Chapter 04

Lep, mage: Hand of Flames Level 44.

Arris, ancienne: Conjure Orb Weaver Level 39, Oak Beard Level 39.

Robern, rogue: Conjure Crossbow bolt Level 24, Crossbow Level 8.

Pelle, healer: Danera Wisps Level 35.

Vynk, warrior: Kildd’s Greatsword Level 68, Replace Blade Power Technique.

Foli, ancienne: Steed of Elwohire Level 53.

Dungeon Chain: First Chain: Through Brush and Blade of Fern.

We had each done quite a bit of preparing for the first dungeon. I had preoccupied myself with absorbing the daily growth of mana crystals on my spellbook which had earned me a new total of 827 mana points.

With having so much, I thought I’d really begin leveling up my gear. I blind leveled all my basic clothing, and then integrated an armor rune into my cloak. It was now a level 16 cloak.

My flagstaff had tremendously leveled up. The Gryf ribbon was now a Twenty of Gryf, Zekaidean’s Anvil now healed 17 health per strike, and both the pyramid spearhead and flagstaff pole increased in durability.

Lastly, I leveled the capacity of my inventory pouch by 10 points, and its durability by 10. It was filled with healing potions and various scrolls. I left my shoulder strap bag at the dorm knowing I could just level up the capacity of my inventory pouch when the need arose.

I’d spent a massive 73 points of permanent mana leveling everything up, bringing my mana pool down to 754. Still quite respectable, especially given my experience.

The mouth of the dungeon was overgrown with dying flowers. The petals had once been long, spiny, and viciously red. Now they were brown, and nearly fully decayed upon cold piles of stone. Vines climbed without support to form a twisted arch.

I followed my companions into the dungeon jungle with my level 60 flagstaff at the ready. After a week of intensive training, my flagstaff felt much lighter. I carried it with ease—with half the effort as before. Despite the wintry chill, a warmth hunkered in the dungeon jungle. Snow barely touched the jungle, but everything was wet.

We were lucky, I thought, that a warmth coated the trail of the dungeon jungle. The dungeon had no ceiling, but thick bramble prevented our party from straying too far from the trail. We were forced to veer off and around the center of the path when we almost stepped on fresh scat.

“Droppings,” Robern said, bringing the party to a halt and crouching to inspect what he’d found.

“Animal?” Foli said

“No. Whatever made this is foul. I’ve never seen or smelt anything so putrid.”

Robern led us forward, occasionally using mana to sense for traps. We ended up running into one. It was obvious. A cage of wood was suspended above scattered copper coins. Anyone not paying attention might have been caught—emphasis on might have.

“Strange,” Robern said.

“There’s always traps,” Vynk said. “At least the dungeons I’ve gone into. What’s so strange about it?”

“Well for one, I’m not sure that this trap was spawned by the dungeon itself. I think someone in this dungeon made this.”

“Someone?” I said.

“Intelligent monsters or bandits maybe?” Robern said. “I can’t tell, but the handiwork is sloppy and there are more droppings over here where the cord holding the cage is anchored. Felke! It smells awful!”

The cord was cut and the trap was so poorly made, that the wooden cage simply collapsed in on itself when it hit the ground. Robern was the most baffled by the trap. So much so, that he spent another few points of mana to sense trap once more before moving on.

“Could have been a decoy,” he said.

8 copper coins were collected and given to Foli, our dungeon chain treasurer. We had all agreed that she would be in charge of keeping the coin until we were through with all five chains. Then she would split the coin evenly amongst us.

The next trap was just as obvious as the previous one. Though there was still no snow, it was winter afterall, and a layer of fresh autumn leaves were suspiciously placed in the middle of the path. Leaves that should have been long browned, not still retaining a shred of color.

“Pit of spikes,” Robern said after triggering the trap to collapse. The stench of foul scat wafted up and we trekked onward and away, pinching our noses.

The smell of droppings tipped us that a trap was near, every single time. It was foolproof. Each trap was crudely made and was largely ineffective. When we came onto another pit trap, Robern inspected the spikes and found that the wood was soft and that it crumbled easily.

“Whatever set these traps obviously didn’t know what it was doing,” Arris said.

“I disagree,” Robern said. “Listen, these traps might seem naive because they’re poorly made, but whoever set them up understands how they work. With better materials, each trap would be very effective. We can deduce that the maker is intelligent enough to design proper traps. I think they lack the experience that makes these traps effective and hidden. So, they do know what they’re doing. They’re just not doing a good job of it.”

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“Could be a decoy from a real trap,” Lep said.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Robern said. “It’s got me on my toes. I’d rather disarm real traps than run into these. They’ve made me suspicious and paranoid. Also, judging by the sheer amount of droppings, I think it’s more than one thing—or person. Though I don’t think these have been made by people. Judging by the scat, at least.”

“There’s also no footprints near any of the traps or around any of the droppings,” Pelle said.

Robern froze for a moment, pinched his chin in thought, and stared at the ground. Then, as if what Pelle had said finally sank in, he frantically looked around. Our footprints were there in the earth, softened from melting snow, but Pelle was right, there were no other footprints. Robern equipped his crossbow and scanned the canopy above. In his free hand he conjured a crossbow bolt and loaded the weapon.

“They’re in the trees,” he said.

In a matter of seconds we were all prepared to engage in battle. Our mana bars were cast wide. We scanned the trees and huddled together in a circle. Pelle, Lep, and I took up the center of our formation, just as we practiced.

Laughter filled the canopy. Impish cackles fell on our ears like broken trumpets. Great gossamer wings unfurled by the dozens exposing creatures that had been well hidden until then.

“Oh yeah!” Vynk said. “Here we go!”

The unfurling of wings revealed the bodies of impish creatures. It was as though their bodies had replaced those of giant butterflies, yet kept the wings. The imps were bark-ish brown from head to toe, and eye, and teeth. Excrement fell from random leaping forms as they collectively leapt from their perches and hovered overhead. Their skin was rough and peeled away like the bark from birch trees. Their hands and feet were enormously disproportional to the rest of their bodies. It’s no wonder they built such poor traps, it would be hard for anyone to work with fingers of that size.

“Hand of Flames!” Lep called out, sending back to back hands made of flames hurling through the air. Each digit was the size of one of us, and the mage expertly puppeted the hands to grasp two flying imps, plucking them from where they hovered.

The creatures were scorched to ash in mere moments. Their screams traveled through my brain and bone matter, sending shivers coursing through me.

Arris’s Orb Weaver stepped out of an inverting ball of mana. It sped toward the trees and climbed up like a flash of black lightning. In moments it ensnared three flying imps who struggled with a multitude of curses. The other imps learned from their comrades' experience and scattered as far as they could from the spider.

Foli’s Sphinx Wasp buzzed with vehemence, streaking in circles around imps that had been separated from their group. The wasp was a thing of wild anger as it stuck viciously with its stinger and snapping mandibles. Each imp victim had no moment to react. They simply fell, already having bled out from the massive holes of the stinger by the time they hit the forest floor. Their own blood rained and splashed upon them a second later.

The flying imps wasted no more time and dove on the offensive. Lep’s mighty Hand of Flames snuffed them out two at a time. Vynk’s greatsword swept through imps with ease. Robern conjured bolt after bolt and dropped them as fast as he could. His crossbow clicked repeatedly with a fury. Pelle cast Star Armor, which encased each one of us with shields of translucent, galaxy colored bubbles.

I lunged and impaled an imp who’d flown past Lep’s two Hand of Flames. An arc of blood swung off the spearhead as I threw off the imp and righted the flagstaff. The imp fell, still alive, crumpled in a fetal position and bracing against the pain and agony it was in.

Both our Orb Weaver and Sphinx Wasp were suffering from damage. They were in the thick of battle fighting off a relentless pileup of flying imps.

“Twenty of Gryf!” I called four times, returning the giant insects’ health to full.

Flying imps rushed us once more, and this time we could not evade their attack. One of them crashed into Pelle’s galactic colored barrier, shattering it on impact. The barrier fell away like rain beneath a white sun. Another flying imp landed upon her shoulders and crushed his feet’s talons into both shoulders. Pelle cried out and fell to her knees. Her health bar fell by a quarter. The imp squatted behind her back like some cathedral gargoyle, and wrapped his meaty hands around her face and under her chin. Then it started to pull, trying to rip her head off.

Four conjured crossbow bolts punctured through the skull of the imp from behind and the monster fell forward over Pelle.

“Zekaidean’s Anvil!” I said. “Twenty of Gryf!”

My mana bar depleted and Zekaidean’s Anvil was repeatedly struck by the ghostly outline of a hammer. Light and choral voices ringed out omnidirectionally. I aimed my second spell at Pelle.

What followed was a bloodbath. Every one of us was forced to fight after our shields broke. Pelle and I fought adjacent to each other. From the corner of my eye I saw her dagger streak across imp flesh and tear through gossamer wings.

Every couple of seconds, waves of Zekaidean’s Anvil coursed through us, delivering 17 points of healing per wave. Our health bars fell and rose in repeating patterns.

Vynk’s battlecries dominated the fight and a pool of dead imps were amassing at his feet. Bulging muscles powered the greatsword’s strikes in huge arcs. The warrior’s square jaw sported a gash that was quickly healing.

Our insects were again on the brink of death so I stopped battling to cast a second Zekaidean’s Anvil and a few more Twenty of Gryfs. My efforts saved the insects but cost me nearly a quarter of my health as flying imps took the chance to attack me scoring slashes.

A trio of Pyrrhon’s potions exploded at my feet, returning my health to full. Yea, having a second healer was one hundred percent worth it.

Set upon by half a dozen flying imps, I was almost imobile. My flagstaff was too long to deal damage. All I could do was parry as much as possible while keeping an eye on everyone else’s health bars. I didn’t have to wait long for help.

Having slaughtered all the other flying imps, the ones crowding me were picked off by Lep’s Hand of Flames from one side, and Foli’s staff from the other. The heat from the flames was terrifying up close. I was certain my clothes or hair would have caught on fire just from my proximity. Luckily that didn’t happen.

“It’s a shame,” Foli said, gazing upon the battlefield after bashing in the face of the last squirming imp.

“Why’s that?” Vynk said.

“Their wings. They’re beautiful.”

The wings were indeed beautiful. They were wild with colors and false eyes. They stuck up like broken shards of stained glass. The battlefield looked like a collapsed hellish cathedral—without the architecture.

We moved on over the bodies and paused while Pelle and I distributed potions to return everyone’s health to full.

“How long do you think they were waiting there?” Foli said.

“Since the first trap, would be my guess,” said Robern. “I think they were waiting for a trap to be set off. Their plan had to be to lay in wait until then. Which means if we start to run into traps again, we’ll have to check the trees right away.”

“Until they opened their wings, they were well hidden,” I said. “If they stay hidden next time, we might not even notice.”

“Lep’s fire hands can just feel around for any monsters if we’re ever unsure,” Vynk said with a wry smile.

“Sure,” said Lep. “Let’s just casually burn down the forest—jungle—whatever this is.”