《99 Dungeons: The Beast Lord》


 Another Day, Another Party: Lucas

    They come in hordes of groups of four, sometimes as arrogant loners seeking fame and untold power. They all see me as the beast standing in the way of victory and vice, but none of them know the truth of what I am:


    Their savior.


    The treasure-seeking fools who spill out through my catacombs like rats in a maze, often falling prey to the shifting traps in the walls long before they meet my hellish pack, have no idea that their overeager adventuring is merely leading them to a fate worse than death. Worse even than a quick end from a werewolf¡¯s jaws.


    There is a small group about ten meters up ahead. At present, they¡¯re cursing like sailors about having to file through the narrow passageway that leads into the northernmost tunnel. My most faithful servant, Cerberus, is usually at this post, but the last band of insufferable adventurers took him out with a range spell I¡¯ve yet to encounter before, and it¡¯s taken him twice as long as usual to regenerate. The four little rats scurrying toward me are the only ones plaguing my Catacombs at the moment, so they get me instead.


    Backing into the shadows as the first emerges, I hold my breath and wait for all of them to squirm their way through the crevice. This is my favorite part. Watching them before they realize they¡¯re being watched. Most people will only ever tell you who they are in two moments: when they think they¡¯re alone and right before they die. For these four, those moments are going to be especially close together.


    The first to emerge is an elven mage. The shock of orange hair visible underneath his armor is some recent fad. I swear, half the elves and halflings who come in here have bright orange hair or packs. It clashes something awful with the natural brown hues of their leather armor, but it makes them easier to spot, so who am I to complain?


    The elf is nearly as tall as I am, most of them standing at around seven-and-a-half feet tall. His sinewy limbs will make him easier to fling when I clamp down with my massive lupine jaws, but I swallow the froth on my tongue and wait. Once the panic sets in, they¡¯ll flee and I want them all through the neck before that happens.


    The elf turns to help the second member of his party through, a little gnome who barely comes up to his knee. The gnome¡¯s purple hair juts everywhere as if he was just electrocuted as he struggles to climb over one of the rocks between the gap and the relatively smooth tunnel floor. The elf grabs his forearm and hoists him up. With a high-pitched barrage of indignant scolding, the gnome reaches behind his head to pull out the well-worn battle-ax strapped behind the rest of his gear.


    I eye them both as the third, a human, makes his way through the pass. The familiar numbers appear before me, hovering lazily over the intruders¡¯ heads. I don¡¯t know whether they come from some innate precognitive abilities within my own mind, or if they¡¯re the result of some enchantment cast upon me long ago, but I do know that the numbers never lie. The first time I remember waking up within the center of this stone labyrinth of bones and relics, the numbers were soon to follow. I learned what each of them means with relative ease.


    I focus on the elf first.


    Level: 100


    Then the human.


    Level: 101


    And the gnome.


    Level: 100


    So the human is looking like my first target. Good enough. I watch, swallowing an amused grunt that would probably sound more like a snarl if it came out, and certainly alert my prey before it¡¯s time. The elf and the human are struggling to pull out the final member of their group, and judging from the bulging green muscles I see flailing and groping at the rock, it¡¯s an orc.


    ¡°Geez, Mike, lay off the mead, will ya?¡± the elf grunts as he struggles to pull his companion through. It¡¯s a birth from hell, into hell and the only thing waiting for any of them on the other side is darkness, but it¡¯s better than the eternal nightmare they¡¯d be living if they were to succeed on their quest.


    Every last one of them wants the same prize: the Skull of Sir Marrok. Why they want the cursed artifact that condemned me to this hellish existence is beyond me. Do they not realize they¡¯ll be trapped here, just as I am, to guard this ¡°treasure trove¡± of bones and dust until a death that never comes?


    When the orc finally stumbles through, his numbers become clear before me.


    Level: 102


    The mace at his side is smoking with dark blue light, but he won¡¯t have his chance to use it. My target of focus has changed. 100 must be the minimum ¡°level¡± of graduation from whatever school of swordsmanship and sorcery sends these idiots to my door. The highest I¡¯ve seen is 137, and his death did not come easily. For a second there, I actually felt an inkling of hope that my dark tenure as this dungeon¡¯s Lord was finally coming to an end. Then he fell just like all the rest and that hope died, along with everything and everyone else who comes here.


    ¡°How long do we have before Cerberus respawns?¡± the human grunts, looking uneasily into the darkness that cloaks me. ¡°I say we shoot past the Hellhound in the next tunnel and blitz the Bitch Lord before he knows what¡¯s comin¡¯.¡±


    The gnome squints into the distance, looking right through me. I freeze for a moment, thinking he¡¯s somehow spotted me through an enchantment, or especially high perception, but instead, I realize he¡¯s just gawking at the same invisible display they all seem to have the ability to call on at will. He scrolls through the air with an invisible finger, opening his mouth to answer. ¡°If the Broker was telling the truth, we got another three minutes and ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Six seconds,¡± I offer, pressing my clawed feet into the cold stone for leverage before springing on the orc. He lets out a guttural scream that¡¯s abruptly ended when my fangs dig deep into his veiny neck. An orc¡¯s blood is hot and viscous, so I try to keep as little of it in my mouth as possible, turning my head sharply to tear out his throat and expose his windpipe.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    [+650 Damage]


    [Critical Hit!]


    ¡°Mike!¡± the dwarf cries, raising his axe over his head to charge me. A sharp pain in my calf raises another ghostly number, but I barely register it.


    [+230 Damage]


    The few drops of blood that went down my throat may have an acrid taste, but they bring a surge of power up through my core that makes the black fur all over my body stand on end.


    The orc¡¯s weapon clatters to the floor as he grabs a fistful of my fur, but before he can get a good hold, I bring my jaws down on his neck, crush down and tear until I feel the pop of his spinal column separating from his head. The elf screams like a banshee as the big green head goes flying in his direction.


    [+1003 Damage]


    [Target Death]


    By the time I turn around, the elf has a fireball forming in his left hand, the same vibrant orange as his hair. With a cry of vengeance, he hurls it toward me and the blast singes the fur on the right side of my muzzle.


    [Wareussen casts Firebright]


    [+694 Damage]


    I let out a roar that shakes the cavern and causes the loose rocks overhead to tumble, effectively blocking all but the gnome from retreating the way they came. I probably should have done that from the beginning, but what can I say? Even an ancient demigod can get a little hotheaded when it comes to mouthy brats trespassing on his territory.


    ¡°Shit!¡± the human rogue cries, dodging another batch of fallen rocks and dust.


    ¡°You guys are on your own!¡± yells the gnome. I can barely see him scrambling over the fallen rocks through the dust, but I snatch a gnarled hand out and luck into grabbing him. My hand wraps all the way around his midsection and it¡¯s like slamming a jelly pod into the wall. His blood spatters the cavern and the numbers appear belatedly as he vanishes into a cloud of smoke.


    [+1400 Damage]


    [Critical Hit]


    [Target Death]


    An arrow hits me in the shoulder and while the initial strike is icy and painless, the crackling blue energy that courses over my skin is anything but.


    [+360 Damage]


    Damn arcane. I snarl and tear out the arrow only for another two to hit my chest, but as irritating as the elf¡¯s arrows may be, they¡¯re not enough to keep me from focusing on the target who represents a higher threat.


    Not only is the human a higher level, but that blade in his hand as he frees himself from the rubble glints in the light, making it obvious that it¡¯s made of silver. Holy silver, if I had to guess from the white light hovering caressing the edges of the blade.


    The ore is rare and the enchantment to make it holy steel rarer still. Perhaps I¡¯ve underestimated these troglodytes.


    Before the human knight can fully stand, I go for the one weak spot in his armor and snap my teeth down on his wrist until I feel the metal plates snap. He lets out an anguished scream as another cluster of arrows hit my back, but he brought the wrong weapon if he¡¯s hoping to do anything more than irritate me.


    At least the knight had the foresight to come prepared, even if his execution was lacking. With another wrench of my jaw, the knight drops his blade and his hand comes clean off. I swallow the finger left behind as I spit it out and make quick work of the maimed human. The numbers cloud my vision, pushing each other out of the way as I slash my way through the man¡¯s armor and into the tender flesh beneath.


    [+569 Damage]


    [+569 Damage]


    [Critical Hit]


    [+400 Damage]


    [+400 Damage]


    Another arrow hits me between the shoulder blades, but this one does more than sting. Blinding pain radiates through my back and grips my heart in agonizing paralysis.


    A silver arrow.


    I rip the offending arrow from my back and leave my near-dead prey where he lays to turn on the elf before me. The smug look on his face is wiped clean right before I grab his skinny throat and slam his head into the wall with another roar of victory. It explodes on contact.


    [+3999 Damage]


    [Target Death]


    I drop the beheaded corpse to the cave floor and shake some of the excess blood off my fur as my wounded flesh begins to heal over. The darkness surrounding me snakes its way up my ankles and legs, forming a shadow cloak that accelerates the healing process, restoring me to almost full capacity.


    That¡¯s what I get for playing with my food. Even if they are low-level scum, I¡¯d rather not lose my head due to arrogance.


    The human is struggling to call a healing enchantment into his palm, but his breathless words are a poor imitation of the incantation he¡¯s looking for. I¡¯d be willing to bet he just opened the spell scroll this morning and headed right for the Catacombs with his newly Level-100 friends.


    Some right of passage.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he breathes, his posture slumping against the cave as the magic goes out like a candle. There¡¯s fear in his eyes, but more resignation as I approach. He doesn¡¯t beg for me to spare his life. They never do.


    Maybe they know it¡¯s futile.


    I reach out, willing to make his end relatively merciful with a snap of the neck. When something like amusement comes into his eyes, I hesitate.


    ¡°Guess it¡¯s true what they say about you,¡± he scoffs.


    The adventurers rarely speak to me. My days are monotonous and endless enough that I¡¯m compelled to listen. After all, it¡¯s not as if he stands a chance at escape. There¡¯s but a sliver of life left in him at this point.


    ¡°You¡¯re tough,¡± he continues, as if answering my unspoken question. ¡°Figured the guy who killed Marcel Endry would be. We¡¯ll see how you fare when the event starts and every player on the server is gunning for your ass.¡±


    I turn my head instinctively. It¡¯s probably the only trait in which I resemble the more demure canines that accompany some of the adventurers to their deaths. Marcel Endry? The name is vaguely familiar, but I¡¯ve slain hundreds in the last month alone and rarely do I know their names. If there¡¯s something about his friend that he expects will stand out to me, he¡¯s wrong.


    As far as I¡¯m concerned, they¡¯re all just insects at different stages of development. Time for this one to be squashed.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I say in a rumbling, sinister snarl that could hardly pass for a human voice as I wrap my hands around his neck. ¡°It¡¯s Beast Lord.¡±


    With a sharp crack, the human falls dead in my grasp.


    [Target Death]


    I can already hear the scurrying sounds of a battle going on in the tunnel below. The shadow of Cerberus darkens the far corner as my victims¡¯ corpses turn to ash.


    A Hellhound screams somewhere a few dozen yards away, separated from me only by walls of stone. The humans are coming.


    Time to do it all over again.

 The Real World: Maizey

    It¡¯s been three years since we buried Lucas.


    Well, that¡¯s a misnomer, actually. You have to have a body to bury someone. The state didn¡¯t even give us that. Just a guy in a suit and sunglasses who showed up at his dad¡¯s door with a zipped plastic bag full of the worldly possessions that were on him when¡­


    Let¡¯s just say poor young men convicted of killing the sons of rich men don¡¯t get humane euthanasia, no matter how legitimate the circumstances of that ¡°murder¡± happen to be.


    Now, all that¡¯s left of Lucas is an old pair of jeans, a faded Metallica T-shirt, a few bucks in change and his favorite leather jacket. The jacket is even more battered now, considering I¡¯ve hardly taken it off for the better part of three years. That and the memories.


    The booth I¡¯m standing in is chock full of them. So many, I haven¡¯t been able to bring myself to use it since the last time we ported into 99 Dungeons together. I haven¡¯t played the game at all since, even if it is the closest I¡¯m ever going to get to seeing him again. It just feels wrong, even for the sake of nostalgia.


    After all, when Marcel¡¯s parents got their revenge, 99 Dungeons was a huge part of it. It was Lucas¡¯ favorite game. Me, him and his brother, Chris, probably spent a good ten-thousand hours combined in these booths from the time the game launched. Crawling dungeons, collecting artifacts, all for the big picture goal of freeing the destroyed kingdom from the Rook Mage and his demonic pawns.


    When we first started playing, the game only had a small if obsessed following. Most of us had been playing since the beta launch, but the commercial success multiplied the population of Al¡¯Goryth overnight. The trial was a big part of that. Now, the game feels like nothing more than a joke, and Lucas¡¯ death was the punchline.


    The door opens and a familiar face pops in. It¡¯s one I know better than my own, even if I haven¡¯t actually seen him in months. ¡°Hey, Chris.¡± My voice sounds raspy and weak, but he doesn¡¯t look any more comfortable about the meeting than I feel.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he mutters, letting the door fall shut. He looks over at the four empty pods in the room that resemble coffins far too much for comfort. I can relate to the haunted expression in his blue eyes. Those were my sentiments when I first came back here. ¡°Those weirdos you found on the Net aren¡¯t here yet?¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Considering the whole point of all this, I¡¯d say we¡¯re the weirdos. And no, not yet, but they¡¯ll be here.¡± I sound more confident than I am. The truth is, I spent every last penny I¡¯ve scraped together over the past few months on hiring these guys I¡¯ve never even met to get me and Chris where we need to go.


    It¡¯s not that you need a party of four to play the game. The three of us got plenty far without a fourth. The fact that the goal here isn¡¯t to beat the game at all, but rather break it, makes our mission infinitely more complicated.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know about this,¡± he mutters, running a hand over his recently shaved head. Lucas always kept his long, and I¡¯m glad to see that Chris hasn¡¯t given up his desire to differentiate himself from his twin as much as possible. It¡¯s already hard enough to look at him and see Lucas in so many ways. I¡¯m a coward, but it¡¯s part of the reason we drifted apart after the execution, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for a lot of things these days. ¡°What if they turn us in?¡±


    It¡¯s a valid concern, but it¡¯s not like it¡¯s one that never occurred to me. ¡°One¡¯s an illegal vendor and the other¡¯s a hacker. Trust me, they¡¯re not interested in getting Eerebus¡¯ attention any more than we are.¡±


    Chris grunts, which is his version of a full sentence. He sits down on the end of one of the pods and I can see the judgment in his eyes as he looks me over and sees me wearing his brother¡¯s jacket. He doesn¡¯t say the words, but he doesn¡¯t need to. I can hear them loud enough.


    ¡°You need to let it go, Maize.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ask defensively, daring him to say it.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he mutters. ¡°It¡¯s just been a long time.¡±


    Guilt tightens up my chest and makes it harder to breathe. ¡°Yeah. Sorry. Work¡¯s been a bitch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how is Gemini treating you?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say it like that.¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯m just asking a question.¡±


    I think of calling him on his crap, but it¡¯s not worth it and I¡¯m already distracted by how late the guys I hired are. ¡°Gemini is fine. I don¡¯t like their politics any more than you do, but they¡¯re good to their developers. Better than the Patrollers, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He narrows his eyes. ¡°You think I became a cop because I like the way things are? I joined so I¡¯d actually have some power against pieces of shit like the Endrys.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± I scoff. ¡°Like that badge in your pocket would make any difference if Kade Endry decided he wanted you dead. Your boss would offer you up like Christmas dinner on a silver platter.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Chris growls. ¡°And for the record, I¡¯m not the enemy here. I¡¯m not the one who got Lucas killed.¡±


    His words hit me like a punch in the gut, even if they¡¯re pretty much all the little voice in the back of my head ever says.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he breathes, rubbing his forehead. The lines around his eyes make him look older than his twenty-four years, but they started appearing long before he took the job with the Patrollers. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant, Maizey. I¡¯m just tired. I¡¯ve been working doubles all week and my brain is cooked.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say stiffly. Maybe he didn¡¯t mean it. No, I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t. Despite everything that happened, neither Chris nor his dad ever put the blame on me for Lucas¡¯ death. I¡¯ve done that enough for the three of them.


    Growing up, Lucas and Chris¡¯ house was like my second home, and I enjoyed spending time there a hell of a lot more than the first one. My dad was a mean drunk and my mom spent most of hers even drunker to cope. Mr. Trepp was always kind enough to leave an extra place at the table, and even though Chris was never crazy about having a girl tag along, Lucas and I were inseparable. That never changed, not even when things got more complicated in our high school and college years. Then, it all got cut short.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I say, clearing my throat. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. When I got your last message, I wasn¡¯t sure you would come.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t either,¡± he says, frowning at me. ¡°I still think this is a terrible idea. Truth be told, I came hoping I could talk you out of it.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I purse my lips, fold my arms and wait for him to realize that¡¯s not happening.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he says, waving me off. ¡°But I have to at least give it a shot. Sometimes I think you spend so much time in that lab, screwing around with shit on the fringes of what¡¯s possible, that you¡¯ve lost touch with reality. This one.¡±


    ¡°I know exactly what¡¯s possible,¡± I say firmly.


    ¡°Then think about what you¡¯re doing,¡± Chris pleads. ¡°If Erebus finds out we¡¯re in the game, do you have any idea what they¡¯ll do to us? Because I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t do anything. Neither of us broke the law,¡± I remind him. ¡°Besides, cheating in a game is against the rules, not illegal. And finally, they¡¯re not going to find out. I paid a pretty penny to make sure our tracks are covered, and these player accounts can¡¯t be traced back to our originals in any way, shape or form.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re porting in at the same station,¡± he reminds me.


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason for that,¡± I assure him. ¡°But if anything, that¡¯ll just throw them off our trail even more. Trust me, once we get in the game, Erebus isn¡¯t going to be our biggest problem.¡± I hesitate. ¡°Have you had any time to practice?¡±


    ¡°Between what, the two hours of sleep I get a night and prowling the streets for zinth dealers?¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± I sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope memory serves. We won¡¯t be starting from square one. My guy says he can start us all at Level 50, but that still leaves plenty of dungeons to get you reacquainted with the game.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± he says, his voice dripping with a lack of enthusiasm. ¡°Can¡¯t wait.¡±


    Chris always acted like he was too cool for games, even though he played just as much as the rest of us. Some things never change.


    The door opens and we both look up. I¡¯m expecting a sleazy-looking guy in a trenchcoat or something, not the athletic dude who looks like he just came from the gym. Behind him is a petite brunette in an oversized hoodie and jeans who looks like she just came off a college campus.


    Chris seems just as surprised as I am and stands up from the edge of the pod. ¡°Sorry, this booth is occupied.¡±


    ¡°No shit,¡± the big jock says, shrugging out of his jacket. He looks between me and Chris before settling on me. ¡°You Raider99?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s me. My real name¡¯s Maizey¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± he says, holding up his hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, don¡¯t wanna know. Far as this mission¡¯s concerned, you¡¯re Ace, he¡¯s Foxtrot, I¡¯m Whiskey, and she¡¯s Psi,¡± he says, gesturing to the smaller woman beside him. So far, all she¡¯s done is look boredly around the room. Clearly, there are a million places she¡¯d rather be.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say slowly. ¡°Codenames are probably a good idea anyway.¡±


    ¡°Why do I have to be Foxtrot?¡± Chris protests.


    Whiskey sizes up my childhood friend and arches an eyebrow. ¡°He trustworthy?¡± he asks me.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I say without hesitation. ¡°That¡¯s Lucas¡¯ brother.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Mr. Fancy Pants can be Romeo,¡± Whiskey says with a wry smile. Chris doesn¡¯t seem much happier about that, but I think he¡¯s afraid he¡¯ll get a worse call sign if he objects again.


    ¡°A few ground rules before we start,¡± Whiskey continues, folding his broad arms over his chest. I¡¯m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that this guy does anything for a hobby other than pumping iron. ¡°When we get in the game, you follow our lead. We hit the northeast dungeons first, then move across to the northwest, then north.¡±


    ¡°That makes no sense,¡± Chris cries. ¡°We¡¯ve played this game for years. Going clockwise would save us days of ingame time, and half the dungeons should be taken care of already, shouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    Whiskey yawns, holding out his hand. Psi places four chips in his palm and he holds them up pointedly. ¡°Loading four chips with a clean sweep of the first fifty dungeons in perfect sequence is the surest way to flag the game¡¯s cheat monitors.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± I admit. ¡°Our odds are better if we hit them sporadically.¡±


    ¡°In a full party, it won¡¯t take that long. Not with the goodies these babies are packed with,¡± Whiskey says, passing out chips to me and Chris. ¡°But you two need to forget the idea of being experienced players. When we go in there, you¡¯re just backup. Me and Psi have been doing this a long time, and this is the first job we¡¯ve taken with such a unique request, so you need to decide whether you¡¯re gonna approach this as a playthrough or a mission.¡±


    I can tell Chris is already having second, third, fourth and fifth thoughts, but if anything, I¡¯m relieved that Whiskey is taking this seriously. ¡°You¡¯re in charge,¡± I promise. ¡°Right, Chris?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond right away. Finally, he mumbles something that sounds like agreement under his breath.


    ¡°Do you have the other chip?¡± I ask hopefully.


    Whiskey frowns in confusion. ¡°Chip?¡±


    ¡°You know¡­for what we talked about?¡± I say pointedly.


    Recognition softens his expression a little. ¡°Oh, right. No, that¡¯s not a chip. It¡¯s loaded in the game as an artifact for safekeeping. Depending on who gets through character creation first, either me or Psi will grab it and join up with you,¡± he explains. ¡°Once we find the target, we have to get him loaded into it through the game¡¯s magic system.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Chris scoffs. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me.¡±


    ¡°Siphoning a massive chunk of code out of the game would be a huge red flag, if it was even possible,¡± says Whiskey. ¡°We need to go about this as subtly as possible.¡±


    ¡°And that means what, exactly?¡± I ask, growing nervous. Whiskey was necessarily vague over the messenger system, but he never mentioned this.


    ¡°When we reach the hundredth dungeon and find the uh, remnants of your friend, we have to get him to possess an artifact,¡± says Whiskey. ¡°From there, we can take him to a more secure location off the game¡¯s radar while Psi ports out to download the data from the booth.¡±


    Chris looks over at the silent woman, frowning. ¡°And she knows how to do that?¡±


    ¡°She does,¡± Psi answers. Her voice is as high as I expected, but there¡¯s an edge in it that sounds like a sneer. ¡°Just worry about keeping yourselves alive. Once the event starts, every party in the game is going to be gunning for those Catacombs, not to mention anyone else who¡¯s dumb enough to try.¡±


    My stomach is full of butterflies. It¡¯s been three months since Etrekus Interactive announced the event that would quite literally put a target on its most infamous NPC¡¯s head. While Mr. Endry is no longer the CEO of the company, it¡¯s no secret that the Wild Hunt event is his brainchild.


    When they first raised the idea of keeping someone in a vegetative state ¡°alive¡± by porting their consciousness into a virtual reality, everyone thought it would be used to comfort grieving loved ones of victims taken too soon by accident or illness. It wasn¡¯t long before the cries for extended penalties for death row inmates whose crimes were considered too severe for even capital punishment to atone for became all the rage. Lucas was far from the first, but I don¡¯t think any virtual prisoner has become as infamous as he is. He¡¯s also the first to be ¡°resurrected¡± after a physical execution, using only his data stored from neural scans to recreate a mockery of what he used to be.


    It¡¯s all my fault, too. That¡¯s why I can¡¯t just let this go, even if I know it isn¡¯t going to bring him back. Even if this is a suicide mission for my career and good standing in society, if I get found out.


    Lucas was an innocent. A noble man turned into the representation of a monster, first by the media during his trial for murdering an inhuman scumbag, and after his death, by the very game he loved playing so much. I know the monster he¡¯s become is a far cry from my best friend, but in true Lucas fashion, his will is strong enough that he¡¯s remained undefeated by any player in the game¡¯s history. One last ¡°screw you¡± to Marcel and his evil family. The Endrys couldn¡¯t let him have the last laugh when the NPC they created as an effigy turned their son¡¯s killer into an undefeated urban legend, so they started this damned event to wipe him out of the game for good.


    At three-o¡¯clock five days from now, on the fourth anniversary of Marcel¡¯s death, the hunt for the Beast Lord begins with the goal of wiping out the last remnants of Lucas¡¯ existence. I will do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn¡¯t happen, and my only regret is knowing I have to lie to his brother about the true nature of my plan once we find him.

 The Catacombs: Lucas

    Thirty-two. It¡¯s an average number of casualties for any given day, but the Catacombs went from unusually desolate to more active than ever in the span of an hour. The first wave came in the usual groups of four, but something about them was¡­strange.


    I dispatched the first four adventurers who came into my dungeon and started manhandling my dogs with the usual ease. After my close run-in with the silver arrow, I learned my lesson. They were all at higher levels, ranging from 119 to 124. The next two groups were even stronger. I was used to the loudmouthed bands of sloppy warriors and the odd champion who entered the dark underground passages never to return. An exceptional few were lucky enough to slip out while I was occupied with another group. The only time any of them posed a real threat was when the groups banded together. Once, a cluster of twelve had me on the defensive for a few solid moments¡ªuntil a fight broke out amongst them and made it easier to cull their numbers.


    I¡¯m hoping that today won¡¯t be one of those days. I¡¯ve barely had a second to catch my breath, but there¡¯s finally a lull. I pluck a few broken arrows from my chest and my body starts healing immediately.


    Well, it healed before the arrows were out, but there¡¯s nothing pleasant about flesh sealing over iron.


    I turn and shake my head at the mangled corpse of the fallen hellhound who guards the northeast corridor. Cerberus is waiting at the lip of the tunnel that leads into the core of the Catacombs. The three-headed beast comes up to my shoulder on all fours, and he makes a rumbling sound of approval as I pat his rightmost head on my way through.


    ¡°Hell of a day, wasn¡¯t it, boy?¡± I scoff, discarding my bone-spiked cloak on a rib hook protruding from the reddened stone. The core of the Catacombs is a vast, circular expanse with row upon row of recesses filled with the remains of the Kingdom¡¯s noble dead. The recesses only contain the bones of honorable warriors who fought well in battle and served the High King of Al¡¯Goryth. I was one of them once, but when the Rook Mage turned the kingdom and its once glorious cities to ruins, he polluted my will and made me one of his damned sentries.


    Here I remain, centuries later, trapped in the subterranean graveyard that¡¯s become of the city I once ruled. Xantarth was once the greatest city in Al¡¯Goryth, my personal bias aside. Now, it¡¯s nothing more than bones and ghosts. Now I¡¯m nothing more than its cursed guardian, condemned to defend its unhallowed caverns from every plucky treasure hunter who comes through.


    I¡¯ve long ceased to wonder about the ways of the Outsiders. Those who¡¯ve survived the Rook Mage¡¯s destruction and evaded his influence by forging a life for themselves outside the kingdom walls and occasionally scavenging the realm for supplies and treasure. Their world is beyond my reach, and after so many centuries of isolation, it is all but beyond my comprehension. Still, with the recent influx of ill-prepared warriors begging for death, I have to wonder what¡¯s possessed the lot of them. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    It¡¯s rare to see elves and humans working together. More often than not, they turn on each other before my hellhounds get the chance. The words of the human rogue from days ago still echo in my mind.


    We¡¯ll see how you fare when the event starts.


    No matter how often I¡¯ve replayed those words, I still can¡¯t make any sense of them. What event is he talking about? Is this something the Outsider barons have cooked up in their never ending and futile quest to reclaim the realm? I put together the bits and pieces I collect from watching them in the tunnels, but none of it forms a whole picture. Not one that makes sense, at any rate. Just snippets of conversations that fail to form a whole.


    ¡°That was a good trial run. Will you be able to find that alternate tunnel during the real thing?¡±


    ¡°Shit, he¡¯s bigger than I thought. We¡¯d better trade for more silver ore.¡±


    ¡°See how that bastard feels come event time.¡±


    There¡¯s that word again. ¡°Event.¡± I¡¯m starting to wonder if the Outsiders have given it a new meaning.


    The onslaught is more irritating than overwhelming, but the way they speak makes me fear that it¡¯s only just beginning.


    The Catacombs are the hundredth dungeon erected from the ruins of the lost cities. An enchantment keeps the place hidden to those who don¡¯t possess a Seeker¡¯s Stone, and in order to obtain it, they must have obtained artifacts from each of the 99 dungeons. That limits the amount of eagerness I have to contend with on a daily basis. Either the enchantment is wearing thin, or they¡¯re handing out stones like candy in the market strip.


    I can¡¯t leave this to chance any longer. I have to make sure the enchantment remains in place. Standing from my throne, I then crouch and prepare to leap into the stony rafters. Dust settles beneath my feet as my claws dig into the cool earth above the Catacombs¡¯ core. I raise my head and sniff the air. It¡¯s dank with old magic, and the narrow beams of stones that form a spiderweb pattern above the core groan and creak under my weight as I walk toward the wall.


    Shadows cover the etchings that have been carved within the stone since long before I became this dungeon¡¯s Lord, but I know their placement well. I raise a clawed hand and pause a moment to contemplate how stark the difference is between it and the relatively smooth human hand I once possessed. Where callused flesh once covered bone, now there¡¯s only fur and rough hide pads tipped with claws like knives. I raise my index claw and dig it into the pad on my left palm, stopping only when blood rises to the surface.


    I press my hand against the stone and the blood ignites the etchings, freeing them from a layer of decades-old bone dust. The green runes spring to life with magical current that bleeds all the way across the circular dome, lighting even the darkness of the core below.


    The enchantment remains in place, and strong as ever. That means the adventurers who find me are playing by the rules, which raises far more concerns than the alternative.

 Back in the Game: Maizey

    ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it,¡± Psi says, peeling her baggy sweatshirt over her head without a word. She¡¯s petite, but she¡¯s a lot curvier under there than I would¡¯ve thought. The look on Chris¡¯ face is priceless as she strips down to a tank and cotton shorts and opens the lid to her pod.


    The smaller woman looks up at him with a gaze that could melt the polar ice caps. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°N-nothing,¡± he stammers, quickly looking away as Whiskey and I start doing the same.


    ¡°Did you seriously forget you have to be half-naked to enter these things?¡± I scoff, carefully folding Lucas¡¯ jacket. I don¡¯t want to risk it getting stolen, so I place it in one of the lockers on the wall and clip the padlock shut.


    ¡°No,¡± he mutters. ¡°It¡¯s just been a while.¡±


    ¡°Remember,¡± Psi says, looking up over her raised pod lid. ¡°This is about creating a balanced party. Just stick with your assigned race and class, and don¡¯t screw around in the character creation screen.¡±


    ¡°Like I give a crap what kind of hair my avatar has,¡± Chris grumbles.


    ¡°That¡¯s funny,¡± I say, climbing over the side of my pod. ¡°I seem to recall you spending a month¡¯s worth of your campus job pay just to get a transmo potion because you didn¡¯t like the stock elf ears.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± Chris snaps, pulling the coffin lid shut.


    I can¡¯t help but smile as I sink back into my pod and pull the lid closed. Just like old times. Except nothing like old times.


    The pod whirs to life and the LED lights in the surface of the lid keep me from plunging into total darkness. I put the chip Whiskey gave me into the blinking slot and wait.


    ¡°Welcome, player. Please state your name.¡±


    ¡°Dana,¡± I lie. We used fake IDs to get in here, just an added layer of precaution. I¡¯m not sure I want to know where Whiskey got them. Not with Chris around, anyway.


    ¡°Welcome, Dana. I see that you haven¡¯t visited an Etrekus Center in quite a long time.¡± The pod¡¯s voice is different than I remember. This time, it¡¯s a woman and she sounds a hell of a lot more posh. For a second, I panic thinking she knows who I am before I remember that the chip will have someone else¡¯s player record on it. ¡°Would you like a refresher?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I answer. ¡°Skip the tutorial stuff, I just want to get into the game.¡±


    ¡°Understood. Prepare for immersive gel encapsulation.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I got it.¡±


    As soon as I give confirmation, cool gel begins to fill the capsule at my feet. It feels kind of sticky at first, and more than a little cold, but it doesn¡¯t take long for my body to adjust to the sudden drop in temperature. I take a deep breath, because no matter how many times I¡¯ve done this, it¡¯s always hard to adjust to the fact that I can breathe submerged in a viscous liquid. It¡¯s been even longer for Chris, so I¡¯m sure he¡¯s hyperventilating over there.


    ¡°Breathe normally,¡± my pod coaches. ¡°Relax your body and prepare for encapsulation.¡±


    ¡°Easier said than done.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    The pod is filling up fast now and the gel has fully covered my body. I take one last breath and exhale into the gel as it seals me in. The first breath in hurts, but I inhale deeply so it¡¯s over with all at once. By the time I breathe again, my head is swimming and it¡¯s not just from the sensation of floating. I know the gel is infused with anesthetic gas, and I find myself thinking this would be a much better way to get dental work done. On the third breath, I open my eyes to find myself standing upright in a holographic room that¡¯s nothing but spinning shapes made of varying shades of blue light.


    The sudden shift in position gives me vertigo, but it lasts only for a second. I look down at my hands and everything feels so real and solid that the only clue that it¡¯s not is the fact that I¡¯m wearing more than the basic undergarments I went into the pod with. The human warrior is selected by default, but as per Whiskey¡¯s request over message, I switch over to elf and mage. I¡¯m still at Level 50, my purchased account having completed 50 dungeons already, and that experience gets transferred over, which means I¡¯ll have advanced ranks in traits that aren¡¯t racially locked. I scroll through the display in front of me to get an idea of what I¡¯m working with.


    One-Handed Weaponry [Close] Rank 7


    The ability to wield one-handed weapons with strength and finesse proportionate to the player¡¯s skill level.


    Two-Handed Weaponry [Close] Rank 4


    The ability to wield two-handed weapons with strength and accuracy proportionate to the player¡¯s skill level.


    Destruction [Range] Rank 2


    Destructive magic that casts a percentage-based amount of damage per three seconds of sustained contact. Upon reaching Rank 5, player may specialize in magical subtype, such as Dark, Light, Elemental, Chaos and Nature.


    Healing [Range] Rank 3


    Healing magic that restores a percentage-based amount of health for the duration of contact.


    That¡¯s the first I¡¯m hearing of the Nature subtype. There were only four the last time I played, and I haven¡¯t chosen to play as an elf since I was first screwing around with options when I started the game years ago. Nature must be part of some new expansion. I make a mental note to look into it before I reach Rank 5 and wheel through my other attributes.


    Intelligence [Practical] Rank 14


    Influences the player¡¯s ability to learn new skills and perform certain jobs.


    Charisma [Practical] Rank 14


    The ability to influence others. Necessary for persuasion and exerting influence in trade. Multiplies affinity with regions by 5% with each successive level.


    Well, at least now I know what the person who sold this account was doing. Probably working as a vendor themselves, or just more interested in crafting than raiding. I¡¯m not thrilled about playing the race or the class, since I usually select a human or halfling paladin, but Psi is right. This isn¡¯t about playing, and if that¡¯s what they think will get us through this faster, I¡¯m in.


    A reflection of my avatar appears before me in a tall frame that looks like a portal with swirling light around the edges. The female elf is a good foot taller than I am in real life, so it takes a little getting used to the long limbs, not to mention other body parts that seem a bit unnecessarily inflated. I wheel through the armor selections and choose something lighter than chain mail, since I¡¯m already going to have a hard time adjusting to the new build. I have five ability appoints to assign, and I know where most of them have to go since the last person obviously wasn¡¯t leveling up magic as a human.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It kills me to forego the chance to level up one-handed weaponry, since that¡¯s my go-to, but I did agree to trust Whiskey and Psi¡¯s process, even if I¡¯m having second thoughts now. Besides, my Destruction and Healing are pitiful now that I¡¯ve made the switch to elf, and attribute points in this game don¡¯t come cheap. I choose to use two points to bump myself up to Destruction 4, one to get to Healing 4, and then one each for Intelligence 15 and Charisma 15.


    Resourcefulness is a great skill to have, since it opens up a lot of options for crafting, survivalism and shelter building down the line, but since we¡¯re just looking to blow through the dungeons as fast as possible before the event starts, I decide to focus on magic. My existing Charisma and Intelligence will help with vendors and lock picking, which will definitely come in handy when we get to some of the tougher dungeons. I¡¯m starting to second guess my decision to take away points I could use for magic to boost them, but if Lucas has completely enmeshed himself with his character, I could use all the persuasive ability I can get my hands on and lock picking is only decent at Intelligence 15 and above.


    As soon as I have my selections made, I step through the portal that no longer bears my reflection. My armor is light, so I¡¯m going to have to find some hardier stuff in a raid or hope one of the others has some serious crafting skills. I¡¯m also going to have to get my hands on a weapon as soon as possible, since the mage ¡°starter pack¡± doesn¡¯t come with one.


    The starting area is a wide field that looks like it belongs to some kind of resort where rich people spend a lot of time fishing and staring at clouds. I started without any weapons, since I¡¯m not a warrior or a paladin, but while I have a moment¡¯s peace waiting for the others who don¡¯t seem to have come out of character selection yet, I decide to test my magic.


    It¡¯s been so long since I played as an elf that I¡¯m starting to forget how to call an enchantment up. According to my HUD, I only have one ability each unlocked for Destruction and Healing magic, despite being at Rank 4 with the latter. I call up the first attack and see what the damage is.


    Wrath of the Morrigan [Range]


    A black flame to call at will. Does 5% damage to target per three seconds of direct contact. (Becomes 7% at Destruction 5) Costs 10% of arcane per three seconds of use.


    Yeesh. And that¡¯s with Destruction 4. Now I¡¯m definitely feeling justified in my choice to play with swords. And I¡¯m starting to regret that Charisma point. I¡¯ll just have to put all my focus on leveling up my Destruction as soon as possible and hope the others can cover me in the meantime. Just great. Maybe my healing attribute will be of more use.


    Healing Light [Range]


    A fire enchantment that heals rather than scorching. Will regenerate 10% of target health per three seconds of direct contact while sacrificing equivalent arcane.


    Another steep penalty, but at least the benefit¡¯s not too bad. Should come in handy when things really get going.


    I look around and realize I¡¯m still the only one in the starting area. So much for not screwing around in the character creation. I¡¯m getting antsy just standing out here in the open, but nothing too bad should be lurking around here. I could probably use a few low-level enemies to grind for XP, but I¡¯m paranoid about taking any chances, no matter how innocuous the threat seems, when I¡¯m a glorified medic on my own and more than just an afternoon of fun depends on me not getting booted out of the game. The penalty for respawning is three hours¡¯ wait time, unless you pay credits I already spent on getting Whiskey and Psi here, and that could make all the difference since we¡¯re already cutting things close with the event.


    It sickens me to think of how many other people there probably are out here looking to wipe Lucas from the game for good.


    Well, not Lucas¡­ The Beast Lord. I still can¡¯t get used to calling him that. I wonder if there¡¯s any part of him left that remembers who and what he really is. Judging from the few playthroughs I¡¯ve been able to stomach watching online, he has no idea. I barely recognize my old friend behind those blood red eyes, or the snarling lupine face that¡¯s always stained with blood at the muzzle. True to his name, the Beast Lord looks like a snarling bipedal monster, some otherworldly cross between Anubis and a werewolf. He¡¯s the exact opposite of my strong yet gentle friend. 99 Dungeons aside, Lucas was always more of a scholar than a fighter, and I know that ghastly transformation was just another way the Endrys chose to add insult to injury.


    Thinking about it is sending me into a depressive spiral, so I sit down on the hill and call up my character sheet while I wait.


    Level: 50


    Race: Elven


    Class: Mage


    Destruction: 4


    Healing: 4


    Intelligence: 15


    Charisma: 15


    One-Handed: 7


    Two-Handed: 4


    Special: Wrath of the Morrigan, Healing Light, Blitz


    Well, it¡¯s not much, considering the attributes all go up to Rank 25 until you¡¯ve defeated all 99 dungeons, at which point they¡¯re uncapped. It¡¯s to keep players focused on the main point of the game, but that doesn¡¯t stop the recreational hunters, vendors and wanderers. At least I¡¯ve got Blitz, which will only do me any good if I can get my hands on a decent sword.


    Just as I¡¯m contemplating whether it¡¯s too risky to venture into a cave I see up ahead that¡¯s probably full of low-level loot and a few giant rats, if my experience with this game is any indication, another figure appears on the hillside. A half-orc, if my eyes don¡¯t deceive me. I hesitate a moment before I realize the petite, black-haired human paladin at his side looks familiar.


    I run up to them and sure enough, Psi has spent a little too much time customizing her avatar to look like her. To be fair, maybe she has a snap-in mod she can use in any account. She¡¯s wearing a weird green amulet around her neck that kind of glows in the right light, and all I can do is hope that¡¯s the artifact. ¡°Whiskey?¡± I ask warily.


    ¡°Guess again,¡± the half-orc says, his thick tusks making him sound like he has rocks in his mouth.


    ¡°Chris?¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh. He always played as an elf, so it¡¯s hard to imagine him willingly selecting this. Then again, he didn¡¯t have any more of a choice than I did.


    ¡°It¡¯s Romeo,¡± Psi says with a disapproving frown. Like we don¡¯t have bigger issues if Etrekus is already watching us closely enough to notice me slipping up and calling him by one of the most common male names on the planet.


    ¡°Right.¡± I shake my head. ¡°Where¡¯s Whiskey?¡±


    ¡°He should be here any minute,¡± says Psi. ¡°We all got loaded in slightly different start zones.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, looking out over the vast plains. ¡°Looks like they expanded the place.¡±


    ¡°Probably in preparation for the event,¡± Chris says solemnly. He¡¯s wearing a piece of leather armor that barely covers his barrel chest, but at least his pants are more functional. And there¡¯s a broadsword strapped to his back, so at least someone is going to be able to deal some two-handed damage.


    Psi is wearing skintight gold-and-white armor with a matching mace that¡¯s almost as big as she is. I recognize the swinging head of the mace, carved metal in the shape of a lion¡¯s head, as an artifact from one of the hardest dungeons in the game. The weapon has a faint glow, so I can tell it¡¯s pulsing with holy magic. Looks like I¡¯m definitely the weakest link in the group so far.


    ¡°You got the thing, right?¡± I ask hopefully.


    Psi grips the amulet around her neck. ¡°If by ¡®thing¡¯ you mean the siphoning artifact, then yes. We should move ahead. No use getting stuck here in the training zone when another group could pop through any moment.¡±


    ¡°What about Whiskey?¡± asks Chris. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we stick together?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, he can take care of himself. We¡¯re sitting ducks out here, and there¡¯s a dungeon not far off that we can definitely handle between the three of us.¡±


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± I ask, following her up the hill. ¡°Chris hasn¡¯t played in a long time.


    He glares at me, but I¡¯m not gonna let his desire to appear all-powerful in front of a pretty girl rob us of our chance to save Lucas.


    ¡°It¡¯s Dungeon 36. Everyone who¡¯s prepping for the event will be well past it by now.¡±


    She has a point. Most players take the dungeons in order, and everyone who¡¯s got the guts to go up against the Beast Lord will definitely be past it by now. There¡¯s not much XP to be gained by attacking low-level players just trying to grind through the easy dungeons for loot and story progress. The ones who¡¯ve already unlocked PvP will be our concern once we cap out at Level 100, but until then, we¡¯re pretty much home free as long as none of us make any stupid mistakes.


    I just hope we can trust Psi and Whiskey. Despite what I told Chris, there¡¯s something about them both that just feels off.

 Event Horizon: Lucas

    The waves of treasure hunters prove to be more than just an anomaly. My Catacombs are in shambles, and the enchantments can hardly keep up with all the damage that needs repairing. If it keeps going at this rate, I¡¯m not going to have a hellhound to spare.


    I¡¯ve taken to a different strategy, realizing that the usual wait-and-slay approach isn¡¯t going to work any longer. Each of the ten external coves is guarded by a hellhound, while Cerberus and I watch the core. It goes against my policy to allow the core to be unguarded, but this time, I have to make an exception.


    At my command, Cerberus follows me to the nearest cove and we begin tearing our way through the adventurers like flame through a nest of wasps. The first band fall easily enough, and I waste no time playing with my food. We move onward in a spiral, cutting through each wave filling the tunnels and coves. The screams soon alert the others, but that¡¯s fine with me. All I care about is clearing these fools out so that I can rearrange the labyrinth.


    It¡¯s an extreme measure, and not one I take lightly, considering the magical cost. I¡¯ll be weakened for a day, perhaps more, but it¡¯s worth it if I can stem the flow of pests. Things can¡¯t continue at this rate, or I¡¯ll lose my mind.


    I¡¯m nearing the seventh cove when I realize that the intruders have banded together to form one massive group, their fiery arrows piercing through the darkness. A few hit my chest and shoulder and I snarl loudly enough to make the cave tremble. A few rocks block the path, but that will only hold them back for a moment.


    Cerberus roars at my side, crouching down to spring on them like the loyal beast he is. He leaps as the nearest warrior cries and raises his broadsword, but before he lands on his prey, they vanish.


    All of them. A good fifteen in number, and they¡¯re simply¡­gone.


    I look around in the darkness, convinced that something has to be amiss. This must be an enchantment, or a teleportation spell. I touch the stone wall and let the vibrations speak through my hand. Save for my dogs, the Catacombs are empty.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± I growl, stalking into the darkness. This must be a trick. The adventurers have gained novelty, I¡¯ll give them that. Before I can make it past the eighth empty cove, I hear footsteps behind me, even though my senses tell me that I am alone.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry. They won¡¯t be troubling you for the rest of the night. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to rest¡­and reflect.¡±


    I turn around to find a man dressed in the strangest garb I¡¯ve ever seen. His coat and pants seem to be made of thin wool, cut into sharp pieces with a sharp white shirt and some kind of scarf hanging down from the collar. He certainly doesn¡¯t belong to this region. He doesn¡¯t even look like he belongs to this era.


    Even more shocking is the fact that there¡¯s no weapon in his hand. I squint to get a better look at him, but I can¡¯t get a read on him, either. He appears human, but it¡¯s nothing more than a guess based on appearance. I can¡¯t sense any arcane coming from him, but he must be wielding powerful magic to vanquish so many warriors in an instant, and mask all traces of the power he used to do it.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I snarl, holding back on tearing out his throat, both because I need to assess the threat he poses and because I¡¯m curious. Could this bizarrely dressed stranger possibly hold the key to the scourge that¡¯s been plaguing me this past week?


    ¡°My name is Kade Endry,¡± he answers calmly. His hands are tucked casually in the pockets of his trousers, and he seems as if he doesn¡¯t have a care in the world. His lackadaisical demeanor is all the more alarming in conjunction with his unarmed state.


    Seemingly unarmed, I remind myself.


    ¡°And what brings you to my Catacombs, Kade?¡± I spit. ¡°Or are you unaware that those who enter never leave?¡±


    The man gives me a smile that feels sinister, and I can¡¯t remember the last time something raised my hackles. He¡¯s innocuous enough. Not very tall for a human. Weak musculature, and the kind of hands that have never seen a day of honest work in his life. His receding hairline and slight build make him look like one of the king¡¯s advisors, humble in appearance only. The kind of men who are constantly basking in their own importance and willing to talk about peace through one side of their mouth while sending others to their deaths to fulfill some political whim with the other.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I feel the same sense of smallness that I felt back in my days as a Feudal Lord being forced to lead my men into one pointless battle after another. The advisors were nowhere to be found when the one battle that actually mattered came about, but either way, the sense of deja vu overwhelms me. I see in his dull gray eyes everything that I am to him¡ªand it all amounts to nothing.


    And yet, he hasn¡¯t made any overt threats, which makes his presence even more inexplicable.


    ¡°Just came to observe,¡± he says calmly. He walks toward me and stops when I growl in warning. His smirk spreads a little, infecting an already sneering face. ¡°I felt it was about time we met face-to-face.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you.¡± I¡¯m more than a little disturbed by the insinuation that I do. I should kill this pompous man who¡¯s daring enough to enter my dungeon and foolish enough to come unarmed, but something holds me back. Something I can¡¯t quite explain. The hesitation comes from the voice that¡¯s strangely silent when it comes to his origins and class.


    ¡°No,¡± he agrees thoughtfully. ¡°Not in this life, but I certainly know you.¡±


    Endry¡­ Now that the name has had time to bounce around in my thoughts, it sounds familiar. The strange warrior who warned of the event. He accused me of killing an Endry, but his name was Marcel, not Kade.


    Perhaps this is his next of kin. That would explain his reason for being here, but if revenge is his game, he has a funny way of playing it.


    Or maybe he¡¯s just playing with me.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I snap.


    ¡°You took something precious from me,¡± he says, his voice growing strange and icy. ¡°I thought this world was enough of a punishment, but you seem intent on defying justice, even in death.¡±


    Even though I¡¯m sure I look like nothing more to him than a mutated beast, my expression must be readable enough, because his eyes glint with knowing and he continues to explain. ¡°Everything you see around you was constructed to be your prison,¡± he says, raising his arms as he gestures around the cove. ¡°Your sentence was to guard this place, day in and day out, in perpetuity.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not telling me anything I don¡¯t know,¡± I say with a grunt. ¡°I was cursed. I¡¯m bound to this place.¡±


    ¡°That you are. But it was no curse.¡± His mouth stretches apart to reveal a set of teeth that are too white and perfect for his age and seemingly poor health. He must have paid a fine penny for those. ¡°It was by design. Mine, as a matter of fact.¡±


    ¡°Marcel Endry,¡± I mutter. ¡°Who was he to you?¡±


    The sound of that name coming from me darkens his eyes, but he holds his temper. ¡°He was my son,¡± he says in a quivering voice.


    ¡°Well, do disrespect intended, but if he was dumb enough to come in here, it was suicide, not murder,¡± I scoff. I expect an explosive reaction, given how much this guy is bottling up, but instead, he keeps smiling. It¡¯s the eeriest, most unsettling smile I¡¯ve ever seen and it makes my skin crawl enough that I¡¯m sure my fur will fall out.


    ¡°Oh, this score goes back to long before then. In a different world. A different life, you might say,¡± he muses. ¡°You murdered him in cold blood, and as much as I enjoy the idea of you being trapped in here for all eternity, I¡¯m afraid that I can¡¯t let a fiend like you become a folk hero. Beginning tomorrow at dawn, every victor in this kingdom will be rushing to claim your head as a prize, and when one finally succeeds, you will fade into the obscurity that you crawled from.¡±


    I can¡¯t stop the huff of laughter that follows. His accusations make no sense. If he thinks I killed his son, a man whom I¡¯ve never even met, before I became this cursed dungeon guard, he¡¯s out of his mind. Unless of course he means in battle, in which case, the only person who¡¯d view an honorable death at war as murder is equally out of his gourd. I was a fierce warrior, and I showed no mercy in defense of my king, but I was not cruel and I had honor. I cling to it even now, the only remnant of the life that was stolen from me.


    ¡°The Event¡­¡± I realize, shaking my head. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed, none of your ¡®victors¡¯ have been able to kill me yet. What makes you think that will change now?¡±


    ¡°The stakes have been raised,¡± he says calmly. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand. That¡¯s not the purpose of this.¡±


    ¡°Then what is the purpose of this surprise rendezvous?¡± I ask bitterly.


    Kade doesn¡¯t answer for a few seconds. He watches me and while the hate in his gaze is plain enough, there¡¯s something else that it takes me a moment to identify. Then I realize, only by its reflection from the same thing hidden deep inside of me, that it¡¯s grief.


    ¡°Closure, I suppose,¡± he remarks, reaching into his jacket. I tense up, ready to attack him, but the small blade he pulls out is so short it¡¯s almost laughable. If he thinks he¡¯s going to break my skin with that, let alone kill me, he¡¯s in for a bad surprise. He takes out a handkerchief and polishes the blade in deep contemplation. ¡°At least there¡¯s one thing we have in common.¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡± I ask warily, watching the strange creature in a mixture of pity and concern.


    ¡°The only way out of this place, for either of us, is death. For you, I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s nothing waiting on the other side.¡±


    I don¡¯t even have time to make sense of his strange comments. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s taken off-guard when he brings the knife to his throat and pulls it all the way across, unleashing a spray of sticky red blood all over the cavern walls. His body collapses and disintegrates into the same pile of ash everyone else¡¯s does before I can investigate.

 Limited Edition Gnome King: Maizey

    The first dungeon we hit is a bit like getting back on a bike after a full semester of school, only I quickly realize that I¡¯m the one who¡¯s rusted out. Not getting myself killed making some newbie mistake is going to be harder than I thought, and that¡¯s to say nothing about keeping Chris alive.


    The dungeon is really just a big cave filled with gnomes--by far my least favorite creature in the game. Their heads are about ankle height, and I don¡¯t yet have armor that decently covers that particularly tender region, so I look like I just waded through a shallow pond full of piranhas by the time we¡¯re halfway through.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with these things?¡± Chris cries, punting another gnome into the darkness. Its helium-fueled war cries fade into the sound of all its pixels spattering against the far wall.


    I cringe as Psi swings her mace down, crushing three of them at once and spraying me with lime green sludge.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I mutter, holding my hand out to toast the little weirdo who¡¯s nibbling my Achilles tendon. At least my XP moves up a sliver.


    ¡°Right, because the smell of burnt flesh is so much more pleasant,¡± she says wryly.


    ¡°Uh, ladies? A little help!¡± Chris bellows. Somehow, he¡¯s been parted from his sword and I watch in dismay as a swarm of foot-tall monsters carries him off into the blackness, chittering victoriously.


    Psi moves to help him first, but I beat her to the abduction site. Longer legs and all that. Just as I¡¯m about to cross the threshold into the first cove, Psi grabs the back of my shirt to yank me back.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I cry, jerking away from her. I haven¡¯t trusted her from square one, but now she¡¯s interfering with the precious seconds that separate Chris from gnome meat.


    All she does is point with that blank face of hers that¡¯s getting real frickin¡¯ old. I look back only to realize that the cave wall has sealed shut and a chunk of fallen stalactite has been trapped halfway inside it. If she¡¯d let me keep going, that would''ve been my head and arms.


    ¡°Holy crap,¡± I mutter.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she snarks, turning to head the other way.


    ¡°What are you doing? We have to go after him!¡± I hate the fact that my firepower is useless to break down that wall, and the cheap sword I stole off one of the fallen gnomes might as well be from a vending machine. We need her mace.


    ¡°The gnomes can teleport. They¡¯re taking him to the dungeon core.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    She gives me a look over her shoulder. ¡°You did hire me, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I mutter, following her. The dungeon¡¯s layout has changed since I played it the first time, and that was so long ago, I barely remember it. Psi acts like Al¡¯Goryth is her second home. Then again, if she takes even three of these gigs a week, she¡¯s probably raking in more cash in a month than I do all year.


    We walk in silence for a few minutes, and I¡¯m more than willing to let it go on indefinitely when Psi remarks, ¡°He¡¯s kind of an idiot, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just rusty. We both are.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, this game was really lagging until they put your friend in.¡± Something about her casual tone bugs me. ¡°I¡¯ll finally get the chance to thank him. He made me a very wealthy woman.¡±


    I glare at her. ¡°You know what? Screw you. This isn¡¯t a game for me and Chris.¡±


    ¡°I know. It¡¯s about preserving a murderer¡¯s memory,¡± she says with a yawn. ¡°I read the sob story you sent Whiskey.¡±


    Now my blood is really boiling. I grip my wood-handled blade and try to remind myself why I need this jerk to get to the finish line. ¡°Lucas isn¡¯t a murderer. Or do you believe every hatchet piece you read in the Digital Examiner?¡±


    ¡°Enlighten me, then. Why did your friend kill the son of the most powerful VR mogul in the country?¡±


    ¡°It was self-defense,¡± I mutter. ¡°Or at least¡­ he was defending me.¡±


    That piques Psi¡¯s attention. She waits expectantly for me to continue, but I¡¯m not in the mood to get into my ¡°sob story,¡± as she puts it. Maybe she¡¯s right. I¡¯m sure that message I sent Whiskey sounded desperate, because I was at the time. Word about the Wild Hunt event had just come out, and I didn¡¯t know what else to do. I was shellshocked. Time after Lucas¡¯ sentence just seemed to freeze, and I haven¡¯t been able to get the image of his face as they led him out of the courtroom out of my head ever since.


    He looked so defeated from the moment he walked into that room. His family and I might have held onto hope that I now recognize was nothing more than a delusion, but he knew from the beginning what his fate would be. Maybe he knew all the way back when it happened.


    Before Psi can grill me any more, we hear a guttural scream echoing through the caverns up ahead. It¡¯s Chris. I¡¯d know that scream anywhere. I run up ahead, and this time, I¡¯m too fast for Psi to catch me.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± she hisses. ¡°This place is full of traps.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± I draw my blade, ready to take out as many of the little bastards as I can before I have to resort to magic. Nothing to cure some deeply ingrained guilt like a bit of gnome slaying. Besides, I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s a virtual world. I¡¯m not going to lose another friend if I can help it. Chris at least deserves the chance to say goodbye to what¡¯s left of Lucas, and this could be the last one he gets.


    Sure enough, my weight depresses a pressure stone that unleashes a flurry of poison arrows. I throw myself into a somersault and come out unscathed to keep running. Once I hit a fork in the tunnels, I hesitate. The darkness is enchanted, so any attempt to use a regular torch or light magic just ends up wasting kerosene and juice. I sheath my blade and call up my dark flame. The cavern is lit before me, and even though the flame is still a dark royal blue, it casts more than enough light to see.


    So there is a use for arcane after all. I proceed forward a bit more cautiously as Psi joins me. The screams have gone silent, which probably isn¡¯t good news for Chris.


    ¡°Up there,¡± Psi says, pointing to a sliver in the rocks I would have missed if it wasn¡¯t for her announcing it. Maybe she¡¯s useful for something, too.


    ¡°We¡¯ll never get through that,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Allow me.¡± She hoists the handle of her mace up and starts building momentum with the ball and chain. I jump back just in time to avoid getting beaned by the heavy weight, but I save my displeasure to voice at a better time. With a single strike, the wall of stone explodes into a cloud of dust and pebbles.


    Psi charges in with a war cry that¡¯s not much more intimidating than the gnomes¡¯ and I follow, my black flame ready to attack. Let¡¯s hope the Wrath of the Morrigan is as effective against the gnome boss as it was against the underlings.


    When we breach the core, the darkness makes it hard to see anything in too much detail. The cavern has low ceilings that make me feel claustrophobic, and there are cages lining the circular dome full of bodies in varying states of decay. I spot Chris immediately, considering he¡¯s the only one moving, even if it isn¡¯t a lot. They¡¯ve got him bound and gagged and two of the gnomes are picking at his broadsword like they¡¯re trying to determine whether they want to melt it down for ore. He¡¯s nowhere near within reach, and as far as I can tell from the featureless core, there¡¯s no way to reach him without triggering the platform that rises after the Gnome King¡¯s death. Speaking of which, there¡¯s no sign of him, either.


    The moment they spot us, it¡¯s too late. Psi takes both of them out with a swing of her mace and she levels up in the process. I decide not to waste any time and slice through the first cluster that run toward me. They¡¯re easy enough to dispatch one or two at a time, but judging from the rumbling that shakes the cavern, there are a whole lot more coming.


    Now I¡¯m starting to remember this level, and it sucked. Even Psi looks unnerved as she glances around the six tunnels leading into the core.


    ¡°This is supposed to happen, right?¡± I ask.


    ¡°A horde, sure, but that sounds like¡­¡±


    ¡°Hundreds,¡± I croak. Her confusion vanishes when she sees the same thing I just noticed. The caverns are absolutely teeming with gnomes. Their tiny bodies squish together and I quickly realize the only reason we haven¡¯t been eviscerated yet is because they¡¯ve formed a traffic jam.


    ¡°Something is wrong,¡± Psi cries. ¡°There aren¡¯t supposed to be this many.¡±


    ¡°No kidding!¡± I bellow, bringing my blade down on one of the gnomes who managed to escape the snarl.


    ¡°It must be a glitch,¡± Psi mutters, taking out another gnome. ¡°Use the flame!¡±


    ¡°The flame?¡± I look down at my hands and realize she¡¯s right. The gnomes are trapped, which makes them easy targets. I¡¯m not sure if I have enough arcane to fry all of them, but I can sure try.


    I sheath my blade and send a blast of black flame toward the nearest crowded tunnel. The gnomes¡¯ cries sound like tiny damned souls shrieking into the underworld and the smell is¡­ pretty much on par. My stomach churns, but I keep blasting away. Just as it occurs to me that I¡¯m reaching diminishing returns since the charred gnomes in front are taking too long to decay and shielding the ones in back, Psi cries, ¡°Stop!¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°What?¡± I snap, letting the flame retreat back into my hands. My arcane is already down to half, and it doesn¡¯t regenerate quickly enough to keep this up for long, but we don¡¯t have any other alternatives.


    ¡°Let me wipe them out. We¡¯ll go in waves,¡± she orders, swinging her mace into the charred corpses. I wince, but the dust they become is a lot more pleasant than before. I cough, trying not to think about how much gnome dust I¡¯m inhaling, and send another blast of flame into the tunnel as Psi clears it. We alternate our roles in the gruesome task until the first tunnel is cleared.


    Only five more to go.


    It¡¯s definitely not the most glamorous strategy, but it seems to be working. Slowly but surely, we¡¯re clearing the gnomes away and my arcane actually has time to recharge. Plus, killing the gnomes in droves with practically zero effort is grinding away the XP. I won¡¯t actually go up a level until the dungeon is conquered, but I¡¯m racking up ability points like crazy.


    ¡°Give me a sec,¡± I call, wanting to spend a few to make this go quicker. I can¡¯t believe it, but I actually allocate six of my ten to Destruction without a second thought and the other four to Healing. Psi does about the same, assigning six of hers to Two-Handed Combat, two to Hardiness and two to Charisma, which she could definitely use more of.


    Once we¡¯re maxed out on ability points, we get back to the grind and it goes a lot faster thanks to my enhanced Destruction. I check my stats and realize I¡¯m dealing way more damage with each blast, and it¡¯s costing less arcane. I¡¯m at 25% damage per three seconds now, costing 7% of my arcane. The second and third tunnels take half the time, and another ability point I earn for Destruction makes the fourth even easier.


    Just as I¡¯m taking a moment to catch my breath, the sound of rumbling overhead fills me with horror. ¡°Not again,¡± I groan, ready to fend off another gnome invasion when the first isn¡¯t even over with.


    ¡°Look!¡± Psi cries, pointing at the ceiling. I watch as the domed stone overhead caves in. A massive piece of rock is headed right for her. I dive without thinking and knock her out of the way. We both land hard, even if her body pads my fall, and the look of shock on her face is pretty much priceless. So is the blush that creeps across her cheeks as she shoves me off.


    ¡°Get your bony ass off me,¡± she mutters, grabbing the hilt of her fallen mace as she gets back on her feet.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a funny way of thanking someone for saving your life,¡± I mutter, looking up as the dust settles. Fortunately, Chris¡¯ cage seems to be alright, but he¡¯s screaming again. I think he¡¯s trying to warn us about something.


    And then I see it. Rising from the rubble is the biggest freaking gnome I¡¯ve ever seen, and it doesn¡¯t even look like a solid object. It¡¯s made of pure green light, like some kind of radioactive ghost with a fiery club in its hand.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± I demand, gawking at the gargantuan creature.


    ¡°That would be the Gnome King,¡± Psi groans, picking up speed with her swinging weight.


    ¡°Aptly named. He¡¯s a lot bigger and more radioactive than he was the last time I met him.¡±


    ¡°This is a special event version, but he was supposed to go back to normal after the nuclear event,¡± says Psi, taking a swing as soon as the beast lumbers for us. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong with this dungeon.¡±


    I¡¯m afraid to know what else I missed. I send another blast of black flame at the gnome, even though he seems far less affected than his minions. I¡¯m guessing that if he¡¯s a nuclear subtype of gnome, dark arcane doesn¡¯t do a whole lot of damage. Psi¡¯s holy steel, on the other hand, takes his HP down by a decent chunk. Fifteen percent per hit isn¡¯t bad, but he¡¯s already healing and she barely dives out of the way in time to avoid his club. It leaves a massive crater in the earth and a few batches of clogged gnomes break free to join their master.


    We are so screwed.


    I blast the gnomes, since my arcane is far more useful against them, and I snatch a better weapon off the last one¡¯s back. It¡¯s only a simple dagger, but it¡¯s made of steel. I plunge it into the Gnome King¡¯s foot and he howls like a banshee. The entire cavern trembles with the sound and I hear the metal chains holding the cages in place groaning as they sway.


    ¡°Chris!¡± I cry, rushing toward the wall closest to the cage. We need all the help we can get, and if he falls from that height, he¡¯s as good as gone. I have to find a way to reach him.


    I plunge my blade into the rock and use it to hoist myself up, scrambling for anything I can use as a foothold. My boot digs into a divot in the wall, but I can already feel the fragile stone crumbling.


    The sounds of battle raging below don¡¯t bode well for Psi. I turn to watch her dive and roll out of the Gnome King¡¯s way, but she¡¯s going to run out of stamina eventually and he seems to be picking up steam. I look back up in time to see Chris¡¯ eyes fill with terror as the chain gives and his cage plunges back toward the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± I cry, reaching futilely for him as he sails past me on the wall. Not a second too soon, a massive shadow wraps itself around the cage like stretch material and they both disappear.


    ¡°Chris?¡± I call as the cavern shakes again with another howl from the Gnome King. This time, Psi isn¡¯t the one who did the damage. He flails around and strikes her with his massive hand, sending her into the wall. Her small body falls limp to the ground and I can see her health bar deplete to barely a sliver.


    Have I already lost both of them? I yank my blade from the stone and drop down, ignoring the ding in my own HP. I rush over to Psi, since she¡¯s the only one I can locate, barely aware of the shadow materializing in the shape of a man behind me.


    Just as the Gnome King rises and gropes around for his club, I reach Psi and see the shadow flatten out to become a person. Or rather, a giant. His head barely misses what''s left of the top of the stone cavern. He¡¯s got a shock of dark green hair and there¡¯s something barely familiar about those hard facial features set into a permanent scowl. Chris emerges from what¡¯s left of the receding shadow, and even as an Orc, he looks small next to the giant. He¡¯s unbound and staring at the other man like he¡¯s as shocked by his rescue as I am.


    The giant raises his broadsword and sets after the Gnome King with a fierce roar of his own. As the two beasts clash, I turn my focus back to Psi. She¡¯s barely with us, and with the half-life effect of the Gnome King¡¯s radiation, she won¡¯t be for much longer.


    I call my Healing Light into my fingertips and press my palms against her side. Slowly but surely, her HP bar starts creeping upward and I glance ever few seconds to make sure the battle is still going in our favor.


    Something tells me that giant is Whiskey, and I really hope I¡¯m not mistaken.


    Psi coughs as life surges back through her and sits up well before she¡¯s decently healed. She¡¯s barely at the halfway mark, so I push her back down. ¡°You go back in there and one more hit like that will take you out of the game for good," I say firmly. She glares at me, but she has enough sense to know I¡¯m right and lets me keep healing her. Never thought I¡¯d be the party healer, but I guess there¡¯s a first time for everything. ¡°That is Whiskey, right?¡±


    She nods. ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t he showing up as being in our party?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± she mutters. ¡°Nothing about this job is going to plan.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°Go on, I¡¯ve got a potion,¡± she says, taking a small yellow flask out of her robe. ¡°I¡¯ll join you in a second.¡±


    Not a second too soon. As powerful as the giant is, the Gnome King throws him across the cavern in one swipe. Chris rushes in, getting in a decent hit to the monster¡¯s side, but glowing green light is hard to wound. I raise both hands and send another blast of black flame at it, hoping that it¡¯s enough to distract the monster from Chris and give the giant time to recover.


    Now the King¡¯s attention is turned fully on me. Crap. I turn and run, barely ducking behind a stone column in time to avoid the blunt force of his club. My spine reverberates from the impact and I dive to avoid another hit. Playing tag with a twelve-foot beast is getting old fast, but just as I feel the thundering footsteps behind me and see the shadow overhead that suggests I¡¯m about to be squashed by the next one, the shaking stops.


    I turn around just in time to see the giant¡¯s sword pierce through the Gnome King¡¯s jaw and out through his brain on the other side. The green glow falters and begins to fade as the beast roars and the few lingering gnome loyalists scatter in all directions.


    Psi is on her feet again, but the solemn look on her face makes me think twice of celebrating our victory. The Gnome King disappears in a nuclear blast that blinds me momentarily. Once the light clears, the cavern is empty, save for the three of us and our currently anonymous rescuer.


    ¡°Whiskey?¡± Psi asks warily.


    The giant nods, still out of breath. ¡°Long story.¡±


    ¡°It had better be a good one,¡± she snaps. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you in the party? That¡¯s not even the username you agreed to!¡±


    ¡°My account was compromised. I got locked out on the creation screen,¡± he says gruffly. ¡°I had to come back in on one of my sides.¡±


    ¡°Who cares? He¡¯s here now and he saved our bacon,¡± says Chris. ¡°If that cage had fallen, I was a goner.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not kidding,¡± Whiskey snorts.


    Psi mutters something under her breath, tapping the amulet around her neck to call up her holoscreen. she shoots Whiskey a party invitation and he accepts.


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± I say, not willing to pass up an opportunity to side against Psi, even though I happen to be just as frustrated as she is. There¡¯s something about Whiskey¡¯s story that makes me uneasy, but I can¡¯t quite pinpoint it. ¡°Anyway, maybe he knows something about this busted dungeon that we don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You mean the fact that a limited edition Gnome King who expired six months ago was here?¡± he asks dryly. ¡°No, but something tells me it¡¯s related to the Christmas-themed dragons who attacked the village on the hillside.¡±


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Chris demands. ¡°Why is the game going haywire this close to a big event?¡±


    ¡°Probably hackers,¡± says Psi. ¡°People trying to muscle out the competition attempting to level up in order to reach the hundredth dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Makes as much sense as anything,¡± Whiskey says with a shrug. ¡°The crowds will be a nuisance when it comes time to slay the Beast Lord, and it¡¯s first come, first served. If they can¡¯t attack the lower level players without them having unlocked PvP, it makes sense to have a coordinated effort to turn the game against them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s something I¡¯d do,¡± Psi admits.


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± I mutter, wiping the last bits of gnome slime and dust off my armor.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the shadow power?¡± asks Chris. ¡°And where do you get it?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± says Whiskey. ¡°I was able to make a trade even though I couldn¡¯t enter the game on my main account. It¡¯s a rare enchantment called the Cloak of Darkness, and it¡¯s the thing that¡¯s going to get us into the hundredth dungeon once we level out.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask.


    ¡°The dungeon¡¯s going to be relatively quiet, considering every high-level player will be scrambling to kill the others and make sure they¡¯re the only ones who get to enter the Catacombs,¡± says Psi. ¡°With the cloak, all we have to do is get within range and get your friend out. Think of it as an amusement park pass that lets you cut all the lines.¡±


    ¡°Sweet,¡± Chris breathes. I can already tell he¡¯s infatuated, and it¡¯s not with the super special enchantment.


    I walk over to the Gnome King¡¯s ashes and pull out the blade that¡¯s returned to its material state. It¡¯s not the most powerful weapon in the game, and it¡¯s weaker than any the others have on them, but it sure beats my cheap plastic toy. I sheath it and start searching for the exit. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. We¡¯ve still got another forty-nine dungeons to go, and no telling what the gatekeepers have in store for us.¡±

 The Wild Hunt: Lucas

    I¡¯ve brought countless warriors to their deaths during my cursed internment in this dungeon, and not a one of them has ever haunted me past the moment it happened. Kade Endry¡¯s death is a different breed.


    It¡¯s neither guilt nor horror that lingers long after his body has faded to dust. It¡¯s confusion. I¡¯ve never seen a man face death so willingly. So eagerly. When the Rook Mage overtook the land, there were feudal lords who took their own lives as one final act of defiance, rather than seeing their people become subject to pure evil, but this was something different. It wasn¡¯t a desperate act, it was a casual opt out of a world he seemed to hold no stake in.


    What it means is beyond me, but his words have all come true so far. Not a single soul has trespassed in my dungeon since. The longest period of peace there¡¯s ever been is an hour, perhaps two. Now they¡¯re all simply gone and I¡¯m left to wonder whether this lull is merely the calm before the storm.


    At dawn, I receive my answer. The first group comes covered in blood, and I spot them from the entrance to the Catacombs, discussing strategy on the hillside. Before they can make it, a barrage of flaming arrows removes them from this world. Every subsequent group that attempts approach meets the same fate. I watch, mesmerized by the strange theatrics of the beings I understand even less now than I ever have.


    Before long, I¡¯ve isolated the position of the group shooting arrows. There are ten of them, maybe a few more. I only know because of the number of body parts that are strewn into the air once a barrage of enchanted canon fire hits the hillside and lays their barricade bare.


    In a matter of minutes, the hillside is covered with warriors, teeming like ants. None of the first wave of attacks seem to be particularly organized. Perhaps this event is nothing more than all these idiots finally losing their minds and self-destructing.


    With nothing else to do but watch, I begin to grow bored even though this is by far the most entertainment I¡¯ve had in centuries. When the distant land blackens with another swarm, the sheer breadth of it takes me by shock. And they¡¯re not alone. Two armies converge, making the groups still battling in clusters around the hillside seem pitiful.


    The moment they meet, the roar is deafening. Sharp lines of arcane in every color, from blood red to black so deep it darkens the sky, form a lightning storm that comes from the ground. It¡¯s an all-out war, and I can¡¯t help but think I¡¯m the one at the center of it.


    Sooner or later, the front lines will break and those warriors who manage to cut through the steel and flesh barricades will be of a mettle even I can¡¯t match without preparation. I retreat into the Catacombs, nicking my palm and running it along every wall I touch on my way to the core.


    Enchantments must be placed. The guards must be rallied. This is, perhaps, the day I¡¯ve been waiting for. The day that brings the death I have longed for, for as long as I can remember. If it is, I will go with dignity, but I will not go without a fight.


    Once I reach the core, I utter the words to bring the enchantment to life while Cerberus paces anxiously around the room. He senses the old magic that can so easily turn against a foolish user. I hear the sound of commotion coming closer to the dungeon¡¯s entrance now and my fur bristles, telling me that someone is close to breaching the perimeter.


    Satisfied that the enchantment is properly laid, I go to meet the intruders knowing that my dogs will greet them first. Wouldn¡¯t want to keep them waiting.


    The first band of victors is only three-men strong. Evidently, they lost one in the skirmish. The remaining three look badly injured enough, and the smallest one among them, a forest elf, is trying to heal the worst of their wounds.


    The orc sees me first, but his distraction is enough to give the hellhound in the shadows time to strike. The beast descends on him with a snarl and tears a hunk of green flesh off his shoulder. The small elf raises his bow and arrow while the human paladin with them raises his warhammer. Holy steel layered with enchantment upon enchantment girds both weapons, and I¡¯m not surprised.


    I¡¯ve swapped out my armor, even though I rarely bother to wear any, with a breastplate that hums with infernal magic. The first arrows are absorbed in the dark ether, and while I would normally go for the strongest member of a party first, I can¡¯t take that risk today. The fewer weapons flying at me, the better. The others are expecting my usual tactics, so they fail to shield the forest elf and his thin, unprotected neck yields to my jaws with ease. I tear his head off in one quick strike, too guilt-ridden to draw it out, before I turn on the others. My hellhound strikes with me and in a flurry of tearing flesh and broken bones, the other two are gone so quickly that I have to wonder if their escape was nothing more than dumb luck.


    The three massive groups that follow confirm that theory. There seems to be some cohesion to their efforts, but it quickly becomes clear which factions within the mega group are further divided into units of four. They turn on each other with a single stray arrow that ends the life of an elven mage. Soon, more blows are flying across friendly lines than at me, and I use the opportunity to retreat into the shadows and regroup.


    I¡¯m fully healed by the time I reappear and step out of the shadows in the next cove, but I know it won¡¯t last long. The others are still fighting amongst themselves, but eventually, one of them will emerge victorious. I don¡¯t like the idea of leaving so many in my Catacombs at once, but the most effective strategy may be to let them thin themselves out and save my energy.


    The strategy proves itself when I hear a group of four coming down the cove. I wince as my hellhound¡¯s cries split the stale air. The telepathic link I share with Cerberus allows me to issue commands without audible words, and he obediently lopes into the nearest tunnel to wait.


    Two orcs, one shifter, and one halfling. An interesting combination, especially since two of them are mages. That also ups the chances that they¡¯ll notice the trap my enchantment has laid. Not that I¡¯m ready to use it yet. There are two other groups who¡¯ve managed to breach the perimeter, and I can hear them fighting outside. I¡¯d rather wait to use the enchantment until at least another couple of groups are caught inside my web, since it takes a while to recharge.


    I close my eyes and project my thoughts to Cerberus as I hear the others grappling with the hellhound stationed at the first cove.


    Lure them in¡­


    The moment I hear an earsplitting howl that echoes through the Catacombs, I know the message was received. Each and every hellhound stationed within the outer coves abandons his post and retreats into the shadows, luring the startled adventurers deeper in. My muzzle wrinkles with a sneer as I hear them cry out in astonishment. Someone outside must have an enchantment that allows him to see within the outer perimeter of the dungeon, because more cries follow, interrupting the fights. I feel the energetic pulse that acts as a silent alarm as one fool after another breaches the outer cave.


    Four, then seven, then twelve. Those who¡¯ve risen to the top of the pack are about to be culled. I rush back to the center of the catacombs and kneel to touch the sigil carved in blood on the floor, connected to the trail that spirals out through every tunnel.


    ¡°Ithus lanosa,¡± I chant, repeating the ancient words louder each time. The cave begins to tremble, and I feel the old energy rising, but just as the enchantment reaches its zenith, the arcane fades. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    I frown at the sigil painted on black stone and try again, putting greater intent into its summoning. No matter what,  it won¡¯t activate. It¡¯s as if there¡¯s a leak somewhere in the enchantment itself, and every ounce of power I pour into it simply drains away.


    The war cries fill the Catacombs now and the dry bones rattle and shake around me. They¡¯re getting closer. All sixteen of them now. What was supposed to be a trap is quickly turning into an invasion. I close my eyes and watch Cerberus through the other sight as each head tears into a different limb. The hellhound in the nearest cove joins him, but the warriors immediately run him through and he vanishes in a black plume of smoke.


    ¡°No,¡± I snarl, prepared to meet him when I sense the sudden emergence of a group of four in the most populated tunnel.


    Impossible! Through the eyes of the hellhound guarding that cove, I see the four invaders appear from a cloak of shadow I¡¯ve never seen the likes of before. Teleportation is forbidden magic, and shadow enchantments more forbidden still. Only the Rook Mage has access to such power, and he guards it fiercely. Out from the cloak steps an orc, a giant, an elf and a human paladin. Two males, two females, all at full health and arcane. Somehow, they¡¯ve bypassed the warfare outside to arrive right at my gate.


    The other eight in the cove are just as shocked, but it doesn¡¯t take long for them to realize their raid has been foiled by other opportunists. The newcomers waste no time launching a full-scale assault that is undoubtedly more planned out than any of the others I¡¯ve witnessed so far. The female mage sends a blast of black flame at the group, targeting the two in front, while the orc and giant tear in with their broadswords. The paladin claims the goblin¡¯s life with a deft swing of her mace that splits his head open.


    The element of surprise is clearly on their side, as is the favor of whatever god bestowed that enchantment upon them. The giant tears a halfling¡¯s head clean off its shoulders, and despite the two-to-one advantage on the side of the other party, the cove is being cleared out quickly.


    I¡¯m at a loss for what to do, but I decide to focus on dispatching the nuisances in the outer tunnels before they can join the others. By the time I¡¯m finished, the group of four has vanquished the group of eight with zero casualties, and a few moderate wounds.


    Time to deal with them. I rush into the shadows and reappear at the nearest cove, hoping it isn¡¯t too late to stop them.


    The paladin swings at my hellhound as he leaps to tear out her throat and her mace, made of solid holy steel, splits his skull open in one go.


    Rage explodes from within me. If these four are so eager to meet their deaths, then it would be cruel to keep them waiting. With a cry of vengeance, I recall the arcane power I pushed into the useless sigil to my body through my hands and feet, allowing the black energy to swirl up my arms and legs until it disappears into the crest on my breastplate.


    The giant is the first to meet me as I barrel into the dark cove and his broadsword is unsurprisingly made of the same holy steel as the paladin¡¯s mace. He blocks me and the steel singes the fur on my forearms, but I push him back with another snarl.


    For some reason, the others miss their chance to attack, and the orc looks like he¡¯s ready to drop his blade and run. I turn to the elven mage in the back, perplexed by the light blue glow of healing flame around her hands. Dark magic hums within her, and there¡¯s a halfway decent blade strapped to her back, yet she comes into battle ready to heal without even putting up a fight?


    The paladin is of far more concern. I swipe at her right hand with my claws in an attempt to displace the weapon, and rather than strike back, she leaps out of range. ¡°Ace!¡± she cries. ¡°Use the binding!¡±


    Binding? They think a spell meant to restrain low-level temper tantrums is going to save them? I ignore the mage and tear into the giant¡¯s chest since he¡¯s recovered enough to be a greater threat. He snarls and grips the fur on the side of my neck in an attempt to keep my fangs away from his jugular, but it¡¯s a battle he¡¯s going to lose.


    ¡°Hurry it up, will ya?¡± he bellows.


    Loud, crackling energy makes my fur stand on end and wraps around my back and chest. At first, the weak enchantment is barely noticeable and I¡¯m far less interested in breaking it than I am in breaking the giant¡¯s thick neck, but the pressure gradually increases like the vice grip of a boa constrictor. By the time I realize it¡¯s an escalation spell, it¡¯s too late.


    I stumble back and snarl, thrashing my bound arms in an attempt to break free, but it¡¯s no use. The mage¡¯s power is only growing and it seems to be feeding off my own somehow.


    The moment I recognize the energy signature, I know it¡¯s more than just a hunch. Somehow, she¡¯s draining the energy I used to cast the ward around the cave, and she¡¯s draining it fast.


    The magic seems to take as much out of her and we both sink to our knees at once. A trickle of red-black blood travels down from her left nostril, but she keeps her green eyes locked on mine.


    There¡¯s something familiar about that particular shade of emerald. Something familiar about the orc, too. I just can¡¯t¡­


    My chest grows tighter and it¡¯s enough of a struggle to breathe, let alone snarl. Has it really come to this? All the hordes I¡¯ve killed with my bare hands, and a pathetic little mage and her band of followers are going to take me out with a binding spell.


    ¡°Get the artifact!¡± the mage cries in a strained, husky voice that sounds even more familiar than she looks.


    I tell myself it¡¯s just the lack of oxygen to my brain causing hallucinations. I don¡¯t know these intruders. How could I? They¡¯re children compared to me, and yet¡­


    Determined to fight until my last breath, I try to call to Cerberus, but I¡¯ve grown too weak even for the link to work. I can still feel it from my side, just enough to see him overwhelmed by the horde that¡¯s broken into the Catacombs. I collapse onto my side as the Paladin rushes past me. It¡¯s not necessary to see to know what she¡¯s after. The Skull of Sir Marrok.


    The giant and the orc appear above me, observing me with solemn, unreadable expressions. The orc has a blade in his hand, but he seems to want to observe his prey before making the finishing blow.


    Coward.


    I spit at him, snarling with my fading breath.


    The orc frowns, but there¡¯s more pity in his gaze than irritation. Insult to final injury.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡± the paladin cries, clutching the chalk-white skull to her chest. She looks down at me and grips the glowing amulet around her neck. ¡°How much longer can you hold him?¡±


    ¡°Not much longer,¡± the mage groans, wiping a thicker stream of blood from her nose.


    I watch in confusion as the paladin chants some words in the forgotten language even I never mastered. A black light shoots out from the skull in her hand in all directions and blinds everyone in the cavern momentarily, until it begins siphoning into the amulet. With it, I feel my life force diminishing and even when the mage¡¯s binding power releases its hold, I¡¯m too weak to move.


    The last thing I see is her standing over me, those green eyes full of inexplicable worry and gentleness. ¡°Lucas?¡± she asks softly, reaching to brush her fingertips across the fur on my cheek.


    Another name I feel like I should recognize, but I don¡¯t. My eyes fall shut and I give in to the blackness I¡¯ve always known would come for me. It, too, is familiar in a way that I don¡¯t quite understand.

 Betrayal: Maizey

    ¡°We got him!¡± Chris cries triumphantly as the Beast Lord¡¯s body becomes part of the same smoke that¡¯s funneling into Psi¡¯s amulet.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, right?¡± I demand. ¡°He¡¯s safe now?¡±


    ¡°Assuming we can get him out of here. His code is no longer stored in the skull, but if the amulet gets destroyed, he¡¯s still gone,¡± Psi answers, looking further down the tunnel. The hellhound¡¯s death shriek is too close for comfort, so I know we¡¯re on borrowed time before the other treasure seekers get to us. It won¡¯t take them long to realize that the skull is a dud.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± Chris says, turning to Whiskey. ¡°Call up your shadow cloak.¡±


    Whiskey just stares at him for a second, before shifting his gaze to the amulet. I can hear the others closing in on all sides. There¡¯s no way in hell we¡¯re getting out of here without that cloak, but something in our guide¡¯s demeanor has me on edge.


    ¡°You heard the man,¡± Psi says, frowning. ¡°Let¡¯s go already.¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± says Whiskey, holding out a huge, callused hand. ¡°Give me the amulet first.¡±


    Psi frowns, clutching the still-glowing stone to her chest. ¡°Why?¡±


    I trust her even less than I trust Whiskey, but the suspicion in her tone seems genuine, and it¡¯s a point in her favor. Something is definitely wrong, and we don¡¯t have the time to sort it out.


    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until you give me that amulet, kid.¡±


    There¡¯s something in his voice that flips a switch in the back of my head. I know what it¡¯s like to think you know someone only to have them betray you in the worst possible way. It¡¯s a feeling I never wanted to live through twice, but I¡¯d recognize it anywhere.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re not leaving at all,¡± I growl, charging at him to block his path to Psi and the amulet. My blade clashes with his, and I¡¯m physically no match for the giant, but he¡¯s weak to magic, so I push every ounce of the Morrigan¡¯s Wrath I have left into the blade and he staggers back.


    The shock is enough to give me time to catch my breath, but it pushes me back as well. I collide with Psi, pushing her up against the wall hard enough that she drops the skull, which turns out not to be the lifeless artifact we all thought.


    The lingering black energy trapped inside the skull is released as soon as it shatters, and while Whiskey is getting back to his feet, the energy hovers in the air for a moment before locking on its new target:


    Me.


    I gasp as the black smoke pours down my throat and up my nostrils, choking out all the breath in my lungs. My lungs expand to the point where they feel like they¡¯re going to explode, and I collapse once again as Psi and Whiskey go toe to toe. This time, she¡¯s prepared with her mace in her hands, and Chris doesn¡¯t seem to know who to trust, but he stands at her side.


    I try to get up, but the energy is tearing through me from the inside, rewiring my DNA. It feels like it¡¯s going to tear me apart, and when I see the smoke rising from the bare skin on my arms, I realize that¡¯s more than just a hallucination.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± Psi seethes. For the moment, they¡¯re too distracted by the betrayal to notice what¡¯s happening to me. Not that I have a damn clue what it is myself. I just know the energy from the skull is poisoning me somehow, and I feel the change from within like a coming storm.


    ¡°Me?¡± Whiskey laughs. ¡°We took this gig because that chick paid us ten-K. You realize we could get ten times that for the amulet, right?¡±


    My stomach churns with rage, and even though I should only be feeling terror right now, it¡¯s like this power vying for control is feeding off my anger.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the deal,¡± Psi says through gritted teeth. ¡°We complete the mission. Those are the rules.¡±


    ¡°Rules,¡± Whiskey scoffs. ¡°Your rules. I¡¯m in it for the kicks and the cash, and I thought we were on the same page. Are you with me or not?¡±


    Psi hesitates for a moment, and I know we¡¯re screwed. There¡¯s no way she¡¯s going to turn down the chance to strand us here and make a killing in the real world. To her, it¡¯s just a game. She made that clear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she says firmly, raising her weapon. ¡°Get the hell out of here while you still can, asshole. We¡¯re done.¡±


    Whiskey¡¯s face falls, and even though his features are dramatically different as a giant, there¡¯s just enough left of that smug expression he wears in the real world to make me feel like an idiot for ever trusting him.


    ¡°Then you leave me no choice,¡± he says flatly, raising his sword. Her mace¡¯s weight swings around the blade, constricting it to give her a better grip as she snaps the weapon out of his hands. Chris lets out a cry as he attacks with his own blade, but the giant hits him out of the air in one strike.


    ¡°Chris!¡± My voice doesn¡¯t sound like it¡¯s coming from me. It¡¯s a guttural sound that draws the attention of everyone else in the cove. The footfalls of the other treasure hunters are coming closer, and somehow, I can feel them. I can feel everything in the Catacombs, from the bones in the hollows within the walls to the rumbling earth deep below. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    All at once, the rage boils over and the threat of being torn apart becomes all too real. The power that breaks through my flesh and turns my form to dust takes on a physical shape that replaces my own without displacing my consciousness, even if my human thoughts take a back seat to the beast.


    I¡¯m no longer a five-foot-nine elf, but rather a bipedal beast whose head brushes the low ceiling of the cavern. Dread sets in as soon as the shock does. If I¡¯ve somehow taken on the power of the Beast Lord, what does that mean for Lucas?


    Before I¡¯m able to answer that question, my body seems to move with a will of its own, barreling after Whiskey on all fours. The look on his face would probably be satisfying, if I was in the right frame of mind, but all I can think about is the insatiable thirst for blood and hunger for flesh that seems to have replaced every thought in my head.


    Psi and Chris scream as they dodge out of the way, and while I don¡¯t want to believe I¡¯d hurt them¡ªwell, not Chris at any rate ¡ªI don¡¯t trust myself to find out once I¡¯ve reached my intended target. My fangs close down on Whiskey¡¯s shoulder and he lets out a pained, guttural cry before he throws me off. He manages to get to his blade, but before he can get back on his feet, four others fill the tunnel, three of them elves and one a giant-orc paladin who looks like he crawled out of the bowels of hell itself.


    Even in my wildest dreams, I¡¯d never try to take on a maxed-out beast like that, but I lunge for him instinctively and the bloodlust is too intense to hold back. To my amazement, his body crumples beneath me and I tear out his throat with such ease that it sends a thrill of exhilaration all throughout my foreign vessel, and fuels the rage that¡¯s overtaken everything.


    I¡¯m barely aware of Whiskey running like the rat he is, scurrying through the anterior tunnels to escape a battle he knows he can¡¯t win. I can¡¯t see him, focused on the challengers ahead of me, but I can sense the tension of Psi¡¯s feet on the cave floor, as if she¡¯s torn between where to run.


    She finally settles on fending off the incursion and takes a swing at the elf to my right just as he¡¯s gearing up for an arcane power attack. The second elf¡¯s blue electricity meets me an instant later and I roar as the energy surges through me, causing intense pain that makes it even more impossible to think rationally.


    Not being in control of a vehicle I have no idea how to pilot proves to be an advantage, because my wild flailing sends the nearest elf into the cave wall and his body disappears in a puff of smoke from the unintentional surprise attack. The half-orc snarls and plunges his blade into my side. A deep burn spreads throughout me as I feel the holy silver cut into an organ, but my body heals fast enough that it¡¯s starting to close around the metal itself.


    With a roar of rage, I tear the weapon out and slice off the monster¡¯s head. Now there are only the two elves left, and it doesn¡¯t take them long to retreat. The shrieks from further down the tunnel tell me the hellhounds have rendered further pursuit unnecessary.


    Of course, there are plenty more where that came from. Twenty-three, if the strange extrasensory perception that gives me a mind¡¯s eye view of the entire subterranean labyrinth is any indication. I feel every stone, every cove, every guarding beast as if they¡¯re all a part of me, and this newfound power is as exhilarating as it is overwhelming.


    I realize Chris and Psi are both staring at me, their weapons poised and ready, as if they¡¯re not sure if they¡¯re next on the menu. I¡¯m not sure either, at first, but while the monster in my head is still hungry for blood, I¡¯m in control of it enough to redirect its need to more appropriate targets.


    ¡°Maizey?¡± Chris croaks, forgetting my code name. Not that it matters much now. We¡¯ve definitely attracted attention to ourselves, and I¡¯m sure it¡¯s only a matter of time before Kade Endry realizes the skull has been destroyed.


    Psi looks down at the bone dust and frowns. ¡°We have to get them both out of here.


    ¡°How?¡± Chris cries, looking down the tunnel the next wave is approaching from. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be at least a dozen enemies on the way, and they all think she¡¯s what they have to kill.¡±


    ¡°Thirty,¡± I correct him in a growl that seems about half-telepathic, half-actual speech.


    Psi and Chris both jump, but she recovers from the shock quickly enough. ¡°This way,¡± she orders, rushing down the same tunnel Whiskey fled through.


    I follow her with Chris close behind, even though he seems about as afraid of me as he is of the horde. I follow Psi down another tunnel to a dead end and start to wonder if she¡¯s had second thoughts about betraying us when she turns to face me.


    ¡°You control the Catacombs,¡± she says firmly, like that isn¡¯t the most ridiculous thing in the world. Control the Catacombs? How exactly does she figure that? ¡°Open another portal, like the gnomes did.¡±


    ¡°Gnomes?¡± I snarl. The word is barely intelligible in my inhuman voice. I can¡¯t even fully control this body and she expects me to open up a new exit in a dungeon I¡¯ve never even been to before.


    ¡°Just do it,¡± she orders impatiently as the mob draws nearer.


    I hesitate, staring at the wall. It looks pretty dang solid from where I¡¯m standing, but I reluctantly approach and touch the stone. Nothing happens, like I figured.


    ¡°Try imagining a door,¡± Chris says hopefully.


    Psi and I both glare at him, but as stupid as the suggestion seems, my mind follows it subconsciously. Sure enough, the stone groans and shifts, crumbling away to form a domed exit before us.


    I can¡¯t believe my luck, but there¡¯s not much time to dwell on it. I push Chris through the new exit and I¡¯m more than a bit surprised and relieved when I¡¯m able to pass the threshold myself. Part of me was afraid that in taking on the Beast Lord¡¯s power, I¡¯d end up stuck as the Catacombs¡¯ new guard, but I guess that wouldn¡¯t be much of a grand prize.


    All I can do is hope that I don¡¯t have this power because Lucas is really gone. I look back and realize Psi is lagging behind, and it won¡¯t be long before the others realize their quarry is now free to roam Al¡¯Goryth, so I snatch her into my arms and keep running.


    ¡°Hey!¡± she hisses indignantly as I sling her over my shoulder.


    ¡°Get over it, princess,¡± I growl. If she thinks I¡¯m carrying her in my arms all the way to safety, she¡¯s wrong. For the moment, she¡¯s wearing something around her neck that¡¯s too important to risk, and she did stick with us when she could have easily betrayed us for a tidy profit. As much as it irks me, we¡¯re stuck with each other for the time being, and it¡¯s up to me to make sure everyone gets out of this alive.