Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Fred knows that I need to go and is not too upset about it. He shows me the exit from the safe zone and points to some stairs not too far away.

"That is the exit, lad. It leads upward or downward to the next floor. I genuinely wish you all the best." Fred holds out his massive hand, and I clasp it with my own. We grip each other's forearms, sealing our friendship with the simple gesture. I try not to wince at his crushing strength and instead smile. Fred nods at me, and then it is time for me to go.

I bite my lip and take a deep breath, my eyebrows furrowing as concern builds within me. I do not want to go. With Fred, I have been mostly safe; at least no one was directly trying to kill me. Now that the time has come to set out again, I am confronted with the fact that I will be in danger again. Sure, I am a little more prepared with my katana strapped to my belt and my bag of holding filled with rations and bombs, but it does not change the fact that once I head out, I will face peril.

The crimson river in my Domain churns with anticipation, almost eager for the dangers ahead. The aspect of destruction seems to pulse with readiness. I push aside the discomfort this causes me—what does it say about me that part of my essence craves violence?

I close my eyes and open them, allowing myself to feel determined. I have things to be about—a quest to finish, a tomb to find. I will see it done. Confidently, I begin to stride forward, toward the unknown and all it represents.

I emerge into a corridor covered in thick webs. The stuff is incredibly sticky, clinging to my new clothes and making movement difficult. My face twists in disgust, my lip curling as I try to free myself from the clingy strands. I grip my katana tighter as I make my way forward. The whole area smells of rotting milk and decay, a sickly sweet odor that makes my stomach churn. I have to hack through some of the webbing to proceed.

It is during this process that a thick, wet glob of something spatters on my head.

A chill races down my spine, and ever so slowly, I look up. Eight red eyes stare at me with undisguised hunger, saliva dripping from an open maw lined with needle-like fangs. That would be enough to give me nightmares, but it does not stop there. The creature is large, grey, and black with thick bristle-like hair all over its bulbous body. Its massive eight legs tense, and my eyes widen as I push myself back just as the spider monster launches itself at me.

I trip on the webbing and fall to the ground, my katana flying out of my hand with a muted clang on the web-covered stone. I scramble toward the blade just as a spider leg tries to spear me where I had laid. The spider chitters angrily at me, its eyes swirling with hunger.

I quickly analyze it as I scoop up my blade and scramble to my feet.

Plague Spider Level 10!

"That sounds pleasant," I mutter to myself as I ready my blade.

I prepare for it to charge me, or maybe leap at me. It does none of those things but rather lobs a dark green glob of goo at me, the substance bubbling and hissing as it flies through the air. I do not have many options; the space is narrow and covered with webs. I cannot dive to either side as the walls block me. My only option is to roll under the projectile.

As I do this, the spider leaps at me, fangs flashing in the dim light. I feel a drop of the goop land on my arm. Pain blooms as the goop, which I now understand to be acid, burns my flesh, turning a small patch of it a sickly dark color.

I howl as I bring my blade upward, meeting the spider's leap. My katana cuts through the monster like it is a rotten melon, dark insectoid skin parting easily, spilling green ichor and dark guts all over me as the monster gives a dying screech.

You have defeated a level 10 plague spider! You have increased your level from 3 to 4. Your katana skill has progressed!

I am covered in smelly, rancid spider monster guts and blood. My arm burns with acidic pain, my breath comes a little heavy. But I am alive. I have won. I grin at my victory, which quickly fades as more chittering fills the tunnel.

The cold grip of dread reaches around my heart and squeezes as the color drains from my face. I slowly turn. A portion of the webbing down the tunnel has parted, revealing three more plague spiders that have dropped from the wall beyond the webs.

Their red eyes flick to their fallen brother and then to me. I gulp. At least I have two more lives.

I raise my katana, grip sweaty around the handle. I will spend this life fighting at least. The crimson river in my Domain surges, ready for battle despite my fear. I wonder briefly if it has a will of its own.

An emerald green burst of power slams into one of the spiders, sending it crashing into the wall with a wet crunch.

"I hate spiders so freaking much!"

A crimson-haired woman strides forward from behind the spiders. She wields a staff in one hand, a grimace of disgust painted all over her face. She looks like she has just picked up something gross and is trying to get it off her hand, especially from the way she rubs her free hand against her robes.

I blink, feeling like I have seen her before. The sanguine color of her hair triggers a memory from the crypt where I first awoke. I do not get a chance to think much about it. The other spiders turn, hissing as they leap at her.

A boom echoes throughout the area as a blonde-haired man in basic, dirty armor rockets forward, kite-shield slamming into one of the spiders, sending it crashing into the wall with such force that the creature squelches, breaking from the pressure. It falls to the ground like a swatted bug, twitching.

An arrow slams into the final spider, piercing its brain with a hiss of force. Another arrow collides with the twitching spider, causing it to go still as green ichor bursts from it. I stand there, awkwardly, smelly, and uncertain of what to say.

A woman with hair as white as fresh snow on a cold winter day strides into the area, green eyes flicking around to identify threats. Satisfied, she nods. She moves with confident grace, every step purposeful.

"Quit being a baby, Riselle. We have dealt with worse."

Her attention turns to me. I get the sense that she is the leader here. Her nose wrinkles as she regards me, her eyes focusing on the blade I wield.

"Hey there. Looks like we came just in time."

The warrior speaks up, the mace he holds shifting on his shoulder.

"Melanie, look! He is a swordsman."

His voice is a youthful rumble. The flame-haired woman, Riselle if I heard her name right, perks up, hazel eyes bright.

"Mels! He could…"

The white-haired woman holds up a hand, her lovely face tightening.

"I know." She turns to me. "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 is not far, and you could get cleaned up there. I have a proposal for you."

I chew on my tongue, shifting a bit as my eyes dart around the room. I have to admit, I am a little reluctant. I have done well on my own so far. Yet without them, I would have surely died, spending another life and being down to just one. At this point, I feel like I owe them at least a conversation.

Besides, I do want to get cleaned up.

I nod, "Okay, yeah, why not? Lead on."

Their camp is a few small tents put up in a corridor with a dead end that faces the way they came. There is a fire going, built with bricks to make the fire pit, wood, and some kind of moss that gives off a pleasant, spicy aroma. There is a lookout as well, a black-haired man with a bow and piercing brown eyes that I know see far.

Others are in the camp as well: more archers and a few more warriors. All told, there are about seven of them. They all nod with respect at Melanie, but they eye me suspiciously. Melanie sits by the fire and indicates I do the same.

When I sit down, Adaran smiles at me as he sets a water bucket with a rag in front of me. Gratefully, I clean myself as best I can, scrubbing away the spider remains. The cool water soothes the acid burn on my arm.

Melanie smiles, "Do not worry, we will not bite, I promise. Honestly, we need you."

I raise an eyebrow at that. Need me? I voice the obvious question, "What for? I am just a passing swordsman. I have not analyzed you, but I bet you are all at a higher level than I am."

"It is 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 do not, he hurts them. Dylan does not kill them because he does not want them to despawn, but he does torture them until they give in. It is barbaric." Her face twists until it is full of rage and disgust.

The name Dylan Roache sends a chill through me, though I cannot place why. Something about it feels important, like a warning I should heed. The crimson river in my Domain churns with an emotion I cannot identify.

I take the opportunity to interject. "That is horrible, but where do I come in?"

Riselle speaks up, her voice eager and sharp. "We need you to fight him."

I look at her and tilt my head. I am a little perplexed.

"Again, I am low level; if he is forcing people into this and has a guild that follows him, I doubt I could win."

Melanie shoots Riselle an annoyed glance and looks back at me. "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 gain a hint of sadness, but steel is in her voice. I can tell the deaths pained her, but I still do not know how I could really help.

"I understand that, but you are looking at the wrong guy. He will probably kill me too."

Melanie nods and admits, "He might, but that does not matter. You do not need to beat him. It will be a distraction. While you are 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 smiles, satisfaction rolling off her in waves.

I do not know how much I like this plan since it hinges on me lasting long enough for all of them to get into place. I would essentially be bait, likely sacrificing one of my precious remaining lives. That said, if this Dylan really is doing what Melanie says he is, I do not think I have much of a choice but to try and stop it.

A voice echoes in my memory: "Real power is knowing that you do not have to use it." Was that my mother's voice? The half-remembered lesson makes me wonder what she would think of me now, considering using violence to help these strangers.

Still, I want to try and get something out of the deal. So I ask, "Do you know where the stairs to the upper floor are?"

Melanie nods, "I do. Why do you ask?"

I rub my hands together. "I will help, but in exchange, I want you to show me those stairs. I have unfinished business on that floor."

Melanie thinks about it, her eyes looking at the others, but eventually, she nods. "That sounds like a deal to me. However, you will need to wait. Dylan is not at camp yet and likely will not return for some time."

I sigh and settle back. "How do you know that?"

Melanie shrugs, "We scout his camp. He does tend to leave at times; it is not that surprising. He will be back, though, likely in a few hours."

I rub my face, but there is nothing for it. I settle back to wait.

Melanie and the others talk for a while, but eventually, their attention turns toward me.

"So, do you remember anything? You know, from before this," Melanie waves her hands as if to encompass everything.

I shake my head. "Not a thing. Sometimes I get an idea, maybe, of what kind of person I am, but no memories." I choose not to mention the brief flashes I have experienced—the blonde woman's voice, the sense of déjà vu. They feel too personal, too fragile to share just yet.

"How about all of you?" I ask.

Melanie and the others shake 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 inquires.

I feel my face heat up, and I rub my neck. "I, uhh, well, I kind of died."

I cough, embarrassed. Melanie chuckles, "It is not anything to be ashamed of; this dungeon is dangerous. In fact, I believe the world is very dangerous. I think that if I had not 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." I hesitate, not wanting to reveal my rare blood aspect. "It is interesting to have a whole world inside of you." Melanie and the others nod at that.

Before I can comment further, Riselle's stomach rumbles, and her face flushes.

"Sorry, it is just that I have not eaten in a while."

She looks down, her hair hiding her face. I laugh and reach into my bag, pulling out some of those so-called premium rations I had bought.

"I do not know how appetizing this is, but you are welcome to it. I have enough for everyone," I say, smiling.

Soon enough, I have passed out extra rations, and all of us tuck into them, the fire burning with a merry flame. As we eat, we swap stories of our adventures so far. I tell them of how I was killed by the giant rat, and Adaran lets out a belly laugh.

"You just thought one slice would do it, eh?" he says, his eyes twinkling.

I scowl, but it is in good humor. "It had been up until that point," I say a little defensively.

Adaran laughs again, shaking his head. The others talk about fighting off goblins and finding a treasure chest full of EC, which is how they bought their equipment. We talk for what seems like hours, laughing and ribbing at one another.

I finally start to feel like I have found allies. Maybe even friends. The strange thirst that had been dormant seems quieter in their presence, and the crimson river in my Domain flows more calmly. There is something comforting about being part of a group, something that feels right.

It is too bad; we will be in a lot of danger very soon.

As the conversation continues, I find my gaze lingering on Melanie. Something about her seems familiar, though I cannot place it. Perhaps it is just that she reminds me of someone I knew before. Her confidence, her leadership—it draws me to her.

I glance down at my sheathed katana, considering the enchantment I placed on it. Spell destruction and absorption. Will it be enough against this Dylan Roache? I have no way of knowing. But I have made my choice. Sometimes, standing against those who harm others is worth the risk.

My hand drifts to the bag of holding where my blood shard bombs wait. I have those as a last resort. If things go badly, perhaps I can create enough chaos to escape. Or at least enough to ensure Dylan cannot hurt anyone else.

As night falls in the dungeon—or what passes for night in this timeless place—I feel a strange mix of dread and anticipation. Tomorrow I will face a skilled swordsman in combat. Tomorrow I might lose another life.

But I will also be one step closer to finding the tomb of Lazarus and discovering what secrets lie within.