling error at the end of the scroll that made the weaves of magic unravel each time. Reaching that part, he corrected himself almost instantly, and without thinking about it. He could feel a response in the mana around him, within his body and the mana etched into the old scroll almost immediately.
A feeling of dread and sorrow grasped his heart and he smiled as he felt mana swirling around him, darkening the sky of the cul-de-sac where the entrance to the dungeon was located. He was smiling with glee, the withered prophecy he was holding already forgotten.
The emotions were not his but a part of the spell and he reveled in them, finally, he had done it! This was his moment. Quickly he dragged the last farmer to her feet. Looking into her frightened eyes he pulled back his sacrificial dagger and plunged it toward her throat.
A clink of metal striking metal interrupted his blow and he looked up with a startle. Kain had moved from his sitting position in an instant, blocking an arrow heading straight for Dan’Lug’s head. His war hammer held before him still trembling from the blow of the glancing projectile.
Looking past the impressive Deathguard, he saw his enemies. That damn Paladin and his meddling associates. With a growl, he raised his arm again to complete the act.
“Stop Dan’Lug! Don’t do this.” Devon's voice was firm but everyone could hear the tremble in his voice as he looked upon the poor woman in the Orc’s arms.
“There is no escaping us this time and we get paid more for bringing you in alive. Lay down your arms and I'll promise you, you will all get a fair trial and a lesser sentence than you deserve.” He was looking Dan’Lug in the eyes as he spoke but his eyes flickered toward the other as well. But he was no fool, he had his shield and sword at the ready and his party had readied their weapons as well. It was too bad that Morgana's arrow hadn’t taken out the Hexer, that damn Deathguard had some kind of defensive skill. It must have had both some kind of warning or passive effect for him to be able to dodge the stealthed ranger's shoot.
“Ha... Hahah... hahah! You’re a fool, Lord Chadwick. I know you walk the path of the idiot warrior but even you with your pitiful mana control should be able to feel the vortex around you gathering speed and power.” The orc's voice was cackling with more madness than ever before.
Devon had of course felt the building of energy and the sense of dread, they all had. But he wasn’t about to sacrifice a life for his own by running away. Not now, not ever.
“The magic is dark, darker than I have ever felt before.” Liara whispered, her tone urgent and full of an emotion she often didn’t display, fear.
“Last chance, no one else needs to die today.” Devon was looking at Dan’Lug but his words were for the Ratkin, Dark Elf, and Human too.
They all looked towards one another, they were all on an equal level but they all knew of Devon’s party’s reputation. Fighting now would cost them.
“Perhaps we should listen to them Dan’Lug.” Rakus whispered loudly.
“Useless Rat, witness the power of a true Hexer!” Before he had even moved Morgana had sent two arrows toward him, no one was faster than her. But he was still standing behind Kain and even though the Deathguard didn’t try to block the attack it still missed due to his massive size. The two arrows deflecting of his plate followed by a pained grunt from the man.
With a quick slash, Dan’Lug cut the poor woman's throat and as her hands flew up to stem the flow of blood, he flicked her over the edge into the black pit next to the altar. The poor woman couldn’t even scream as she fell.
“No!” Both Devon and Liara shouted but their voices were drowned out by a large rumble coming from the mountain around them as the ground and walls of the glen they stood in, shook.
They could all see the name of the dungeon, hovering in the air as the information changed.
Dungeon of the Lone Peak – Type Death, Level 25
Trapped Souls 25
Bronze
With a roar, Korgan charged towards the Deathguard, his body glowing with a red shine as he activated his Berserker ability. Morgana fired arrow after arrow towards the Dark-Elf who raised her whip sending it towards the giant wolf charging her. Liara muttered a spell and white light flared from her closed fist traveling towards the Ratkin Rogue that suddenly wasn’t there anymore.
With a scream of sorrow and fury, Devon charged the Orc, who raised his dagger and with his other hand prepared a curse.
The two groups met with a mighty crash as metal struck metal and spells flew everywhere, total pandemonium taking over as they attacked and defended, they all used every ability at their disposal, burning through stamina and mana at an alarming rate.
The battle devastated the area, cutting long furrows in the stone. The few trees in the clearing were decimated and dust filled the air.
No one noticed at first the shift in the atmosphere. A presence kept growing in their minds and pressure on their souls was building. The ambient mana kept growing until they started to feel sluggish and hard of breath, almost as if the area was about to rank up. Whisps of Death mana swirled around them and a silent wind started blowing. This finally brought them out of their focused battle and they separated into two parties once more.
The Ratkin was holding a blackened arm while Korgan sported a black eye and a cut just below his brow as his helmet had dug into him.
“What are you doing now Dan’Lug? It’s not too late to end this and take your punishment. No one else needs to die today.” Devon was furious but kept his voice calm, his eyes never leaving the enemy.
“Fool, this is my way out of this damned zone. Witness my power as I summon a beast of the apocalypse! The one who will fuel my power to Diamond and beyond!” The orc was cackling madly, a crazed look in his eyes.
A black portal opened at the edge of the pit above the dungeon. It was a circle of black flame with dark runes circling the edges and at the center, an even darker shape was growing as if it was approaching from deeper inside the disc. As if the portal was an endless tunnel into the Eternal Rest or beyond.
The tension was palpable, even the Hexers party seemed apprehensive of what was happening. They shoot glances toward the Orc and Devon had the impression that they didn’t know about this part of the plan.
As the shape breached the portal a dark-robed leg crossed first followed by the rest of the dark shape’s body, a skeleton of some sort with white paint and dark sunken pits of malevolence underneath its black cowl. It was holding a wicked-looking dagger of white bone and it shouted as it came through.
“Aha!”
Morgana had already drawn and released an arrow at the creature as Devon screamed over the sound of howling winds and the crackling portal.
“Necromancy! Now you’ve done it Dan’Lug, they will hunt you to the ends of the eight worlds for this.” Even Dan’Lug seemed shocked as he read something only, he could see.
“What?! No, it’s not possible, it should have been mine!” The crazed Orc screamed.
The arrow slammed home, hitting the creature in the shoulder, and with a squeal of pain, it clasped the wound, as it took a step back and promptly fell down the pit. The portal slammed shut and the winds died in an instant.
“What in the Celestial Territories is going on? It bled?” Liara's shocked voice echoed in the silence.