《Dream Dungeon》 1 - Survival Game I wipe my glasses. I put them down on my desk. I turn off the lights and lie down on my bed. I close my eyes and drift soundly to sleep. Or so I thought. I open my eyes. I see an unfamiliar scene. I find myself lying on the ground. It was cold and hard. I get up and notice the entire ground is stone, some sort of cobblestone I think. To my left is also stone, a wall stretching up and up and up. I can¡¯t make out how tall it is, mainly because it¡¯s really dim. The entire place is dark, illuminated only by soft torches lined along the walls. It all seems medieval-like. That¡¯s probably a bad assumption due to my limited knowledge. The aesthetic of the entire place feels old. A cold draft brushes through me and I shiver slightly. Where am I? I look around. I could only see about 50 feet ahead of me, and as far as I can tell it¡¯s all stone. My head feels hazy but regardless I walk ahead slowly and cautiously. Besides the cracking of fire from the torches and the occasional draft, I couldn¡¯t hear much. For some reason, I couldn¡¯t shake this uncomfortable feeling. I feel an indescribable danger, even though I couldn¡¯t see anything dangerous. The entire ambiance just sent shivers down my spine. Goosebumps run all over my body. Looking up, I couldn¡¯t see the extent of the roof, if there was one. I assumed so because I couldn¡¯t see any moon or any other signs of lighting or natural silhouettes. It must extend really high up, probably to level the tops of the high-rising walls. The entire place gives off eerie vibes. I don¡¯t like it. I make my way through. I think I¡¯ve been walking for 5 minutes and I don¡¯t see any change in my surroundings. Suddenly, I notice a dip in the ground ahead of me. I walk to check it out. It was water. A large body of water stretched out ahead, stretching from one wall to the other in width. I can¡¯t tell how deep it is, but I catch sights of plant life on the surface and some deeper shadows within the water. It''s like a marsh, as it''s blanketed in green. I only realized it was water when I dipped my finger in it and there were faint ripples. I take one good look around once more. No doubt about it. This is a dungeon. I¡¯ve played many games with dungeons. RPG games are my specialty, so I recognize this scene well. But why do I have such a bad feeling? Am I dreaming? But I¡¯m aware of it. Is it lucid? It might be, but I can¡¯t be too sure. Suddenly, the sound of clattering metal sounds behind me. I freeze. It¡¯s slowly getting closer and closer. I slowly turn around- Slice. What- I barely dodge the slash. I can¡¯t believe what I see. My vision shakes and I catch a glimpse at my sudden attacker. A structure of bones, a hollow face and stiff movements. The figure is wielding a curved blade and wearing a golden crown. No way. I shake my head and try to blink away my suspicions. It¡¯s a skeleton. That¡¯s right, with dungeons come monsters. Fear fills me at the sudden thought. The slash felt like it would actually tear through me and cut me. No matter how I look it at it doesn¡¯t appear to be a dream. I feel fully¡­ Conscious. I quickly resolve myself. The figure rattles and tattles as it charges at me, slashing at me in a stiff and textbook manner. I carefully avoid each slice. It doesn¡¯t seem to be too fast or too dangerous, but I can¡¯t be reckless. I muster my courage and escape around him, back where I came. I¡¯m running blindly forward. I take a glimpse behind me and see the skeleton still chasing me, shrouded in the shadows behind me. I charge, pacing myself ahead. I run for about 5 minutes before I reach a dead end. I don¡¯t know when I passed my initial position when I came to, but that doesn¡¯t matter right now. I take another look behind me but I don¡¯t see the skeleton. I can still faintly hear the rattling of bones and the metallic clinking of the sword dragging across the ground. It¡¯s coming. I have to do something. In front of me, at the wall which ended my path, was a double door. I try pulling on it, but no luck. It won¡¯t budge. I notice that the door handles are tied together with sturdy rope in a confusing knot. The width of the room itself is not too big. It¡¯s better to say that it was a hallway rather than a room. I look up, and above the double door was a large inscription carved into the wall. It was a number. 15. Whatever that could mean doesn¡¯t matter. I need to figure out something. And fast. What can I do? No use complaining or worrying. I look at the walls. Still nothing but torches. What if I use one of the torches as a weapon? I try taking a torch off the wall. No luck. It¡¯s stuck there. I probably need some sort of tool to take it off its holder. The sound¡¯s getting closer and closer. Anytime now the figure will emerge from the shadows. I need to do something. If this was a dream, I wouldn¡¯t have to worry. I¡¯ll wake up soon enough. But¡­ I don¡¯t want to die. Whatever the cause is that I¡¯m feeling so awake and aware, nonetheless I don¡¯t want to die. That¡¯s what I¡¯m feeling right now. Out of options, I brace myself for what¡¯s to come. I¡¯m not confident in my combat abilities, nor do I think I have what it takes to stand up to such a monster. But I¡¯ve got no choice. There¡¯s no use wussing out. The skeleton¡¯s figure is visible now. After a minute it appears in full view, upon seeing me, it abnormally charges forward erratically. Bring it on! It slashes vertically towards my right shoulder. I dodge left and duck at a successive slash horizontally for my head. I back off instinctively. That was way too close. One misstep and it would¡¯ve had my head. It comes back at me with a vertical slash at my left shoulder. I dodge to the right and back off as it slashes diagonally from my lower right to my upper left straight after. I turn my best to avoid it, but I was barely fast enough. It cut off a tip of my bangs. We continue this exchange for a while. It continued slashing at me, while I dodged carefully. At first, there were many other close calls. I endured a couple of scratches and cuts and at one instance I stumbled and I thought for sure I was done for. Luckily, I regained my balance and continued evading. After some time passed I notice some strange things. The skeleton, through my exchanges with it, seems to be moving rather repetitively. Predictably even. It¡¯s just a hunch, but maybe there¡¯s some sort of pattern to his attacks? And my suspicions were confirmed. I paid attention to its slashes and its body movement and tried anticipating its next movements. It was a daring move, but it was worth a shot. As I thought, the skeleton followed a predictable move pattern. Its repertoire wasn¡¯t very expansive. It was either:
  1. A vertical slash at the right shoulder, then a horizontal cut to the head. If I back off, it resets, but if I turn, it proceeds with a diagonal slash.
  2. A vertical slash at the left shoulder, then a diagonal slash right after. If I turn, it resets, and if I back off, it charges with a horizontal slash at my head.
Every now and then, it will mix in a forward strike, but I quickly noticed it starts with an exaggerated movement, so they¡¯re not too hard to predict. It¡¯s just like a game. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s not really like a game, but it sure does resemble it. It doesn¡¯t matter, just the fact that I can read the enemy is a huge advantage. I have a plan. I watch the skeleton closely. It continues its mindless slashing at me. I carefully avoid each one with ease and continue focusing on the skeleton¡¯s movements. The skeleton then prepares to make a forward strike. It pulls back with large movements and charges in my direction! Gotcha! I moved back and baited him into following me, then I swiftly turned and spun around the slash. Suddenly, I was right beside him, his body exposed to me, his figure vulnerable from his charged strike. I pull all my strength into my fist and punch it in the head while gripping its sword hand! Ah! It hurts... My fist felt sore at the knuckles. It felt like punching a rock. The head popped off, the crown flying off, and amidst the confusion, I try disarming the skeleton. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now!¡± I yell. I try pulling the sword out of its hand, but the grip was strong. It wouldn¡¯t let go. Huh? Did I not punch the head strong enough? Slice! ¡°Gah!¡± I pulled back. The skeleton - it sliced at me! I forgot - it¡¯s an undead monster, it doesn¡¯t necessarily need its head to function. I knew that in the back of my mind, but I hoped it wasn¡¯t the case. I assumed it was like most other monsters, where the head is the weak spot. In games anyway, if you remove the head of an undead, they¡¯re pretty much disabled. If not for the fact I already knew its movement patterns, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to dodge. It spares no time following up. The skeleton slices at my right shoulder then follows up with a horizontal slash. I dodge with practiced ease. My fist throbbed. Tch. I might have become too confident. I¡¯m not sure how long I can keep this up. I may have been lucky so far. I don¡¯t even know if the skeleton¡¯s got anything else up its sleeve. It could. It could not. I wash away those thoughts. For now, I need to focus on the battle. It slices, I dodge - this continues. ¡°Ah!¡± Suddenly, it slashes at my ankle! I was momentarily careless and as a result, I was hit. My ankle throbbed with intense pain, blood seeping out of it, collecting into a pool. I fall down. The skeleton, seemingly noticing my dire state, creeps up on me, preparing an overhead slash - one that I haven''t seen yet. It¡¯s probably its finishing move. Worse, the skeleton seemed to have picked up on my habits. During the last couple exchanges, I thought it was my imagination, but the sword seemed to be inching closer and closer, the moves deviating every slightly with each slice away from the textbook form. I back up into the wall, my fist and ankle aches. Am¡­ am I finished? Is this it? I remember the door and the rope on the handles. I think of something. I¡¯m not sure if it will amount to anything, but I¡¯ve got no other choice. The skeleton brings the sword down and I time myself to dodge, rolling to the left. I rush towards the door. The skeleton follows, slicing down unsuccessfully at my shadow. The skeleton seems to have picked up on my idea too, as it starts to mix up the intervals at which it slices and it starts slicing at an optimal angle. The sword continues to follow dangerously close. It¡¯s only a matter of time before it connects. I finally reach the door. Right before it sliced, I lured it into striking the handles above me, therefore the rope, before rolling away. I couldn¡¯t precisely control my momentum rolling, partly due to my injuries, mostly accredited to my hastiness, and I impact into the wall with a thud. The rope fell apart and the door creaked open. I rushed into the door past the skeleton without a second thought. I survey the surroundings. It seemed identical to the last room beside the road splitting into two directions up ahead. The same stone, the same torches - everything. There has to be something here! It was a gamble. I bet on the chance of this other room for something to help me, at the same time risking the chance of possible enemies, or worse¡­ I notice a sparkle at the corner of my eyes. A dagger! I run to pick it up and quickly turn around and form a stance. ¡°This is my last stand. Bring. It. On!¡± It charges at me. I¡¯m not sure if it understood me or not, but it seemed to have charged with everything it got, letting out a chilling howl. I ready my knife and concentrate as if my life depended on it. A charge? Or maybe a shoulder slash? No, it¡¯s a shoulder slash alright! But which one? Left? Or right? I gamble and dodge left. My right eye shuts in fear. I placed my life on this dodge. Was I right? Will I be met with a strike? Luckily, I was right! I dodge the strike to my left shoulder, and smoothly dodge the diagonal slash with extra adjustments, making sure I over-compensate for the skeleton¡¯s possible adjustments. I find an opening and charge! I slash at the skeleton¡¯s wielding hand, making full use of its vulnerability. Clang! The sword hits the ground, leaving the skeleton weapon-less. I pick up the sword with my other hand and clench my fists. ¡°Die!¡± I screamed at the top of my lungs. Slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice slice! I spare no efforts in cutting the skeleton up, dismembering its body to the point where it¡¯s just a pile of bones - even though technically, it already consisted of a pile of bone. Of course, I didn¡¯t cut the bones directly, but the points where the bones connected is where I aimed. Now for sure the skeleton was defeated. After making sure the skeleton was gone for sure, I finally relax and fall down with a sigh. ¡°That¡­ was intense,¡± I grin tersely. I don¡¯t know where my satisfaction comes from. Furthermore, I don¡¯t see how I¡¯m so calm. I just fought to the death with a monster. At the same time, it felt so unreal I''m having a hard time accepting it. I lie face-up on the floor trying to catch my breath. I look up at the dark, empty sky - or roof. I wonder what I¡¯m going to have for dinner or if there''s going to be a pop quiz in math like the rumors mentioned ¨C stuff like that. It''s funny. I just battled a skeleton in a dungeon and here I am thinking about such unrelated, unimportant matters. Abruptly, I hear the sound of metal clattering. I get up cautiously, and ready my weapons. Another skeleton? In that case, bring it on! ¡°Ely? Is¡­ is that you?¡± A familiar voice approaches me. ¡°Huh?¡± I stop with confusion. A girl appears from the shadows. She¡¯s wearing cat pajamas, in her right hand was a skeleton blade. Her long dark hair was tied up in a ponytail. ¡°Cheryl? What¡­ what are you doing here?¡± I ask wide-eyed. ¡°I knew it! It is you, Ely! Say, where are we?¡± Cheryl asked. I stand there dumbfounded. Why is my classmate here? Did I dream her? But this is all too strange. I don¡¯t know her too well, so why would I dream her so vividly? She walks up to me. It''s then that I notice her arms, her hand, and part of her face. She''s drenched in blood. *** ¡°Are you okay?¡± Cheryl nudges closer towards me. She glances at my hands and ankle, then frowns unhappily. ¡°You seem injured. Here, let me help you.¡± Cheryl took off her cat sweater, revealing a white undershirt. She tore a part of it off with the blade in her hand and began wrapping the cloth around my ankle and hand. ¡°Ack¡­¡± I writhe. ¡°Make sure you stay still. Otherwise, I can¡¯t treat your injuries,¡± she says. I take a close look at her. The smell of iron permeates from her body. I look at her with suspicion. ¡°Hey, umm, Cheryl¡­ what, no, why are you-¡° ¡°Covered with blood?¡± she interrupts. ¡°You should know as well, there are monsters in this place. Well, maybe you don''t - I might''ve just imagined you here now. Regardless, I think it¡¯s safe to assume that¡¯s how you concurred those injuries, correct? Still, this sure is one vivid dream. I never imagined I¡¯d be killing rat monsters in my sleep. Actually, I¡¯m more surprised to find you here. Brains are strange things¡­¡± Cheryl wanders in her thoughts while she continues patching me up. She expertly wraps the cloth around my shoulder and ankle, stopping the bleeding. Wait¡­ rat monsters? ¡°There you go.¡± Cheryl stands up and pats her clothes. ¡°Even if it¡¯s a dream, I can¡¯t ignore an injured classmate. Make sure you be careful, or else it¡¯ll reopen and you¡¯ll get an infection. Wait, I don¡¯t think any of that matters - this is a dream.¡± ¡°Hey¡­ Cheryl?¡± I ask. ¡°Hmm?¡± she answers. ¡°Doesn¡¯t this seem strange? I¡¯m starting to doubt whether this is a dream.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s not a dream, what is it then?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Well, I¡¯m not sure. ¡°Actually, more importantly,¡± I continue, ¡°you¡­ you said you killed rat monsters? On your own? Just like that?¡± ¡°Yep, just like that. My father works a job in security, so as a child, I was forced to learn self-defense techniques. You can imagine how my Christmases went. Also, I¡¯m quite athletic. They don¡¯t call me the ace of the track-and-field club for nothing!¡± she proudly said. I was a bit taken aback from what she said. She took on rat monsters on her own and killed them? Also, her father works in security and forced her to learn self-defense? That doesn¡¯t sound very pleasant. But, if this was a dream, why would I know that? Is my mind making things up? The more and more I think about it, the less likely this feels to be an actual dream. I shake my head. ¡°Hey Cheryl, there¡¯s another thing I¡¯m wondering. You were talking about a dream right? As in your dream?¡± ¡°Yes, precisely. Is there something wrong?¡± ¡°From my perspective, you¡¯re in my dream. I¡¯m the one dreaming right now, so I¡¯m wondering why I would dream of you?¡± ¡°Hmm. I don¡¯t really know what to say, but it¡¯s clear one of us is dreaming. It wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to say one of us is being dreamt up to believe these things. It¡¯s unclear, but I don¡¯t think it matters much.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Does it really? I have a feeling it does. ¡°Ely, can you stand?¡± Cheryl asks. ¡°Hmm? Oh yeah, I feel a lot better. I think I can move. Thanks a lot for the help by the way.¡± ¡°No problem! Since this is a dream, let¡¯s explore this place! I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever had a dream so realistic before. Better make the most of it!¡± Cheryl smiles. ¡°Eh?¡± Before I knew it, she grabs my hand, lifts me up, and runs ahead, further into the dungeon room. I was barely able to keep up. She powers energetically through the corridor. Nothing less from the track team ace, I have to say. Suddenly, she stops and glares at the ground. ¡°Huh? What are you doing?¡± As I was saying that I was about to step one foot ahead of her when she suddenly grabs me and jerks me back. ¡°Wha-? Hey!¡± I yell. ¡°Stop yelling! Look carefully at the ground. Sheesh, you almost got yourself killed!¡± she says. ¡°Huh?¡± I look at the ground but can''t discern anything peculiar. ¡°Look closer, isn¡¯t there something wrong with the color?¡± Cheryl points at a spot on the ground. Right where she pointed, the color between the wall and the ground was slightly different. Indeed, it looks unnatural. Also, there was a peculiar thin line on the ground stretching from one wall to the other, blending with the ground, indicating a¡­ ¡°Trap. It¡¯s a trap. You see it now right? Most likely a trap door leading to a pitfall. That¡¯s just my assumptions, but it¡¯s clearly something dangerous.¡± Cheryl states. ¡°Here, check this out.¡± Cheryl grabs a sizable piece of rubble nearby, most likely chipped off from the wall, and throws it on the trap. A second later, the floor opens like a hinge and the rock falls, drowning in the darkness below, out of our sight. Cheryl puts her head closer to the ground, pointing her ears toward the pit. After a few seconds, she cocks her head up abruptly. ¡°I was just listening for the rock to see how long it would take to hit the ground. I¡¯d say the pit was at least a 30 or so feet deep. Yep, definitely a pitfall.¡± I stand there shocked. Cheryl¡¯s really amazing. She was able to perceive a trap door, despite running so carelessly into the unknown and she was able to determine the depth of the hole. I feel both reassured and frightened by how perceptive and capable she is. Cheryl stands up, backed up a couple tens of feet, prepares a running stance and leaps over the hole with grace. She turns around and waves at me. ¡°Hey, let¡¯s go! Jump over the hole so we can continue progressing. The adventure¡¯s only beginning! Hurry up or I¡¯ll leave you behind!¡± I look at her with shock at how daring she was. Then, I resign myself. Oh well. Guess I¡¯ll just follow her lead. I jump over the hole less gracefully and follow her. We end up progressing through three more rooms: 16, 17, and 18. The rooms varied in structure and contents vastly. One was maze-like, another one a huge pentagonal room, and another a single corridor like 15. We didn¡¯t see any water like 14, where I was in, or any other notable terrestrial features. Also, some rooms had multiple doors branching out. One had stairs too. We encountered more traps along the way, which included but wasn¡¯t limited to hidden spikes, wrecking balls, lava pits, and more pitfalls. On more than one occasion, I thought for sure I¡¯d die, but Cheryl ended up saving me each time. How pitiful. This isn¡¯t the time to be so unmanly! We also encountered more monsters. I looked at her, afraid she might¡¯ve been afraid, but my worries were worthless. She seemed more ready than ever to fight, which scared me more than it should. I¡¯ve been mentioning how scared I¡¯ve been recently, but honestly, I wasn¡¯t as scared as you think. Shock might be the better term. I didn¡¯t feel fear or the like as much as I¡¯d expected. Battling monsters and avoiding traps - it couldn¡¯t get any more dangerous than that. Of course, we didn¡¯t fight all of them - just some of the ones in our way. We fled when we needed to. Thankfully, Cheryl¡¯s not suicidal. But maybe it was because I was with Cheryl. The entire time she was perky and raring to go. She was filled with what I would describe as childlike excitement. I think it rubbed off on me because adventuring with her, I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at how relaxed and excited she was compared to the dangerous reality. Or maybe it isn¡¯t reality, but who knows. Did I dream Cheryl to be like this? I wonder. Nonetheless, it¡¯s a very comforting personality, albeit dangerous. I welcome it nonetheless. On the topic of her fighting, I was utterly impressed. We faced a variety of dungeon mobs in the different rooms. 15 had more rat men, which were scarier than you think. For one, they were extraordinarily large. Just imagine the litter critters with their sniffling noses all sniffly-like, except they weren¡¯t little ¨C they were HUGE. The largest one was 9 feet tall. I provided support, the rearguard if you will, while Cheryl was the vanguard. She splendidly took care of all of them with her blade, all while simultaneously yelling ¡°LEVEL UP¡± after each kill. You¡¯d never think she was a simple high school girl with those movements. I chuckled. ¡°Hey Cheryl,¡± I asked while we were resting after defeating the wave of scorpions. They were more annoying than dangerous. They were small and they came in hordes. I was afraid their pincers might¡¯ve contained poison, but in actuality, they were just sharp. Again, Cheryl did most of the work, while I provided support. ¡°Do you play games? You yell ¡®LEVEL UP¡¯ quite a lot.¡± ¡°Oh, umm, now that you say it out loud, it does seem kind of embarrassing.¡± Cheryl tilted her head and flashed an embarrassing smile. My heart. I want to protect this smile with my life. ¡°Actually,¡± she continued, ¡°I do. I play a lot of RPGs. Not many people in school know that, so don¡¯t tell anybody, ¡®kay? Well, not like you will, this is a dream after all.¡± Cheryl breathed in and looked up nostalgically. ¡°Have you heard of the ¡®Phantasm¡¯ series? It¡¯s my favorite RPG series. I played the original games on the classic systems way back and I¡¯m a diehard fan. I guess it¡¯s why I¡¯m enjoying this so much, haha.¡± ¡°¡¯Phantasm¡¯? I love that series! I thought I recognized that ¡®LEVEL UP¡¯ phrase, it¡¯s from the guide fairy Ellie from the 4th game right? I played every game in that series too, so I¡¯m all too familiar. I bought a PS4 just so I can play the newer games! Right now, I¡¯m playing ¡®Raising Knights¡¯, and it¡¯s a blast.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but control my excitement. I don¡¯t have many friends that play games since my tastes are a bit abstract. Traditional JRPGs aren¡¯t the most popular in my school. ¡°I¡¯m playing that too! And yes, it¡¯s from the 4th game, I¡¯m surprised you know! That¡¯s an obscure title. Hey hey, how far are you in ¡®Raising Knights¡¯? You see, I¡­¡± And we continued to talk about games for an hour or two. In all honesty, I lost track of time. Even if this is a dream, it still feels good to talk about your interests with others. If Cheryl was actually like this in real life, that¡¯d be too good to be true. So, we passed the time this way. We progressed through the rooms, talked about games and avoided death in all fashions. During the time, Cheryl suddenly stops again and notices something. I thought at first it was another trap, but I was wrong. ¡°What is it this time,¡± I ask nonchalantly. ¡°I put my bets on the pitfall - it¡¯s always the pitfall!¡± ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s not¡­¡± Cheryl pauses. ¡°It¡¯s not a trap this time. It¡¯s¡­¡± Cheryl turns to the wall and stares at it suspiciously. ¡°Is there something on the wall?¡± I ask. Cheryl extends her hand out and pushes on a block in the wall. Suddenly, it shifts in and the wall begins to part ways. ¡°Sweet!¡± Cheryl exclaims. ¡°A secret room, haha, yes! Maybe there¡¯ll be special loot? I¡¯m getting tired of skeleton blades and rat fur anyway. Let¡¯s go!¡± I follow Cheryl in the narrower path leading to the secret room. There is yet another familiar door, with the number ¡°52.5¡± above it. I have a bad feeling. That was my first mistake. ¡°Hey, Cheryl, do you think we should go in?¡± I ask cautiously. ¡°I know it¡¯s a secret room and all, but the label is ¡®52.5¡¯. Thinking about the current flow of the structure, wouldn¡¯t this be really dangerous? I mean, it¡¯s room 52.5 - way bigger than the previous rooms. It¡¯s most likely way more dangerous. We should stay clear for now.¡± ¡°But but! This may be my only chance to challenge this room. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll dream the same dream again. I can¡¯t let this pass!¡± She persists. ¡°But, considering how real things are, it¡¯s still very dangerous. I mean, you and I can feel pain, right? In that case, it¡¯s better not to pursue. We¡¯re already pushing it as it is,¡± I reason. But then again, why do we feel pain? If this is a dream, shouldn''t intense pain already be enough to wake us up? I won¡¯t deny it¡¯s impossible, but¡­ ¡°Humph¡­ okay, I¡¯ll listen to you. Fine, let¡¯s back away. Why don¡¯t we rest for a while? We¡¯ve been at it for a while anyway. You can go ahead, I just need to umm¡­¡± Cheryl stammers a bit nervously. That¡¯s odd, Cheryl suggested we should rest? Until now, I¡¯ve been the one suggesting we should take breaks. Never would I have thought she would take the initiative, considering how high-energy she¡¯s been. ¡°Hmm? What do you need to do?¡± I ask innocently. ¡°Do I have to say it? Umm, I need to take care of some business, so can you please leave me alone for a bit? Oh, and, err, don¡¯t come back to check on me! Please wait until I, umm, return¡­¡± She blushes. Business? ¡°Oh! Umm, sorry, I¡¯ll, I¡¯ll leave you to that.¡± I blush. That was my second mistake. I coolly stroll out and leave her alone. I rest against the wall. A monster corpse lay nearby. From its remains, you would¡¯ve never thought it was a rabid monkey-esque monster. To be honest, I''m not even certain if it is a something of the like. It just resembles a monkey. I wait outside for a good 15 minutes. I sit there, staring at the wall, at my hand, and at my ankle. The throbbing ceases and I feel a lot better, thanks to Cheryl¡¯s treatment. I think about a lot of things: ¡®Phantasm¡¯, the dungeon, Cheryl, the monsters. I even think about my family and my school. I thought about this bizarre dream, but brush it off, with the rest of my fleeting thoughts. In the very back of my mind, I think about how weird it was for Cheryl to need to use the restroom despite this being a dream. That was my third mistake. I start getting suspicious. Cheryl¡¯s been away for a while. She hasn¡¯t come back after 20 minutes now. I don¡¯t know how long girls take, but they sure do take long. I decide to ignore it and wait obediently. That was my fourth mistake. After 30 minutes, I start getting nervous. After 40 minutes, I was worried. Ialready resorted to pacing about, thinking thoughts. After 45 minutes, I reach a dead-end. That dead-end was produced by my wicked realization. That girl! I run and run and run. I run as fast as I can, back to the hidden path to the hidden door entrance. Cheryl''s nowhere to be found. I see the door slightly open as if someone already entered. No way, she didn¡¯t. But she did. Cheryl entered the door. Fear floods me. I don¡¯t know why, but I have a terrible feeling. A terrible foreshadow. I grip by blades and charged in. The scene I see was awe-inspiring. But also utterly, utterly- Terrifying. It''s a huge room. One big room bigger than all the previous rooms combined. In it, huge torches line the walls like usual, burning a wicked blue flame. But that wasn¡¯t the most notable thing. In the center was a huge monster. A giant mythical beast, with huge horns, flared eyes, four muscular arms, and a tough, definedabdomen. It stands on two legs and roars a hollowing roar. Steam puffs out its nostrils and its eyes are bloodshot red. In front of that beast is Cheryl. She''s torn, bloodied, and beaten. Cuts covered her body. She was staggering as she held her skeleton blade in her hands. With a fierce expression, she stares at the beast. ¡°CHERYL!¡± I yell helplessly. ¡°Ely?¡± She notices me and turns around. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. I could instantly tell she was in a lot of pain. At that moment, the door closes behind me. I turn around and try pulling on the handles. No luck. It''s locked. It''s hopelessly locked. I look back at Cheryl and the beast. The beast stands tall, about 30-40 feet and in contrast to the almost 6 foot Cheryl, it lacks any injury. It roars once more and sends a fist Cheryl¡¯s way. ¡°CHERYL WATCH OUT!¡± I yell once more. Cheryl rolls away and dodges the crush, but the monster follows up with a second fist, pummeling down with an intense force. Cheryl barely manages to dodge that too, running out of harm¡¯s way. No way, no way, no way. The Cheryl that so effortlessly took out monsters is being swept away so easily? What is this monster? I knew. I knew what it was and I knew Cheryl knew it too. It''s a boss monster. More specifically a hidden boss, since it was in a hidden room. In games, you usually encounter these enemies during side-quests or if you¡¯re as perceptive as Cheryl and you reach it by chance early. Usually, these places are event-locked and require the player to reach a certain part of the story before they can approach them. But this isn¡¯t a game - at least I don¡¯t think so. What am I standing around here for? I need to hurry up and help Cheryl! I quickly charge to Cheryl¡¯s aid. Even if this is a dream, I can¡¯t leave her be and let her die! Before I can get to her, the beast performs a feint and sneakily charges an attack with his elbow when he made it seem like it was an attack from his fist. Cheryl catches on to it, but she wasn¡¯t fast enough. She''s hit by the full force and is launched back. ¡°Cheryl!¡± I call out to her, yet again. She lands behind me and I quickly run to her. The injuries are a lot worse than I thought. She''s bruised all over and I see that her right leg''s broken too ¨C it wouldn¡¯t respond. I clench her hand. Tears well up in my eyes and I stare at her in horror. ¡°It¡­ it hurts. I¡¯m sorry Ely,¡± Cheryl whimpers, ¡°Please¡­ please help me¡­ it hurts.¡± ¡°Yeah yeah, don¡¯t say any more.¡± I take off my shirt and cut it into pieces, imitating her movements on me earlier. I glance at the beast while performing my duties. He didn¡¯t react much at all. I suppose he¡¯s letting us recover? Or does he only attack when provoked? Either way, I better make use of this opportunity. After I finish tending to her wounds I stand up and grip my swords. Cheryl tugs on my shirt while I was standing. ¡°Hey¡­ what are you going to do?¡± she asks me. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? I¡¯m going to fight that thing. If I¡¯m correct, we can only leave when the boss is defeated. This is a locked room right?¡± ¡°Yes, you are¡­ right.¡± She pauses for a second and looks at me determinedly. ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t stop you. As you can see, I¡¯m¡­ disabled. But you can still fight. There are a few things to watch for when fighting this guy. Be careful for¡­¡± Cheryl begins explaining to me the movement patterns and behavior of the beast. The beast is a very aggressive boss monster, she explains. She also tells me the weak spots and other vulnerable areas in the monster. ¡°You see that gem on his neck,¡± Cheryl explains, ¡°that¡¯s X-marks-the-spot. He was defending that spot the most carefully. That¡¯s where you want to aim. Good luck and be careful.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I affirm. I pick up my weapon and drag it across the floor, towards the boss enemy. It finally reacts, fixing itself into its battle stance, awaiting my first move. I crack my neck and stare it down with cold-blooded anger. ¡°It¡¯s you and me. You hurt my party member and I can¡¯t let that slide. This is it. I¡¯m taking you down!¡± I yell at the top of my lungs a battle-cry and charged ahead. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because if it¡¯s due to the previous spars with other monsters, but I feel strangely calm and resolved. Moreso, I''m furious. The monster put his fists down on me and I narrowly dodge the first strike. I try slashing at his right leg, where Cheryl made good progress, but I was only able to leave a negligible cut. It turns and swipes at me, but I already backed off enough to evade it. Snap, even though Cheryl gave me its movement patterns and general behavior, it¡¯s still tough to deal with it. It¡¯s a lot stronger and faster up close. I¡¯m surprised Cheryl was able to last so long on her own. I continue baiting the monster to charge, while nimbly evading and dealing steady cuts to its legs. The strategy''s working well. I plan to draw it out, relying on the bleeding, and its possible weariness in dealing with Cheryl earlier, to my advantage. Yes, I plan to outlast it. But my plan is ruined immediately. The monster, seemingly fed up, makes a peculiar sound. Next thing I know, skeletons rise up from the ground, and a masked, cloaked monster with a sword appears from behind the beast. It was an army of skeleton knights, more than I¡¯ve ever seen before. Plus a new monster that I¡¯ve never seen before. This is really bad. A whole skeleton army, plus the boss beast, and a new masked swords-monster. This is more than I can handle. I¡¯m not confident I¡¯ll be able to deal with this. Before I could think any longer, the beast swipes at me again. I carefully dodge, immediately after, two skeleton knights slash at me. I parry the first one and destroy the second one. I was about to slash at the first skeleton when the masked monster swiftly struck at me. I wasn¡¯t able to dodge it completely, and it cuts at my forearm. Ahhggh..! The pain... My arm..! The beast spares no time. He again charges a smash towards me. I haphazardly dodge it. The fists smash into a group of skeletons, scattering and crushing their bones. I receive a glimpse and what I could¡¯ve become. Just add flesh. I¡¯m in a terrible position. There''s way too many skeleton monsters plus the addition of the masked monster that''s really nimble and quick. While I¡¯m distracted by something, it always creeps on me unsuspectingly like an assassin. Not only that, the beast becomes more aggressive every second. Its movements are now almost unrecognizable ¨C it¡¯s practically relying on its physical strength, throwing random attacks. It¡¯s unpredictable and extremely dangerous. I suddenly remember Cheryl. Skeleton knights must¡¯ve surrounded her! ¡°Cheryl!¡± I yell her name. I look over to her. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ argh¡­ okay! I¡¯m fine! Focus on your battle! Even in my injured state, I can handle them! Don¡¯t worry about¡­ ah¡­ me!¡± Cheryl is dealing with the skeletons on her own. Even though she¡¯s injured and she¡¯s having trouble, she¡¯s fighting with all she¡¯s got. I need to do the same. I look back at the beast, who looks back at me. I don¡¯t think I can last longer than a minute or two. There are way too many enemies. I¡¯m not even close to an adept fighter anyway - I¡¯m just relying on my brain. But that¡¯s not enough. That¡¯s not enough to survive this. I need to wrap this up quickly, or else I¡¯ll die. And Cheryl will too. There¡¯s no choice, I have to do something extremely risky. It¡¯s all or nothing! That¡¯s it! I can use that! My eyes flicker. I focus every fiber of my being on dodging the next attack. The beast pulls his hands over his head and clamps them down simultaneously. I evade it while dealing with some skeletons. Now! I jump on its hand. As I thought, it¡¯s left a little paralyzed with the last attack. The more strength it uses, the longer it¡¯ll be left vulnerable - just like the skeleton knight¡¯s charge. I make use of the beast¡¯s aggro to perform this. It''s a gamble, yet again. I¡¯m lucky the beast didn¡¯t follow up with a kick, or that I was destroyed before I had the chance. I quickly rush up the arms. I ready my double blades and jump. Right in front of the horned beast¡¯s face! Suspended in midair, I slash at the eyes. The beast roars a chilling roar, and steam flushes out of the nose like a locomotive. The beast writhes in pain as it shakes its head. The beast tries swiping at me, but I had grabbed at the fur around its chest to keep myself attached. I notice a figure in the corner of my eye ready to attack. Now! I climb right in front of the neck gem, now vulnerable. It¡¯s a shining jewel, diamond shaped, and light reflecting off it flutters in a mesmerizing manner. I keep myself affixed in front of its neck. I stare at the ground attentively, waiting for the right moment¡­ The right moment¡­ The right moment¡­ Here it is! I quickly leap off the beast, right in front of me a blade cuts through the air and... It hits the gem! Of course, it wasn¡¯t my blade. It was the masked monster''s blade! I knew for sure I wouldn¡¯t be able to destroy the beast, so I lead the masked assassin to do it for me! I bet my chances on its strength and precision. And it paid off. I tumble down, rolling upon impact on the ground. I think I broke several bones. I try softening the impact. In itself, it was miraculous I didn¡¯t die, falling from such a frightening height. Amidst my pain, I remember Cheryl. I painfully get up and make my way to help her. She¡¯s still warding off skeleton knights, but she¡¯s about to be overwhelmed. Normally, she¡¯d have no problem, but in her state she¡¯s helpless. With the beast¡¯s final, deathly hollows sounding behind me, I trudge in her direction. I grab my sword and ward off skeletons in my way. I slash very recklessly, but I don''t care. I''m too injured to care and too desperate to reach Cheryl¡¯s aid. I beat the beast, or rather, outsmarted it. Adrenaline pumps through me and I feel invincible, despite being half-dead. Cheryl''s half-dead too. I finally reach her side. She looks up at me with relief and pride. I can tell she¡¯s proud of me for defeating the monster. I¡¯m proud of myself too. ¡°Heh, sorry I kept you waiting.¡± I try to sound as cool as I can, but being injured as I was it''s hard just to make words out. ¡°Welcome back.¡± Cheryl smiles at me, then glares at the skeleton she''s currently battling. I help her out, clearing some of the surrounding skeletons, then I grab her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go. As much as I¡¯d hate to leave unfinished business, we gotta scram.¡± Geez, what am I saying? ¡°Okie Dokie,¡± Cheryl winks. We¡¯re both obviously in no condition to fight and we hastily make our retreat. I lead the way clearing obstacles ahead of us, while Cheryl takes care of the rear. I didn¡¯t think this is how I¡¯d play the vanguard position. Technically, though, I¡¯m still in the rear. We''re already close to the door, just 10 feet away. The skeletons are blocking the view, but when we cleared most of them, the path became clear. ¡°Here it is! We¡¯re almost there! I can see the door,¡± I say with relief. ¡°Yep yep. Just a little mor-¡° While we were making our escape, I kept my eyes focused on the door and the enemies. I never did look back - at Cheryl or the monsters she was facing. I was too preoccupied with leaving, with my injuries, and the door. That was my fifth mistake and final mistake. Suddenly, I feel the grip on my hand release. I was holding her hand, pulling her, as we were walking. I realize the release of contact mid-sentence. I turn around. I hear a piercing sound. The sound seems to drown out the rest of the world, the dungeon. In front of me, all I see is Cheryl, injured and wrapped up, with a deranged expression. That, and the blade piercing out of her stomach. Blood splattered on me. Behind her, 20 feet away, is a cloaked, masked silhouette. Cheryl had let go and was stabbed. By the masked monster. It all happened so fast. A second at least, an infinity at most. I stand there, frozen, more frozen than I¡¯ve ever been in my life. I scream on the inside, but no words come out - not immediately. My jaw drops, my eyes water and I feel instant pain. More pain than I¡¯ve ever had in my life. Yes, pain worse than my injuries. Worse than being half-dead. Worse than being dead. ¡°Cheryl¡­?¡± I whisper. It''s futile. The masked monster makes a strange noise, much different than the horned beast. All the eyes of the skeleton knights light up with a red, evil color. As if called, every skeleton knight rushes towards us - their blades readied, their bones hitting against bone. Not to me, actually. They were aiming for Cheryl. They all collapse onto Cheryl. The last thing I see is skeletons slashing, cutting, slicing, scathing, chopping, slivering Cheryl¡¯s horrified body. More and more and more and more and more and more and more skeletons appear, so much that I was forced out of the room, through the door. The door shuts and I''m left there. I lay down, my injuries seemingly faded away. They didn¡¯t fade. I only have one thing on my mind. ¡°CHERYL!!!!!!!!!¡± Finally, my mouth makes an audible sound. I rush up to the door and madly try opening it. It wouldn¡¯t budge, possibly from a number of skeletons blocking the door. I keep calling her name, tears flowing in mass while pounding on the door. ¡°LET ME IN! LET ME IN!¡± I yell to no avail. After a while, I finally give up. I could still hear the slashing, the cutting, the slicing- all of it. I couldn¡¯t run. I couldn¡¯t move, I''m glued to the door. I cannot help but imagine what¡¯s being done to Cheryl. Will she be unrecognizable by the time they¡¯re finished? Why am I so sad? Isn¡¯t this a- *** I wake up. When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar scene. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m back?¡± I feel around my surroundings and sense my blanket beside me, as well as the railing behind my head lining the outline of the bed. I get up, sweat sliding down my face, my heartbeat beating at a quickened space. I check my ankle, my hand, my chest, my entire body. No injuries. ¡°A dream? Was that a¡­¡± No, that felt too real to be a dream. The sight, the smell, the touch, and the fear. It all felt too real to be a dream. I can¡¯t imagine much else. I slowly get up off my bed and heads downstairs towards my kitchen. My house is a small two-story house. I live with my parents, who both work, and my little sister. As I make my way downstairs I felt dizzy, ready to collapse at any time. My strength felt sapped and I at many instances temporarily lost my balance at times. I make my way to the fridge and take out a cold bottle of water and quickly down it. Refreshing. I make my way back upstairs and head to my bathroom. In exchange for a room with a bathroom, I was left with the smaller room, while my sister took the larger one. When we moved into this house, we had argued for a whole week before deciding who¡¯s staying where. I wasn¡¯t completely satisfied, but I have to do what I have to do. I never win any arguments with my sister. The added incentive of a bathroom wasn¡¯t very attractive considering she can use it anyway, and it¡¯s only a couple steps away. I¡¯m left with the responsibility of cleaning it. Silly, right? I turn on the lights and look at myself in the mirror. Disheveled, messy black hair, and bags under my eyes, a simple tee and shorts ¨C very comfortable for sleeping. The same shirt I tore off for¡­ My head throbbed. I notice how tired and worn I looked. I splash water on my face a few times and return to my room. My phone sits on the edge of my desk, beside my glasses and in front of my computer monitor. I wear my glasses and pick up the phone. I spend most of my time on the computer, playing PC games and browsing the internet. Besides that watching videos takes up most of my time, that and studying. Studying and playing games is pretty much all I do. I remember Cheryl. Memories flood me. Her horrified face as she was mercilessly stabbed by that masked monster, and her body viciously torn to pieces by skeletons before I was abruptly forced out. I suddenly grow sick at the thought and shut my eyes. It felt real. As if it were real. It was too real as if it was real. What type of dream was that? Why would I dream such a thing? Why did I dream of such a dungeon? Why do I feel so sick? They say you forget your dreams when you wake up, but I remember it all too vividly. Especially the smell of blood. I wince at the thought. I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of anxiety, worried for her. I might be overreacting, and I probably am, but I just need to make sure. Yeah, just to make sure. I nervously call Cheryl¡¯s number. We exchanged numbers on the first day of school. She was very friendly and during first day introductions, she went around to each person individually to make greetings. Including me. I¡¯m not much for these type of social situations, nor am I a very approachable person, yet she approached me and we ended up exchanging numbers. She was a great person, one of those people you just feel at ease talking to. I didn¡¯t know her that well in real life, but she was always diligent in class. Smart, beautiful, kind ¨C she¡¯s the complete package. She was also my first love. First and only. No one answered. I check the time at it was 5:00 a.m. Of course, she¡¯s probably asleep right now. Ugh, she¡¯s probably going to think I¡¯m a creep because I called her out of the blue late at night. Nonetheless, I still feel worried. I text her asking if she¡¯s alright, and decide to leave it at that. 20 minutes later, I suddenly get a phone call. I immediately pick it up. It¡¯s from Cheryl. ¡°Oh, umm, sorry for calling you so suddenly. I was just checking to see if you¡¯re okay. This is pretty weird, but I was just wondering. Oh! I¡¯m sorry you must be really sleepy, sorry for interrupting your sleep, it was nothing important-¡° ¡°Who is this?!¡± A loud, angry, manly voice thundered from the other side of the call. Panic was evidently present with how breathless and worried the speaker sounded. ¡°Umm, is this Cheryl¡¯s father? I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to disturb you-¡° ¡°What¡¯s your relationship with my daughter?!¡± The voice again yelled. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I asked unknowingly. ¡°I¡¯m just a friend, err, no a classmate actually-¡° ¡°What did you do to my daughter?!¡± He again interrupted me for the third time. I stood there perplexed. ¡°Answer me! You fucker, answer me!¡± Cheryl¡¯s father raised his voice. ¡°Do what? I honestly did nothing, and why are you yelling?¡± ¡°What do you mean? You know. Oh God, why, why! Did you drug my daughter?! There are no signs of anything else¡­ Answer me!¡± ¡°What? What are you talking about? What¡¯s happened to her?¡± I stood there shocked now. What¡¯s¡­ what¡¯s going on? ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb! Cheryl¡¯s dead! She¡¯s fucking dead! You killed her, didn¡¯t you?¡± I dropped my jaw. My eyes widened in surprise. Cheryl¡¯s dead? No. No no no no no. No way, why? Why? ¡°I¡­,¡± Cheryl¡¯s dad continued, his voice trembling. ¡°I just came in to check on her, like I usually do before I leave to work. Today I have to arrive early at work because I was going on a business trip. I was just going to check on her before I left only to find her unresponsive¡­ I...¡± His voice violently shaking, spasms of breath mixed in. ¡°I just came to check on her like I usually do before leaving. She didn¡¯t respond. I went over to her and tapped her. No response. I shook her. No response. I began shaking her violently, yelling her name. No response and then I checked her pulse, her pulse! Nothing! Nothing at all! Nothing at all¡­ It doesn¡¯t make sense. There are no external injuries, her health¡¯s always been good, yet¡­¡± He stopped speaking as if he was choking on his words. ¡°You,¡± he finally spoke. ¡°It was you wasn¡¯t it? I saw it, on her phone. You tried calling her. You even texted her asking if she was ¡®alright¡¯, didn¡¯t you? You said it yourself. You¡¯re only her friend, no, her classmate right? Then why would you send her such a suspicious text and try to call her so early in the morning? And furthermore before she-¡± ¡°P-please calm down,¡± I pleaded. ¡°-before she d¡­died¡­ She¡¯s dead and it¡¯s your fault. When I find you I will fucking kill you, you hear me? I will kill you! I will-¡° I dropped my phone. I was in even greater shock. I stood there, shaking. Several chills ran through my spine and all I could feel was the cold. The dead cold. This can¡¯t be real. This can¡¯t be real. No way¡­ No¡­ I fall back onto my bad and lay there, silently, staring at the ceiling. I clench my teeth. My alarm rang: 5:30 a.m. I always woke up early to provide me time to prepare. School doesn¡¯t start until 8:00. I didn¡¯t turn it off. I wrapped myself in blankets and tried desperately to forget about everything. That night was the unfortunate beginning of my survival game. 2 - Mark and Tragedy ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°Make sure you stay still. Otherwise, I can¡¯t treat your injuries.¡± ¡°Ely, can you stand?¡± ¡°Stop yelling! Look carefully at the ground. Sheesh, you almost got yourself killed!¡± ¡°Hey, let¡¯s go! Jump over the hole so we can continue progressing. The adventure¡¯s only beginning! Hurry up or I¡¯ll leave you behind!¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ argh¡­ okay! I¡¯m fine! Focus on your battle! Even in my injured state, I can handle them! Don¡¯t worry about¡­ ah¡­ me!¡± ¡°Welcome back.¡± ¡°Hey¡­ what are you going to do?¡± ¡°It¡­ it hurts. I¡¯m sorry Ely.¡± ¡­ .. . ¡°Please¡­ please help me¡­ it hurts.¡± ¡°¡­ Ely?¡± I snap back into reality. A scene reminiscent of eraser dust and weary labor returns to my eyes. A familiar voice jolts me out of my daze. ¡°Hey, Ely..? You alright man? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡± That voice belonged to my friend, Mark. Mark Springfield. I¡¯ve known him since elementary school. We grew up together. In front of me, he waves his hands a few inches away from my face checking to see if I had blanked out. While I did, I¡¯m sure he knows I¡¯m paying attention now, seeing me react and whatnot. Mark has always been a playful guy but always oddly attentive. Throughout my years lacking... proper sociability, this guy has always been by my side. You can say he¡¯s a real friend. And, yeah, I¡¯d affirm that statement. ¡°Oh! A reaction. Doctor, it seems the patient has a lifeline!¡± Mark jokes around and makes exaggerated movements imitating a hospital drama scene. Wandering eyes attentively gather on us. It¡¯s embarrassing, so please stop. I get it already. ¡°Sorry Mark, I¡¯ve just been thinking about stuff. No worries, really,¡± I brush it off. ¡°Hmm? You sure man? You look pale. You sick? Maybe you shouldn¡¯t have gone to school today, it¡¯d be bad if you were sick. Not only would it be detrimental to the others¡¯ health, but it¡¯s not real good for you, also,¡± Mark inquires. See. At times like these, it¡¯s comforting to have a good friend- ¡°More importantly,¡± Mark continues, ¡°it¡¯d be bad for me. I don¡¯t want to catch your sickness! If you know what I mean.¡± Never mind, I retract my words. Mark changes his expression to something more serious and looks at me. He follows my gaze. Unknowingly, I had been staring at Cheryl¡¯s empty seat. Despite feeling terrible this morning, I ended up going to school anyway¡­ I don¡¯t know why, I still pulled myself together, even after that tragic incident. I don¡¯t know the specifics of the case, but with my conversation last night, Cheryl¡¯s definitely¡­ I¡¯m pathetic. Marknotices this and smirks pretentiously. ¡°Hey hey, are you worried about Cheryl? Is this why you¡¯ve been sulking? If not sickness, I can¡¯t imagine anything else from the class¡¯ diligent loner,¡± Mark states smugly. ¡°W-What? N-no way, I just¡­¡± I try recovering. The words fumble out of my mouth. ¡°Haha, it¡¯s alright man. I think she just has a cold man, no worries. Wait¡­ A cold? Just like you? Ohoho, I wonder what scandalous things you¡¯ve been up to recently,¡± Mark exclaims even more smugly. ¡°Eh? No way! I thought I didn¡¯t have a cold, either. Mark, you''ve got to stay consistent if you¡¯re planning to mess with me! Plus, it''s a bit of a stretch to connect distant people through a baseless cold,¡± I instinctively challenge Mark. ¡°¡­ That¡¯s good. It seems you¡¯ve relaxed somewhat. Also, quiet down, you¡¯re causing a scene.¡± Mark gestures towards the surroundings. Eyes were focused on us. I had also stood up unknowingly. I sit down embarrassingly. Mark''s right though. I have calmed down, somewhat, thanks to him. ¡°Relax,¡± Mark, after waiting for things to calm down, says softly, ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s fine. Also, don¡¯t worry. I know you like her, you¡¯ve liked her since you met during the beginning of the school year right? Your secret¡¯s safe with me.¡± Mark sends a playful wink my way. I instantly feel an awful sense of repulse. ¡°¡­ Thanks.¡± I end up thanking him anyway. Geez, what''ll I do with this guy? ¡°No problem. If you have any issues, just consult me, ¡®kay? I¡¯m not known as the ¡®Ultimate Physiologist¡¯ of Rivenburg High School for nothing!¡± Mark confidently affirms. ¡°It¡¯s ¡®Psychiatrist¡¯, Mark. Also, nobody calls you that,¡± I retort. ¡°Haha, my bad, my bad,¡± Mark plays it off. His expression suddenly shifts to a more serious tone. ¡°Seriously though, no joke, if you¡¯re having any issues, tell me, alright? It¡¯s always better to have an extra ear nearby, especially from someone who cares and from someone you trust. I¡­¡± Mark suddenly winces, frowning in remorseful thought. ¡°I don¡¯t want a repeat of the past. No way¡­ You got that, Ely?¡± ¡°Yeah, of course.¡± I look at Mark apologetically. Mark has a pretty ugly past. He grew up in a bad household, to put things nicely. You¡¯d never think of it seeing his careless and free demeanor, but that in itself is a way to cope. ¡­ Let¡¯s not bring up his past. I¡¯m also not¡­ going to reveal anything to him¡­ At least not yet. It¡¯s too crazy and too heavy. Only I know in this classroom the truth¡­ The truth behind Cheryl. The bell sounds and students file in and fill the seats. Since Mark and I were having lunch in this classroom, which is my next class, I didn¡¯t have to leave. I was already in my seat. I bid Mark farewell and the teacher comes in and begins the lecture. When he goes down the attendance list, he calls for Cheryl¡¯s name. I wince. The people around me are talking about it too. She''s quite popular. I pick up on some bits of conversation with her close friends. They''re talking about texting her to see if she was okay. They eventually decide on giving her a friendly visit. That¡¯s a bad idea, I scream in my head. But nobody could hear me. I stare into nothing as I recall the events of past. Time passes by a little faster than usual. The day ends without any additional hitches. I return home and flop on my bed wearily. I shield my eyes with my arm. I end up drifting to sleep due to my weariness. My last thoughts were the need to get some much-needed rest from the nightmare of recent events. I imagined I would never return to that place. The place where I tasted death on a dish, finely served. I didn¡¯t want it. I tried resisting, but in the end, it was forced down my throat, leaving a horrible, bitter taste. Again, it was so I thought. A fleeting thought. Again, I was wrong. I made another mistake. I awake my eyes. I¡¯m lying on the floor. The earthly smell, the stone walls, the soft torches permeates, reminding me of the distinct sensory flavor I haven¡¯t deathly forgotten. The cold, hard ground presses against my bare upper body. I stare dizzily at the darkening abyss above me as I regain my senses. I stagger up. The sound of metal resounds when I accidently nudge a- A curved, sharp saber. I stare at it with cold, hard, glossy eyes. I turn my head, almost mechanically, like a robot in need of an oil change. I wish desperately in my heart for things to not be as they seem. They were. I see a door, made of wood. Two, in fact ¨C a double door. I grudgingly look atop of it. Room 52.5. Please, no. I¡¯ve returned. After calming down a bit, I gain ahold of my senses. It¡¯s no good to keep panicking all the time. Excessively wimping out is, well, wimpy. I need to calm down and I have to process things with a clear, level head. Otherwise, I¡¯ll never move forward. Cheryl would¡¯ve said something similar. I¡­ have to keep moving and living. For Cheryl, and for myself. I still have a severely limited knowledge concerning this place, and if my suspicions are correct, howeverlow the possibility may seem, then I¡¯m in for more than I ever first expected or bargained for. I¡¯m biting off more than I¡¯ve ever refused to chew in my life. Nonetheless, this bitter pill to swallow won¡¯t change things on its own.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I¡¯ve made it this far doing things. This isn¡¯t an exception. I don¡¯t think I can¡­ remove this uneasy feeling entirely. I must do my utmost to suppress it. This place is way too dangerous to allow any leeway. What happened to Cheryl cannot be a coincidence. It¡¯s extremely likely that her death in the dungeon also inexplicably caused her death in real life. Her father didn¡¯t mention anything about external injuries, stating he couldn¡¯t find any evidence of such. Was it an internal injury? Did her brain stop functioning? Regardless, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that this place is dangerous. I need to do my utmost¡­ To¡­ To survive. Yep, that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do. I¡¯ll never live Cheryl¡¯s death down. I¡¯m going to seize this feeling and make the best of it. This might be unhealthy thinking. Even so, it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll move, nonetheless, with conviction. I finally notice something different about the dungeon. Above the double door, under the number, there¡¯s a new engraving that I¡¯m certain was never there before. Two black stars are carved, beside each other, in the middle of the gap. I freeze. Two¡­ stars? If I¡¯m correct, then that boss room, the room that might''ve claimed my friend¡¯s life, the room that we so painstakingly fought to the death, the room filled with terror, is only¡­ Two¡­ stars? If that corresponds to the difficulty level¡­ Then this frightening boss room is only worth a two-star difficulty? There must be a mistake¡­ The boss was huge and extremely powerful. I barely made a dent in its defenses. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that I exploited the sub-boss, I presume that¡¯s what it was, then I would¡¯ve never imagined beating it, at least at my current strength. I can¡¯t believe it. Why have I never seen this marking before? Did it only show up now? Did it appear after I beat the boss? And two stars out of what? 3? 5? 10? A cold sweat condensates on my face. I pick up my blade warily and approach the door. I open it and take a peek inside. It''s empty. Silent. There are no enemies in there. No skeleton army, no masked marauder - nothing. Actually, I take back my earlier remarks. There is something, on the ground. A rectangular, boxed-shaped container with a sophisticated embroidery. Raised on a platform, it has an attracting design ¨C simplistic yet eye-catching, but also obviously flashy. It¡¯s a treasure chest. I failed to notice it due to the vastness of the room compared to the little thing. But there''s something more pressing in front of it. A pool of blood. No¡­ I stagger over there, being extremely cautious, as empty rooms scream ¡°trap!¡± in games. After figuring out no enemies are to appear and that the door wouldn¡¯t lock behind me, I run with hasty vigor over to it. I fall to my knees in front of it. There are bits of flesh here in there. Traces of something bigger. Something more complete. Something whole and loving and enthusiastic. Tears flow from my face. Fuck. She¡¯s really dead. I wipe my tears with my arm and clench my teeth, wiping away my pathetic expression. Further ahead was a large, diamond-shaped gem. It''s evidently worn, but the original figure still maintains its original shine. I pick it up solemnly. I store it in my shorts'' pocket silently. It''s then I also figure out that my injuries ¨C they were gone. The bandages still remain, but the cuts on my forearm, ankle, hand, as well as my presumed broken bones ¨C they¡¯re all gone. I also check my hair to see if it regrew ¨C my bangs that the first skeleton cut off. As I thought, they are still gone. My first thought is that the dungeon refreshes our bodies upon visiting, something like that. If that¡¯s the case, that¡¯s good news. If I am to lose an arm or something, that would be dangerous, assuming I¡¯ll be returning here in the future. And I have a feeling I will. Many times. I still have no shirt, leaving my undeveloped abdomen exposed. You win some you lose some, I guess. I walk over to the main attraction, the treasure chest. I steadily proceed up to it, sword in hand, and approach it leaving a sizable distance. This is precautions in the case of it being a trap. If it''s a mimic treasure case, then I would be in serious danger. Gotta prepare for the worst-case scenario. Times like these prove how useful Cheryl was in being a trap detector. No good, no good. I¡¯m remembering her reminiscingly and regretfully again. I should stop this habit. I anxiously latch open the treasure chest. Despite the seemingly fancy looking lock on the front, it opens with no resistance. I guess the lock design is only for the aesthetic. I have to congratulate whoever designed this chest ¨C it looks faithful to traditional treasure chests in games and it looks really nice. Whoever it is, or whatever it is. Too many questions and not enough answers. Let¡¯s leave that aside for now. I take a peek inside. Thankfully, no sharp teeth or any signs of imminent death. Inside was an assortment of loot. First, a stylish looking metallic glove. It seems like a power glove. It appears to be made of steel, or so I thought, when I pick it up, it''s much heavier than ordinary steel. I suppose it''s made of some other type of metal. I also thought it was colored a typical gray, characteristic of metals, but it''s actually tinged a dark crimson red. It seems to match the color of the boss of the room ¨C that horned beast. The gauntlet has a sophisticated design artistically painted in a pure gold color, as well as metallic frills around the wrist area onto the arm. It''s so expertly designed as if a skilled artisan hand-crafted it. It emanates an aura of strength and majesty. The second item, or rather item set, as there were multiple of them, are consumables. 5 dark red vials were grouped in what it seemed to be small test tubes with lids. I take a negligible sip from one of them. A daring move, but I had my suspicions of something. And I was right. Yep, this is a potion. After taking a small sip, I feel rejuvenated. This might be a high-concentrate potion, as it''s a dark color in contrast to the light red color potions I normally see in games. It''s also in small portions, in small containers, suggesting the ¡®serving size¡¯ to be less, also promoting the idea it''s of higher grade. In that case, this proves to be really useful. What catches my eye the most is something I''m already plenty intimate with. A straight, uniform blade with an extremely sharp edge. Possibly 5 feet in length, so long in fact that when I opened the chest, it pops out, seemingly unfitting its container. And that''s the blade alone, with the handle, it extends even further. I wonder how it fit, but seeing that I¡¯m in an incomprehensible dungeon, I won¡¯t question the mechanics. It''s long, black and silver and most importantly extremely sharp. It''s a long, straight, shiny blade. I know this blade anywhere. It¡¯s the blade that destroyed the boss. It¡¯s the blade the masked monster equipped. It¡¯s the blade that killed Cheryl. I touch its edge to test its sharpness, and I barely tap it and a cut''s effortlessly born on my finger. I look at my hand with awe. It¡¯s not double-edged, in fact, the non-sharp side is inherently dull ¨C it¡¯s flat. The sharp edge, however, seems like it can cut anything. I try testing its force on the ground. No dents. Not in the ground or in the sword. None at all. No matter how much force I applied, it barely makes any chip in the stone. I try to cut the treasure chest, after taking out all the items of course, and again no dice. It might just the exception of the treasure chest though. It might be designed to be indestructible. I thought that was the case but the wooden chest is chipped with relative ease with my normal saber. Of course, no significant dent was made. I¡¯m actually positive the chest¡¯s true structure might be as hardy as I supposed it would. But the outer designs and such seem to be as vulnerable as any. I make a tiny chip in it with my normal saber, but with this new sword, I can¡¯t seem to do anything at all. Yet, it cut me so effortlessly? How is that? It might have the power to cut only living things or flesh. If that¡¯s the case, it¡¯ll be extremely helpful in lots of ways and also not as convenient in many others. Nonetheless, it¡¯s a great weapon. I keep it on hand and discard my secondary dagger that has begun to dull. If there¡¯s a blade sharpener somewhere, that¡¯d be very useful. I don¡¯t think the ''flesh blade'' would need any sharpening ¨C it seems to be permanently sharp. Ding dong bing bong. Suddenly, a bell chime resounds throughout the room, no, maybe the whole dungeon. A momentary pause, then a systematic voice reminiscent of public service announcements follow. A public service announcement of doom, I suppose. The voice was unusually low pitch as if it had gone through a voice changer. This voice¡­ is the one behind the dungeon? Is this the one responsible? I wait for answers and I get none. Instead, I get this. ¡°Congratulations!¡± The voice echoes soothingly as if it were an airline trip, despite the deep tone. ¡°The first boss room of the dungeon has been conquered! The conqueror is 17-year-old Ely Codeman. Please give a round of applause to the dungeon¡¯s first conqueror!¡± A fake applause like in sit-com shows blares out in the background. After an awkward amount of time, it fades away. ¡°The first boss spoils have been claimed. The first boss room conquered was a two-star boss room. I encourage everyone to do their best to survive in this dream dungeon!¡± This¡­ dream dungeon? So it¡¯s confirmed that this is a dungeon accessed only in dreams? ¡°Watch out for more announcement milestones like this! I will also present this announcement to incoming dungeon hunters that aren¡¯t present for this current announcement. There are 1,000,000 rooms with exactly 50,000 boss rooms, so don¡¯t feel discouraged if you missed out on this opportunity! There are many more chances. I¡¯ve placed lots of tasty rewards in each of the boss rooms, with greater rewards with higher tier rooms! I know you¡¯ll find each item to be to your liking. That¡¯ll be all for me, I¡¯ll reveal more information in future updates. Good luck everyone and most importantly, don¡¯t die!¡± With that, the contrast-filled cheery voice dies down. By that I mean contrast to both the situation and the voice modified choice of a menacing, bass pitch. I''m left standing in the empty hall room. Silently, I stare at nothing with my mouth agape. What¡­ what did he say? 1,000,000 rooms? 50,000 boss rooms? Are you serious? There are that many rooms in this dungeon? How big is this place? Will I ever escape this dungeon? Will this nightmare ever end? How long will I last? Despair suddenly fills me. I never imagined things would be on this wide of a scale. If the voice is telling the truth, it would take forever for me to go clear every room. There goes my dream of leaving this place anytime soon. I didn¡¯t expect much. I guess you could say I expected precisely this ¨C a life of death, a game of despair to survive. Still, hearing it out loud¡­ What will it take to survive? What are the stakes involved? Is it for certain that I''ll die in real life if I die in the dungeon? Do I need to work with others..? That might be necessary. Truth be told, I want nothing to do with anybody at this point. The best way to avoid such tragedies is to cut it off at the beginning before anything can begin. Without beginnings, nothing can end. I''m a sore example of failed sociability as far as simple human interactions go. That''s an exaggeration, but there''s some truth to that. Building relationships might be beneficial to my state-of-mind in the short term, but in the long run, I want to avoid digging my own pitfall. Yes, it¡¯s common knowledge that heroes distance themselves to avoid it biting back at them. Well, I see myself as a different type of hero. A hero of myself, for myself. I want to avoid any avoidable pitfalls. I loathe the loner characters in games and in general media. Despite resembling one myself, I recognize they¡¯re overdone, and in practicality, not very ideal. But when survival¡¯s a top priority, doing things that¡¯ll increase those odds should be welcome with open arms. That may include having reliable allies¡­ Maybe¡­ I don''t know. I don''t know anything. At the moment, I feel that it¡¯s¡­ not worth it. What I should be most worried about anyway is that my name was broadcasted to the whole dungeon. With the number of rooms this dungeon contains, it¡¯s safe to assume there are quite a number of people involved in this whole debacle. From the ones still living, it¡¯d be in my best interests to avoid such shady and troublesome characters. I have trouble admitting that maybe the surviving remains of the dream dungeon''s populace are such people... It hurts to force this all out but¡­ I need to do everything I can. Steel my heart, my resolve, and push forward. I will survive no matter what. No matter what. I will. As I walk to the door, away from the treasure chest, past her body, past her blood, I remember that I forgot something crucial that must be done. It¡¯s not actually crucial, but I think it''s necessary to name my newly acquired weapons. These items weren¡¯t previously named, to my knowledge, so it¡¯d be customary to name them here. At least, it¡¯s customary in games, or the games I play, and... the games she played as well. She would¡¯ve agreed. I think of the possible names as I walk, and it didn¡¯t take me long. For my perpetually sharpened blade, Cheryl. For my gauntlet, Ringarde. Cheryl in honor of obviously her. Ringarde in honor of the gauntlet from the original ¡®Phantasm¡¯, the RPG. It''s a special gauntlet you get from defeating the pre-final boss or the final boss before the actual boss - the sub-boss. As far as similarities, it actually doesn¡¯t resemble the gauntlet from the game that much at all. But as far as Phantasm lore goes, the Ringarde gauntlet belonged to a similar mythical beast with origins destroying the original hero¡¯s companion, Merryl. It''s a golden scene, trust me. I feel that this name fits the occasion splendidly. You might think of me rather terrible, messed up even. I named the blade after its victim. I realize the implications, but¡­ I don¡¯t want to forget about her. I¡­ want to hold on. This is my memory of her, albeit tragic, and it¡¯ll do. When I wield this weapon, I want to be reminded of her. I want to keep her memory engraved. I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t have had any qualms about it otherwise. In short¡­ I just want to¡­ to hold on. Hold on, stay strong. I will do just that. No way will I die. I will find a way to survive and escape this place, with everything I¡¯ve got. I promise you, Cheryl, that I¡¯ll make it out alive. I won¡¯t let this place stop me. With new affirmations in my mind, I take one last look at the room, and I bid it away forever. Both in physical presence and in head. And my head, it hurts. I previously mentioned that I should stop this habit, however short-lived, of recalling her. I hope myself to be a man of my word. As I close the doors and my field of view of the room decreases, I forcefully close all my related thoughts. I¡¯ll let my blade do the remembering. My blade will carry my imminent regrets. The door shuts closed. Closed for good, I hope. 3 - Powering One week has passed. Since then, I¡¯ve cleared 32 rooms. From room 19, I¡¯ve since made it through to room 51. I''ve also made sure to fully clear the previous rooms, too, from room 18 down to room 1. It may seem like a lot for a short period of time, and yes, it was. I tirelessly pushed through each and every room. I fought all kinds of monsters. Some were weak, some were strong, and some were really strong. I¡¯ve not come across any other boss rooms since. As my day-life progressed slowly and peacefully, my dungeon life continued to push the pedal. With my new assortment of weapons, the boss dungeon loot, I¡¯ve been able to storm through the dungeons with relative ease. That¡¯s the wrong way to say it, actually. I had a tough time dealing with many rooms, but the weapons allowed me to gain the extra edge needed to win, or at least not die. On the topic of loot, it¡¯s not actually limited to boss rooms. I¡¯ve learned much more things about this dream dungeon since my arrival:
  1. It¡¯s confirmed that waking up and returning refreshes your body ¨C as far as injuries go. Cut clothing or hair or accessories don¡¯t heal, nor any other previous minuscule marks before entering the dungeon, for example, a small scar. I found this to be extremely helpful, because then I wouldn¡¯t have to needlessly run through potions, especially my dark red reward boss vials. In a pinch, when I¡¯m in serious danger of dying in the dungeon, is where the potions should be used. I don¡¯t know when I¡¯m in such serious danger that I¡¯ll either wake up or die before I do, so it¡¯s best to be safe and have the potions in hand.
  2. You leave the dungeon when you wake up. Yes, that already seems obvious, but I did some further testing. Anything that will interrupt slumber in the real world will affect your presence in the dungeon world. That means you can ''set up'' when you want to leave the dungeon, although there''s no practical way to tell time yet in the dungeon. There¡¯s no hint of sun, so no primitive methods like measuring shadows, and I¡¯ve not come across any artificial suns in dungeons yet. I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll be a thing, soon enough, considering the expansiveness of the dungeon. No clocks yet either, but I¡¯m sure at some point there will be some innovations. This also means any unexpected interruptions can pull you out of the dungeon. Say you were traveling with a friend and you got pulled out while fighting monsters, leaving him/her alone. That would be awfully unfortunate. More reason to be safe.
  3. All rooms give loot, normal ones included. Once you clear a room of all monsters, the stars will appear above the door signifying its difficulty, in gold stars as opposed to a boss room¡¯s black stars. Before the incident, we didn¡¯t notice it due to the fact that we failed to clear all monsters in a given room. It drops a similar looking but less extravagant treasure box, which contains similar but less extravagant loot. It can range from anything. I found lower potions (light-red) and other items like equipment and gear. Regarding my lack of upper body clothing, that¡¯s been solved. I picked up a standard lightweight adventurer¡¯s garb, fashioned in dark blue and black. It also displays what I assume to be the dungeon¡¯s insignia. I noticed after venturing into more and more rooms, this insignia is apparent in all the loot clothing. I¡¯m sure in due time tailored and custom clothing will become possible, as I passed a room fashioning spiders with heaps of silk. If that day ever comes I¡¯ll welcome it for a change. For now, I have other problems to attend to. If you¡¯re lucky, you¡¯ll come across a rarer item every now and then. I picked upa golden apple from a chest before, which granted regenerativepowers for a limited time. I was able to restore amputated limbs from a rather "sharp" group of enemies. It wasn''t as potent or effective as the high-grade potions from the boss room, but its effects last longer, which was helpful during my ongoing struggle that took time to resolve. By the end of the course, I was fully healed and resolved. I also wanted to save those potions for the more dangerous emergencies where lower grade healing wouldn''t accurately suffice. I must always be prepared.
  4. As for people - I¡¯ve seldom seen any. Probably because this dungeon¡¯s so vast that even with millions of people, for example, it¡¯d be hard to find others. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s possible to find people frequently, but I presume this dungeon has a very unforgiving mortality rate. I¡¯ve only come across traces of people. Let¡¯s leave it at that.
I slice off a monster¡¯s head in one fell swoop as I think about this. I¡¯ve become more accustomed to fighting in this short time. I¡¯m nowhere near stellar, but I¡¯m learning and adapting well enough not to get me killed. The main credit is my two weapons: Cheryl and Ringarde. Cheryl is practically overpowered when it comes to any ¡®living¡¯ monster, and when it comes to non-living, especially hard monsters like the rock golems in rooms 35 and 37 or the liquid Cyclops in room 27, Ringarde takes care of the job splendidly. As far as weaponry goes, I¡¯m decked. I still need to work on my combat. Fundamentals, physical prowess, etc. These are all important to my survival ¨C strong weapons aren¡¯t going to cut it. Although Cheryl will cut things, and fantastically at that, there¡¯s more to fighting than just pure strength. I myself need the ability to wield these weapons. I¡¯ve become practicing and training both alone and on monsters to become stronger. It¡¯s coming along, but somewhere inside, I wish for it to proceed faster. Death won¡¯t wait until you¡¯re strong. I need to reach out and grasp my survival. I will become strong. I clear out the remaining monsters. The monsters in this room, room 51, are all three-headed snakes. Some of them are purple, while a majority of them are red. I assume that the purple ones contain poison, so I treat them with extra caution and safely take care of them. Their eyes reflect the torchlight in an almost mesmerizing manner. Without hesitation, I finish each of them off. They¡¯re just monsters¡­ anyway. After clearing the last monster, I hear a familiar click and turn around to see the treasure chest. I wipe the blood off the sword with a cloth, take a small sip of a low-grade potion from my belt (courtesy of dungeon 41¡¯s loot chest, it has holders for potions ¨C very handy). I don¡¯t know when I got used to killing monsters so easily. At first, I hesitated slightly, but now, it feels very natural. I made an oath though to never kill a person. Never. I cannot cross that line. Even if it¡¯ll make me stronger. I open the chest and investigate the contents. I didn¡¯t check to see what tier this room is. It only shows up after you clear the room, which means you never know what you¡¯ll be getting yourself into until you engage. Out of the 32 rooms I cleared, 29 were 1-star. The other three were 2-star. A one-star difference might not seem significant, but trust me, in this dungeon, it¡¯s a huge jump. Right now, I can clear 1-star dungeons with relative ease. Not as good as her, even with, well, her, but I can pretty much run through the dungeons like going through the motions. Not second-nature, and not a walk-in-the-park, but somewhere approaching it. Two-star dungeons are much harder. It¡¯s really hard to solo those rooms, the need for a proper party with balance is pretty much required. Without my new weapons, I¡¯d have died instantly in my current state. That¡¯s why I need to become stronger. Much stronger. I fought some horrifying monsters, not boss-level horrifying, but horrifying enough. It¡¯s not a stretch to say I was lucky. Though, in general, it¡¯s not a stretch in the slightest to say I¡¯m lucky. I haven¡¯t died yet. That in itself is a miracle worth being thankful for. But that attitude won¡¯t make you strong, at least I don¡¯t think so. I take out the contents of the chest ¨C a mage¡¯s robe especially fitted to fire users with its spicy design, a dagger lined with paralyzation, some ingredients for which I assume is for alchemy ¨C or cooking, I haven¡¯t ruled out either ¨C a sharp, fitted, steel broadsword, and a mana potion. I haven¡¯t seen a mana potion yet actually. This loot is much useful for a mage, and unfortunately, I haven¡¯t the slightest knowledge of the sort. It actually makes me curious. I should learn some magic. I wonder if there are spell books ¨C there must be, this is a dungeon after all. I hope to come across one in the near future. They¡¯d be very useful. I keep the potion and the robe ¨C just in case- and I leave the rest. I examine the potion. Yep, that distinctive blue hue is definitely for mana. Which means there¡¯s confirmed magic. Well, not confirmed, but unofficially assumed. I hate to admit it, but whoever or whatever designed this dungeon has good taste. If this were a game, I¡¯d have no qualms with it. It¡¯s a pretty well-designed dungeon. In another life, where this is all a game and not life-or-death, I¡¯ve no doubt I would¡¯ve enjoyed this.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. It¡¯s a shame. She would¡¯ve¡­ Stop. I shake my head. Focus. I need to progress to the next room. But, first a break. Today, I progressed through 5 rooms. A good number, I say. The novelty of collecting loot has died out somewhat after I realized the loot system isn¡¯t so convenient in real life since the carry size is much more limited. I¡¯d kill a monster for a carrying bag. That¡¯d be extra convenient. Hear that, dungeon-master? One carrying-bag please! It¡¯d be much appreciated! Thank you very much in advance. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing. I take a drink from a vial. It¡¯s spring water I collected from room 30. There''s a nice spring filled with very refreshing pure water. I use one of the larger empty potion vials to scoop it up and contain it. As far as I know, hunger or thirst is not a problem, but I do know that eating and drinking does fill you with extra energy. I imagine some consumables in chests would grant special buffs, in the form of delicious foods hopefully. Fighting monsters to the death is some hard work. I¡¯d like to be rewarded in some ways, it¡¯d be sweet if there were some nice sweets. But I digress. I¡¯m still filled with unexplainable anger, but I¡¯ve calmed down somewhat. Enough to joke around, at least. In the real world, I¡¯ve been studying diligently, moreso than before, so I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about school and focus on the dungeon. I¡¯ve been staying ahead of the curriculum, which garnered some praise from my family ¨C especially from my little sister. Despite our constant bickering, we¡¯re actually pretty close. We¡¯ve come to a silent acknowledgment to each other¡¯s reliability and need over the years. That sort of unsaid sibling relationship, where you can easily tell the mood with just one glance, is in a gist the relationship we''ve accrued. She especially has been congratulating me. I feel awfully proud, so much so that I¡¯ve even begun helping her with her homework, to actually doing her homework. That might¡¯ve been her original intentions though, which means in actuality I¡¯ve been tricked¡­ Clever girl. Schoolwork¡¯s not an issue for me. I could¡¯ve been further ahead originally if I hadn¡¯t been wrapped up in games so often. I¡¯ve filled up my schedule with studying mostly and exercising too. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll help to exercise in the real world. I haven''t the slightest whether physical training carries over to the dream world. I mean, my new clothes and my battle scars I so valiantly received from my monster of a pet ¨C my cat ¨C don¡¯t translate into the dream world. Just in case, I exercise well in both the dream and the real world. Earlier today, I was talking about it with Mark, who promptly pointed it out. ¡°You serious, man?¡± Mark chews on food from his boxed lunch, talking in between gulps. ¡°Yeah. Just something I¡¯m going to do. Nothing heavy, just some light exercise, to work the muscles. Got to make use of this young body somehow ¨C lest I regret it.¡± I take a bite out of my BLT from a similar little, convenient box. ¡°¡¯Lest¡¯? Really? Talk normally. And what do you mean ¡®young body¡¯? What are you, middle-aged? Are you 30?¡± ¡°First of all, 30 is not middle-aged. Second of all, I mean everything I said. In hindsight, I actually do need to take care of my body while it¡¯s still developing and fresh, not only for the future but for now.¡± I play with my bangs indifferently, which in the real world is not terribly cut off due to a life-and-death battle with a nonliving being. On the topic, I definitely need to pay attention to my appearance, too. I look very unrefined. ¡°Hmm¡­ I understand it and all, but honestly, I don¡¯t think you can do it. It¡¯s one thing to say it - to commit is entirely different. I¡¯d like to see you do it for a full month. Then I¡¯ll acknowledge it.¡± Mark points at me matter-of-factly. I look away distractingly. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± My eyes wander, eventually gravitating toward her seat. It¡¯s empty, as usual. I flick my eyes away. I''m too late, as Mark already notices my blatant gestures. ¡°Who knew that Cheryl actually transferred away. It was a bit sudden and odd actually. I have a suspicion that there might more to it¡­¡± Mark frowns. As if shifting gears, he switches to a more pleasant face and pats me on the back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, man. There are plenty of other girls if you¡¯re worried. She might¡¯ve been your first, but it¡¯s certainly not over. I heard her father¡¯s coming by to wrap things up and sign some paperwork for her transfer. Who knows, maybe she might show up again. She did leave so suddenly, without saying goodbye. This is your chance to break ties. I suggest you go for it.¡± I refrain from speaking. My eyes light up in caution. Her father¡¯s dropping by? I had already taken the necessary precautions to hiding my phone number and covering my communicative history. It wasn¡¯t too hard. Some of the parts I needed help for, in which I contacted an expert in the field. I also changed phone numbers just in case. There shouldn¡¯t be too many leads to me since I, truthfully, was only a classmate, and that¡¯s it. I didn¡¯t actually commit any crime, so even with his security background, it should take a while to track me. That is, temporarily. I¡¯m fully aware I¡¯m just stalling for time. I noticed some police cars outside the school too this past week. Her death should¡¯ve been unnatural, but it shouldn¡¯t have hinted at murder. I have to give credit to him for his expert secrecy. Rumors around hint at some delinquents and their issues. Nothing at all pointed towards her disappearance. I see he¡¯s well versed in these sorts of things. Who else can hide an investigation in plain sight? While chatting with Mark, I notice a tall man¡¯s figure outside the classroom windows leading into the hallway. His figure''s tall with a slightly crooked bridged nose. Other than that, his other features ¨C his build and his face ¨C are ordinary, nothing that would garner immediate suspicion. You could even say he''s quite handsome for his age. I can see that the apple didn¡¯t fall too far from the tree. Most importantly, what stands out is his demeanor. Sharp eyes that can cut through anything. That¡¯s the initial impression. He¡¯s walking behind a faculty member, pointing his head downwards and silently scanning the surroundings. The faculty member in front of him seems slightly nervous. It appears they may know the truth. I¡¯ve tried my best to act normal and keep appearances ever since the incident. Distraught as I may be, it¡¯s no good if I act flustered and give it all away. Especially now, it all counts. Outside the door is a man who threatened to kill me. I continue to talk to Mark while silently observing his every movement. He seems to be talking to the staff member about something. After a while, the faculty member points toward our door and opens it for him. The man, dressed in a stylish trench coat and a similarly matching hat that looked like it belonged to the Sicilian Mafia, walks in and stands there with his arms crossed. His gaze instantly shifts to be even more piercing. I''m not the only one who notices him, voices all around me die down somewhat in uneasy unison. The man continues standing there, gazing at us and scanning us, without saying a word. I can tell he made special notions to observe the boys in the room, his eyeballs jumping toward and focusing more attentively toward the boy-dominant groups. More than half of students present are male, just due to circumstance. I try my hardest to blend in and conceal my presence. At one point, I thought he was looking straight at me. I don''t know for certain if he was or wasn''t. I wince. Fortunately, after some time passes, all he does is click his tongue and walk out. The faculty member hastily apologizes and follows after him. The teacher present in the room, who is also my next period''s teacher after lunch, raises an eyebrow and returns to his computer work. I sigh inwardly with relief. I knew I couldn¡¯t hide forever. For now, I should be safe. ¡°I wonder what that was about. He was seriously scary, that guy," Mark says. ¡°Ah!¡± Mark pounds on his fist displaying some sort of sudden epiphany. ¡°You lost your chance just now! It¡¯s not too late to follow him. I think you should go.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s alright. Really. Thanks though for your concern,¡± I reassure him. ¡°Hmm¡­ Okay then. If you say so. I didn¡¯t see Cheryl with him anyway, so I guess it¡¯s fine. You wouldn¡¯t want to label yourself as a creep before the girl¡¯s father.¡± I nod uneasily. The bell rang, and we say our farewells. I continue thinking back to that event. Those events took place yesterday. I wonder what would''ve happened if I were caught. I shake my head. That doesn¡¯t matter now. After resting enough, I get up. I equip my potion belt, pick up my weapons, fasten my gauntlet, and check my blade for any additional splashes of blood, wiping them accordingly, being careful not to incur any cuts. I pat off the immediate dust and dirt off my garb and immediately progress to the next room. The first thing I always do is check for traps, which there has been no absence of. I scan my immediate surroundings. No traps this time. Thankfully, things will be less tricky this time around. I walk forward with slight caution into the next dungeon room: room 52. I wonder what type of monsters I will encounter. I hope there are some magic books in the chest, I¡¯d love to learn some magic. Support classes were my specialty in the RPGs I played, so some support magic would be useful. But then again, I¡¯m alone, so I¡¯m unsure how that would work out. Suddenly, I hear a loud grunt. Not a monsters grunt. I¡¯m certain. It¡¯s a person¡¯s. I rush forward. If I can increase the odds of making it in time and saving someone''s life, even if a little, I¡¯ll jump at that chance immediately. I wasn¡¯t able to save a friend from the past. I can''t let anyone die in front of me, no more, no more within my available grasp. With those thoughts, I rush forward recklessly. 4 - Graham The sound gets closer and closer. Room 52 is structured very uniquely. It mainly consists of overlapping corridors, intersecting at different parts, creating an intersection. Sometimes, it intersects vertically, shifting gravity when you jump into the respective parts. It¡¯s an extremely intuitive design, but also very confusing in first-person navigating the place. I make my way through the various twists and turns and I see someone. The second living human. It''s a man, I¡¯d say in his early 20s, struggling against 6-legged vicious wolves. They begin to circle around him very intricately and coordinately. The man grips his dagger and turns cautiously, glancing at the corners of his eyes. He¡¯s slightly beaten, but he¡¯s still holding strong. He¡¯s wearing a leather outfit, with blue feathers fashioned about, and he¡¯s holding a single dagger. His other hand¡¯s free, outstretched, as if he was grasping something invisible. He doesn¡¯t look weak, but his situation¡¯s definitely disadvantageous. He¡¯s clearly outnumbered. I take no time to rush into the battle and power my way through the wolves. In room 49, I fought similar wolves. They were red with larger teeth and in fewer numbers but they had the same 6 legs and vicious eyes. I keep them in mind as I mindlessly slash at the ones in front of me with my extremely sharp, long blade. The man notices me at this point and lowers his free hand and after a silent glance, he acknowledges that I''m helping him, not hurting him, or about to hurt him, and clears some of the stray wolves that have wandered from the pack after my initial charge. I continue cutting left and right until I was sure there were no further threats. He seems to be finished with his job as well. After checking the surroundings, I affirm there are no more immediate threats. After signaling to him silently, he appears to have understood again. We stand there, staring at each other. ¡°Thank you for saving me. You have my full gratitude.¡± The man stretches out his hand routinely. Now that the battle''s over, I am given a clearer view of his physical features. He looks young, but his demeanor brings about a mature feeling contrasting his young-ish appearance. He has medium-length, natural black hair with a part and a bold lift. If not for the dreary bags under his eyes, he''d be astonishingly handsome. Not to say that he isn''t now, but with a little work, he could be a movie actor for all I know or care for. With an upright posture and firm and deliberate movements, he acts with an unconceited assertiveness. I carefully extend my hand to shake his, his hand firm and rough. He notices my caution and backs off with little hint of surprise. ¡°Oh, no need to be afraid. I¡¯m not some mindless rogue. I understand the concern. Here, I¡¯ll drop my weapons.¡± The man proceeds to drop his dagger, as well as all his other weapons hidden cleverly in his clothing. There were blades of all kinds. I wonder how he''s able to fit it all in. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you did the same.¡± He gestures to my obviously powerful and threatening weapons. I concede and follow his actions. I slowly place them on the floor below me, as he did himself. ¡°Again,¡± The man says, cracking his stiff neck with relief, ¡°thank you for your help. In all honesty, I would¡¯ve been fine. I was baiting them to charge so I can activate my fire spell ¨C blast radius. It sets ablaze a spherical fire sphere around me, burning all enemies within its vicinity, leaving me unharmed. It¡¯s quite useful, but it does leave me vulnerable for a couple seconds afterward. Thanks to you, I was able to avoid that circumstance.¡± The man waves with subtle gratitude, his cuts evident for the world to see. Despite his welcoming behavior, his facial expression hasn¡¯t changed at all. He hasn¡¯t smiled once yet, keeping a cool and straight face. ¡°Take this.¡± I throw him a low-grade potion from my potion belt lying on the floor, that I also let fall onto the ground. He catches it with one hand and glances at it for a second. He drinks it - not too fast, not too slow. ¡°So, what do you want?¡± The man follows up, fully understanding I''m not some walking welfare service. ¡°In exchange,¡± I say, ¡°let¡¯s exchange information. Let¡¯s gather our thoughts and summarize what we¡¯ve come to know.¡± I was actually going to propose ''the catch'' after he had drunk the potion, but he beat me to it. He¡¯s quite capable, I can tell. He has never appeared flustered, cool and calm throughout, even during battle where he was posed with such threats. These type of people are easy to deal with - I¡¯m glad I¡¯ve come across such a competent person. Then again, you have to be competent enough to survive. There¡¯s much more to survival than pure strength. The man crosses his arms and looks to the side. ¡°I was about to propose the same thing. Fine. I¡¯m Graham. I¡¯m a lawyer in the U.S. Though, everyone I¡¯ve met so far has been in the U.S., but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there are people from other parts of the world. The world¡¯s a big place after all.¡± Graham reaches out into his pocket and pulls out nothing. He sweeps his hand above his mouth in a customary fashion. Only then did he realize he has no cigarettes and he''s air-smoking. He brushes it off matter-of-factly. ¡°I¡¯m-¡° ¡°Ely, correct? Ely Codeman, if I recall correctly,¡± Graham interrupts me. He points towards my weapons. ¡°I¡¯d think I¡¯d notice immediately if you were that Ely, with weapons like those. I can¡¯t imagine it coming from anywhere besides the boss room. I must say, I have to congratulate you ¨C you went through such a hellish experience and survived with the spoils. Of course, relatively speaking. This entire dungeon¡¯s a place from hell.¡± Graham continues looking the other way. ¡°I¡¯m actually glad. There¡¯s a chance that the famous first-boss clearer''s an evil and murderous maniac. I didn¡¯t think I would run into you so fast and so suddenly. I¡¯ve been hit with so many surprises this past week. If I had to lean on whether someone who defeated a boss so early on in this environment was either a madman or a sane man, I¡¯d lean on the former. Fortunately, you aren¡¯t as psychopathic as the situation calls for.¡± I stand there momentarily stunned, but then I gather my senses. ¡°It was all luck, honestly. I could¡¯ve died at any moment. If not for¡­ a friend, I couldn¡¯t have done it.¡± I''m bluffing a bit. I try acting calm and composed, but it¡¯s not easy. Compared to Graham, I¡¯m a bundle of nerves. Graham stands there solemnly. ¡°No need to elaborate. Let¡¯s exchange information, shall we?¡± We continue to talk and exchange information and compare what we know. Most of our information lines up. We also share our theories behind some of the events and mechanisms. Most of my knowledge was already known or inferred by Graham. In return, Graham had some interesting information that I wasn''t aware of yet. ¡°So far, in the week that I¡¯ve been here, I¡¯ve come across a total of 5 people, including you. All of them were from the U.S.¡± Graham shuffles uneasily for a bit, ever so slightly that if it weren¡¯t me, I don''t think anybody would have noticed it. ¡°Unfortunately, they all died," Graham drops the bomb. "I accompanied each person, but each time the companionship was short-lived. One was too nervous and scared to act, another was too reckless, and yet another was just too plain weak. They all died, one at a time, so by the time I reached the next person, the previous person had died. I talked lots with each of them and learned their stories. The second one I met was James Richmond. A college student studying forensics, his mother died the week before and he had stumbled unfortunately into a heap of college debt. He was a pleasant man, but he showed a plethora of signs of depression. He died from a skeleton¡¯s blade. Rest his soul.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. I listened to Graham¡¯s descriptions of each of the people he met. I sat there silently, thinking about all these people. These are all people who were living their own lives and who got caught up just as I did in this dungeon. They, sadly, met an early fate. I clench my fist in an odd regret stemming from something I haven¡¯t experienced yet. It¡¯s bitter. I frown. ¡°What¡¯s notable is that every person was special in some sort of way. No one was truly normal ¨C everyone here has something to them. Whether that¡¯ll help them survive in this dungeon is debatable. The fact of the matter is that to each person their own. They may have a stricken past, a special talent, a twisted personality, etc. Even me.¡± He looks at his hand, gazing reminiscently. Needless to say, I didn¡¯t probe. ¡°And you as well.¡± Needless to say, he didn¡¯t probe either. ¡°That¡¯s not all,¡± Graham continues. ¡°I have a friend, a doctor on the west coast, where James lived, look into his death. Luckily, he was able to find information on him. Since his death, I haven¡¯t seen him since. It didn¡¯t take me too long to realize that this dungeon was more than a dream. Shortly after that, I realized death was tangible too. My friend notified me that James died of a suspected heart attack, in his sleep. Although it''s not fully confirmed, the arteries of his heart definitely had a significant amount of plaque built up from an unhealthy diet, and it is known that it did stop suddenly - a case of cardiac arrest. Still, he did remark that it wasn''t nearly bad enough to cause a heart attack. Odd, isn''t it? But apparently, it still did. I reached out to a colleague who went to the same college as me living in thecentral area of the U.S.A. and asked him if he could find anything about Margaret, the fourth person I met. He did. Likewise, I was able to find out she died from a heart-related problem - well, this time it''s suspected to be from stroke - in her sleep. Neither of the two had any signs of previous heart-related issues. No signs of cardiorespiratory diseases, no strokes beforehand, no seizures, no symptoms of heart pains - no signs of anything. No diabetes, no coronary artery disease, no nothing. They were properly healthy. Or at least, by America''s definition, healthy. Yet, they died of a heart-related injury immediately, in their sleep, on the days that coincide with their deaths in the dungeon where I met them. And where I witnessed their deaths with my own two eyes.¡± Graham crosses his arms and looks to the side again, away from me. I can see that this is a habit of his. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know what that means. It¡¯s not certain, but it¡¯s most likely what it seems.¡± I take it all in. I remember the night of the incident, the phone call, the confusion, and the lack of any visible injuries on the body that her father mentioned. It¡¯s all coming together. ¡°My experience coincides with your theory,¡± I finally say. ¡°Even without conclusive evidence, I¡¯ll stick with this theory for now. It seems plausible, however improbable. It makes enough sense. Thank you for your information.¡± I throw him another potion, this time a dark-red vial. I¡¯ve got 3 more, plus 5 low-grade potions, so I¡¯ll be fine. ¡°This is additional compensation. I¡¯ll be taking my leave. Thank you for your cooperation.¡± I stand up and pick up my items, paying no mind to the figure standing beside me. I fasten my gear and walk towards the next door, the door to room 53. ¡°So, what are you planning to do now? Are you thinking of storming off taking rooms one-by-one by yourself?¡± Graham suddenly asks that behind me. I stop and turn around. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what I plan to do. No matter what, I¡¯ll clear every single room I have to clear, then reach room 1,000,000. There has to be a conclusion to this somewhere, some sort of reason behind the rhyme. I swear I¡¯ll be the one to uncover it,¡± I say determinedly albeit recklessly. Graham looks at me with slight intrigue. ¡°Hold it - stop. With such a wild ambition you¡¯re going to wrap yourself in more trouble than you can handle. I highly advise against that. Otherwise, you¡¯ll end up like the former four.¡± I look at him resolutely. ¡°So, what are you suggesting? I should wait and standby? I have the power to accomplish things and you¡¯re telling me to hold back?¡± An odd tension begins to form. We stand and look beside each other with some sort of serious stature set in place. I don¡¯t know why, but I jumped onto his provocation. I dislike acting so petty, but this is something I can¡¯t overlook. I just can¡¯t. Graham relaxes his shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying. I¡¯m saying blindly following death will get you blindly killed. Here¡¯s my suggestion: let¡¯s team up. We¡¯re both capable people. Together, our odds of survival will go up, even if only a little. Every difference counts.¡± I look at him perplexedly. I never planned on him asking to cooperate. In hindsight, it makes sense. I feel he¡¯s someone I can rely on if we were allies. We do have similar views of spiting this place, and if we were allies, I can¡¯t deny the practicality. I notice in his eyes and manner that he¡¯s not proposing this out of desperation or hope of relying on a stronger figure for support. He truly believes we can work together and rely on each other to survive. But. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. As attractive as your offer seems, I can¡¯t. I prefer working alone.¡± I glance in the other direction. ¡°Despite the advantages? I assure you I¡¯m not going to backstab you. I¡¯d be more worried of the reverse. I understand you might not want to engage in any interpersonal relationships while we¡¯re here, but honestly, if you want to survive, you have to learn to work with others. I¡¯ve seen my fair share of deaths, and I¡¯m deathly sick of it. You said you want to clear every room necessary and find the secrets behind this dungeon? You¡¯re never going to do it alone, I can promise you that.¡± Graham twirls his finger knowledgeably. ¡°They say the one who runs alone runs the fastest, but the one who runs with others runs the farthest.¡± Graham stretches out his hand and, for the first time, lets out a smile. I can tell he isn¡¯t good at practicing smiles. I¡¯m still reluctant, but what he says is true. And this is not me falling for his rose-colored words, I truly believe working with capable people brings success. ¡°Fine¡­¡± I reach out and take his hand once more. I likewise smile, also as awkwardly. I guess I¡¯m not too good at this as well. ¡°I¡¯ll take up your offer. In exchange, teach me some magic. I¡¯m curious as to how it works.¡± Graham affirms the grip on his hand. ¡°Likewise, you¡¯ll have to let me look at your weapons. I promise I won¡¯t do anything stupid, I¡¯m not an idiot with ulterior motives. I¡¯m also curious as to what boss-room weapons have in store.¡± We both stand there, smiling like idiots to each other. We both shake off the dumb smiles and return to our professional manner. ¡°One more question,¡± I ask, ¡°what do you hope to accomplish? What are your goals regarding this dungeon?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ That¡¯s a good question.¡± Mark again crosses his arms and looks sideways. ¡°I guess I said it before already ¨C I¡¯m sick of death. I honestly just want to help in all the ways I can. That¡¯s why I became a lawyer, after all. 8 years in the business and despite how intelligent I seem, mind my pretension, I haven¡¯t won a single case. If I can do good work here, I¡¯ll be more than glad. It¡¯s a bit selfish, but I hope you can accommodate me.¡± Graham bows. How humble. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my desires are equally selfish.¡± I look ahead at the next door. ¡°Anyway, shall we get started? I want to get one more room cleared before I wake up. I have an exam in school tomorrow, so I want to get this done quickly. We also have to figure out a proper system where we can support each other, as well as times when to meet up and when to leave. It¡¯d be bad if one of us suddenly left in the middle of a fight.¡± ¡°Agreed. Also, you¡¯re quite young ¨C the youngest I¡¯ve seen so far. How old are you?¡± Graham inquires. ¡°17, I¡¯m a junior in high school. I thought you were in your early-20s but you said you were in the business for 8 years? How old are you? You look young yourself,¡± I ask likewise. ¡°Haha, thanks for the compliment.¡± It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen him laugh, and it''s genuine. ¡°I¡¯m 32. I¡¯m married, as well. No children, not right now anyway.¡± ¡°Wow¡­¡± I¡¯m truly astonished. I hope I look as good as him when I¡¯m old. Right now, Mark would comment on how he¡¯s ¡®middle-aged¡¯. If I could, I would show him Graham. He¡¯s living it up. ¡°Let¡¯s go, shall we? We should get a feel for how we work together. Since I can use magic, I¡¯ll support you. And yes, of course, I¡¯ll teach you magic.¡± Graham starts ahead of me, with even strides, his arms still crossed. He stops suddenly and looks at me squarely. ¡°Also, if you¡¯re wondering,¡± he says, ¡°32 is not middle-aged. Technically, middle-age is between 40 and 65 for men.¡± See Mark, what did I tell you. 5 - Slime Galore ¡°Argh¡­ No good.¡± I sigh. My right arm is stretched out, and my left hand is holding onto my right arm, almost in an anatomical splint sort of fashion. I¡¯m focusing intensely with hope on my right hand, which is stiffening and grasping what appears to be an invisible ball. That is, it¡¯s forming the shape as if it was holding something. Currently, nothing¡¯s there. I am practicing magic. Graham looks behind to me without emotion, observing my actions. I stand there slightly frustrated and slightly disappointed. If all things went right, there should¡¯ve been a small fireball where there wasn¡¯t one, in my right hand. Right now, I look like a child pretending to cast magic despite worldly common sense, wrapped up in his/her fantasies, ignorant of the outside world. ¡­ Yeah, middle school was a dark time. Let¡¯s change the subject. If you¡¯re wondering, I threw out all my old outfits and imitation swords and¡­ Yeah, let¡¯s roll back. ¡°Hmm¡­ I don¡¯t see anything wrong with your form according to the book. I apologize that I don¡¯t have said book with me, I threw it out back once I was finished with it. In hindsight, that was a big mistake, but according to what I remember, you seem to be following everything properly. I think you may just not have an affinity for fire magic, unfortunately. We should just stop now,¡± Graham says. ¡°Hah¡­ hah¡­ gotcha,¡± I pant. My assumptions land correctly on the fact that magic comes from books in treasure chests. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s limited to just room loot, but I do know that there are 7 main types: water, fire, earth, air, dark, light, and null ¨C which is basically all other magic that doesn''t fall into any specific categories. Graham mentioned that each book has a small, useful introduction to the 7 types of magic. Each book¡¯s color corresponds to its type. Graham had a basic fireball spellbook, which was red, and it is apparently very common. He had run into it 3 times during his conquests. Weird how he encountered mainly spell-type books while I encountered weaponry and apparel. He admits it would¡¯ve been more useful if he had seen some more weapons and gear, rather than magic books. Unlike games, you have to actually read the books and grasp its techniques. It¡¯s not a one-time consumable item where knowledge somehow magically floats into your mind and you understand the spell ¨C nothing convenient like that. Each book¡¯s a spell or technique. Each spell or technique is categorized into 5 grades. The basic fireball¡¯s, of course, a grade 1. The blast radius spell Graham mentioned earlier is a grade 2 spell. He demonstrated it once to me after we cleared a room, and I must say - it¡¯s really amazing. I¡¯m kind of jealous, to be honest, but also equally relieved knowing we''ve got some firepower in our arsenal - literally. After our initial meeting, we had discussed our schedule. After some debating, we decided to meet up around 10-ish at night. I plan to wake up at 5:30 a.m., as usual, and he wakes up at 6. We live in the same time-zone, fortunately, so there are no problems there. Funny how I wake up earlier than a working adult. I didn¡¯t mention that, of course. During my absence, we agreed he is to just relax and not engage any rooms. Likewise if I find myself time alone. We also agreed to use the bathroom before we sleep and not drink too much water; such activities like those in the efforts of clearing potential obstacles in our sleep, towards minimizing interruptions. We also delegated a system in case one of us were to wake up suddenly and leave the other helpless. In the case of that happening, the other person is to immediately flee into a safe room, even if we had an overwhelming advantage prior to the escape. We need to be extra diligent after all, increasing our odds of survival to our utmost best and reducing odds of death to a minimum. Whenever we engage a room, we always keep a path clear to the previous room - always. We also came to find out traps deactivate upon clearing a room - which is extremely useful. That means every cleared room is practically safe. If we find any others, I definitely intend to vouch for them to stay in the cleared rooms ¨C they are by far the safest. It¡¯s a lot of work to work in a group, but it¡¯s also much safer to have someone at your back. I feel more relieved than ever. I take a drink of water, which was handed to me by Graham. We both slouch over at the wall behind us, next to each other, catching our breaths. Engaging in magic training drains a lot of energy. We confirmed mana is a tangible thing. If you use too much mana, you are left immobile, which is extremely dangerous. Graham tested all sorts of things with mana before we met. Graham, while I was practicing, was training in his close combat melee skills, as well as crowd control with his fireballs. I suggested this because it¡¯s really dangerous if an enemy gets close to him and I¡¯m unable to support him, leaving him extremely vulnerable. Basic combat skills with the blade are necessary, even for magic users. Minimum strength is needed, definitely, for every combat member despite the class. I had him practice crowd control for the obvious controlling of a crowd, of enemies. If we can secure a healer and a tank, we would more or less have the core. Maybe an assassin or another high damage output class too. They would be very helpful. Hoping for someone like that is wishful thinking, but I have nothing but something to hope for. Graham beside me is covered in sweat. He takes a drink of water, too. I look at Graham curiously. I¡¯ve been with him a few days now but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve really got to know him that well yet. Trust is an important factor in the team chemistry of parties, but also, I¡¯m just curious. Graham is a tall, slender man with a slightly muscular build. He mentioned that when he first entered the dungeon, he was in his suit, which meant he had probably dozed off during or after work. Right when he entered the dungeon, he immediately ran into a woman, who, upon seeing a monster, ran away in fear into a trap ¨C a pitfall. That was the first thing he witnessed upon entering the dream dungeon and has realized the situation was much bigger than it seemed. Other than that and him being a lawyer, I don¡¯t really know that much. I do know that he does like suits. The two most precious worldly things according to him are his family and good suits. He mentioned he felt bad leaving his treasured suit behind for more appropriate gear, even though he knew it didn¡¯t affect the real suit in the real world. He would get along well with my father, who''s a suit fanatic himself. Just loves his suits, that guy. ¡°Hey Graham,¡± I ask out of nowhere. ¡°Yes, Ely?¡± he replies. ¡°What type of lawyer are you?¡± ¡°Good question." Graham pauses a good while, then continues. "I¡¯m a criminal defense lawyer. I own my own firm, actually. We mainly help the wrongly incarcerated, defending those on death row, including minors and women, etc... It¡¯s a tough job, you see. I spend all this time trying to help these poor souls, but it¡¯s unlikely that they''ll get the help they need or the sentence they deserve. The justice service is very pedantic on certain things, skewed if you will. It¡¯s terribly saddening. Remember what I said earlier? Over the 8 years I ran the firm, I haven¡¯t won a single case yet. It might be bad luck or something, but I struggle with it nonetheless. Despite it all, I¡¯ll keep fighting.¡± Graham crosses his arms and looks the other way. ¡°My firm mainly runs on federal support and donations. We¡¯re really bare bones now. We don¡¯t even have enough money to support a proper staff ¨C we¡¯re terrible short-manned. The only people left are my wife, the secretary who we met and hired since the very beginning, and me. I actually met my wife at the firm. She¡¯s my greatest supporter.¡± Graham smiles a small, sincere smile. In his eyes are reminiscence and a little hopelessness. ¡°It¡¯s real tough. A lot has happened. Mariam, the secretary, and Taylor, my wife, help keep me sane, if I am to be truly honest.¡± Graham finally looks at me. ¡°Sorry I went on a tangent. That was a bomb of information. You were trying to get to know me a bit more, correct? That¡¯s pretty much the story of my life - emit the past, which actually is a large chunk of my ''story'' but let''s brush the fine details for now. What about you? You said you were a high school student?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply, my words mix with a sigh, an exhale of air, ¡°I¡¯m a junior at Rivenburg High in Monroe County. You probably don''t know it. It¡¯s a small, unimportant county and the school itself is obscure, but it¡¯s a good school. I¡¯m an honors student. Umm¡­ let¡¯s see. Oh, I have a little sister, if you''d like to know about my family. She¡¯s a handful, really.¡± I flush slightly, and this time, it¡¯s me looking away. I¡¯m not exactly sure what to say. ¡°There¡¯s not too much to mention about me. I have a pretty standard family and live a fairly ordinary life. My parents are very caring people, but not very ''extraordinary'' to say, for good or for bad. Except my father, actually, he has a bit of a thing for suits. Sometimes, he locks himself in his closet to admire his suits. He thinks he''s secretive, but the whole family knows." I roll my eyes at the sudden remembrance of something embarrassing and possibly too personal. A light flickers in my head. "Oh, but I think you two would be good friends," I say nonchalantly. Graham turns his head abruptly away, trying to hide a snicker. It is an unsuccessful venture. Suddenly he pauses and his eyes widen. He quickly shakes his head. "So I''m not the only one..." Graham mumbles inaudibly. "What? Sorry, I couldn''t hear you?" I probed Graham. "Oh... Um... I just agreed. I believe we would make good friends," Graham, for the first time, fumbles his words. "Someday I would like to meet this esteemed man. If we ever meet in real life, introduce me, would you?" Esteemed? "Yes, of course," I reply. I eye him suspiciously. "Hmm... As for free time," I continue, "I mainly study and play games, although the latter I haven¡¯t found much time for recently.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Graham sits there, quickly back to his composed stature, frighteningly so, and he''s thinking. He looks away again but tilts his head upward as if he was looking at something at the ceiling. This is another habit of his. He always does this when he¡¯s thinking about something hard. I really wonder what¡¯s going on in this mind of his when he does this. It¡¯s really a mystery. If I weren¡¯t uncovering the secrets of the dungeon, I¡¯d definitely be scanning his mind or something. ¡°Your story is pretty atypical, abnormally so. I really wonder. There¡¯s something to you that the dungeon called. Some sort of reason. I won¡¯t probe into your business if you¡¯re not going to share. Who knows, you might just be plainly brilliant ¨C something of that sort. Then, that begs the question whether anyone''s truly ''normal''. Everyone''s special in their own way. Ah - of course, this is all just a theory of mine."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Hah, you¡¯re plenty more brilliant than me. If anyone, and if your theory holds true, it¡¯s you,¡± I retort. ¡°Haha.¡± This is the second time I¡¯ve ever seen him smile, only it¡¯s a little different this time. ¡°If only that were the case.¡± It¡¯s sadder this time. I eye him suspiciously once more but with solemnity this time. He, of course, has already looked away. He props himself up. We entered a routine break and had sat against the wall. We had long finished refreshing up with spring water. I also wonder how there is spring water in a seemingly underground dungeon such as this, but I''ve got bigger worries. ¡°Let¡¯s head out now,¡± Graham suggests, ¡°Time for the next room: room 56.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I get up as well and follow him. ¡°Let¡¯s jam.¡± Specifically, my worries involve the matters swirling within Graham''s head. While walking, I see him staring at the ceiling in deep thought. He''s a really odd person. Sometimes he would just startle up and walk about indistinguishable, sometimes muttering, sometimes silents, sometimes eyes closed, and then suddenly return to his senses without reason and continue about his rhyme inexplicably. Walking beside him and observing him pseudo-earnestly, I can imagine him pacing about in the vast spaces of his head; but unfortunately, his head''s a locked door. "Graham, I..." I stop myself short. "Hmm?" Graham cuts himself from his universe of a mind and flicks his head back at me, his eyes ever so stern yet calm but also slightly frightening - not his demeanor necessarily, but I''m sure if he was completely silent in some sort of public space his mere presence can probably scare a child. Then again, most adults do that. At least, the adults I know. Specifically, my dad. This makes me imagine Graham to be less of an enigma but more humane. This is just my imagination though. I''m sure he''s both. Both Graham and my father though have scary eyes. "Nothing, nothing," I reply. I decide otherwise to pursue any more idle chatter. We walk up to room 56, stopping short of the door. The same wooden, double-doors we¡¯ve seen for a while, I¡¯ve seen for a while. It¡¯s become a bit haunting now that you look at it closely, despite its simplicity. Sweat slowly runs down our foreheads as Graham slowly pulls open the doors, both of us ready for what¡¯s to come. After the doors open and we¡¯re sure nothing¡¯s going to blast up in our faces, I take the lead. Graham follows cautiously behind me, and we run through our confirmed course of action. We stick closely to each other and keep eyes around us, especially on our course of retreat in case of emergency. Fortunately, we haven¡¯t needed it yet. Though, it doesn¡¯t make it any less necessary. Room 56 is a series of hallways intersecting perpendicular and elevating/declining in an uncoordinated manner. We stick close to the walls and watch for traps. We avoid a pitfall or two, as swiftly make our ways through the sticky, gooey sections designed to slow you down. They¡¯re also covered with monster bait which serves as an alert to nearby monsters that there are people to devour. We rush through the hall with practiced ease and we prepare ourselves for the onslaught of monsters. Here they come. A variety of monsters assault us, all viscous slime monsters with one eye and devilish smiles and without appendages. Red, blue, green, violet - an assortment of colors, like gumdrops, charge towards us. I made sure to keep our method of retreat and our path with which we came recorded in my mind. We follow formation number 2 ¨C monsters surrounding in a tight space ¨C putting it in effect. Graham moved to the center and I covered the side most populated by monsters while also keeping eye on my back, on Graham¡¯s side. They all rush forward sequentially, and I make haste to cut them down. Slash, cut, slice, dice, I¡¯m chopping down each slime with no resistance. The power of slimes is not in their individual strength, but their collective number. Some have special characteristics that can be really annoying and extremely dangerous. Here, they are just in high number. Which is both fortunate and unfortunate for us. More so the former. Definitely less annoying. ¡°Slimes in the rear! Switch!¡± Graham yells. ¡°Right!¡± I yell back. I switch positions with Graham, focusing on the other side as monsters seem to be focusing there. My former side¡¯s being taken care of by Graham, where the monsters have dwindled due to my efforts. The monsters keep rushing forward but I form a protective wall. I cut each slime down, to which no slime can make it past a certain point. I continue slashing and slashing and slashing. Fortunately, my blade can cut through slimes as well ¨C I guess somehow they count as having ¡°flesh¡± but I¡¯m sure flesh is not the actual extent of its capabilities. It seems every slime in the room is gravitating towards us. We have been in full fire for 10 solid minutes without rest. Graham and I are still hanging in strong, continuously destroying slimes. I hit the wall with Ringarde, causing some stone to collapse in, creating a smaller opening for the slimes to enter, easing the resistance. I switch with Graham again and repeat the process on his side. It made the fight considerably easier, but it still isn¡¯t time to lose focus. ¡°Watch out!¡± Graham yells. He points a fireball my way, hitting a slime right beside me. It was a transparent slime. Somehow, it made it past the barrier without my notice and clung to the wall. It was right about to attack me when Graham noticed it and attacked it first. Transparent slimes are really crafty ¨C they blend in with the surroundings easily. You can notice them, but during a fight, you may not be as aware as you¡¯re focused on other enemies. They work best with other slimes, blending in with them. They are slightly weaker than normal slimes, but their transparency is really dangerous and you have to be even more careful. You might not even notice when transparent slimes attack you yourself because they blend in so well. ¡°Thanks!¡± I said while cutting a nearby blue slime and, right after, a red slime that tried to slip in through the barrier¡¯s cracks. Graham waves his hand in acknowledgment and drinks a mana potion, shortly following returning to the fight. This is where Graham shines. Graham currently has 3 spells ¨C fireball, blast radius, and lava pit. The last one, lava pit, temporarily creates a pit of lava in the ground, about the width of the hallway we¡¯re in, which isn¡¯t that big to begin with, and it¡¯s about 3 feet long, 3 feet square, with his current capabilities. It lasts for about 30 seconds before hardening to a solid rock again, which resembles the familiar dungeon stone. All of his spells work very well for crowd control, which is perfect in this situation. My weapons and fighting style are more focused on strong, single enemies, so I¡¯m very thankful for Graham¡¯s contribution. ¡°Head¡¯s up!¡± I yell. I throw Cheryl towards Graham¡¯s head at a fraction of its capable speed as he ducks and it just barely misses him and hits a rather large purple slime that was bouncing erratically from wall to ceiling to wall to floor, etc. I was watching it carefully and predicted its course of action, striking it accurately in the eye and pinning it to the wall, killing it. The blade swiftly returns back to me. ¡°You mean heads down,¡± Graham complains. ¡°You get the idea,¡± I retort. I shake my head briskly. We quickly finish up the rest of the slimes without a problem. Most of the work is credited to Graham, who cleared about 70% of the slimes. I just took care of the more dangerous and aberrant ones, as well as during the beginning provided much of the firepower, until over time Graham''s contributions steadily increased and his efficiency growing exponentially. Instead of waning, he strengthened, as if the initial wave was his warm-up. Of course, it wasn''t. A majority of the slimes were small, pesky slimes. Now they¡¯re just burnt remains. We heard the click of the treasure chest appearing and made our way in the direction of the sound, keeping watchful of traps. The traps don''t deactivate until around 10-15 minutes after you open the chest, so the battle''s not over until we reach our spoils, and then some. ¡°Man,¡± I say, ¡°I wish I could learn fire magic. You have such an amazing affinity for it. Blasts, why couldn¡¯t I have an affinity for fire magic?¡± ¡°No use complaining,¡± Graham says nonchalantly. ¡°It is what it is. You still don¡¯t know if you don¡¯t have an affinity for any other types of magic. Just wait and see.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say.¡± I pick up a stone with my gauntlet and throw it frighteningly fast, the stone piercing the wall at the other end of the hallway erupting in an audible boom. ¡°You have awesome fire spells that also contain excellent crowd control abilities. Not to mention the wide variety of practical uses. I could, like, roast a marshmallow with fire magic.¡± I make up some flimsy support on the fly. The stone I threw ahead of us pierced the wall a good 7-8 inches. ¡°Plus, it looks cool as heck.¡± ¡°Says the kid with a blade that cuts all tissue and the gauntlet with superhuman strength.¡± Graham picks up a stone also and throws it a good distance, pitiful compared to the previous display of awe and wonder. Graham crosses his arms and looks the other way. ¡°Fair point,¡± I recede. We make our way to the spoils. The treasure chest is elegantly decorated, raised on a small podium - not nearly as gallant as the boss room. It''s barely a ''podium'', elevating the chest less than about six inches. We check its contents. There''s an assortment of attractive items, notable is the vial of poison, which I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s poison, but it¡¯s a putrid shade of green that can¡¯t mean anything good, along it is a crown with slime jewels, and another spell book. This time it¡¯s yellow. I become a little excited looking at it. ¡°Nice, another spell book! This seems to be a light type. I wonder if I have an affinity for light,¡± I say. ¡°Yeah, I wonder as well. For me and for you.¡± Graham takes the potions and stores them on his belt, which is similar to mine but has more storage capacity and is lighter. It matches his apparel which is made to be for mages and is lightweight. One of its designs is that it can store more potions, namely mana potions for the spell user.We decide to take anything that might be remotely useful.I look at the crown and decide to take it as well. We don¡¯t know if miscellaneous items provide buffs or anything, so just in case, we, or rather I, take as many as I can hold without ruining my mobility. I seldom would imagine this dungeon would have items in its treasure chests just for show. Graham also takes the spell book and flips through it. While he is scanning the book¡¯s contents, we hear a faded scream. A sharp, distinct, scream that echoes in the hallways. The torches flicker slightly and a sound of shifting stone can be heard, although very subtly. You would have to be really silent and reallyfixated to hear it. Graham and I are both. The scream - it''s a person''s. ¡°Hurry!¡± Graham is the first to move. I follow him. We navigate around haphazardly while avoiding traps, both already and yet to set. If the situation is what I think it is¡­ ¡°Dear¡­¡± Graham stops ahead of me. He stares at the ground in pained disbelief. I stop shortly after him. I was able to see it clearly from afar, but getting a closer look.., It¡¯s despicable. What lies before us is a bloodied man, disfigured and dislocated, in all areas. A pool of blood is spread on the ground where he lies, and blood drips from the ceiling. A horrified expression is shown on his dreadful face. Holes are evident in his body and clothes. Besides him are some cracked vials of potion, a sword, and an antique detective hat. The man appeared to be in his mid-60s. The most pressing issue is the spike currently lodged into his stomach, piercing through his body, up and out his chest. His body is twisted. Terribly twisted. I feel sick. The traps - it hasn''t been 10-15 minutes yet. Theyare stillprimed. It was a spike trap. A spike trap was laid down visibly on the center of the ground. Normally, you¡¯d jump over it, but there¡¯s also a hidden spike in the ceiling that appears once something is sensed above the floor spikes. The top quickly closes in. You¡¯re supposed to trigger the trap with an item, like a large enough stone, and then once it clamps you go around the edges. Sometimes the spikes are on the edges of the ground, sometimes there¡¯s a time limit to the safe areas with which you progress before spikes cover even there, and sometimes there are no ceiling spikes and instead is a pitfall trap. There are lots of various versions. It¡¯s a trap I¡¯ve come to recognize during my first night, and ever since, I¡¯ve been acutely familiar and careful for. It¡¯s not nearly one of the more dangerous traps, but it¡¯s still dangerous, like any trap really. I punch the wall. A hole is made from where my fist made contact with the stone. I had punched it with my gauntlet hand. I frown and clench my teeth. ¡°Someone¡­ someone was here, so close to us¡­ yet we¡­¡± I choke on my words. ¡°Stop it. Don¡¯t beat yourself up. We couldn¡¯t have stopped it. Just¡­ Let¡¯s go.¡± Graham crosses his arms and looks away, but this time with visible nausea and disgust. I look at him helplessly. He spares no time to walk away, turning his back on this poor man. I hesitate. I stare at the man, who looks so horrible. Terrible, desperate, and disturbing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± I utter my final words and follow Graham back the other way. 6 - Light Magic and Family Graham and I make our way back to our to the initial treasure room. We silently check over our materials, replenish our potion supply, and decide on what items to bring with us and what items we leave behind. We leave our empty potion vials on the floor. I pick up the tossed light spell book. Graham puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°¡­Next time.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I flip through the contents of the book, skimming the lines. This is my first time looking through an actual spell book, as Graham had discarded his previous books to make space for other materials. We don¡¯t say much: I¡¯m looking through the book and Graham¡¯s drinking some spring water. Now that I mentioned it, we need to refill soon, at room 48 I think was the last room with clean water. The light spell¡¯s name is flash. It¡¯s a simple 1-star spell that creates a temporary flashing light, that can both light up a room or blind opponents. The light can be thrown or held by the spell user in one hand. According to the book, it lasts for 4 seconds. That¡¯s plenty of time in the heat of battle where 1 second can be the deciding factor. In the book, there are plenty of instructions that specifically denote how to perform the spell, along with many helpful illustrations. Casting magic is hard, but these books make it seem fairly easy. ¡°Hey Graham, let¡¯s break here. I want to try and learn this new spell,¡± I suggest to Graham. ¡°Go ahead.¡± Graham nods. ¡°I¡¯ll be practicing sword swings and training this way. Call out to me if you need anything.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I continue reading through, focusing carefully on key points noted in the book. After that, I get into position and begin practicing. While practicing, I cross reference my form and actions with the book, paying careful attention to following every step of the procedure. Graham, who¡¯s practicing various sword swings with his weapon, every now and then offers pointers. After a good hour, I still can¡¯t pull it off. ¡°Huff¡­ huff¡­ why¡­ is this¡­ so hard¡­?¡± I pant tiredly. ¡°May I look through the book?¡± Graham asks. ¡°Yeah¡­ go¡­ ahead¡­¡± Graham picked up the spell book and skims through it really quickly. After flipping through it again once or twice, he begins imitating the form, attempting to pull off the spell. After a few failed attempts, a bright light appears from his hand, though rather haphazard,hovering and emitting a piercing light. To me, who¡¯s standing 2 feet away, I can feel my sight being robbed from me. I shut my eyes away from the light in reflex. The light remains for a good 2 seconds before disappearing. ¡°It appears I¡¯m able to do it. I barely followed the proper technique as denoted by the book yet I was still able to pull it off. It only lasted 2 seconds rather than 4, and the execution could¡¯ve been better, but it¡¯s definitely possible.¡± Graham then looks at me, and recedes into his usual stance of crossed arms and turned head. ¡°Your form looks good, yet you can¡¯t pull it off. You may just not have an affinity for light magic, sorry to say.¡± I look at him helplessly. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Seriously. Don¡¯t lose hope yet though, there may be other types that you¡¯re well with. Maybe you¡¯re just a special case. Or maybe not magically-inclined.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the special one here. You¡¯re magically-talented.¡± ¡°That may be.¡± Suddenly, Ding Dong Bing Bong. A familiar bell chime resounds throughout thedungeon that made chills run up our spines. Graham and I freeze where weare. ¡°Greetings once again. Time for the second official dream dungeon announcement! I hope you¡¯re all having a wonderful time!¡± Again, that unsettling soothing deep tone of voiceechoes throughout the premises. ¡°Congratulations! The second boss room has been conquered! The conqueror is 9-year-old Maryam Rye! Please give a round of applause to the dungeon¡¯s second conqueror and the dungeon¡¯s first 1-star conqueror!¡± Again, an awkward applause resembling one of a sit-com show follows. After an equally awkward amount of time it subsides. ¡°It didn¡¯t take too long for another boss room to be discovered and beaten! I have to say, I¡¯m impressed! To so quickly beat another boss room amidst your current early, fledgling state is truly impressive! At this rate, you¡¯ll reach and conquer all 1,000,000 rooms in no time! I surely await the result.¡± ¡°Here¡¯s some additional info as a reward. There¡¯s a surprise waiting for whoever reaches room 1,000,000. Spoiler alert: it¡¯s me! You¡¯ll find me there. Whether you want to kill me or not, I don¡¯t care, just whoever wants to uncover the dungeon¡¯s secrets will have to reach room 1,000,000. It won¡¯t be easy, but that¡¯s what makes it so fun! As always, the loot for this boss room, although not as exquisite as the first, is still extravagant and powerful! Stay tuned for future updates! As always, gooooood luck!¡± ¡­ What? Did the dungeon say the conqueror was a little girl? 9-years-old? Are you serious? And room 1,000,000¡­ I look at Graham, and he meets my gaze back. We stay there locking eyes, silently. ¡°You think we can make it? Room 1,000,000, I mean,¡± I say. I purposely avoided bringing up the 9-year-old boss room defeater. ¡°Who knows?¡± Graham replies tersely and leaves it at that. He didn¡¯t mention anything about the dungeon conqueror, but knowing him, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s completely aware. Strange. The both of us, really. More importantly, whoever that 9-year-old is must be one hell of a person¡­ I silently wish in my heart that we may we never cross paths. We continue practicing. We decide not to pursue any other rooms and instead decide on devoting the rest of the time for training. I didn¡¯t give up. I continue to practice light magic, hoping it would work. Light magic is a support character¡¯s forte, and I¡¯m unable to give it up just yet. Although healing magic and status magic are categorized in the ¡®null¡¯ category, the book also noted that light users are mostly proficient in null magic as well, making for perfect support types, and that most "buff" type null magic is complement by light magic, its power is proportionate to how strong ones affinity for light magic is. If I really have no affinity for light magic, then there¡¯s an even lower chance of me having any affinity for null magic. Graham continued training his swordsmanship in silence, while in contrast, I grunt heavily trying to force nothing out of my hands. Unfortunately, I never do get that light magic out. I wonder if I am doomed to be a physical vanguard. RIP my RPG dreams¡­ ..If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. . I wake up. I¡¯m lying in my bed. I stare at the ceiling. My alarm is ringing ¨C 5:30 a.m. My body is messily scattered on my bed, along with my messy bed sheets that I pulled with me. My pillow is nowhere to be found. I always had a bad habit of sleeping messily. My little sister always made a point out of that. I get up and get ready for school. I toothbrush, shower, get my stuff together in my backpack, put my glasses on, comb my hair, etc. I fix my bed and take one last glance at my room before heading downstairs. I pass my sister on the way, who¡¯s heading to the bathroom. Again, she seems to have woken up late. ¡°Good morning Lexi,¡± I greet. ¡°¡­Gwood mworn¡­ing¡­¡± Lexi, or Alexis, my little sister, sleepily drags her feet across the ground towards the bathroom. Her hair¡¯sslightly disheveled and her eyes still half asleep. She responds reflexively, bobbling her head carelessly as she trudges. Woah, be careful there, you might bump into something. ¡°Ouch!¡± Lexi screeches like a cat. She bumped into the wall. I shake my head in grief and walk downstairs. I greet my mom, who¡¯s preparing breakfast, and my dad, who¡¯s enjoying some French toast at the table while looking at the T.V., which is tuned into the news. I settle down at the table, which already has breakfast ready ¨C Toast with Nutella and a chocolate chip cookie on the side. Why the cookie you ask? Because I love cookies. I eat cookies practically every day, but I digress. In hindsight, this is the picture perfect family. We all live together in a mutual family harmony. Yep, it¡¯s very nice. I couldn¡¯t ask for anything better. While I enjoy my breakfast and especially the cookie, I notice something on the T.V. ¡°... Reports from the national medical association released news of over500 confirmed cases of death due to simultaneous cardiac arrest and sudden brain death.¡± I initially didn¡¯t pay any attention until I caught sound of the next part. ¡°Reports show that every case happened while the victims were asleep. Each of the victims¡¯ ages range from as young as 8 to as old as 72, their health and ethnicities varied as well, with no initially obvious connections. This new mysterious case of some sort has claimed so far100 cases in the U.S. alone, and 500 confirmed cases worldwide. Medical experts are still unsure of theexact implications of the tragedies but have linked it not to disease but genetics. More on that later and how to protect you and your loved ones¡­¡± My brain wandered. Cardiac arrest? Brain shut down? It¡­ It can¡¯t be¡­ My father sips on his coffee. Black, as he prefers it. He pulls back and winces reflexively. He drank his hot coffee too fast and seemed to have burnt his mouth a tad. He ignores it and looks warily at the information being broadcasted on the television. ¡°That¡¯s a darn shame. Rest in peace those poor souls. I wonder what¡¯s going on. Hopefully, none of whatever that is gets to us. We might need to get checked at the hospital soon¡­ You hearing this dear?¡± ¡°Hmm? What¡¯s up honey?¡± My mom answers back inattentively as she spreads butter on toast, the toast most likely for Lexi. Mom usually makes Lexi¡¯s breakfast last as she usually gets up later. ¡°Just some stuff on the news. Tragic stuff, really. Tragic.¡± T-This is¡­ But... genetics? Not an epidemic, but rather, genetics? Where''d they get that? And more importantly... there are cautionary measures? Am I mistaken? Thing''s aren''t lining up. I continue eating my cookie in silence. I stare at my plate wide-eyed. Compared to the easy going atmosphere in the room, I was frozen solid. I didn¡¯t dare move, not until my sister finally arrived. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m late..! Again¡­¡± Lexi hurriedly rushes to the dining table, all her books sloppily arranged in her backpack that¡¯s half-open, half-strung over her shoulder. Her hair¡¯s a mess and her clothes are sloppily arranged and wrinkled. You see, the messiest one of us all is her. According to her, I don''t have a grasp of my bearings while I''m asleep (you see, that''s forgivable because I''m, well, not conscious) while according to me, she doesn''t have a basic grasp of her bearings when she''s awake - that is to say pretty much all the time, every day, where it counts. Yep. Another normal morning for my little sister. ¡°Alexis! Look at yourself!¡± My mom carefully drops her cooking utensils and rushes over to Lexi, thoroughly fixing up her messed up odds and ends. As usual, my mom would fuss over to her and patch her untidy self up. My dad rolls his eyes. I sequentially follow. ¡°Lexi has arrived!¡± Lexi shouts. She sits down on her chair with haughty, exaggerated movements. My mom places her plate in front of her with care. ¡°Alexis, you have to take care of yourself better each morning! Act like a proper woman and pay more attention to yourself. You always look like something the cat dragged in.¡± Mom places a palm on her cheek in practiced distress and shakes her head worryfully. ¡°Yeah yeah. Thanks for the food!¡± Lexi pays no inherent attention and begins wolfing down her food. If she participates in a competitive eating competition, I¡¯ve no doubt she¡¯d make top 5. Seriously. She eats like a monster. Like wow. ¡°There you go again,¡± mom scolds her lightly, ¡°you¡¯re eating your food so messily! Learn from your brother ¨C he always eats with proper etiquette. Would it take much for you to follow his example?¡± ¡°Lexi is who she is, mom.¡± I defend Lexi, moreso on my own behalf. I¡¯d rather not get wrapped up in this troublesome routine. I successfully cover up my initial shock and plaster a natural expression, forcing my thoughts in a corner of my mind. ¡°Yep, she¡¯s still young,¡± Dad agrees. ¡°We should let her do what she wants. No harm in that.¡± Dad returns to sipping his coffee. ¡°Ouch!¡± He jerks back his head. He burnt his mouth again. Slow down, dad. ¡°Speaking of your brother,¡± mom brings up. She puts her utensils in the sink and begins washing the dishes. She had just finished making her portion of food. ¡°I heard his grades have improved considerably. The interims were just mailed yesterday. Straight A pluses, with all of his grades at least a 98. That¡¯s excellent!¡± Mom turns over to me and smiles a sincere smile. You can clearly see the pride and joy reflected in her eyes. She clasps her hands together and tilts her head. Dad looks up warily. His eyes flicker from me to mom, then back to me. Lexi also suddenly stops eating her monstrous pile of food, which mom every morning makes several servings as an offering to appease the beast that is my sister, and looks at me with wide eyes. ¡°¡­ Are¡­ you serious?¡± Lexi is the first to speak up. ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s amazing! Nothing less from my son. Haha!¡± Dad lets out a hearty laugh. He sips on his coffee again. Again, he burns his mouth. Seriously dad, be more careful. ¡°Yep yep!¡± Mom affirms. ¡°Ely¡¯s grades are so amazing! To go fromsolid B¡¯s to high straight A pluses is amazing! Our son¡¯s a genius. I wonder what¡¯s got into you, Ely!¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing mom.¡± I try calming down the situation. ¡°I just put more effort and focus on my studies. It¡¯s just that. I spent more time on school and less on playing games. It''s the start of the new term. It''s hard not to start off with subpar grades - at least, as far as Rivenburg high''s concerned.¡± I fold my arms and tilt my head away embarrassingly. I¡¯m not used to getting praised like this. Whoops, I¡¯m starting to look like Graham. I unfold my arms, leaving them to hang awkwardly. "Ely - that''s still no easy feat! To have such outstanding grades..! It''s just absolutely amazing!" Mom continues to praise me without pause. ¡°I knew it! It was the games. Dear, what have I been telling you all along?¡± Dad complains, though obviously, he''s in a very good mood. ¡°Bro, when did you get so smart? It''s the start of the term, but my grades are nowhere as good as yours! Hey hey, can you help me with my homework again? Hehe, now I can brag to my friends that my older brother¡¯s a genius and is not just some loser wasting his time on games!¡± Lexi gleefully mumbles to herself. ¡°We need to celebrate this accomplishment! Yes yes, it¡¯s important to congratulate your children on a work well done. But, it¡¯s also good not to go overboard and spoil them. Then again, this accomplishment is not something small¡­ Oh yeah! I need to post this on social media! I wonder what should I do as a reward¡­¡± Mom is still rambling. My family¡¯s voices intermingle and mix, their chatter overlapping. I sit there hiding my astonishment. I never would¡¯ve imagined this outcome going in. I just wanted to stay ahead in school so I can focus on the dungeon. To be congratulated like this is¡­ Unexpected. But it feels oddly¡­ warm. Also, Lexi, what was that you said? What have you been telling your friends? I look at my watch and fix my glasses. ¡°It¡¯s about time for me to leave. You can discuss all the extraneous details to yourselves. Lexi, if you need help, feel free to drop by my room anytime ¨C I¡¯m practically ahead of my teacher¡¯s curriculum anyway so any concerns with homework I¡¯m an open door. Although, I''m not going to allow you to trick me into practically doing your homework for you. One more scheme like that and I''ll never help you again.¡± I give a stern glance to Lexi and walk up to mom and neatly place the dirty dishes next to her. ¡°Thanks again for the food mom.¡± I give a routine kiss on the cheek and a nod to my father and head out the door. This is our usual routine every morning. Think of it like a good luck parting. Behind me, I can hear the scrambling praises of my parents over my conduct, and the hurried panic of my little sister who I left behind. I walk down the sidewalk and stare at the sky. I commute to school on foot, as it is a good 15 minutes away from her, 5 by car. I also find it relaxing to walk and breathe the fresh air of my neighborhood. We live in a nice suburban development. It¡¯s neat and orderly, and all the neighbors are good people. It¡¯s a beautiful place really ¨C the shrubs, trees, and flowery included. With the disorganized steps behind me getting louder and the sound of cars slowly drifting beside me, I close my eyes and take it all in. I continue walking down the sidewalk towards school. I continue thinking about the news. The deaths. It¡¯s a no-brainer to connect those cases to the dungeons. Immediate death upon sleep over a wide area of people with no obvious connections¡­ Behind me, I hear a sudden yelp. I shake my head. Dad, slow down. You¡¯re really going to hurt yourself at this rate. 7 - Exam Isitidly in my chair. With a hand propped under my chin, elbow on the desk, and my other hand spinning a pencil, I neatly scribble in the last answer to the test. After checking over my paper twice and ensuring there are no errors, I put down my pencil and sigh. Around me, the other students are focused immensely on their papers. I recline and observe the tense scenario. Only the sound of lead scratching and paper flipping can be heard. Otherwise, silence. Everyone¡¯s in test mode ¨C some in better focus than others. This is the math accumulated units exam, summarizing everything we learned in the first four units plus some prerequisites. This is probably the biggest test we¡¯ve taken in this class so far and alone this test accounts for 10% of our quarter 3 grade, which doesn¡¯t seem like a lot, but actually is massive considering it¡¯s a single grade. Hence, the extra diligence. I was and am completely prepared. Right now I¡¯m studying quarter 4 unit 6 material, and since this is a unit 1-4 exam, the material covered in the first two-quarters and early third quarter, all I needed to do was brush up on some formulas and with some practice problems and then I was completely prepared. This test was a breeze, to put ithighly. I take a deep breath, which didn¡¯t seem to blend with the 20-some other students practically holding theirs. Ding~ Ding~. The school bell rings, signifying the end of2ndperiod and now lunchtime. ¡°Time¡¯s up! All students, put down your pencils. Pass the tests forward,¡± the teacher says. Sighs of relief and some out of frustrationarebeing let out all at once. The shuffling of paper and tapping of pencils finalizes this somewhat grand event, and soon the teacher had all the papers. The common link between all the sighs were tinges ofanticipation. The teacher flips through the papers, skimming each one. He stops at one, then smiles. He looks up at the class. ¡°Make sure you work on the homework discussed earlier in class today. Reassessments are happening next week, make sure you book a time atthe meeting''s log. Have a good lunch, everyone. Also,¡± the teacher looks at me. The rest of the class¡¯ gazes follow with some people already getting up and leaving the classroom for lunch. ¡°I would like to see Ely Codeman. Please come up when you¡¯re ready.¡± People begin chattering all around me. I spare no time walking up to the teacher, ignoring the glances aimed at me. ¡°Yes, Mr. Hoffman, what is it?¡± I say stately. ¡°Well, Mr. Codeman, I have to say: I¡¯m impressed. I justlooked overyour test quickly and it looks superb!¡± My teacher, Mr. Hoffman, pulls out one particular packet out of the stack and displays it his hands, clear for the world to see. ¡°I didn¡¯t look into the specifics yet, but everything looks really good. All the work is shown, plus you¡¯ve provided all alternative ways to solve each problem. Even the bonus question, which covers late quarter 3 material, is done fantastically. Everything looks accurate, and neat as well. That¡¯s dedication. I have no doubt you aced this exam, which is a hard thing, you know. My tests are notoriously hard. In general, you''ve really stepped it up this quarter. Your interim grades recently were really amazing as well.¡± Voices begin to pick up again around me. I heard a variety of ¡®oohs¡¯ and ¡®ahs¡¯. It''s a bit embarrassing, to be honest. I¡¯m still not used to such public praise. Earlier in the day, my English teacher complimented me on my written report, and in gym class, I ran more laps than I usually do, which garnered praise from the gym teacher. Physical training¡¯s paying off, though, not in the way I expected. I guess you could call this a good day, but still, it¡¯s different than how I imagined - the fruits of my labor I mean. I suppose every day''s like that in some form or fashion, never within complete expectation. ¡°Well done, Ely.¡± The teacher smiles and returns to his desk, immersing himself in his work on his computer. ¡°Thank you. It¡¯s an honor,¡± I humbly respond. I walk back to my seat, enduring the looks of the remaining students and some students who have just walked in to have lunch with their friends. In our school, we have a 1-hour lunch period where you¡¯re free to wander the halls and classrooms. It¡¯s fairly unrestricted, with the main rule being there has to be some adult supervisor on the premises. Otherwise, it¡¯s all open. At my seat, there''s a certain someone waiting for me with a thumbs up. ¡°Heyo, Mr. Mathematician,¡± Mark says playfully. ¡°Hey Mark,¡± I ignore his underlying intentions and respond stately. ¡°Seriously, though. What happened to you in the lastfew weeks? I knew you were smart, but not this smart.¡± ¡°Thanks, Mark. I can always count on you to believe in me.¡± ¡°No problem!¡± Mark winks at me andsends another thumbs up my way. I shake my head. I smile back at him and he meets my smile with a wide grin. ¡°I¡¯m shocked. Not only did you surpass my grades, you even brought up all your grades to an A-plus. In the first quarter, you only had middle-to-low B''s, but now, you¡¯re in the top percentile of top students. That¡¯s mind-blowing. Seriously, what happened to you? Before you didn¡¯t care, but now, you seem to be going all out. Did you finally realize that you¡¯re lacking in life and that slacking in school won¡¯t pay off in the future?¡± I look at Mark andscrunch my eyebrows. ¡°No, Mark, for your information, I didn¡¯t ¡®realize¡¯ that. No, I don¡¯t feel my life is lacking. I just feel like being diligent and working hard, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Just like that? Do you have any specific colleges you want to go to?¡± ¡°No, I didn¡¯t think about that either. Although now that you mentioned it, I should. I mean, we should; we¡¯re juniors already.¡± ¡°Yep. In no time, we¡¯ll become seniors.¡± Mark glances around him through the corners of his eyes. ¡°Also, you¡¯ve become pretty popular.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask indifferently. ¡°You seriously haven¡¯t noticed it? Ever since I walked in, peoples¡¯ eyes were glued to you.¡± Mark moves closer to me and whispers in a hushed voice only we could hear. ¡°Even right now, some people are talking about you. Listen.¡± I follow what Mark said and focus carefully. I begin to subtly hear the conversations of some of the surrounding classmates. Male and female classmates alikeare chatting discreetly. ¡°That¡¯s Ely Codeman right? From honors literature?¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. Mr. Hoffman just said he might¡¯ve aced his test.¡± ¡°No way! Aced? One of Mr. Hoffman¡¯s tests? When has that ever happened?¡± ¡°10 years ago, I think. It¡¯s an urban legend.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not confirmed yet. But still, it¡¯s nothing to shed over.¡± ¡°You think he can tutor me? My mom¡¯s been getting up on my grill because of my grades.¡± ¡°Dude, I don¡¯t know. He seems out of our league.¡± ¡°Has Ely always been this way?¡± "I heard that he''s rising up on the quarterly rankings. Judging from what I''ve heard from students in the student council and some faculty, he''s most likely broken into the top 10!" ¡°Eh? Really? Dang, he¡¯s so smart!¡± I realized what Mark was talking about. I could hear the chatter, but I never paid it any mind. I had no idea I was being thought of this way. Also, an urban legend, really? This is a first for me¡­ And you, the person who asked for tutoring, study harder ¨C then your grades will go up. You barely pay attention in class at all, firstly. "Oi!" Mr. Hoffman interjects. He sweeps across the room with his eyes, landing on one person in particular. "Dustin, don''t complain about your grades. Be like Ely and step it up. Pay attention in class andactually turn in your homework, then your grades will go up. Got it?" "Y-yes Mr. Hoffman," Dustin, who''s also in my math the class, the class previous, replies submissively. Mr. Hoffman''s a very assertive figure with a vigorous stare and a very authoritative voice when he''s serious, and can easily make any student feel uncomfortable, pressured at the least. I shake my head in preconceived grief. Mark continues, ¡°You hear it now? It was like this during my English class last period. Mrs. Hasson was complimenting you in class today. Even a few days ago, I heard some people mention you, and how you¡¯re climbing the quarterly ranks. You¡¯ve changed. Keep it up, man. Haha, now people will regret not getting to know you for the last two quarters!¡± I blush. I really am no good in these types of situations. ¡°It''s a new quarter, so for everyone, the plate''s fresh. I just upped the ante starting third quarter. Rivenburg high school also offers a generous amount of extra opportunities to boost your grades. That plus doing well on all the tests and quizzes and classwork and homework, and making up any lost points with extra credit and reassessments when available ¨C it¡¯s formulaic.¡± I stop myself short. I feel like I¡¯m spoiling the secrets to some easy trick that teachers HATE, even though it¡¯s just the standardmethod behindthe results. Jokes aside, I meet Mark¡¯s praise frankly. ¡°Thanks, Mark,¡± I sayrespectfully. ¡°No problem man. Even though you were a pitiful loner for the past 10 years I¡¯ve known you, things are finally changing for the better! Great job man.¡± ¡°¡­ Thanks.¡± ¡°To be honest, it was kind of pathetic. I know that you honestly prefer to be alone and that you¡¯ve survived perfectly fine to this point, but it was kind of hard on me too, you know? Back in grade school, people were all like, ¡®Eww, why are you hanging with the classmime? He never talks.¡¯ And I was like ¡®Hey guys, that¡¯s rude, he¡¯s actually a pretty cool person once you get to know him¡¯. And they were like ¡®Shut-¡° ¡°Okay, you can stop now Mark.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± Mark hands me a boxed lunch. Despite what most people think of high school cafeteria food, Rivenburg high school actually offers some pretty good food. They serve actual, fresh food, and their menu is very diverse. There¡¯s a lot of variety. One of their servicesinclude boxed lunches, which are convenient and have different things each day. Mark usually buys my lunch for me. I try paying him back, but he never accepts my cash. In this sense, he¡¯s a good friend. Yep, a good friend. ¡°Hey Ely, I just bought the new Phantasm DLC that came out today. It¡¯s absolutely amazing. They raised the level cap and added a whole bunch of new items and monsters. When are you going to be online? We can co-op through it. I didn¡¯t progress too much into the storyline yet. Knowing you, you must¡¯ve probably beat it by now. But then again, you¡¯ve been so focused on school. When do you find time to play nowadays?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡± I admit honestly. ¡°I¡¯ve held back on games recently. I¡¯ve been more focused on school and¡­ umm¡­ physical training.¡± Mark drops his jaw in disbelief. ¡°No way¡­ You..?Youstoppedplaying games? That¡¯s unbelievable. And you¡¯re also still exercising?¡± That was one of the things that connected me to Mark. It started with our love for old JRPGs. We¡¯ve been friends ever since. Other kids had no interest in such an old, niche subject. Due to Mark¡¯s family circumstances, all he ever had were old games and systems, if any at all. He had a unique love for the old 8-bit Phantasm games. That was where our friendship started. The Phantasm DLC he was referring to earlier pertains to the most recent game, "Raising Knights", which along with the game system was my gift to him last Christmas. Unfortunately, with his situation, there would''ve been no other way he would''vehad access to such "modern-day luxuries"... But despite our many gaps, our love for all things Phantasm stays. ¡°Yes, I am. I haven''t given up on it entirely, I''m just taking a break so I can focus on school.¡± I look away awkwardly but speak honestly. ¡°¡­ You¡¯ve changed.¡± ¡°¡­¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Not only that, you even changed your look significantly. You got a new haircut and a lot of new clothes too. Not only are you smart, but you¡¯re shaping up stylistically as well.¡± The other day, I prompted my family to bring me to a professional barber to fix my hair as well as shop for new clothes ¨C practically replacing my wardrobe. I reasoned it was about time, since I''m changing myself I might as well go all out. My mother was reluctant at first, but after I mentioned the whole reward subject for my interim grades, she jumped aboard. My little sister was ecstatic, too ecstatic, actually. She¡¯s all about fashion and stylizing, and in the past, she¡¯s always pressured me to dress up and ¡®look suave¡¯. I let her takeinitiativeof the whole drive since she¡¯s the knowledgeable one, and since she said she had the "hook-up" on men''s clothing. Mom and I were wary at first, but in the end, she wasn''t kidding; her connections saved us a great deal - time, money, and stress.My sister is also fairly stylish herself. If it weren¡¯t for her inherent messiness and sloppiness, she¡¯d be a picturesque girl. I guess that¡¯s another thing I¡¯ve been blessed with. With my family comes our decent looks - it''s not Graham level amazing, but it''s definitely workable. I¡¯ve never thought about it too much since I¡¯ve been so preoccupied with just getting by in honors in school and playing games. But, I really am thankful. ¡®Good looks¡¯ aren¡¯t necessarily important, and it doesn¡¯t take much for anyone to be stunning no matter their physical appearance, I believe, but in our adolescent age, I¡¯m appreciative of this detail. The whole ordeal cost a lot of money, but my parents didn''t seem to mind. I guess me asking for something other than games is something foreign to my family, so they embraced the new feeling. My father on the sidelines just didn¡¯t care. He¡¯s only concerned with two things ¨C good coffee, and good suits. Once I start talking either, then he will engage. Unfortunately, he doesn¡¯t share my joy for cookies and JRPGs, and I don¡¯t share his enjoyment of piping hot black coffee and voluntary nooses around my neck (ties).He''s a thorough businessman, all in all, raised by his father who was raised by his father - and so on. At least when the time comes when I need to look professional, I know who to call. And when my father inexplicably finds himself in a bakery struggling over what to get, he knows who to call. Spoiler alert: cookies, that¡¯s what I¡¯ll tell him. And a whole lot of them, too. But I digress. The result of the whole endeavor was a closet filled with trendy millennial clothes and lots of exquisite moving rubber hair gel. ¡®Millennial clothing¡¯ is too harsh. I actually have to give props to my little sister. All the stuff she picked out was actually really nice looking ¨C it puts my former wardrobe to shame, and this is a person who¡¯s never paid any mind toclothing. I ended up with a polished black look with an eye-brow length side-swept fringe and a dark, short, clipped side with a step detail hairstyle. I have lots of elegant yet casual clothing, and in all honesty, it makes me look like I just came out of a K-Pop photo-shoot. It''s a love-and-hate sort of thing. ¡°You really have changed, Ely.¡± Mark stands back helplessly. ¡°I guess I have.¡± I don''t know what else to say. We continue having lunch and talking about stuff. Despite the initial differences, we¡¯re still the same people. It doesn¡¯t change the fact that we¡¯ve known each other for 10 years, and we both love Phantasm, despite my fall-off. We have no shortage of things to discuss. It''s like nothing changed at all, even though my world''s changed significantly. ¡°I¡¯ll throw out our trash. Be right back.¡± Mark steps off and waves off to me. ¡°Hey, hold up!¡± I try calling out to him, but he''s already gone. He always does this, throwing away our trash on his own. Since he buys my food, the least I could do is throw away our trash, but he doesn¡¯t even let me do that. He insists he will do it. I always try to find an opening to do it for him, but he¡¯s always a step ahead. ¡°Sheesh. What am I going to do with you?¡± Irecline back into my chair and smilehelplessly myself. Suddenly, I hear approaching footsteps. I turn my head and look up. It¡¯s Mia, the class representative. ¡°Err¡­ H-hey Ely. Mr. Hoffman just finished grading the papers¡­¡± Mia says timidly. ¡°Hmm? Oh, already, that was quick,¡± I respond normally. ¡°Ah? Yeah! Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± Mia starts fumbling over her words awkwardly. She seems to be turning red. ¡°Class rep, are you okay? You seem to be flushing.¡± I start getting concerned. I¡¯ve been taking online courses infirst aid and other medical basics. Flushing or turning red usual signifies fever. ¡°Huh? Oh, umm, s-sorry! I¡¯m totally fine! It¡¯s okay, totally!¡± She starts flailing her arms around in an attempt to signify that she''s okay. She only becomes redder. I begin to get genuinely worried. My smile drops. ¡°Mia, excuse me, but allow me to check something.¡± I put my hand to her forehead. Her face flushes even more. She stands there dumbfounded with a shocked expression. ¡°W-w-w-w-w-ha-¡° I pull back. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry. I was just checking to see if you have a fever. You have tobe serious about these things.¡± I wear a deliberate and concerned expression. ¡°Please forgive me for imposing on you. Fortunately, it¡¯s nothing of the sort.¡± ¡°Huh? I-It''s okay...¡± Mia steps back and hits her arm against a chair, dropping all the papers. The stack separates and messily scatters all over the floor. ¡°A-ah¡­ I-I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright. Let me help you.¡± Together, we pick up the papers. Shortly thereafter, all the papers are back in a neat stack on the desk. ¡°Be more careful. Not only with the papers, but you yourself. It¡¯d be bad if you were to get seriously hurt due to unawareness,¡± I reprimand her. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry,¡± she apologizes earnestly. I smile. ¡°Well, as long as you know. May I have my test back?¡± I point toward the single paper in her hands. She stands there in a daze staring at me. I sit there confused and lock my gaze. She hurriedly looks away. ¡°Ah! Yes, yes. Umm¡­ here¡­¡± Mia hands me my test. ¡°Thank you.¡± I take the paper orderly. I read the top. 105%. ¡°C-Congratulations on the test grade.¡± Mia awkwardly praises me. ¡°Thank you very much. You too. You must¡¯ve gotten a 105% as well on this test, didn¡¯t you?¡± I ask. ¡°Actually, only a 98% this time. I missed the bonus and a single question, unfortunately. B-but next time! I won¡¯t lose to you, okay?¡± Suddenly, she became earnest. A light shines in her eyes. I laugh lightly. She¡¯s taken aback. I look at her and smile honestly. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to that.¡± ¡°Huh? Umm¡­ yeah¡­¡± Mia finally smiles. Mia¡¯s our class representative. She has the top grades in our class, even now, her grades cumulatively are higher than mine. She¡¯s a very diligent student, in the top 10, maybe even 5 in our grade, but also very timid. I never see her with anybodybesideswhen she''s engaged in her class duties. We¡¯re both reserved in our own ways. But, unlike me, she¡¯s always been diligent. She¡¯s a good girl, a fantastic student, characterized by her intricate and unique braid and large glasses that accentuates her small face. Today, she¡¯s wearing a cute frilly long sleeve and jeans; conservative set of clothing that doesn''t expose much skin, compared to other girls. I really do wonder why she isn¡¯t closely acquainted with anyone. Unlike me, she¡¯s a wonderful girl, albeit a bit shy. It makes me wonder about the order of high-school society, although that¡¯s not a mystery I¡¯m going to wrap my head around. Mia begins to walk back the other way, back to her seat. She stops midway and turns around suddenly. ¡°T-Thank you¡­ for being, umm¡­ concerned about me¡­¡± Mia thanks me genuinely. I look at her and blush slightly. Only now did I realize how beautiful she was. My heart skips a beat, but Isomehow regain my composure. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. I just did what I thought I should.¡± I never really talked to her that much during the past two quarters. In fact, I never really talked to anyone outside of Mark. Unlike her, I had a faithful friend. I don¡¯t know much about her, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever had anybody like Mark is to me. I feel saddened at the thought. ¡°Hey Mia,¡± I call out to her. ¡°Y-Yes!¡± Sheturns red again. ¡°Sometime, not now, but would you like to hold a study session together? For our next upcoming exam?¡± Mia stands there shocked. She looks down and twiddles her fingers innocently. ¡°Y-Yes! I-if you¡¯re okay with me¡­¡± She smiles the second most beautiful smile I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. The second... I wash away the thought and again try to regain composure."Remember Graham!"I mentally speak to myself. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll contact you sometime later so we can discuss it.¡± I pull out a small half sheet of paper and scribble some numbers. I pick up the paper and hand it to Mia. ¡°Here¡¯s my phone number. Text me whenever you feel like it.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± Mia suddenly says enthusiastically, raising her voice. You can just feel the innocence. I guess this is how it feels to finally make a friend, to get someone¡¯s phone number. I remember back in middle school fantasizing about those things. And likewise, to reach out to someone feels, Nice. Really nice. Awfully so. Mia takes the paper and bows aptly. She makes her way to her seat, making slight glances my way. After sitting in her chair, she stared at the paper wholeheartedly, with sparkles in her eyes. This girl¡­ Ican''t help but smile. I sit back in my chair. After that whole ordeal, I feel as if all my stamina is sapped. That took more mental strength than I thought. After thinking through what I just did, I cringe in my seat. What what whatwhat whatdid I just do? With the phone number and the papers and the fever check... I think back to my previous actions... I can''t believe I so casually acted in such a daring manner! If it wasn''t a fever, it... What? Ah.... I begin to turn red. I bury my head in my hands discreetly. Only now do I realize the gravity of what I''vecommitted and my folly in my lack of realizationin regards to what would be blatant common sense to any other high or even middle functioning member ofsecondary education society... You know I''m really flustered when I begin to speak borderline jargon... I¡¯ve... I''ve never done such things in my life! Haha! Wow! When did I become so shameless? Oh yes! My phone! I get to actually use my phone for things besides reading and checking status updates on Phantasm servers! Is this how it feels to be social? I never did really get to experience pro-active texting and/or calling with peers. My only real contacts are my family, and it''s unfortunate that Graham doesn''t have a phone... I take a deep breath in and out. Cool down... Draw out my inner Graham... I suppose... the real innocent one is me. I steal a glance back at Mia''s seat to see if she saw any of my embarrassingmishaps, and I am greeted by her turning her head and glancing back at me... I panic and look away. I think she did the same but I reflexively turned my head too quickly for me to see or process if I did see. Ah! Graham, where are you when I need you... ¡°Yo wassup, I¡¯m back.¡± Mark finally pops in, drawing the gazes of the crowd like he usually does. His casual entrance and break from the imagined tension allows me to snap back into motion. I cool down with some subtle deep breaths finally and fortunately. ¡°Sorry about the delay, I just remembered I had to drop by a teacher for something. Yo, you okay? You look less miserable thanusua-¡° I glare at him. ¡°-I mean happier than usual. Yeah, that¡¯s it.¡± Mark cooly covers up his blunder and slides my way. ¡°I guess... I do." I refresh my state of mind and have successfully returned to ground zero. I take another breath in. "Hmm¡­ take a guess,¡± Isuggestwith sudden, brash confidence. Mark appears confusedmomentarily thencommits to looking around. He walks in between the rows and circles around. He stands in front of the class and surveys the area. His face suddenly lights up and a stupid grin covers his face. He walks over to me and laughs heartily, too heartily in fact that it could be easily heard outside. ¡°Hey, you there, stop being so loud,¡± Mr. Hoffman interjects. ¡°Sorry,¡± Mark apologizes empathetically. Yikes. Mr. Hoffman is stern as usual. Mark turns towards me. ¡°I was wondering when you would come around and talk to her already. I always thought you would make good friends. Nice job man.¡± Mark fist-bumps my arm. He didn''t tease me like he usually does, he just genuinely congratulated me. I breathe out resignedly. ¡°Thanks, man.¡± I uncharacteristically mimic him likewise with a fist bump of my own. It might¡¯ve been something small, something generous, and something different, but it was something that the past me couldn¡¯t do. To reach out to someone and befriend them. And also be so cringingly shameless but let''s forget about that shall we - off with the middle school memories you go! Yep, yep... I grin subtlety and look out the window, while Mark is rambling about the new Phantasm DLC besides me. The sun is shining through the clouds, peeking its little head over the edges. The dew on the grass has more or less subsided, and the cool temperatures complement the peaceful atmosphere. This wonderful school and family life - I never thought I''d wish it''d never end... We spend the rest of the lunch like so. The bell rings and we return to class. The rest of the class get their test scores back, with looks of shock and surprise and relief and disbelief over their grades and the fact that Mr. Hoffman was able to get our tests back before the end of class. Mr. Hoffman teaches both honors Pre-Calculus and gifted Algebra II, which is a more advanced and in-depth Algebra II class with lots of Trigonometry and harder, more intricate equations and rules. The first is required for juniors, and the second is optional. Guidance, or the staff in charge of scheduling and other miscellaneous tasks, configured it so that most people who have both honors Pre-Calc and gifted Algebra II have it on the same days, in both 2ndperiod and 3rdperiod with Mr. Hoffman, so for both our A-day class is the same class with the same teacher. Both math classes are popular choices for honors students. I opted for those classes because I generally enjoy math more and I¡¯m more proficient at math than my other subjects, which is why I was able to pull my math grades ahead with relative ease. Rivenburg High runs an A-day/B-day schedule, where periods 1-4 are on A-days and periods 5-8 are on B-days. They''re not officially called A or B-days, but the name just kind of stuck with teachers and students and no-one knows what the actual name of the school days are called, as there is one but it was lost with time, possibly another school mystery in cahoots with the "urban legends". After some congratulating by the class and Mr. Hoffman for my perfect test grade and following that my humble acceptance, the day moved on per usual. Yep, time for the school day to end. I meet up with my little sister and say goodbye to Mark. I notice Mia who waspeeking throughthe hallways and I say goodbye to her as well. She timidly responds back and rushes out the other way. My little sister Lexi teases me on the way home and I ignore her, continuing to look at the sky and taking in the peaceful beauty of nature. The breeze and cold temperatures feel good ¨C it doesn¡¯t get too cold around here, despite being winter, and is often just right. Today is that type of day. Cold enough to feel good but not cold enough to freeze your socks off. That would be a terrifying mental image actually. Imagine it being so cold that your socks actually freeze off your feet. Logic doesn¡¯t permit it. I still think it is an amusing thought. Yet again, I digress. I finally get home. I greet my mother, who¡¯s taking a break from housework and watching T.V. I eat a quick snack and then I head upstairs. I study future material, review current material, then I exercise. I¡¯ve been steadily increasing my exercise intensity and time. I spend about35 minutes exercising each day, starting with 20 minutesthree weeks ago. It¡¯s not that much, because of how initially weak my body was and still is, but with time results will show. I¡¯m still unsure whether it carries over to the dream dungeon. I know for sure clothes don¡¯t; my hair is still the same in the dungeon - long and messy- and other miscellaneous happenings to my body in the real world don¡¯t carry over either. I¡¯ve also been exercising in the dungeon as well, and it¡¯s better too because in the dungeon you don¡¯t get hungry or thirsty ¨C not entirely. I do know for sure that drinking water does replenish your strength. I¡¯ve already started a routine here in the real world, so it¡¯s beneficial if I keep it up. Doesn¡¯t hurt to build physical strength in both worlds ¨C you never know when you might need it. Finally, I work on my online medical course, which is a program offered by the local community college. I¡¯m scheduled for a "hands-on" skills test in a few weeks, so Iprepare for that too. I¡¯ve always been proficient at studying in my life, something my sister hasn¡¯t picked up on, but back then I never had the drive to work hard, or definitely not as much as I could. Before I allocated my technical focus on games - Phantasm and the like - and for those purposes, it''s paid off. But things have changed, in many more ways than one. Even if things haven¡¯t really changed, I¡¯m going to be the one to change them. Never ever will I allow a tragedy to occur in front of me. Never ever. I can''t. I promise. I''ll grow strong enough. Until that day... After an exhausting 6 hours of (non-continuous) work, I eat dinner, switch into more comfortable sleeping clothes, put away my glasses, ready for bed, and then doze into a peaceful¡­ Sleep¡­ .. . I wake up, in the dream dungeon. I frown. Hello again, my old friend. 8 - Ringing I see the familiar ceiling - or the lack thereof, shrouded in faint darkness. Cold, hard ground, earthen smell ¨C the usual. I turn my body and arc up. Graham is sitting against the wall away from me reading a spell book. It¡¯s a new spellbook we received from a two-star room we recently conquered. The monsters there if I recall correctly were skeleton centaurs of somekind,or some sort of undead centaur. That and skeleton knights combined. The room was tricky to navigate, as there were visible pitfalls leading to spikes at every square meter, so we had to be very careful. The horse legs or semblance of the monsters navigated with nimbly leaped over the holes effortlessly, so we initially had quite an amount of trouble. We would¡¯ve been in more danger if Graham didn¡¯t have the 1-star earth spell he learned recently, form ground, which can, coincidentally, form an earthen foothold the size of a square meter. All he had to do was cover the surrounding pitfalls, and we were able to fully focus on the monsters and eventually win. Each foothold lasts a good 5 minutes, which is plenty of time for me to bash their skeleton skulls in with Ringarde. It was bloodlessly spectacular, mate. Jokes aside, the room provided very generous rewards. 3 spell books, the usual potion refillment, a mace that incurs both poison and paralyzation, an ¡®official guide to dungeon apparel¡¯ book, some gloves that have elemental resistance, and a box of ingredients - for which I assume would be for alchemy. We received a lot from this room. The three spell books were all fire type, which was great for Graham - not so great for me - and were all 2-star spell books. The first spell wasgreaterflame pulse, which fires a large fire ring in the direction you point it at, and you can control the pulse of the ring and therefore the size. The second spell was suffocating smoke screen, which generates a large cloud of ash thatcan notonly blind the enemy but suffocate them. The only requirement is that they must be living, so no undeads. The third isflamethrower, which is self-explanatory. It¡¯s more useful than fireball since it shoots out more fire in a larger range, but it also consumes a lot more mana, so there are trade-offs. It¡¯s taking Graham a while to learn each spell ¨C he hasn¡¯t learned one yet ¨C but he assures me he can do it. I put my trust in him. That, and my envy, because those are some amazing spells, wow, why can¡¯t I learn fire magic? The mace is also self-explanatory. It¡¯s a very flexible mace that has a special coating on the blade. One small cut and you¡¯re hit with poison and paralyzation both. The poison only works on living monsters, but the paralyzation actually works on undead monsters too, so that¡¯s interesting. The gloves are also self-explanatory, as in they resist elements such as fire, ice, electricity, etc. if someone, say, wanted to wield a magma sword or something of that nature. Right now, itserves no use to us, but I had Graham wear it anyway just because. The fire spells Graham wields don¡¯t actually hurt the user, but still, just in case, I let Graham wear it. If we ever come across a weapon imbued with magical essence, then these gloves would be rightly needed. In the least, it makes him look more stylish and professional, so that¡¯s a plus. The box of ingredients was filled with stuff we couldn¡¯t identify. Odd mushrooms, flora, and other such materials. They may be useful in the future, so I had it stored in my satchel bag that I carry with me. At some point, I hope we will run into some ¡®official¡¯ apothecary book. I never was the type of person to delve into that area in games, but it might be interesting. It could and will at least fill in the hole that my incapability for magic leaves. The ¡®official guide to dungeon apparel¡¯ book¡¯s the most interesting of them all. It¡¯s an introductory book to the dungeon apparel found in loot chests. It¡¯s apparently ¡®official¡¯, which gives the book its creditability, withit also having the same insignia stamped on its cover as present on my adventurer''s garb. It details all sorts of varieties of gear ranging from robes to tunics to garbs to face gear like masks and even modern-styled clothing. Some of the apparel was completely new and original ¨C stuff that you don¡¯t see normally in games ¨C that look honestly amazing. It made me question why they weren¡¯t in games beforehand, truthfully. I clicked my tongue once more in response to how much attention to detail this dungeon master, or whoever it is, is paying. Reading it was like reading a fashion magazine. One thing explicitly mentioned was the grading system. Apparel too has a system of ranks, from 1-5. With that knowledge, it¡¯s safe to assume other aspects of the dungeon such as alchemy and maybe blacksmithing if there is range from 1-5 star qualities as well. Considering this dungeon master, there most likely is. It was a lot to take in, but it was all very useful. Not always will we run into such a "treasure mine", and new additions to our supply as well as new information are always welcome. We need everything we can get to survive. Also, our current apparel is all one-star gear, besides Graham¡¯s slick gloves, including my garb and Graham¡¯s minimalistic robe - which, by the way, also has the dungeon''s insignia, as all the dungeon apparel received as loot do. Besides me, Graham is reading the flamethrower spellbook, which he claimed earlier would be the easiest to start off with. After sitting up, I walk up to him,who¡¯sstill immersed in the book. He finally notices my arrival and gets up. ¡°Hello again,¡± Graham says. He looks indifferent and focused. As usual, he crosses his arms and tilts his head uncaringly. ¡°I¡¯m back.¡± I quickly check my materials to make sure everything¡¯s there. Anything that you don¡¯t necessarily ¡®equip¡¯ isn¡¯t "brought" with you when you leave the dungeon. By that, I mean if you leave the dungeon without ¡®equipping¡¯ the item, it gets left behind in the dungeon. ¡®Equipping¡¯ only means that you have to have in in your current possession, more specifically, that you have to be touching it, or be in contact with it, for it to be "equipped". I¡¯m cautious to check that everything¡¯s still with me when I wakeup,so that I didn¡¯t leave anything behind. One time I left my potion belt beside me "unequipped" and upon leaving the dungeon and re-entering, I almost progressed to the next room with Graham leaving it behind. It¡¯s especially dangerous since someone can steal an item you might leave behind while you¡¯re away. ¡°How are you doing with the spell?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m making progress.¡± Graham nods to me and then invests himself in the book. ¡°It¡¯s more complicated than I thought. It¡¯s more about the ''muscle memory'' than it is about regular technique. I have to become more proficient with one-star spells before I can really grasp the next level. I¡¯m still looking into things and testing some stuff. Rest assured, I¡¯ll get there eventually. It shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± ¡°That¡¯s reassuring. Do you still have the other spellbooks in your satchel?¡± Graham nods. ¡°I still do. The other four spell books are in there.¡± Graham looked up at me. ¡°Are you looking to practice magic again?¡± ¡°No, not really. I¡¯m just checking.¡± I start off the day, or rather the night, by warming up. Some stretches and some practice swings to get my body into the right condition. I continue with a light exercise and a weapon test. As always, Cheryl and Ringarde perform fantastically. ¡°Hey, be careful there. If you hit too hard against the wall, you might cave us in.¡± ¡°Sorry! I¡¯ll be careful.¡± Of course, these dungeon walls, despite looking ordinary, are surprisingly sturdy. I guess this is to prevent room vandalism or something. As far as I know, or we know, you can¡¯t do significant damage to the room floors, ceilings, and walls, but to the other environmentalimitations, such as lake biomes and trees, if there are any, we suppose you could. Even though I made that dent with the stone back then, I still didn¡¯t cause any significant damage. I don¡¯t suppose you could at all. We returned back there while we were heading to refill our spring water supply a time previous, and the dent was gone. It must¡¯ve regenerated or something. After some light training, I engage in the real workout. It¡¯s primarily physical exercises of various kinds. Graham works on his physical body as well but prioritizes his magic training. Normally, that is, he would, actually, but ever since getting those spell books, he¡¯s immersed himself in it, leaving no time for his regular physical training. I leave him to his devices. An hour passes and we are ready. I take a drink of spring water which we recently refreshed. It is revitalizing as always. Cold water after a hard workout really does well for the body. ¡°Are you alright there, Ely? You¡¯re sweating puddles over there.¡± Graham walks up to me with a concerned expression. He¡¯s not nearly as out of breath as me, but I can tell he is sweating quite a bit himself. ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­ I¡¯m¡­ alright,¡± I pant heavily. ¡°Don¡¯t overwork yourself. You always start off the expedition with such a heavy workout. I know you can replenish yourself with water and potions, but still, be careful there.¡± Graham crosses his arms and tilts his head, trying to hide his worry. ¡°T¡­Thanks. I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± After we both cool down, we begin gathering our materials lying about and ready ourselves to progress yet again into the mystery and danger of the dream dungeon. ¡°You got everything together?¡± Graham ask. ¡°Yep. Ready when you are,¡± I respond. I sling my satchel over my back and pick up Cheryl. Suddenly, we hear a ring. Ding Dong Bing Bong. It¡¯s the dungeon announcer. ¡°Hey hey hey hey hey! How are you doing? My, there are a lot fewer people here than there were a couple days ago. I might have to replenish the supply.¡± It¡¯s the same smooth oration that betrays its notion of deep and contrastingly low tones. ¡°Anyways, it¡¯s that time of day again! Or should I say night, for those currently occupied in thedungeon.As always, it will be personally broadcasted to those not currently present! Congratulations, the third boss room has been conquered! The conqueror is 18-year-old Justus Stone! Please give a round of applause to this dungeon¡¯s first 3-star boss room conqueror!¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Cue the awkward pause. Graham, who¡¯s staring at the pages of the spell book fixed on the ground, begins clapping routinely and unwarily. He looks up at me and, realizing his sudden folly, stops clapping and coughs awkwardly. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s ahabit atgeneral meetings,¡± Graham coolly recovers. He tilts his head and draws his attention to the announcement. ¡°That¡¯s the third boss room in the span of three weeks! What an accomplishment, considering all the current boss room conquerors are so young - under their 20s! Ah, youth! What a time it is to be alive! Such a cherry blossomed time of romance and coming of age¡­ No offense to you older people. You can just lie down and die! Hahaha!¡± A deep laugh fills the room, resonating with my body. It sends chills through my spine. ¡°That was, of course, a joke,¡± it continues. ¡°I would never encourage death! I¡¯m not sick, nor mental. I am mentally extravagant, though. That is, to say, I''m brilliant, haha! But enough about me. As always, be careful! Death creeps up on the unsuspecting and the weak, so be neither! That¡¯s the best advice I can provide. I am curious to see how things will develop. Do well to entertain me! That might be a little crude, I apologize. Here¡¯s a tip for a certain lawyer and adolescent ¨C be very careful about the next room, or you¡¯ll regret it! Heed this warning. You know who you are.¡± What? Is¡­ is that referring to Graham and me? We stare at each other with wide eyes and confusion mixed with disbelief. ¡°To the newest conqueror, again, congratulations! 3-star boss loot is something to behold. It¡¯s needless to say that the higher tier rooms you conquer, the better the loot. 4-star rooms are something to absolutely fear upon! And five-star loot is practically cheating! Heehee, I just can''t wait for the spicy events occurring in the future! Stay tuned for future updates. As always,gooooooodluck!¡± The voice subsides. Graham and I continue staring at each other. ¡°Hey, do you think-?¡± I vaguely ask. ¡°There¡¯s a chance,¡± Mark vaguely responds. ¡°And if it is-?¡± I continue. ¡°That¡¯s irrelevant. We¡¯re always wary. There¡¯s no need to reiterate it.¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± We never explicitly state the subject, yet our conversation carries through. I guess this is how it is for people on similar wavelengths. Graham and I do think somewhat alike. ¡°Hey Graham, how¡¯s the report doing on your end?¡± I ask. ¡°Oh, I forgot to mention it earlier. I got the results in today.¡± What I mentioned concerns the news that was broadcasted half a week ago. The news about the cardiac arrest and the immediate brain shut down. Graham and I grimly discussed it, he himself agreed things are odd. He suggested that he could reach out to his friends in the medical business again and inquire the details to confirm it. It¡¯s been two weeks since I¡¯ve met Graham and half a week since the news was made. ¡°Both of them confirmed it.¡± Graham¡¯s face darkens leaving a solemn expression. ¡°They confirmed it was both cardiac arrest and an immediate brain shut down. No correlation between the victims ¨C all in their sleep. Their cases are all very similar, they noted, and that both causes happened simultaneously. I was thinking about whether if someone died in the dungeon would it be possible to save them if, at first, it¡¯s only cardiac arrest. You studied BLS, correct?¡± ¡°Basic Life Support, yes. For victims of cardiac arrest, you engage in Basic Life Support, or BLS, which includes CPR and the use of an AED. Afterwards, ALS, or Advanced Life Support,takesover.¡± ¡°Yes, exactly. I was wondering if that would be possible, but since it happens simultaneously with an immediate brain shut down, it seems impossible¡­¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± We both stand there in melancholy. Back when the news was made, nobody at school around me seemed to talk about it. It''s certainly a rising concern of the U.S. and places around the world, but nobody seems to have paid it mind. I don''t know if it''s because nobody at Rivenburg watches the news, or it''s not big enough to be concerned about, or if the season of post-testing is keeping everyone occupied that no-one''s really commented on the situation. Do people think they''re safe because it''s a genetically related thing? There are also the preventive measures... But none of it adds up. "Graham, what could this mean? Where does the genetics play in? Or the preventative measures mentioned?" I ask. "That''s... where things get tricky. You see, when I inquired the same of the both of them, they both gave me vague answers about specific genetic links and blood type correlation and etc. It seemed as if they didn''t really know themselves, and when I took the time to process the information, it appeared to be so. They stated the association didn''t give them too much of the specifics as it was really complicated. From an insiders point of view, it might sound rational, but speaking from someone who has no medical experience whatsoever, it sounds broad and especially fishy... It might just be my intuition." I nod. "Listen," Graham continues, "going home itoccurredto me. It is so painfully obviousthat I lament the fact that I didn''t think of it beforehand talking with my acquaintances or when I first heard the news." Graham stares at me. "It''s very simple: most likely, the government is covering up the fact that they have little information - they don''t know anything." I stare wide-eyed at Graham. I grit my teeth. I frown. "This is... Of course..." I say weakly. "I have high suspicions they are as freaked out, if not more, about the scenario than we are. There''s a chance they don''t even know about the dream dungeon''s existence, but that''s unlikely. We might even know more than them. Even if they do know, I''m sure there''s little they can do right now to alleviate the situation. This is as foreign to them as is to us." Graham sighs. "Either way, the government doesn''t want to cause widespread panic for something they haven''t got a grasp of themselves. The problem is, sooner or later, I assume, everything will unravel and the dungeon will come to light. As for the protective measures - just a front tocurb any further concern. Reminds me old Cold War commercials and public service announcements they''d show in class - measures to protect yourself in case of a nuclear attack. How effective is curling up against the wall of the nearest building in protecting yourself from a nuclear weapon? I always thought it interesting that despite three weeks in the dungeon nobody''s mentioned anything - the U.S. and the world if other nations are involved. The people directly involved here in the dungeon right now, including us, are too afraid to act. The government or governments might be even more afraid." Graham bites his lip and with obvious upset he crosses his arms and looks down. Silence pervades. ¡°Hey, Graham.¡± I finally intercede. ¡°Yes, Ely?¡± Graham coolly responds. I look at him with resolution, forcing his gaze. ¡°Let¡¯s survive this together. We¡¯re going to become stronger and save others.¡± I lower my head solemnly, waiting for his response. Graham looks at me and simply smiles - a small smile. He didn¡¯t say anything afterward, just breathes in and out. He walks ahead and reaches out his hand to open the handles to the door. Right before opening the door, he turns around and meets my gaze; not crossing his arms, not turning his head ¨C simply looking at me honestly without condescendence. ¡°Of course. That¡¯s needless to say. We¡¯re going to fight and we¡¯re going to win. We¡¯ve made it this far. There¡¯s a long road ahead of us.¡± Graham turns back onto the door and gazes at the handles. As if realizing his blatant honesty, he quickly shifts back into his professional mood. ¡°Err¡­ There¡¯s no need to state the obvious. Let¡¯s get going. Room 80 awaits.¡± ¡°¡­ Right!¡± I exclaim a bit more motivated than I was previously. I follow behind him quickly. There¡¯s a good 3-4 feet gap between us. He opens the door carefully, glancing at me in the corners of his eyes. I suddenly remember the odd and specific announcement earlier. As his eyeball shifts back into the room, through the gaps of the doors, what awaits him... Is nothing. Nothing but silence, anyway. For a second or two, almost complete silence. I catch up to him perplexed as I see his expression. It''s a bit hard to describe. Graham''s palate of expressions is few and almost indistinguishable. Shock? Or maybe disappointment. What? Did Graham suddenly remember he forgot to unplug the iron at home? Again? I sigh, the preceding empowering mood now slightly spoiled. But then I catch a glimpse of his face, even more confused. I can tell one thing for sure - his eyes are locked on something. Once I''m close enough to where I''m practically standing behind him, I try peeking cautiously around him to see what he''s staring so fixedly towards. Suddenly he twists, tilting his head back so hurriedly alongside his body, more unnaturally than he''s ever done before, his teeth clenching irritatingly. He quickly shoves me abruptly and brusquely. I am caught by surprise, but before that, I can tell, something''s wrong - Absolutely wrong... But before I can react... I hear a screeching pierce. ¡°DON¡¯T!!! GET AWAY!!!¡± The first thing I see is a blade zip past me, cutting through the air, blasting my left eardrum. I wince and stumble over. The next thing I see is a glint, a shine. I''m able to make out the contents of the dungeon room finally. It''s a simple large rectangular room with a high ceiling. Torches line the walls as per usual, but something else stands out ¨C 5 figures, 4 of which belong to people¡­ Wait¡­ people? The voice earlier, it must¡¯ve belonged to one of the people. I can barely make out the head of a person ¨C a defined jawline, a pointed nose, sharp eyes, and a hat with a long, feather sticking out the top with a flame at the tip, burning brightly. Then I can make out more of the figure. In one hand, the man¡¯s holding an elegant compound bow. The other hand is outstretched towards us. The other non-person figure is large. Maybe about 10-15 feet tall and very wide, its outline defines something cubical, something with very exact edges. The sound of shifting metal can be vaguely heard in the distance, and a strong, evil, red light emits from what I would assume is its eyes. My eyesight¡¯s unfocused, so I can¡¯t see it too clearly. ¡°AHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGHHHHhhh..!¡± Another, even louder yell follows. Once my eyes focus, I drop my jaw. What¡­ What¡­ What is this..? Both my eyes fully widen. My arms drop suddenly and helplessly. A puddle of something red slowly reaches my boots. In the distance is a giant robot monster - the other figure. It¡¯s huge and blocky in structure. It¡¯s not nearly as big as the first boss room¡¯s monster, but it¡¯s still huge and especially wide. Its appendages are seamlessly floating in midair as if it had invisible joints, and huge lumps of metal are floating around it. The room itself is filled with scrap metal, heaps of it. The shine from earlier must¡¯ve been from the metal reflected from the scraps or the monster. Earlier I was mistaken - it has no eyes. In place of it, it has two holes in its large, cubical head, where sharp red light pierces out. But that¡¯s not what really catches my attention. There¡¯s an even more pressing issue. The blood on the floor, the other horrified scream of pain. In front of me is Graham. Exceptsomething¡¯s wrong. Something horribly wrong. What replaced his usual carefree expression is a one of pain and horror. What had initially grasped the door handle is out of sight. Gone. That¡¯s right. In front of me is Graham, who fell over desperately on the floor. The same Graham whom I¡¯ve acquainted myself with over the past two weeks. The same Graham who¡¯s a struggling lawyer with a supportive wife and a staff lack thereof. The same Graham who¡¯s missing something. Something vital. Yes, it''s his arm. His left arm, It''s gone. I freeze in that split second. I mechanically turn my head, as if I were the robot and my neck needed oil of some sort. Behind me, I could barely see the glint of a rugged, black, metal blade fixed to the wall, where the path splits into two horizontal ways. To the end of it is something hanging on its tip. Graham¡¯s arm is pinned to the wall, his affixed hand holding his dagger. The dagger drops and hits the ground. The sound - it echoes. At least I think. My left ear''s ringing. I couldn''t hear it if it did. 9 - Metal (1) I blink. Once. Then twice. Then three times. Not three seconds have passed. I tilt my head in absolute apprehension towards the source of the commotion - the monster. I feel my throat choking up, or rather, my entire body choking up in astonishment. My eyes widen and I subconsciously grip my weapons and unsheathe Cheryl. In that brief instant anger and horror and dread and confusion and alarm and bewilderment and again horror wash over me like a flood. Like a roaring, insatiable flood. My jaw drops and I tilt my head back condescendingly. I couldn''t- I mustn''t have- I didn''t- "AHHHHHHHHH!!!" think. I instantly charge with no second thought. There''s nothing left in the world that could stop me. The only thing in front of me is Graham, the metallic monster, and me. I disregard everything. All the cautions and procedures that Graham and I set up beforehand had vanished. In front of me, everything turned white except what mattered. What mattered to me and me only- With utmost urgency, my blood boiling as it courses through my veins- ... I need to fucking kill that metal thing now. Now! I sprint as fast as I can through the room, past Graham, past all the other figures in the room without precaution. I didn''t exactly catch sight of the other people in the room - I couldn''t. I could only see what was in front of me. I navigate around the depressions in and the multitude of metallic lumps dangerously prickling out of the ground. The closer I get to the monster the larger it seems to tower and arc over me, as if its initial height were an illusion. I grab my blade with my dominant hand wielding the gauntlet and thrust it with full force once I reached a close enough distance. Swoosh! The blade flickers and the only thing you can see is its faded afterimages. The blade appears stuck to the other end of the wall, released from my hand. The metallic monster, with its cubical, humorously geometrical body and devilish red, glowing eyes, appears completely unscathed. That''s because it is. I''m certain the blade passed through it, especially with the speed and strength of Ringarde, and it clearly appears to have passed through, yet nothing happened to the monster. The blade just phased without inflicting any damage. Is that possible? It just happened. The logic within this dungeon is still murky water, so it''s best to not question it. That means Cheryl can''t damage the monster. I had premonitions about it already, since it is metallic, but it really seems to be useless. There''s no ''flesh'' to cut. That''s a shame, since Cheryl, despite Ringarde''s inhumane strength and power, has the highest offensive ability out of the two weapons. The original monster wielding this weapon had no problems cutting through the gem on the boss monster''s chest, so why I can''t I do the same? At least, why can''t I inflict any damage? Is it not possible? Am I lacking the speed and strength of the original monster, even with Ringarde? I''m extremely weak still compared to that monster, but is it still not possible to do anything? Was the original monster''s blade different? Now''s not the time to think about this. There''s a deadly monster in front of me and I need to avert all my focus on this... mission of revenge. The monster finally notices my provocation and stands immobile for a quite a while. It then mechanically shifts towards my direction. It points a fist, which too like its other appendages lacks a joint and appears floating, towards me and an odd, ear piercing sound resonates through the room. The other figures in the room stumble and wince. I feel uncomfortable as well but I stand tall and ready. A giant piece of metal that''s orbiting around the monster suddenly departs from its path and gains speed towards me where the hand was pointing. At an exponential rate. I thought I had enough space to dodge, but... I can''t dodge. Tch! I stop in my tracks and pivot my ankles. I pull my hand back and charge power into my gauntlet. Right as the giant lump of metal charges towards me, I release my energy and punch with all my might, with Ringarde making contact with the metal. HEAVY... It''s extremely heavy, like punching the weight of a high-speed bus with your bare fists. The large lump of metal is sent back like a baseball being hit by a slugger and lunges past the metal monster towards the wall. All the other figures in the room, which I still couldn''t make out the exact specifications of due to my lack of attention, seem to pull back, in what I would assume to be astonishment. I recoil backward a sizable distance and roll on the floor. My entire body twists and turns painfully, shaking due to the insane level of vibrations resulting from the recoil alone. I feel like a hollow shell. My entire mind''s a mess. I finally regain some composure and return to my feet, only to meet the monster again pointing in my direction. Before I realize it another lump of metal is sent my way, leaving me helpless. Again, I have no time to evade. It''s going way too fast. I pull back again haphazardly, and due to the difference of my current position, I quickly decide to launch the metal lump back at a different angle. I charge and I punch... CRASH! I get launched back once more, but not nearly as far as I didn''t take the force head on. I couldn''t stop the force completely, and I definitely wasn''t able to properly brace for the impact. I''m mostly saved as the metal does shoot off in the intended direction, but as a result of my poor counter, I am forced back. Blood spurts out of my mouth and I am sent back at a speed around 60 mp/h. I stumble and skid across the floor, finally stopping short of the dungeon''s wall. The earthen smell mixed with tinges of iron fills my nostrils and the blurred sight of the soft light from the torches and the cold, stone wall and floor wash dazedly over me. I could then hear a messy groan of some sort coming from the monster, with an insanely deep pitch reverberating through my chest and bones. I somehow make myself stand and immediately run in the perpendicular direction from which I came, to the side, without thinking. That little bit of time saved me from getting hit by another metal lump, which crashes timely into my shadows. I drink a high-grade potion from my pouch. I notice that the other potions in my belt have been either crushed upon my impact from the fall or lost, released from my belt and spilled due to the momentum. This includes my other high-grade potions save for one. I have no time to weigh my options as more lumps of metal come my way in quick succession and I quickly down the sweet, rejuvenating concoction and sprint and roll away in likewise succession, narrowly dodging each of the deadly masses of metal. I have enough time to react and dodge this time due to my increased distance, all the while the potion works its literal magic healing my pains. I feel the power of the potions filling my stomach and coursing through my veins and arteries. I feel my bones and muscles strengthening and my mind refreshing to peak performance. I call back the blade and it quickly returns to my hand. I fix it in a suitable position and take a stance. Right when I am about to charge in again, calculating in my head quickly my options for dealing with the monster, I feel a hand abruptly touch my shoulder, surprising and halting me. "STOP!" A voice yells from behind me. I turn around. It''s Graham. His left arm, especially the end where the flesh is cut off, is glowing a soft red glow. "Graham!" I call out relievingly yet hesitantly. "What are you doing!" It''s the first time I''ve ever seen Graham raise his voice. My eyes are flickering and flashing; hundreds, thousands of ideas running and running and running through my mind.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. "Don''t worry!" I turn my head and stare at the cold-blooded beast of alloy with cold, hard eyes and a look of horror that can kill, completely ignoring my earlier pain and failure. I smile creepily. "I will definitely kill it and crush it into a million pieces for you! All I have to do is kill it. Hahahahaha!" Yes. There''s only one thing on my mind. I shut everything else out. The one thing that matters right now... All I have to do is... Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill- Slap! My face turns. A stinging sensation runs across my cheek. I look at Graham in a state of confusion. Graham''s remaining hand is lifted in the air, past my head, his face stern and reprimanding. "Snap out of it, Ely. You''re going crazy. Stop being hasty. Look what it''s doing to you. You almost got yourself killed, you madman! Calm down and let''s approach this with a level head. Such rashness will be the end to not only you but to all of us!" Graham gestures to the other figures in the room. Only now do I stop to pay attention to the other people. That''s right - other people. There are other people here. "Wait! Graham, what about your arm!" I suddenly remember Graham''s arm being blown off and it still currently being pinned to the wall of the room over. Graham lowers his head momentarily then looks up indifferently. "I''m fine, it''s okay. I just drank the high-level potion you gave me earlier. Thank goodness I had that on me. Who would''ve known I would''ve needed it already? Make sure you keep the rest of the potions in stock and ready, especially the high-grade boss level ones, which are extremely crucial now that-" Graham stops his words as his eyes gloss over my belt pouch, where previously potions filled the gaps. "-Never mind. Looks like you''re dry as well. Now that we have no more high-grade healing on us, we have to be even more diligent. Not like we were going to let up either. But, we don''t have the luxury of healing extreme wounds quickly anymore. Plus, look behind you. We''re closed in." I look behind me as Graham instructed. As he said, behind me, one of the larger metal balls collapsed in on the door, blocking the pathway. Tch. "... I''m sorry..." I apologize regretfully. "That doesn''t matter now. What we need to focus on now is how to deal with that." Graham looks up and surveys the monster and the room. The metal monster stands immobile once again. Lumps of metal are slowly but surely gravitating towards him. It must be trying to replenish its metal supply since it has launched most of its orbiting metal in the efforts of crushing me. I look at Graham and he looks back at me. "We seem to have the same idea. You also have seemed to regain your sanity, thank goodness. If what we assume is true, then we have a much-needed grace period. We need to formulate a strategy and cooperate with the other members here. It''s our best chance of survival." I nod in agreement and together, we approach one of the figures - the first man who had yelled the initial warning. He''s wielding a fancy composite bow along with wearing lightweight dark green-black attire with a flame-tip hat. On his back is an arrow pouch. The man himself is young with distinct, defined facial lines and dark, wavy hair, indicating he''s most likely foreign - I''d wager European. After noticing us approach him, he starts back, but once we get closer he cautiously approaches us, realizing we aren''t going to forcefully engage and therefore act dangerously and become yet another threat among threats. "Hello there. As much as I''d like to engage in simple pleasantries, we''ve not got the time. It seems the metallic monster is stalled. Our best chance of survival is cooperation. Tell me, do you know the other people? And talk fast - we must hurry." Graham went straight to the point. "Y-Yes." He eyeballs us briefly and tries to regain his composure somewhat unsuccessfully. He''s most likely edge from what he just witnessed - a boy who sent thousand-pound metal balls flying like a baseball and a man whose arm was just cut off now steadily regenerating. One of those concerns I can appease. I lower my sword, still unsheathed just-in-case, but in a less provocative position. He seems to relax just a little bit, but still visibly appearing on edge. "I know the other three. We entered this room together. I spawned in room 96 and I met two of them and we found the third on our way down. We were going to check the rooms down in case of other survivors." The man spoke briskly with a light accent. He looks around at the three figures and signals them to come to him. They each reluctantly follow. "The rest - as you can tell - is what you see now." The foreign man doesn''t seem too much older than me, yet he''s assuming responsibility for the group of his, even if he''s quite nervous. It''s commendable, I think, to keep a level and forward head when suddenly thrown into this situation. I have no idea what circumstances surround him, but I''m sure it wasn''t easy dealing with all the pressures. Evidently, I haven''t such luck or head. Fortunately, I''ve had a companion to help me. I imagine he''s been that companion to these people. The other figures come into view and come closer, staying extra vigilant to stay as far away from me, and specifically me, as possible. I''m the one with the superhuman strength gauntlet and the really sharp sonic sword, so I don''t blame them. The foreign man forcefully relaxes his composure. "Mates, it''s alright. They want to cooperate. We don''t have much time. We''re going to come up with some sort of strategy to fight the monster. In short, we need to cooperate. I know you''re all scared and worried, but this is where it all counts. Remember what we went over. We need to do our utmost. It all counts now. I''m sure you don''t want a knock on death''s door prematurely." The other figures nod timidly. I am given a clear look at them now. One of them is this big, bald man. He has an excellent build - akin to an athlete or a trainer. One prominent feature of his body is his arms - they are huge - unproportionally, even. They seem to be made of all muscle, and they bulge with power. The man himself, I guess, is in his mid-30s, still wildly impressive for his age. He''s wearing tough, leather gear that somehow fits him without ripping, and in his hands, he''s wielding a two-handed battleax made of some hybrid metal. Despite his imposing stature, his face, in contrast, wears a heavy and saddened, even hopeless, expression, seemingly adding years of worn age. The other figure is another guy, a teenager, around my age. He''s slender, medium-sized, and skinny, especially compared to the previous bulky guy, but not as thin as sticks. He has deep eyes and dark, messy hair with an upswept fringe. His face displays nervous determination, which compared to the burly man, is a huge difference just considering the circumstances. The last figure is short. I really didn''t notice it until it got really close, because it was covered in a black cloak that concealed much of the face and body. It arrived last. Once I am able to make out the specifics, I am taken aback. It''s a girl, a little girl - I''m guessing around 10 years old. I was already informed of this beforehand through the announcements but I brushed it off at the time. I never considered it deeply. It''s not only adults and teenagers among others who are trapped in this death dungeon. There are children too. Children. What. I suddenly feel an indescribable hatred for this place begin to well up in me. I suppress it and cool my head. I can''t get angry and I can''t lose focus. This is a crucial time that relies on our survival. The child is covered not only because the cloak covered key features for identification, but because it also is way too big for her. It''s an adult-sized cloak, and her wearing it makes it seem extra large. She slowly trudges to where we were. When I see her despaired face, I almost cry inside. Her expression clearly reveals her feelings - hopelessness and despair. Her eyes are focused down, she''s completely silent, and her head is drawn down and away, with a sad frown pasted on her face. For such a young child to feel and look so terrible... It''s unforgivable. "Ahem," Graham clears his throat and speaks up once all the required members arrived. "We''re going to briefly go over and strategize a plan. This is extremely crucial. I need to know everyone''s strengths regarding combat and we can go from there." Suddenly, his tone drops to a stern and almost uncaring nature. "I mean this when I say it: We need to work together to our utmost to survive. If you don''t want any casualties, then you better cooperate. I''m not going to take anything else. I''m not going to see another person die. I can care less concerning other matters irrelevant to this one focus." Silence remains. Despite Graham''s instructions, no one dares to speak up. Graham is signaling with his eyes for someone, anyone, to volunteer to speak, he himself also being halfway hesitant to encourage contribution. I try to open my mouth but nothing comes out. I clench my teeth. The silence persists an uncomfortable couple of seconds which feel like an eternity. Finally, the foreign man, their ''leader'', speaks up. "I''m Archie. Umm... As you may already tell, I am proficient with the bow and arrow. I''m in the archery club in college. Was in high school too." He pauses and glances at the other members, who remain silent, and shortly thereafter resolves to continue. "The big guy over there is Barry. He works at a gym as a trainer and also does personal training as well. Unfortunately, he appears a bit down right now." Barry looks away and broods silently. Archie continues awkwardly. "He''s a good melee fighter. He''s strong and can hold his ground in power." Barry doesn''t react, simply staying silent and motionless, dread spelling his face. "Alright, go on," Graham urges. "Okay. Umm... The other one is Jonathan. He''s a high school student. He can perform a few fire spells and an ice spell. He also has a blade, which isn''t his forte, but he can use well enough." Jonathan looks up resolutely, albeit nervously. "The last one... We actually don''t know much about her. She hasn''t spoken yet since we found her alone in a strange dungeon room - room 89 I think it was. She''s as far as I know just a little girl. It''s best if we keep her protected." "Thank you. I have a general idea of everyone''s capabilities now," Graham says. "Another important question: is there anything important you''ve learned about this monster that we can use to our advantage? Any patterns or habits? Any other abilities?" Archie looks at his other three companions. All except the little girl look back. Archie looks back at Graham. "Nothing you haven''t already figured out already," Archie says. "For our duration, it''s been simply launching metal, except slightly faster progressively. That, and these bouts of rest to recollect lost metal supply." Archie looks up at the monster nervously and pitifully. "To be honest, that''s the only reason why we''ve been able to survive this long, due to its somewhat simple, but no less deadly, pattern of behavior. I''m very very glad you guys showed up. We were dreadfully nearing our end." Graham nods. He closes his eyes from time to time, crosses his arms and looks away and around, glancing back and forth briefly between the metal monster, who''s almost recovered its lost metal, and the current party members. Finally, he looks up and stares at the ceiling - I coined this as his deep thinking pose. Finally, he directly glances at the group. "Okay. I''ve got it. This plan will depend on the efforts of everyone here. If your will to survive is low, then death is highly probable for all. Please understand this. I will not tolerate any falsehoods and half-efforts. I don''t care if you''re upset or nervous or whatever. With that being said, here''s the plan." We all lean in, all except the little girl, who remains unreactive and motionless. Graham then begins quickly explaining his plan. "... Got that? Everyone knows their roles?" We all nod affirmatively, at least, all of us that are engaged. "Good," Graham continues. "Perfect timing. It looks about time to entertain our guest. It''s go time." We all direct our attention forwards. The metal beast regained all its metal, which glints and orbits around it mesmerizingly. I look up with disdain. Time again for yet another game of death. It''s us or it. 10 - Metal (2) The alloy monster roars a screeching shriek that sounds like scratching metal and its red eyes gleam once more. All of us move into position. Barry moves ahead to the left while I stay in between the monster and the rest of the group. Jonathan and Graham both position themselves behind me a good amount of feet in a semi-arc facing the monster around the little girl, who fixes her head down motionlessly and silently. Our roles are simple: Barry, who''s wielding the mace Graham and I received as loot from the dungeon before which has paralyzing capabilities and which we gave to him for use, is tasked with distracting the monster and dealing the initial damage. Graham hypothesized the paralyzation effects that seem to even work on undead that it can maybe work on the metal monster before us. It''s a theory with an uncertain percentage of actuality, he mentioned, but even if it doesn''t paralyze him, his job as a whole is to keep its attention - to aggro it, in short. Graham and Jonathan, our two mages, are tasked with providing ranged damage from afar, and the hope is that the metallic monster will focus on Barry who''s distracting it so the mages can provide damage while keeping safe. Barry, according to Archie and from our general impressions, is incredibly athletic. He can benchpress 300 pounds no problem, but not only that, he is also an incredibly fast sprinter. He''s easily the most athletic and fit, and the crux of the operation depends on how much he can provoke the monster without getting himself killed. Archie himself is also for support. Unfortunately, his puny fire bow, while an effective ranged weapon, is ineffective against cold, hard, metal. In the instance something goes wrong, and most likely it will, his role is to provide a secondary distraction. His other role is to act as a third protector of the defenseless, little girl. He''s going to, in both situations, act during emergencies. The little girl herself will stay motionless. Graham quickly deemed her unable to do anything, and more than anything, high priority - that is, her life being our main focus in protecting. Graham weighed the efficiency of the team vs. our survival including hers, which counts as dead weight. I have no qualms about this. Everybody''s life here is to be protected, even if they aren''t crucial to the plan. Especially a little girl''s. With that all laid out, where I fit in is equally as crucial. My role is to act as a buffer to the ranged support, who are laying fire to the monster as primary damage. In case the monster fires at the support group, my job is to deflect all incoming metal. Ideally, Graham said, I should aim for the monster and counter the metal blast, but my main role is to protect. I''m also going to provide secondary damage in the case that it does get paralyzed while staying cautiously close to the group so I can fall back if needed. I''m honestly impressed. To come up with all that within 15 seconds under all the pressure is astonishing. It shows how much of a difference Graham and I are both in maturity and intellectuality. I have a lot to learn. Graham''s a great help - in these cases his brain is definitely the most helpful. Even over my ridiculously overpowered items that, in this situation, are falling out. We all quickly find our places. Barry arcs around the monster. The monster''s appendages and head are circling 360 degrees in both counter-clockwise and clockwise, accentuating the fact that it is indeed a monster if we weren''t painfully aware already. Everybody holds their breath. The first move goes to the monster. After quickly judging our positions and maybe analyzing our strategy somewhat prematurely, it points in a direction and metal flies out at an even greater speed than previously witnessed. Towards Barry. Perfect. Barry sees it coming and reacts timely, rolling out of the way with little difficulty. The metal lump drives into the ground and rolls, dragging along it the stone. It creates a larger crater than the previous attacks, due to the increased speed and larger size. Despite that, Barry''s able to evade nicely. The monster''s not backing down either. It''s upped the ante. Barry rushes in with almost no hesitation towards the monster. With exaggerated movements, he focuses on getting as close to the monster while drawing its attention as far away from the main group as possible, arcing further and further around it. The monster continues to launch metal lumps in succession, getting faster and faster. The monster itself hasn''t moved - probably due to its extreme weight. It''s really something. Despite its easily floating appendages and head with the lack of a neck piece, it towers tall and remains locked on the spot. It''s almost like a turret, or some sort of automated tower defense, while we are the invaders. The closer Barry gets the closer the calls with each successive metal lump. Sweat runs down his face as he carefully makes his way. He often backs up and detours to the side, but overall, the net distance stacks and slowly but surely he approaches it. To my right, Archie is also arcing around, keeping closer to the main mage group than I. I move forward in succession with the two. Finally, Barry gets close enough. A good portion of the monster''s metal supply has escaped it, lying on the floor or on the wall. Barry pulls back the mace with both hands, jumps up and stops himself behind the monster''s legs. He pulls back. And swings. With an insane amount of force, he powers the mace into the monster''s leg. Unlike my blade, it evidently damages it. The leg swings back, and it''s launched like a baseball, far, far out to the other wall. Since it''s detached from the main body, hovering especially, it easily flies off. "FIRE!" Graham raises his voice and yells out, signaling the mage group to release their spells. Behind me, they had been charging up their spells in preparation, timing it accordingly. Right after the monster was hit, they would release, where then I would follow up with a smash. Two large fireballs, one larger than the other, fly towards the metal monster. It hits. Both of them. The fireballs implode and release ensuing flames. The monster''s body tilts back in recoil, almost falling over, its red eyes flickering. Somehow, it regains its balance and returns to its regular stature, leg still missing. I spend no time rushing up. I pull back... and... SMASH! A resounding pound echoes through the deep, 2-or-3-football field-sized room, an approximation in terms of square area. The torches and the walls shake in response. The whole monster''s body is pushed back. Pushed far, far back, still floating in place, as if skidding on invisible air. It tilts back and forth before regaining balance, like a stabilizing spinning top. The arms and the one head leg are left in place. Only the torso''s pushed back. I immediately run back just in case. The metal orbiting the monster seems to have stopped after Barry''s initial hit. Actually, the entire monster seems to have stalled after Barry''s hit. The head begins to twitch and glitch mechanically. The leg and torso remain detached. We hold our breaths, awaiting the following action. By now, all the foreguard had backed away a good distance, including I, in preparation for the monster''s upcoming move. We wait for a short moment. Then something strange happens. The monster, still detached and with a small dent in the torso from my attack, starts spinning quickly around in place. Suddenly, the detached head and torso gravitate up and back to their original places quickly, sparing no time. As quickly as our attack was made, the monster returns to its form in double that. In front of us is the monster who''s reattached itself. A nearby supply among supplies of metal conveniently draws towards the monster and WSeasily replenishes its previously lost metal supply. The metal begins spinning along its orbit around the monster again. We definitely damaged the monster. That momentary lapse of time confirmed that, somehow, the mace paralyzed the monster. It can and it did. And we''re lucky. We brace ourselves. The monster, visibly damaged but otherwise moving fine, returns to position and readies itself. Its arms spin around its body in quick, 360-degree rotations, finally landing and pointing at me. The metal launches. I was ready. I pull back yet again and release all my potent energy into one strike, carefully aiming towards the monster. POUND! Ringarde makes contact with a now even larger size of metal. And it flies, far and back, blurring through the air, resounding in a shockwave. My knuckles crack. Ouch..! I pull my hand back in shock. This time I''m only pushed back a few feet, my feet dragging across the ground. My hand which made contact feels extremely bruised as if it''s broken. I wince. I feel around my hand nervously. Whew. Luckily, it isn''t. The metal lump flies far and fast, heading directly towards the monster... Directly towards its head. PING! Contact. The head launches back and it ricochets across the ceiling and walls very quickly. Audible thumps echo through the dungeon as the head bounces each time. It finally rolls back on the ground, towards me. The eyes - they light up red. The head flies back and gravitates towards the body again, spinning into place. The eyes shine an even brighter, blinding red light. The monster resets position and begins shifting its arms again. We all move. Barry again begins circling the monster, aggro-ing it, keeping its attention focused. From here on we follow this strategy. Barry continues to keep a cautious distance while he approaches the monster, focusing its attention. While that is happening, Graham, who''s arm fully heals midway through, and Jonathan would every now and then launch a fire spell towards the robot, when they were sure they would get a hit. Archie keeps a close watch on the little girl, while occasionally supporting Barry in distracting the monster right after some spells, whose damages would sometimes eclipse that of Barry and his attempts to keep its focus. I continue to act as a buffer. We continue this pattern many times. Whenever Barry would strike the monster, the monster would momentarily freeze patternously. That would be the opportune time to strike. And strike we do. "Tch!" Barry frowns deeply and dodges back, closely evading an incoming metal lump. Barry was optimally close to the monster - just a little bit more before he could strike - but he was pushed back again. The monster''s metal psychic attacks aren''t only hard to predict but hard to evade, and there''s very little room for leeway. Barry has done a good job thus far with his attacks, but a portion of it is unfortunately still up to luck. You can say our entire venture thus far is credited to that. "Don''t mind it!" Graham spiritedly yells out. "I have you covered!" Archie follows around and nimbly fires a few fire arrows choicely at the monster''s head and arms. The monster spins around in an excessive manner and locks onto Archie. Archie skids to a halt and changes directions, avoiding a metal lump. Another attack was to be fired at Archie, but behind the monster, Barry has recovered and runs up in the monster''s blind spot. The monster spins effortlessly and stops Barry short with a lump lodged in the ground at his path. But, by this time the mage group already had another spell set-up, and they waste no time launching another strike. A flurry of fireballs blankets the space above me. My eyes follow overhead, tracing the destructive path of the flames down to its inevitable contact. The fireballs paint the monster in a bright red-orange and the monster recoils. The flames light up the dungeon room with a beautiful bright light that would''ve given the sun a run for its money if the sun held change. If there was a sun, that is. I never really came to question the stifling, choking, cold air that the dungeon provides. The dungeon room is like a quiet suburban roadside at night. It''s strangely fitting. I keep my distance and position. The monster launches three successive metal strikes at Barry, the mage group, and Archie. Barry dodges it nicely. The mage group clears away from the path, Graham pulling the still lifeless little girl. Barry runs forward amidst the downtime and strikes the monster''s leg with the mace. It stumbles for a bit, then remains temporarily motionless. Graham stops and lets down the little girl, shouting, "Fire! No time for delays!" Jonathan nods and lets out a storm of fireballs, Graham following up with one large fireball. Most of Jonathan''s spells hit, few missing, and Graham''s follow-up spectacularly strikes. "Ely!" "Yes!" I speed through, between the obvious holes in the ground from dragging metal balls, between the chips and rubble of broken stone, over scrap metal that haven''t once refined to enter the monster''s sophisticated collection, and metal that have but haven''t been noted to be reused, and discarded arrows with burnt tips. I put my hands together and twist and turn. "Ely! Watch out!" "Graham!" As I approach the monster, the monster hastily fires a smaller, reserve metal shot messily with great speed, arcing slightly in the air right towards me. I jump in full trust up in the air and beneath my feet is magically a foothold of earth - 1 square foot in area - formed where just previously there were none. I run up and continue leaping off them as more are formed precisely where I land, completely avoiding the lump as well as providing me an advantageous position in mid-air in a tough-to-reach spot for the monster. Another foothold is suddenly formed above me in a specific position. I glance at Graham in the corner of my eyes. He sees me and nods. I smile. Thank you for the earthen footholds, Graham! Thanking Graham in my mind, I jump on the foothold - or rather, under it. Latching onto the edge to keep my balance, I stare at the monster head-to-head overtop the monster in the air, almost upside down. The monster''s red eyes glare. I gather momentum and in that short transition from platform to platform I launch off blazingly fast - right through the air - right through the sparse leftovers of metal orbiting the monster - right towards its head - and right past its head I sling my arm back... And swing subsequently afterward. The monsters'' head makes contact with my gauntlet. Due to the impressive sheer force of the gauntlet plus the added force due to momentum and the advantageous, accurate positioning, I strike a deadly blow with full force to the floating head of the monster. The metal monster''s head flies off and ricochets off the ground, far, far away. With the help of additional footholds from Graham, I smoothly land with little fall damage, my back facing the monster. "NOT YET!" I yell. I turn around and quickly sprint full force back towards the monster still in shock. Without giving it time to react, I ready my next attack! I lean forward and release the most fascinating uppercut whose force would seemingly reach the heavens. The monster''s body twitches greatly, its eyes from a distance dimming its piercing red light for a second, and the entire monster launches up into the air. It arcs in a large curve up and over and down, crashing, the sound of metal clashing. The clunky sound of crushing iron permeates through the room. I run back. The monster begins to reform and recollect itself, having trouble recovering from the outright bashing it just recently received. I look to Graham for instructions. "Let''s take this time to rebrief!" Graham takes a bottle from his pouch, which sustained damage, evidence of slight cracks, and drinks the mana potion, one of 3 that he has left remaining. Fortunately, his mana bottles didn''t break when he was hit and fell, and it has been the key to Jonathan and his endurance thus far in conjuring spells. "We''ve been at for about 10, 15 minutes non-stop. So far, we''ve gone through 9 rounds of spells, preceded by 6 strikes from Barry. Ely and Archie, you two have also been doing an adept job of providing support. How are you all feeling?" "...I''m fine," Barry says. "Bloody fine as I''ll ever be! Haha! You socked that blasted box of metal back to Mars!" Archie excitingly exclaims, his voice slightly and rather oddly shaky. "..." The girl, of course, remains motionless. "I''m just as fine as well!" Mark says. "Hey... Archie... You''re not fine at all!" We all turn towards Archie. Archie''s staggering on the ground, his right leg limp and one arm around the other. Blood trickles down his forehead over his right eye which is closed. The front of his hair is partially drenched in blood, tinting it a dark blood red darker than its current shade of brown. He waves his hands and awkwardly smiles with feigned reassurance. We aren''t buying his act. "A-Archie?" I nervously ask. "Archie!" Graham yells out with concern. I forgot that an attack was aimed at Archie when the monster launched three lumps successively. I was too focused on following up the spell attacks that I missed the notice. Archie didn''t appear fatally wounded, but definitely, he''s injured. Painfully injured. "U-umm, I wasn''t able to avoid the last attack, regrettingly. Please forgive me for my inadequacy. I''m fine, really. Just a flesh wound..." Archie waves his hands about rather hastily now. "You... Tch." Graham clicks his tongue. He turns his head, visibly distressed. "It is what it is. I won''t drone on this due to our circumstances, but with all seriousness, Archie, you can''t be so foolish." "... Right. I apologize." Archie dips his head down with remorse. "Now, answer me truthfully. Are you in any condition to fight?" Graham stares sternly towards Archie. "No. I''m not." "Okay. Any other issues we need to bring to mind?" "Actually," Jonathan speaks up, "I''m running really low on mana. I don''t think I can keep this up for long. Like you said, we''ve been intensively going at it non-stop for 10-15 minutes, meaning we''ve been firing spells for that long without rest. We''re also dangerously low on mana potions. I just ran out of my supply. There''s that, plus the fact that we''ve been here - Archie, Barry, the girl, and I; our party - for another 10 minutes before you and Ely arrived. At this rate, I feel I''m going to collapse sooner rather than later." "I understand. We can''t keep this up forever. I''m down to my last three, two now that I just consumed one. Fortunately, we''ve drained our opponent''s energy with much success. We don''t require much more to take the thing down. We''re almost there - we just need to hang in there a little bit more. Barry, can you hold out?" "... More or less," Barry grunts intently, his eyebrows distinctly furrowed.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Ely, how are things on your end?" "I''m still okay. I can last a bit longer," I say. "Thank you for the support back there. You saved me." "You''re very welcome." Graham nods. "Short change in plans: I''ll pull Archie back to the circle. Ely, you''re going to have to double on jobs. Will you be fine?" "I can handle it," I respond with intent and leaking fire. I grit my teeth. "I''ll leave it to you. No general change in strategy: we''ll finish this as we started." Graham quickly retrieves the injured Archie, who passes out timely on the spot. We don''t have any more potions left, not even the regular ones, so, for the time being, Archie and the rest of us are just going to have to wait it out. I fix myself in-between Archie''s route and my position while keeping a close eye on the mage group. The monster has just retrieved all its metal back and spins back into action - literally. From the onset, it fires two metal balls - one towards the mage group and another towards Barry. Barry dodges his and I''m close enough to deflect the other ball as the mage group splits (Graham holding onto the little girl), and I am pushed back through the split, but I successfully return the ball. We continue our little game of dodge and push, with each successful strike leading to a flurry of fireballs from the mage group and a powered strike from me, with, very rarely, a deflected metal ball scraping the monster. We continue, slightly slower but surely steadily wearing the monster down with each process. _____ The monster itself, now, is evidently scratched and bent. Its once geometrically exact and shiny body is now dented all over with marks and scratches and unorderly intrusions. It''s also evident in the monster''s actions, being significantly less energized and precise. Some of the monster''s attacks miss by a foot. Some don''t even follow any systematic trajectory, which is good news for us. We''re almost there. "Argh!" Jonathan groans and kneels down. "Jonathan!" I call. "Kch... I''m about done for. Not much more and I''ll collapse. I..." Jonathan resigns himself and leans back, staring at the ceiling with dread. "I can''t do this. This monster''s too tough. I''ve about had it. Every muscle in my body is screaming and all my organs are pounding within me with extreme pain. My mind''s spinning faster than the monster spins to restart this dreadful process... I can''t take it anymore. I''m... No, we''re all... done for." "What are you talking about? We''re almost there! Everyone, focus! Our opponent is an even more precarious state! Just a little more and we''ll seize victory!" Graham yells encouragingly, his voice sharply increasing in volume. Jonathan looks up at Graham with astonishment. "We''re going to make it through this one," Graham lowers his voice to a more normal, civilized tone. He clenches his fists and teeth and looks to the ground with firstly resolve and then regret. "I will save everyone... I promise. No one will die. Absolutely no-one. You hear?" Graham... he must''ve been one most furious about all this. Unlike me, he witnessed the deaths of all his party members thus far. Factor in his losses in his occupation and there you have a lot of emotional stress. I never thought about how Graham felt. I find myself shocked at him acting this way. The Graham I know is always cool, composed, and level-headed. He never lets his emotions distract his rationality - even after losing an arm. But here is frantic about our survival, about me. He must''ve been holding it all in, all these pent-up sorrows - probably all for my sake. I know I get easily riled up. His comfort has been my greatest strength thus far. If it were me... I''m a mess. I can''t imagine doing something like that. "Graham..." I mutter. "Mmm... You''re right. We can handle this." Jonathan shakily gets back up, his right arm extended, his weary hands outstretched. "I''m ready when you are. I can do this. I... I can... I''m sorry I acted so embarrassingly. I''ll fight ''till I die." Crash! The sound of clashing metal reverberates. Barry pulls back and steps close enough to us that we can hear his voice. "Don''t be a fool. That''s a given. It''s your turn, wizards." Graham vigorously releases multiple fireballs, 5 of them, up and out towards the monster, then he staggers and falls down, catching his breath. Every single fireball is pinpoint perfect in terms of accuracy. The monster recoils and lets out the largest roar yet, this time sounding dysfunctional and emitting hints of dastardly pain. The monster remains motionless. Normally, it would twitch and spin, at least somewhat in reaction, but this time it lay still. Cold and still it lay. I look at Graham with a look that begets affirmation. Graham smiles tenaciously and says, "The honor''s yours." I turn and I run. I run towards the monster. I clench my gauntlet with all my internal power. I gather every single fiber of energy possible within me. A surge of emotions run through me. All the contempt I have for this dungeon and what it has done to the people around me and to this world run through me like wildfire. I''m surging with fire - an unstoppable fire that cannot be quenched. Fire brighter and more destructive than any of Graham or Jonathan''s fired fireballs combined. I feel invincible. I feel this is it. "GOOOOOOO!" I yell passionately, with all my heart. With full confidence I charge towards the monster, avoiding rubble and the like. I pull back, I fire, my gauntlet in a straight path towards the robot monster, just inches away from making contact. SCREECH! It doesn''t make contact. I''m blown back. A tornado of air overtakes me and launches me hundreds of feet back. I hover over the ground as I''m launched back, my body flipping back through the air. Finally, I touch the ground and my body rolls forcefully on the ground with much pain. By the time I stopped, I am left covered in bruises and injuries. I''m left half-dead. SCREECH! "W-W-What? What''s going on?" "T-This is..." "..!" Huh? I open my eyes. My vision blurs so I blink a few times so I can get into focus. My eyes open in surprise. The monster, with refreshed vigor, has a new and transformed look. Its before grey, shiny gloss changed to a dark and black texture with streaks. The geometry of it has changed too. Instead of the plain cubical designs, now parts of the surface are elevated in different square patterns; some elevations overlapping others, some elevations higher than others - as if it were not a silver metal now but a grey crystal. Defined and minimalistic veins cut in between the outlines of the elevation, glowing with the same piercing red light as the eyes, which, in fact, were still red but now so bright it''s frighteningly blinding. The screech sends shivers down my entire body and back up and back down all over, its previously already provoking roars displaced by a halting mechanic screech sounding between scratching chalkboard and a glitched AOL dial-up sound effect. It''s the most horrifying sound I''ve ever heard. What''s especially alarming is that all the metal around us, including the previously dormant metal pieces, lifts up and gravitates towards the monster. All the metal in the room - even the daggers in our pockets - fly towards the monster and attaches itself to its now humongous orbit. Ringarde and the mace do not get attracted, as they are made of different, distinct types of metal, and of course, Archie''s bow doesn''t fly up due to it being made out of wood. But what does also fly is Graham''s mana potion. The liquid seeps out of the remaining glass and flies towards the monster joining its orbit. I never really thought about it, but it seems the mana solution has metallic properties enough. I''m unsure how strong it may be, but it seems sufficient enough to be pulled into the increasingly threatening orbit, much moreso than before. That was the last mana potion, half filled, that Graham was trying with great efforts to preserve. Now, it''s gone. Surrounding the monster''s a complete vortex of absolutely crushing metal, now orbiting in crossing diagonal rings around it forming an x-intersection, rather than just on orbiting ring as was before. With its new demeanor and new look is its new size. The entire structure of the body seems to have grown; its arms and legs and torso grew while its head stayed the same, looking unproportionally and cartoonishly smaller in comparison to its enlarging mass. It looks entirely new and different. It transformed. Its previous scratches and bruises are shed. It looks fresh and ready to fight as if disregarding all our previous efforts. It all seems like a lie. "No way..." I try pulling myself up. I find myself struggling to even lift an arm. I''m left stuck there, bleeding in all sorts of places that I can''t confirm. I check my peripherals. Jonathan is kneeling on one leg beside the little girl, whose hood is uncovered due to the force of the air blast from the transformation. Her face shows incomprehensible horror towards the monster. She remains frozen in place, in shock and terror. Jonathan is frozen in place as well but with astonishment and shock. Graham is standing in front of both of them in a battle stance, protecting them with his back towards them, his front disdainfully towards the monster. Barry was launched to the wall behind the group - both Barry and I were closest to the monster and therefore impacted the most by the sudden transformation''s fallout. He''s kneeling as well, recovering from the recoil. Archie''s still lying on the floor, a few feet away from where he was previously, but still behind the feeble protection of Graham. SCREECH! The monster screeches yet again and points both arms at us. The metal coats and slides around its body with greater exactness as much of the metal gathers in huge - huger than any of the previous ones thus far - metal balls. 2 metal balls form at the tips of the hand appendages of the monster, both launch with- ZIP! -extreme speed and force. One misses my head by a hair''s length. The other... "Archie!!!" Graham yells helplessly. ... crashes straight into where Archie lay. Where he used to. The metal rolls and grinds at the ground as it travels further through and after Archie''s initial position. He''s gone now. No trace of him left... ... except for dashes of blood. "Y-Y-You have to be kidding me..." Jonathan wails. Despair overtakes him, and he trembles. "Fuck it... Fuck it all..." Barry speaks up. Visible distress shows on his face for the first time since we arrived. Throughout his fight thus far with Graham''s plan, he kept some hints of determination. It''s gone now. "No way... This can''t be happening," I chime in, anger resounding in my voice. "..." Graham stays motionless. "N...No... not again..! Someone, please, please help! Not Archie... Please no... Mommy, s-save me..." An unknown voice rings. We all turn towards the source of the voice. It is the little girl. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes. "Mommy... wake me up from this nightmare." She starts sobbing, revealing her crushing emotions. No... This isn''t how it''s supposed to turn out. Why? Why did it have to transform now? We were so close..! I want to get up and fight with all I''ve got, but I''m left stuck on the ground, helpless to act. We''re all worn and exhausted from battle, even Barry is less reactive as the battle drew out, and, needless to say, he was hit pretty hard from the transformation blasting him to the far wall. Graham is in the best shape out of all of us, but him alone is far from enough to cut it. He''s also low on mana, and in generally poor condition. Jonathan''s out of it, I''m disabled, Archie''s dead, and... Fuck... Archie''s dead. He''s really dead. I didn''t do anything. I couldn''t do anything. I- "AHHHH! I CAN NEVER DO ANYTHING!" A frustrated cry draws my attention forward. It''s Graham, hunched over, fists to the ground. He stays there shaking. He pounds his fists on the ground with futility, venting his anger. He finally gets up and looks at us. "It seems we''re about done for. The best we can do is fight to the bitter end..." Graham admits. "Graham... No..." I grieve. He looks at me with unfortunate pity and sadness. "Our chance of winning... is less than 1 percent." Graham downs his remaining potions and stays fixed in front of the helpless group. He readies his arms, preparing a spell. He fires a total of 8 fireballs in quick succession. They all hit the monster. The monster sits practically uninjured and unbothered. Uncaring and unalarmed. "Tch..." Graham clicks his tongue. I need to help Graham. I need to move! Move body, move! The monster fires, this time 5 smaller but quicker metal balls, all aimed at Graham and us who sit helplessly behind him. He acts quickly and forcefully grabs Jonathan and the little girl, rolling out of harm''s way and throwing them out of the distance of the metal balls. Thankfully, we''re still far enough away from the monster to allow us time to react amply. Graham and the rest escape with close-calls. One of Graham''s hands, unfortunately, the one from the arm that had recently healed, is hit and not blasted off, but easily crushed, lurching him slightly backward. "Ahh..!" Graham groans. Another metal ball lurches towards me. I use every ounce of my remaining strength to turn over on my back, avoiding the metal ball again at hair''s length. The monster seems to still be trying to adjust to its new form, so it''s not at peak accuracy yet - but it''s getting closer and closer. I need to get back into the battle sooner rather than later, as by the same token I''ll die. The metal screeches as it skids with resistance across the cold, stone ground. 3 metal balls are directed towards Graham and one towards me. The last one flies towards Barry, who''s recovered from the initial shock and nimbly jumps away. He almost evades it. It is much quicker than he thought, and it lodges into and crushes his feet. "AGH!" Barry yelps. Graham in front of me pants heavily as he releases the two bodies he carried. Jonathan passes out and lays unconscious, just like Archie beforehand. The little girl rolls into a fetal position desparingly. Graham looks at the two with sorrow. I join him. The metal monster roars yet again and spins his arms at a blinding speed, stopping to point at us yet again - or specifically, at Graham. Graham hastily picks up the two bodies with both his good hand and his crushed hand with visible pain and he twists and turns in the air to carefully avoid the metal. Another metal ball launches towards Barry, who makes his way to Graham, and he jumps out of harm''s way rather haphazardly. Graham notices Barry and calls out to him relief. "Barry! Quick! Hold and watch over the little girl." "O-Okay," Barry responds with uncertainty. He picks up the little girl unreliably and both Graham and Barry focus their attention on the beast. "The gameplan now''s to just avoid the monster as best we can. We can no longer damage it. I don''t assume you can get close enough to paralyze it without getting blasted yourself. I don''t know if it can get paralyzed anymore," Graham says. Barry shakes his head in cautious affirmation. "Ely, I''m sorry. For now, hold on and stay in there. Try to act as inconspicuous as you can to avoid incurring the monster''s attention. We''ll do our best to protect the others." I try to speak but my voice chokes in my throat. "I''ll take your lack of a response as an affirmation." The monster continues to roar and fire metal after metal after metal after metal after metal. Graham and Barry struggle to keep themselves out of harm''s way, let alone the people they are trying to protect. Often they would have to incur some damage to protect their concerned parties. By the end of it all, both Graham and Barry have multiple broken bones. Graham especially as his stature isn''t as strong and sturdy as Barry''s. Like any other, the monster continues to spin and point toward the two, launching metal. It seems to have ignored me, focusing on the two active "threats". You can say that''s a good thing, but really, it''s just prolonging my death. The monster knows that it can take care of me with extreme ease. I''m sure it hasn''t just conveniently forgotten about me. The monster knows I know it can destroy me. It fills me with a suffocating feeling, the pits of my stomach filling with despair. My head is spinning and spiraling and spinning. I''m feeling I''m about to lose consciousness at any second. The pain... The pain of it all... I choke on air. What am I doing?!? What can I do??!? Absolutely nothing. Everything is falling apart. Graham and Barry''s performance decline the more injured and exhausted they become. Their actions become more and more sluggish as the monster''s improved and adjusted to its new form. Then, suddenly... "Ah! F-" A metal ball stops Barry short of dodging and a follow-up, irregularly shaped metal apparatus spins through the air, leaving Barry in an awkward and precarious situation. He makes every effort to dodge it, completely focusing on avoiding death. Due to the way he''s dodging it, he would leave the little girl vulnerable, in the way of the attack. He makes a quick and devastating decision. He drops the girl. She drops to the floor and lies there helplessly, in confusion and in despair. Barry dropping her and jumping back allows both of them to avoid the initial metal ball, which splits through the middle between the two of them, but another subsequent metal ball is heading now in the little girl''s way, who''s separate from Barry. She''s in no position to retreat and avoid. Barry, realizing this, tries to run back and retrieve her, but due to his positioning relative to the girl and the metal ball, running in to retrieve her would mean riskily running straight into the path of the metal ball, with the high probability of an unseemly and very bloody juncture. "Fuck! Fuck it all!" He makes another quick decision. He flees. He leaves the little girl. He leaves the little girl to die. Chills run through me as I stare at this hopeless scene with now wide eyes. I wish I am imagining this due to my extreme pain convoluting my worldview, but I know it not the case. Graham, after hardly avoiding his share of metal doom, flicks his head and sees this precise scene. Everything seems to run in slow motion. He opens his mouth but before sound could escape his larynx the metal ball heaves and jerks straight towards the little girl at a blinding, quickening pace. The last remaining ball from the last wave spins and spins in her direction - a straight trajectory to doom and death. The girl opens her eyes wide and freezes. Likewise, no voice escapes her mouth. She doesn''t move, she doesn''t scream - she just freezes. Barry runs away and doesn''t turn his head back. He stares forward in heated regret. "NOOOOOOO!" I scream, my voice the first to escape and to escape finally. Then another surprise awaits us. The ball, right before reaching the little girl, literally inches away from contact, curves and turns, changing trajectory erratically. As if it were remote controlled it changes paths unnaturally. As if compelled by the monster''s forces and power it changes directions. What am I saying, it is the monster''s power. It curves at an almost 135-degree angle from where it originally was going. It curves with an abnormal and unnatural form. It moves as if it were locked on to something, like a heat-seeking missile. It suddenly speeds up. It''s locked onto Barry. Barry, not looking back, is too late when he realizes that the metal ball''s heading towards him. He finally glances back only to meet the force of a freight train collapsing into his body, powering through his chest and arms and legs with an explosion of blood, an audible peng as the metal clashes with his feeble bones and flesh. His head, detached from his body long gone and far away with the metal, drops to the floor - his face wearing late horror. Barry dies. His death spectacular and gruesome. And I feel fucking sick. "YOU BASTARD!" I scream helplessly. "Ah... ah... why..." Graham''s at a loss for words. Both of us stare at this scene with utter despair. The metal monster''s eyes shimmer and it roars yet again, ignoring our sympathies, spinning and collecting all the metal left in its deposit into one huge, mega, metal snowball that keeps growing larger and larger and larger and larger as it attracts more and more metal. Metal bits and pieces fly and fly and fly all around us. It''s the final attack. It moves with exaggerated slowness in comparison to the previous quick attacks, but it''s much more forceful and much more terrifying, as if it is savoring the moment. This is instant death. "This... is it..." Graham resigns. "It... was nice knowing you, Ely. I suppose it''s too late to bid farewell to my loved ones. To go out this way is rather pitiful... To think my last words are ''Honey! Make sure the mayonnaise jar is sealed!'' is not the way I wanted to go, or imagined to go." Graham gives a short and stifling laugh before returning to his cold and despondent demeanor. First Archie and now Barry... I know he abandoned the girl for his own survival, but... still... It''s just us and the monster. The ball comes spinning and spinning to where it''s just hovering, then it becomes so big that it''s practically rolling. Just rolling and rolling away. We are incapable of stopping it. This is messed up... I can''t do this... Someone... please... "Someone..." my voice dies. "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!!! I CAN''T..! THIS..!" Another voice covers mine which had faded away, comparatively laughable to this new voice of entry. It''s the little girl again. Tears flow down on her face, now ragged with all craze and madness. I lie there and view this scene in the corner of my eye. Graham turns around and stares at her sympathetically. Then another strange thing occurs. One strange thing after the next. The girl starts to glow. Her right arm starts to chill and cold. Air so cold surrounding her arm you could probably see your breath. Air so cold your breath could freeze. Hers did. Ice continually forms and grows, covering her arm with dazzling crystalline structure. Her eyes start to blank out, with fewer and fewer signs of a soul inside. Her mouth agape, her left arm clutching her right, and her tears running and freezing immediately after, she shouts with all her might. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Her voice screeches uncomfortably and alarmingly high and even more terrifying than any of the transformed monster''s roars ever did, who''s sitting still ahead of us. A huge ice spire jaggedly and recklessly shoots out her right hand, encompassing the entire metal ball incoming, and it drives into the crude sphere. Graham and I stare in shock. Jonathan''s motionless on the ground. After a few moments, a huge crackling sound pierces. Then, the sphere collapses. It explodes. The ice spire stops the metal ball of death and destruction and despair. It saved us. Or so I initially thought, but metal shards and "shrapnel" fly out in all directions. Since the ball was never actually a ball, but an amalgamation of metal pieces and parts, it easily falls apart. This is bad, as any one of the numerous shards are enough to instantly kill any one of us. I shut my eyes and brace for impact. Except... there is no impact. I open and widen my eyes in astonishment. In front of Graham and I are huge, thick, ice shields protecting us from the few shards that headed our way. They are thick and reinforced with countless layers of ice. Every time a metal shard hit the ice shields and made noticable and worrying impact, they instantly reinforce. I look back at the girl. Her eyes are all white now, blood vessels popping out of her face and her right arm tightening extremely. She doesn''t seem to be in any control. Who is this girl? How..? Suddenly, she runs. She runs past Graham and me, through her shields - straight for the metal monster. She effortlessly avoids damage from shards as ice barriers form instantaneously, protecting her with precision. She skids and stops short of the monster. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhh..!" Her voice pierces then dies down quickly. She clamps her hand together with a loud clap! The ground begans to shake and the torches flicker. The monster makes some noises of what I would assume to be distress, and begins spinning together messily, hastily trying to regather its metal. Something''s wrong and it knows it. It tries desperately to act but it is too late. We would soon see why it is too late for the monster. We would soon realize what is wrong. Ice soars and spikes towards the ceiling, piercing through the metal monster, drilling holes into all parts of its body. It lets out a painful mechanic cry, akin to a certain handheld monster-catching monster cries, and it is stops in place. It tries to spin, it tries to move - all to no avail. Ice forms on the metal monster''s new, black surface, growing like a sheet of ice, invading the cracks and seeps in the monster''s transformed body. I see now. At the same time, the ice protecting Graham and I melts and vanishes like the wind. As quickly as it appeared, it disappears. We are given a clearer view of the action. While on the surface not much appears to be happening, the monster itself suddenly becomes more erroneous, its movements decaying in precision, its functions wearing down. Then, just like the metal ball, crack! The metal monster freezes. Complete silence takes over the room. 1 second. 2 seconds. 3 seconds. 4 seconds. 5- Shatter! The monster shatters completely. Like water freezing on rocks and expanding causing erosion seen in cracks on rocks, the robot''s cracks are utilized and taken advantage of. The monster cracks in a similar manner and completely shatters, not exploding into shards, but simply into larger cracks, then large pieces, before finally falling over and lying on the ground immobile as a collection of metal distinguishable from the surrounding supply. These particular moments moved slowly and reluctantly, gradually enough so as to allow one to catch all the details - enough to where I surely did. A gap in time that permeates such that you for example suddenly recall it when you''re older, when you reminisce one bedtime, when you look back into the past. It''s one of those untouchable times where everything comes to a halt. Everything falls apart and crumbles helplessly until what''s left is a heap of frozen nothingness, with even that being swept up by the wind, disappearing without a trace and into a complete blank - a contradiction in the precise order that this nothingness allowed one to perceive, and that one being me, and possibly Graham too. First the monster falls. The click of a treasure box resounds and the sound of shifting stone and mechanism follows. The treasure chest lifting up through the ground, on a similar but less showy podium than the boss room treasure chest, follows after that. Then the girl falls. She lies cold and flat on the ground with a very audible thump. Her eyes still white, her right arm twitching, her strength evidently completely gone. I notice Graham collapse behind me, his arms to his side as if he doesn''t know what to do with them. He doesn''t. He just kind of slumps down and falls. He grips his heart with his right hand and slumps over. The smell of cold, hard stone is suffocating. The subtle hue of the torches is unchanging. The stone on the ground and walls are unchanging. The only addition is the new metallic smell. If I were to trace the thoughts in my head back to these moments, and that''s if I had enough strength to properly think, that''s what I''d recall, more or less. I mentioned that this is one of those moments where everything is absorbed. One of those special moments where nostalgia kicks in like a train and all love and loss is reminded for good or for bad. It''s something akin to a "before death experience" where you see the light. Some sort of light. My eyelids slowly close and in the darkness, I see a light. My premonitions of darkness when my eyes close vs. the blinding light I''m possibly fancying illusions of is clashing. My head pounds at these conflicting hallucinations. It''s as if it were black and I''m imagining bright white. It''s as if it were white and I''m imagining black where it should be, but it isn''t, or it maybe isn''t. It''s strange. When one goes to bed and dreams normal dreams we are stuck here fighting a deadly fight none of us deserve. Every time we sleep we dream, we dream of a grandiose and incomprehensible dungeon. We dream of a dangerous and mysterious dungeon. This dream dungeon of ours is a nightmare. Every time we sleep we dream and everytime we dream it''s this nightmare of a dungeon. How unfair is that? I laugh in my mind at how futile everything''s come to be, and how futile it is for my increasingly mushy brain to think these things - which they are. I can''t do anything. Who have I saved? None of this matters, because eventually the strength and blood in my head seemingly drain and I become less and less responsive and aware. It''s becoming harder and harder to... think. All my pitiful remaining strength continues to drain and drain... and drain... and... drain... and... I lose consciousness. My last thoughts are that, trivially, this is one bad dream. 11 - Breathe (1) My eyes jolt open. "Hah... hah... hah..." My breathing suddenly quickens and steadily slows to a normal pace. My chest expands with each breath. I''m sitting up against a wall. I must''ve passed out and somebody propped me up against the wall. Wait. Passed out? Is that possible here? In the... I try to move my arm - it hurts. I look down and see the dressing and bandages around it, made with a mixture of soft leather and cloth from a mish-mash of dungeon apparel. My teeth grit weakly. I move my eyes around. Only then do I realize I can''t see with my left eye - a good chunk of my head''s been bandaged as well. I feel around the rest of my body and likewise, there are bandages all around me - my torso, my abdomen, my arms, my legs. Accompanying the new look is a boatload of pain. I feel as if I''ve been hit severely in all places with something big and blunt and definitely painful, and I''m recovering from the immediate shock. The world shakes and my view spins in a flurry of dizziness. I can''t... seem to focus on anything. My body''s sluggish and numb all around. I gasp. I can barely move from my current position. I''m afraid that trying to experiment will knock me off my balance, leaving me with little way to get back up. I weigh logic and reason within my mind and eventually decide it better to leave it alone and give up. I try to investigate around with my usable eye to the best of my ability. Everything''s uncomfortably hazy. Wait a second... Something''s wrong, and it''s not necessarily my injuries. I feel like there''s something I''m... Oh, oh, yes! I can''t believe I forgot! The ending to the... And the... I... what? Where am I? No no no, didn''t I just..? Who am I? Is that the question I should be asking? That seems irrelevant right now... What matters not who am I or where am I, but where''s Graham? Where''s Jonathan? Where''s Barry? Where''s Archie? Where''s the... little girl? Little girl? Did I forget her name too? Did I ever know her name? Do I really know the previous names? All these names are just words under an empty frame in my mind. But these names... they''re important, I know. But I know not specifically why. It''s somewhere in my head, on my tongue, but I can''t seem... to piece anything together. I feel as if the weight of the world is on my mind, like the weight of several thousand tons of metal crushing me... Something of great importance, I''m sure. Very, very peculiar. Questions swirl in my head like a vortex. I can be sure of one thing - my head hurts... a lot. Thinking only makes it worse. I look at the walls. Torches line the walls very eerily. With each breath, I smell a distinct earthen scent. Am I underground? It''s plausible, but I feel that''s not the case. Somehow, I just feel it. The wall behind me feels cold - like stone. I don''t really know how I know it''s stone or how a cold surface correlates immediately to stone, but similarly, I just feel it is. Somehow. I don''t want to twist my head back to check for sure. Up above is a ceiling or lack thereof shrouded in darkness. A sky of black that stretches to no end. A roof that may or may not exist. This is one strange place. Very reminiscent of a dungeon, a dungeon I''d definitely have to say; so much so, I''d bet my life it''s a dungeon. Again, I do not know why. It''s a somehow type of feeling. I wonder what I''m doing in such a place? I feel oddly detracted to this place. It feels uncomforting and I feel I don''t belong. This too feels very familiar. I feel very much right now like an enigma - like a soul that transported into the body of an unsuspecting host - much in the same way this host of mine feels this most likely dungeon is an enigma to him. Or her... No, him. I know it. I think... It''s peculiar, all of this. What could I - or maybe this host of mine have done to find himself in this situation? Bandaged, bruised, and practically almost dead, propped up somewhere against the wall of a cold, mysterious, yet fascinating dungeon room, that''s not underground..? It feels unreal. I can''t put together many pieces, but these awfully large pieces of a puzzle with no form feel to obviously not fit. It feels like a dream. A dream? Dungeon? My head pounds immensely. I clench the left side of my head, over my eye, with both hands as I slump and tightly close my eyes as I writhe in immense pain. Aghhhh... I finally open my available right eye and squint at the ground. It''s no use. Better to save myself the pain and just not think about it, or anything. As I rest against the wall, I hear subtle footsteps approach me. I freeze. For some reason, every hair on my body not covered in bandages stands up, every cell screams danger. I can make a silhouette shrouded in black slowly approach me. I instinctively look around on the floor for a weapon, quickly and hastily, possibly unnecessarily so. I notice on the floor a blade, a sword, and an extremely long one at that. I would have to guess at least 5 feet long. On one side of the blade it''s dull and flat and on the other, it''s extremely sharp and pointed - so much so I think if I were to even just tap it with my finger with minimal pressure it would cut effortlessly - I''m certain, but like with everything else, I''m not certain why. It''s a good distance away, and I helplessly and frantically try to reach it, but due to my disabled state and my impeded range, I can''t reach it. Closer and closer the silhouette inches towards me slowly yet surely. My heart rate rises and I stare with caution. Sweat runs down my face, and my head pounds like a jackhammer bringing so much pain it''s hard to even keep my eyes open and focus. But I do, and the closer the figure gets the more rapid my breaths become, which doesn''t help my already sorry state. Torchlight slowly illuminates the figure with decreasing darkness and a lamp-shade-at-night sort of warm hue to accompany. My eye persists to stay hazy. I''ve given up trying to retaliate or think of ways to retaliate in case something happens. I try forcefully calming myself to no avail. The figure is now close enough for me to make finer details even with my unreliable vision. Wait. Huh? A figure that appears to be a girl emerges from the shadows. She seems to be wearing... pajamas? I think cat pajamas, at that. In her right hand is a curved blade, with a mini skull design on the handle. She has long dark hair, tied up in a ponytail. This... This is... She walks up to me. It''s then that I notice her arms, her hand, and part of her face. She''s drenched in... blood... Blood? I drop my jaw. "Cheryl?" A word unknown yet painfully familiar comes out my mouth. I do not recognize my voice, yet it feels familiar but moreso than that is the word that came out of my mouth. I take no more notice towards my physical pains plaguing my body and focus on the girl. I can''t turn my head. My eye is locked onto the girl. For some reason, I fill with an incomparable sorrow. Sorrow as deep the deepest lake, as if the depths of my soul were a pitiably small but terrifyingly sorrowful void. And in that void is nothing but sadness. My singular available eye gradually changes its focus towards the long blade on the ground. Suddenly, feelings of hatred assault and overtake me. My stomach churns and my body throbs with anger. What anger? And what sadness? Why am I crying? I feel confused at it all. Emotions are attacking me without rest and I haven''t the slightest as to what the cause may be. It''s forced on me as abruptly as I was forced to awake to consciousness without any memory. Actually, it''s just that. I have no memory of really anything. Or maybe I have but I''ve forgotten. I have no clue. The girl pauses confusedly then hastens her pace. She gets closer to me to a distance close enough for me to clearly see, but unfortunately, my bad vision and occupied and confused mind won''t allow it. "Are you okay?" she speaks. "Ah... ah..." I choke on my words. "Are you okay?" she repeats with increased alarm now. This time, no sound comes out of me. I clench my dry throat in an effort to make something, anything, out. "Ely, are you okay?" Suddenly, the voice becomes deeper and masculine.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Huh?" Finally, something escapes me. I blink twice, and suddenly, the girl in front of me became a man. The cat pajamas shift into a minimalistic robe with an odd design, an insignia I suppose. The skeleton blade disappears into an intricately designed golden staff with a subtle glowing ball of beautiful, dazzling, bright fluorescent lights the size of a fist floating snugly at the end, encapsulated by an intricate web of thick golden string attached to the staff with artisan detail, with the light peeking out through the gaps, save for a side, exposing the magical wonder. The staff is long and imposing, carrying with it a refined air. The only thing that doesn''t change is the warm, nightlight hue and the distinguishable blood stains on the robe. Because of the bloodstains, I have a hard time making out the real color of the clothing. My head resumes pounding immensely, this time with much more weight and pain than all the previous throbs combined. I cough up blood. Slumped over and clutching my face, it clicks. Everything comes back to me. I gasp, no more blood choking me, and I look up hurriedly. "Graham!" I yell. I finally remember it all. The battle, the result... the deaths - everything. "Ely! Don''t yell and don''t move. You just coughed up blood and you''re in a lot of pain right now. I did my best to patch you up and I hastily fed you a whole healing potion that''s still taking effect. Relax and let the potion work its magic," Graham says. I ease my tension and do as he says - I relax... somewhat. Graham awaits me, allowing me to recover. "What... what happened?" I ask weakly. I again remember and realize the aching, pain throbbing throughout my entire body. "..." Graham remains silent for a while, contemplating. "You''re wondering what happened afterward," Graham says. "Well, after the little girl absolutely demolished the metal monster, I found myself confused on the floor for a short while. I couldn''t do anything for a while. I was frozen." Graham looks away sadly. "It was rather unsightly. "Once I snapped back into my senses, I quickly realized I was the only one left standing - or, rather, slumping - and that there were three unconscious people surrounding me. Or so I hoped... "I quickly attended to you all. You and Jonathan were relatively okay. You were badly injured, but it wasn''t immediately life-threatening, and Jonathan only fainted from ''mana exhaustion'' combined with moderately heavy injuries. But the little girl was different. She was in severely bad condition. I have little expertise in all things medical, but I could easily tell she was in danger of dying any second then. I quickly remembered the existence of the ''reward chest'' and to my luck, I found a variety of potions, including one high-grade healing potion. I quickly revived her, as well as rather forcefully healed Jonathan and you as well with the other regular potions. Forgive me, I was panicked." Graham stops talking and stays silent afterward, awaiting my reaction. "No no, it''s fine. Thank you... You saved my life, Graham. Sincerely. But, the little girl... I-Is... is she fine?" I ask worriedly, my words breaking into fragments. "Yes, she is. In fact, she''s over there." Graham points towards a direction ahead of me. I vaguely make out an outline of a short figure. It''s still and unmoving, crouched up against the wall somewhat. "She''s... still a bit shy. It''s best if we leave her be for now. Let''s allow her to move at her own pace. It''s hard to imagine she''s just a little girl. The horrors she''s seen must''ve been monumental. I have no idea how she was able to save us all, but regardless, I''m very very thankful." Graham sighs remorsefully. "She''s more or less recovered, both physically and emotionally, which tells a lot. I can tell she''s gone through much worse than we have these past three weeks - you can see it in her eyes." Graham''s voice starts to shake slightly, his voice level rising subtly. "It''s traumatizing, it all. Yet she can just return to her quiet nature just like that?" Graham grits his teeth and puts on a pained expression. "And... And I can''t even calm myself down properly. Seriously, who''s the adult here? Haha..." I might be just imagining it, but I feel like tears are forming at the corners of his eyes. It might just be my imagination. Graham slams his fist against the wall weakly. "I can''t even save one person... I..." It''s not. Two single tears flow from his face. Two almost transparent lines. Downward. Slowly. Graham looks at me pitifully, fully revealing his entirety. Any room for doubt that Graham is tearing is erased by this one scene. I do not need good vision to clearly see his sadness. A sadness that flows not like a river, not a deep lake... But an ocean. You can see it in his eyes. And his tears. "Graham... you''ve saved Jonathan and I. Without you, we''d..." I trail off. Graham looks at me bewilderingly, starting and quickly recovers, sniffling and rubbing his eyes hastily, trying to conceal the immediate occurrence. He clears his throat. "Ahem. I apologize. I was just venting. Thank you, Ely. Pay that no mind." "It''s fine," I try to reassure him. "It''s good to vent once in a while." "Yes... Once in a while." Graham smiles weakly. Graham... he''s really shaken. The strong and great and steadfast Graham whom I''ve come to know is unraveled in front of me. He''s lost his seemingly everlasting cool. And for good reason. It''s painful and sad. "Now, where were we? Oh yes, Jonathan," Graham continues. "He''s umm... He''s doing fine. He recovered not too long ago as well, just before you woke up. Here he comes." Another figure approaches me. This time my vision''s improved slightly, thanks to the healing potion working over the duration. The familiar slender and skinny build, deep eyes, and dark, messy dirty-blonde hair. The same level of nervous determination and resoluteness is painted on his face. Not very tall, and not very short, with a young complexion that spells developing adolescence, Jonathan walks up to us. "Hey, Ely... How are you doing?" Jonathan asks anxiously. "I''m fine," I say. "Doing better than when I initially woke up. Thanks. And you?" "I''m doing well also. I feel good enough to get up and walk..." An uncomfortable silence follows. "Archie," Jonathan reminisces, breaking the silence, "was a really good person. He volunteered as the leader and guided both Barry and me through this nightmare. He took it upon himself to lead us and encouraged us to fight and survive properly as a group. On multiple occasions, we were so close to death - so close I couldn''t imagine. But Archie... he kept us together and we survived strong, somehow. I... I was so scared," Jonathan begins shaking. "I... I didn''t know what to do. I didn''t want to fight. I wanted to hide. I didn''t want death but death followed me through every room I progressed and passed without rest. But Archie worked hard to not allow it. He was the brightest person I''ve ever come to know. He wasn''t very strong, nor all that strategically intelligent, but he had endeavor. He cooperated with complete strangers and committed to keeping us alive as well as any possible survivors. "If you remember, it was Archie who decided to check the lower levels for others just in case. Barry tried arguing against that, though, saying it was risky. You never know who might be hostile and who might not, especially in this environment. I agreed. Yet, he still carried through. With strong will, he tried his best to progress down the dungeons despite the risks. He led. We followed. His words proved true when we found the little girl - lost and abandoned to despair in a rather bloody room. We don''t know what happened, but something absolutely terrifying happened; so terrifying I threw up." Jonathan starts tearing up, his voice waving ever more, revealing his distress. "Even Barry - please don''t hold what he did against him. He''s not a bad person, trust me. He was just under a lot of stress. His wife died recently in her sleep - probably due to the dungeon - the day after we all came to. I know that won''t forgive his actions back there, but he''s not all to blame. He did well to hide his emotions; his stress, his pains. He may have seemed a bit unpleasant, but please, forgive him!" Jonathan drops down to his knees and starts prostrating beggingly. I look at him in astonishment. Graham puts a hand on his shoulder and lifts him up. "He''s not a bad person, I promise... He''s not..." Jonathan trails. "Jonathan, it''s fine. I won''t harbor hatred," Graham reassures him. "If there''s anything to blame, it''s the dungeon." Graham looks down and away. Jonathan looks at me nervously and questioningly with a worn complexion. "Jonathan. I have to be honest." I slowly lift myself up, using the wall to aid me. Graham leaves Jonathan to support me up. "I... I can''t. I can''t easily forgive him for what he did to the little girl. I just... can''t. Not right now. Maybe not ever." Jonathan stares at me painfully, mouth slightly agape. He looks down with regret. "But," I continue, "I won''t hate him. Not one bit. Barry is not to fault for much of this, I believe. Like Graham said, it''s the dungeon. Although I don''t agree with Barry''s actions, I won''t hold any of this against him. I promise. I want to believe he''s a good person, too." My head''s clearing up. Although I still feel a good amount of pain, it''s much more bearable now. "T-T-Thank you, Ely." Jonathan smiles weakly but sincerely. He looks up with a deep look in his already deep looking eyes. "... I was thinking: the sad thing is that none of this will escape the dungeon. Barry and Archie''s deaths - they only exist in the dungeon. Nobody in the real world will have known and experienced their final moments. Everything''s contained and there''s no escape. I wish... I''m not saying I''m giving up or anything - rather, I''m more pumped to fight, to avenge their deaths with the power I have - but... I wish this dungeon never would''ve existed. A lot of pain could''ve been avoided that way." Graham and I look towards Jonathan with remorse. Graham speaks up, "Jonathan, that''s not true. We''re here. We''ve seen them and we''ve known them. You and the little girl especially. Their legacies aren''t lost on us, and their family members. But especially, we''re here and we carry their torches." Graham falls to silence afterward. Jonathan dips his head with great sadness. He smiles. "You''re right." It''s all confusing. Here we are together connected by our dreams in a dream dungeon of death and despair with no explanation. It''s hard to believe but here we are. I don''t feel like I''ll ever come to terms with our circumstances. It''s too bizarre and too awful and too confusing. It''s all one big dream. It has to be. Nobody here deserved this. "Ely, let me reiterate," Graham returns his attention to me and states, "are you sure you''re holding up? I didn''t want to ask this earlier and rush you, as you were and still are recovering, but, you looked especially and distinctly pained and hurt back there, moreso than Jonathan and I. And I''m not talking about your physical injuries." Graham folds his arms and frowns, looking aside, oddly trying his best to hide his obvious worry. I forgot myself, honestly, on the spurs of those deep moments. Touching my face, I can clearly feel the stress marks due to constantly holding an apparently tense expression. A tense expression, as Graham referred and as I know well, very separate of my bodily misgivings during recovery. I look to Jonathan, who''s fidgeting oddly and awkwardly, glancing with concern as well. I did not know I appear so obvious and easily readable. "I''m fine Graham, and Jonathan. I was just a bit confused due to the rapid effects of the potion and my deep injuries," I explain. "I just had a little amnesia. My thoughts were jumbled and unordered. I''m much better now. My proper mind''s returned and with that my bearings. Thank you Graham, again, for everything. I can''t and won''t say it enough." I smile reassuringly. Or at least, I try to. I''m still very bad at trying to smile naturally. Graham looks at me insinuating I''m hiding something, suggesting there''s more to the story, glancing briefly at Cheryl and then back at me. I thought for a moment he was going to open his mouth. It''s just a few looks, though, as he then tilts his head up and closes his eyes into deep thought, still crossing his arms and standing imposingly. After a brief period, he nods. "Good," he says, "I''m glad you''re okay." Finally, he smiles with relief. It''s a sort of relief still mixed with uncertainty, but nonetheless honest relief. Graham evidently eases his shoulders and relaxes somewhat more. "I''m... glad you''re good..." Jonathan weakly says, visibly relaxing as well. I suppose he was still regarding me as an object of concern, but now that Graham''s softened, he does likewise. "Mmm... At least, we''re all here and kicking. Right, at least... A-at... l-least..." Jonathan releases his pent up frustrations and sorrows. He lets his overdue tears flow. Sobbing, Jonathan covers his face. Jonathan starts mumbling imcomprehensible words, but neither Graham nor I need to understand to feel his sentiments. Both of us pay our respects with a moment of silence, silent besides the heartfelt wailing of Jonathan, who knew both Archie and Barry well, or at least well enough. Both of them are deceased - their bodies without trace, their blood seeped into the ground and metal. A splotch of red shine glimmers somewhere. 12 - Breathe (2) "Sniff... Sniff" Jonathan tries to clean up his rather messy circumstance, wiping his face with a torn piece of exquisite cloth. "You good?" Graham asks. "Yeah... Sorry, thanks for letting me let that all out," Jonathan thanks sincerely. "I feel much better, emotionally speaking." I smile in response accordingly, much more naturally and easily. Graham nods as per usual. "So, what now?" Jonathan asks. "What''s the plan? What will we do from here on out?" We all look ahead at the vast, battle-scarred room, all in similar wonder. "Well..." Graham says, "I don''t suppose you''d like to split up. From here on out, we''re going to move together as a party. First, we''ll collect the spoils, and then we''ll move back. We''ll check all the previous rooms not yet explored by Ely and I, in respect to the deceased, then once we''ve got that covered, we''ll progress ahead. I have no idea what the future will hold." Graham sighs. " Let''s stick together to find out." "... Yeah. That sounds good." Jonathan agrees. "Gotcha, Graham," I reply. I imagine in my head a text box that reads Jonathan and the little girl join your party! Party +2! Oh yeah, the little girl. "But what about the little girl?" I ask. "Well, she''s obviously coming with us. We''re not leaving her behind," Graham says. "Yeah, I know that, but how will she fit into our party? We know nothing about her - not even her name. And she''s saved our lives - she''s not as fragile as we imagine her to be." "I... suppose. You have a point. We''ve yet to even know her name. I''m not against having to protect her entirely, but I''d at least would like to know her name to build at least some familiarity and trust needed for our group to function efficiently. And her ability is beyond expectation. She must have some reason for concealing such power." Graham contemplates. "Asking her might be tough," Jonathan chimes in. "Archie tried on multiple occasions himself, but she remained silent. With what just happened, I''d find it hard to make progress now..." Just as we are butting heads together figuring out how to handle this, an unknown voice rings from somewhere. "Maryam." "...? Ah!" Graham starts like a frightened little girl. In fact we all start, with Graham the most alarmed. "W-What?" Jonathan asks. "... Where did you come from?" I ask surprised. From out of nowhere the little girl appeared amongst us unbeknownst. We only noticed her when she suddenly spoke out. "... I just walked here," the little girl says, very faintly and timidly. Jonathan''s eyes pop in disbelief. "She''s talking." He whispers almost inaudibly. Almost. The little girl fidgets a little nervously. Graham, after recovering from his shaken demeanor, takes a moment to carefully plan out his next course of action. "Ah, please don''t scare me like that... I''m terrible with surprises." Graham breathes out his acute tension. Graham asks, "What were you saying earlier? Maryam? Is that what you said? Is that possibly your name?" The little girl, when making eye contact with the very adult-like and formal-in-nature Graham, shrinks. Quickly and hurriedly, she scurries around me and then to Jonathan, trying to hide ineffectively behind Jonathan''s back. Graham is shocked. Completely. He frowns disappointedly, disappointed probably in himself. Meanwhile, Jonathan is wildly flustered, still suffering the earlier (not distressed like Graham who''s now evidently disappointed) shock. I scrunch my eyebrows and shake my head helplessly, and the little girl peeks out from behind the cover of Jonathan''s back, which is not very broad and not much taller than her. "... yes..." the little girl, or Maryam, squeaks very softly. "My name is Maryam. M-Maryam Rye." At this, Graham and I stare at each other in odd disbelief and realization. We are taken aback. Jonathan still''s rather confused and flustered. But, he changes his focus to Graham and I, appearing more perplexed now. "Maryam? Maryam Rye?" I ask. "Yeah," Graham sighs. "Seems to be it." "You think?" "If I recall correctly." "But, the odds-" "Certainly. But there''s little room for-" "Doubt. I see. Well, what a-" "Coincidence? Apparently, but..." "But? But what?" "Nevermind. I''m just pondering." "W-What''s going on? What are you talking about? Huh?" Jonathan asks in peak perplexity. Meanwhile, Maryam, in her embarassment from being seen and discussed openly by ''scary adults'', clings to Jonathan''s back , digging her claws into his shoulders. "Ah! Ah! Oi, cut it!" Jonathan panickedly shrieks. Graham raises an eyebrow. I raise two. Jonathan also raises two, but his in an act of bewildered confusion. Maryam''s eyebrows are buried in Jonathan''s back. "Jonathan," I speak disregardingly, "do you remember the announcement not too long ago? Not today, but more than a week ago. The second official dream dungeon announcement. There was someone in particular mentioned." "Right," Graham continues my line of speech, "a particular individual who cleared the second boss room - a one-star boss room. If you also remember, the prospect of meeting the mastermind behind all of this was also mentioned. If you could make it to room 1,000,000, you''d find him or her or ''it'' there. Of course, that''s not the subject of our attention. Jonathan, do you remember the person described by the ''announcer'' in the announcement?" "Umm..." Jonathan frowns. "The second announcement. Wasn''t it a child? A child, right? If I remember right, he was 9-years-old... But, what was his name?" "Keep thinking." I egg him on. "9-years-old... Marth? No, Mary? But in that case it was a girl... Mary..? ..!" Jonathan''s eyes flicker in realization. He turns around and stares at Maryam. Maryam. Mary. Gee. I scratch behind my ear. "You''re serious? I was half-paying attention to the announcement, and never would I have considered I''d..." Jonathan trails off disbelievingly. Maryam releases her grip off Jonathan, her remaining reservoir of comfort, and backs away with shallow eyes, casting downwards depressingly. After moving far enough away, she stops, with her arms and hands to her chest close together. "Maryam. Maryam Rye. You''re the second ''conqueror'' of a boss dungeon room, correct? It''s the reason you were able to save us all, from where you received your mind-blowing powers. I can''t imagine anything less than a boss room weapon," Graham analytically states. Maryam frowns. She doesn''t say anything. "That''s impossible... What..? Is that why we found you in such a horrid room? But..." Jonathan mumbles to himself. Maryam remains silent. "Two boss room conquerors, together. What are the odds?" Graham states. Maryam remains silent. "This is too much of a coincidence to be true. It''s almost unreal. Much like this dungeon," I add. "But it is," Graham complements my thought. "Precisely," I agree. "M-Maryam? How? There''s no way," Jonathan continues to drone on. Maryam remains silent. Until she doesn''t. "... are..." Maryam speaks in an almost inaudible tone, more inaudible than Jonathan''s earlier. "... are you afraid of me? Do you hate me? W-will you l-leave me?" Her voice shakes so painfully and so sorrowfully. She starts crying, for the first time, very softly but oh so sorrowfully. We all stop our idle and independent chatter and focus on her, sharing our remorse. We look at each other for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, Graham makes the initiative and without rush he slowly walks up to her. Gently, he crouches down on one knee and forces eye contact with her. First he smiles. Then he frowns, rather angrily, but a gentle sort of anger parents mimic to discipline their children caringly. "What are you saying? There''s no way on earth or in hell - err, please excuse my language - or in this dream dungeon will we ever abandon you," Graham sternfully displines. Maryam slows her sobbing and sniffles quite a bit, opening her eyes a bit more now. I follow up. Walking towards them, I cross my arms imposingly, mimicing Graham. "Graham''s correct. You''re speaking nonsense. We won''t leave you. We don''t hate you. Nor are we afraid of you. I''m actually relieved you aren''t entirely afraid of us, not with the power we demonstrated and with us being adults and strangers. I don''t know what you''ve been through to end up broken, but we - Graham, Jonathan, and I, and I''m sure Archie and even Barry too - wouldn''t and won''t torment you. We''re not bad people. I promise." I let out all my immediate thoughts. Without any hint of uncertainty, I spill out my honest feelings. A rather sudden spiel, but an honest one at that. Maryam mostly ceases to cry. She wipes her face. Graham hands her a piece of cloth. She blows her nose, rather loudly. The sound echoes subtly throughout the big, open, metal-ridden dungeon room. There''s been an awful lot of crying today - err, tonight. It''s not... bad. It''s good, I think. There''s also been a lot of awful things that happened today. Nonetheless, our lives continue - the world continues to spin and we can share this moment together. And many more moments in the future, I presume. When our lives and feelings overlap, we can truly live in the moment. Living is what we need in this treacherous environment. And to live is what we''ll die for. This applies to all of us, I think. I can feel it, in this moment and in moments past and in future ones I''m sure. "Maryam, why would you say such sad things?" Jonathan says as he slowly walks up to us. Maryam meets Jonathan''s gaze. "I don''t know what you''re thinking of, but you''re completely insane, you hear that? Completely insane. What Ely said: we''ll never do any of that. Never. Ever. Not in our lives. Not in forever," Jonathan weakly reprimands. With very small tears in her eyes, Maryam responds very subtlely. "Thank you." In a seconds notice, Maryam collapses herself in Jonathan''s arms, with her eyes shut tightly, wrapped very comfortably and innocently in Jonathan''s embrace. Jonathan doesn''t shy away this time. He takes her and squeezes tightly, his face frustrated in pained agony. Jonathan breathes in and out. Maryam chokes on her throat, air escaping in short bursts. Then they both wail. From small sobs to great ones. From small tears to monumentous rivers, feeding into a non-existent ocean fueled by a larger reservoir of emotions. In each other''s comfort, they wail, they cry, louder than ever before. Chilling howls fill the dark, dim, empty room. Their voices in this environment appear like howls of wolves, crying out in the moonlight. There is no moon - just torches like candles or matches in the distance and an obscured "Schr?dinger''s cat" of a ceiling. It''s honest. It''s honest, it''s sincere, and very genuine. It''s not pretty - but so is the weight they and we all have been forced to carry. Three weeks in the dungeon does things to you. To last so long in such a stressful and uncertain environment is taxing. To release it all - it must feel good. Liberating, I suppose. I''m reminded of my first two days. ... It''s certainly painful. "It''s certainly beautiful, isn''t it?" Graham comments, directly contrasting my thoughts. "To open yourself so freely and to not hold back anymore without regard. Definitely, it''s something to behold." I ponder for a bit. "Yeah, certainly. It''s very child-like and innocent. But, it''s freeing," I respond. "Beautiful" is a good way to describe it, an interpretation that''s not wrong in the slightest. Beautiful and child-like and innocent - those terms are very interconnect in more ways than one. "Child-like and innocent... Those are applicable terms," Graham says, then turns to me. "Ely, what about you? You''re a teenager as well, just like Jonathan, yet you..." Graham pauses. "Forget it, that was rude of me."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "No, it''s fine," I reply, "I understand what you mean. I''d... rather not. I''ve had my share of ''public'' sorrow... I''m past that." "Past that, huh? Is that possible? Are you saying you''re an adult?" "In a way, yes. Also in a way, no. I..." I find myself at a dead end momentarily. I think back to the the night after. Her pool of blood and my loneliness. "Graham, you''re an adult. Do you feel compelled?" "Yes, very, so much so I wish I weren''t. This may just apply to me. I''m very partial to heartbreak; it''s what''s compelled me to do my job." Graham sighs. "Fortunately I''m adept enough not to break down, for good or for bad, at least completely, as any sensible adult could or maybe would. Maybe adept''s not the right word, but I certainly have some sufficient enough experience that comes with age - that is, except for my incident earlier. But is that what constitutes as being an adult? Or at least is a veritable mark of age or maturation? I''ve seen many clients at work that are adults but live in a very simplified state of mind, due to fear and other various horrifying factors. Maybe that''s what we''re witnessing. But don''t get it twisted. I''m much older than you and I''ve seen more of the world than you, but I''m not much different in some ways than you or Jonathan or Maryam. In a lot of ways, actually. We''re all human. We''re all people. I know, to you, I seem very mature. But I''m not as great or mature as you think, evidenced by my little frustrated tantrum earlier." "... It''s the same for me. You''ve seen some of my... less favorable moments. And some you haven''t." More pictures of her flash in my mind. Of my crazed anger and emptiness. And that''s nothing compared to what others may be experiencing or have experienced. Everyone has their own weight. Graham, I''m sure he understands. "That applies to all of us," Graham says. He does. We pause. "Ely, what do you think?" Graham asks. "Looking at the two of them, how would you describe this scene? Would you agree and say it''s beautiful?" I turn to Jonathan and Maryam who are still very very messily wrapped into each other''s sorrows. I think for a moment, considering everything thus far. Reaching a very simple conclusion, I then turn back to Graham. "No, I don''t feel beautiful''s the right term. If I were to pick a term, I''d say it''s..." "Magical?" Graham finishes my sentence. "Exactly." I smile at him. He smiles back. It all feels like a dream. ... After moments of reserve to both Jonathan and Maryam, Graham and I timely approach them, first allowing them to at last reach their peace, even if temporarily. "We have yet to introduce ourselves, have we?" Graham says taking the initiative. Both Jonathan and Maryam look towards us, Maryam moreso up than directly parallel. Jonathan stretches his limbs and exhales. "Right. We haven''t formally met. There''s been so much craziness." Jonathan clears his throat and says to no particular person, "I-I''m Jonathan Hesselius, a high schooler at Bridgeton high school. Umm... I live with my parents in the East Coast. I think everyone here lives in the U.S." Jonathan glances at Maryam. "I-I''m also an only child, and I really like cooking. N-nice to meet you." He stutters a bit. "Likewise," Graham says, stretching out a hand very business-like. "Just call me Graham. I''m a simple criminal defense lawyer. I have a wife. She''s a bombshell, I tell you. I also love suits, and wouldn''t trade her for a world of suits." Graham laughs very lightly, very uncharacteristically. Jonathan awkwardly meets his hand with his own and smiles back. What very straightforward and honest responses. It feels warm. Wait, Bridgeton? I suddenly recall something. "Jonathan, you said Bridgeton? Bridgeton high school? Is it in Standford County?" I ask. "Hmm? Actually, yeah. Standford County, that''s correct." Jonathan replies. No way. I clear my throat. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ely. Ely Codeman. I enjoy playing Phantasm, the JRPG series. I have a small family, with two parents and one sister whom I love. And I also go to Rivenburg high school, in Wellside County." I make my greetings and stretch my hand out similarly to Jonathan. "Wait, Wellside County? The county below Standford?" Jonathan asks. "Yep. I''m about an hour and a half away from Bridgeton," I reply. "That''s crazy. What a small world." Jonathan shakes my hand. "Also, cooking? That''s interesting. Can you bake?" I inquire. "Hmm? Yeah. I can bake pretty well. I don''t really make pastries all too much, so I don''t have a baker''s variety and expertise, but the simple pastries I can make, I think I can make well." "Can you make cookies?" "Yeah. They''re pretty good and fun to make. Why?" "Just wondering." I turn away. Graham is shaking his head. I glare at him. "Umm... excuse me," Maryam quietly intervenes. Nervously, she splits between Jonathan and I. Her hands clenched and close to her, she squeezes out timid words to the both of us. "My name is Maryam. M-Maryam Rye. I love cute things, my parents, school, and sugary foods. I also like my friends." We all smile. She''s doing her best to confront us and familiarize herself. It takes a lot of courage, especially considering her age and our scenario. "Oh," Maryam adds, "I don''t like cooking though. I hate it. Sorry, Jonathan." "I-it''s fine. It''s not for everyone," Jonathan stumbles over his words. Recovering, he says to Maryam, "My name is Jonathan Hesselius. If we meet one day in real life, I''ll cook you something sweet and sugary." "Hessessius? That''s one crazy name!" Maryam exclaims. "Hesselius. It''s Swedish. And I agree, I wish I was born with an easier last name," Jonathan complains. "Husseslios?" Maryam bites her tongue struggling to say his name. She has a slight lisp. "No, Hesselius. Hesselius." Jonathan adds clarity. "Hesselios. Huesselia... Hess..." "Hello, my name is Ely Codeman. I''m around the same age as Jonathan, so there''s no need to be afraid of me. I love games and I study a lot," Turning to Maryam, I cut her and Jonathan''s dangerously running conversation short. Jonathan shoots me a grateful glance. "Nice to meet you. I am Maryam." Repeating her introduction, Maryam bows aptly, acting much less afraid of me than before. Cute... "I feel compelled to ask. Maryam, do you like cookies?" I ask randomly. "Yes! I love them! Especially Macadamia nut and chocolate chip!" she exclaims enthusiastically, smiling for the first time. I start in shock. Did I find my kindred spirit? I nod very assertively in my mind. Right. Perfect choice of taste! I feel we''ll get along really well. "And I''m Graham," Graham interrupts my thoughts and says politely in a kind tone to Maryam. He crouches down to her level like before. "Nice to meet you. Treat me like your uncle. I hope we get along." Maryam is a little hesitant, but confidently meets Graham face on. "Nice to meet you, uncle Graham. Is that okay? If, if I call you that? My name is Maryam Rye. I love Macadamia nut and chocolate chip cookies and a lot of other things." Maryam bows courtly. So... So cute... I feel I''m about to swoon any minute now from such unforeseen dangers... I glance and Graham and see even him startled and affected. Both of us quickly recover. "T-that''s fine. Uncle Graham is... nice..." Graham stutters. Woah. What? Graham slipped up his words? What is going on? "Ahem." Graham, back to his quick cool nature, calls us to attention. "Now that we''ve all formally acquainted, let''s discuss our future plans. From here on out, we''ll support eachother as a cohesive group. We''ll fight through each room and save whoever we can. But most importantly, I want everyone to remember, and I''ve realized it myself, that we can''t save everyone. Let''s... let''s hope things don''t ever get severe enough to where we''ll have to make the types of decisions Barry made. But, I have trust in our strength. We''ve made it pretty far but there''s a lot of room to cover. We may not reach that ideal image that I''ve sought dearly, but we can try, and we will try our hardest. Are we clear?" """Yes!""" we all reply simultaneously. "Good. Now, before we discuss anything further, we have to confront the elephant in the room." Graham pauses. Maryam looks around curiously. "Elephant?" she asks innocently. "No, not a real elephant, Maryam," Jonathan says. "...Maryam," Graham calls. "Yes, uncle Graham?" Maryam replies timidly. I suppose she doesn''t like direct questionings. "About your power... I''m sorry I have to be abrupt with this, but this is critical towards our plan of staying alive and surviving together. We need to know... is your power something we can rely on?" Graham drops the bomb of our most immediate question. "..." Maryam quiets and looks away, distressed. We wait for her to answer. Graham''s not making any moves to take back his words or prompt her. He''s just waiting silently. Jonathan and I do the same. Maryam continues to look away from us, thinking deeply, a frown subtly forming on her young face. "I..." she finally says, weakly, "I can''t promise you... The ice... it''s scary... very scary... I, I don''t want to become like... like the scary ice princess. She''s not cute at all and only very scary... This ice... is only scary and causes death." "You don''t have to say anymore, we understand," Graham cuts her off, not allowing her to snowball back into sorrow. But... "But... I will not be useless anymore. For everyone, I will become strong. I will learn how to use this power and not be afraid - for everyone - Jonathan, Ely, and you too, uncle Graham! And, and, and Archie... And, and even Barry... And..." Maryam stops. Suddenly, a warm hand pats her head comfortably and caringly. She looks up and sees Graham. "Well said. I''m glad you care and you''re willing to fight. It''s going to be hard and sad at times, but we''ll be here. Remember, we''re carrying the torches of everyone before us. Maryam, don''t rush yourself, but... well said." Graham smiles. Maryam smiles and hugs Graham surprisingly. Graham freezes, unsure of what to do. He looks at us with pronounced panic. ''W-w-w-w-what should I do?'' he seems to insinuate with his eyes. Jonathan and I smirk. ''You''re on your own,'' we both say with our glance towards Graham in a mischevious manner. ''You two..!'' he mouths hastily. My image of Graham has been forever broken this night. I always imagined him to be so mature and cool. Even in the midst of extreme danger he didn''t crack his very strong shell of demeanor. Yet here he is, and he himself admitted, he''s not flawless in his ideals, and certainly not my ideals of him. But that doesn''t make him any less of the person he was and is. Being more human is a good thing. Yep. "Hey Ely," Jonathan prompts me, "thanks for helping lighten the atmosphere, you and Graham both. It''s nice to have moments like these, especially after such a difficult time. Still, I will never forget the people that died here today." I look back at Graham and Maryam for a moment, Graham very obviously distressed in ways I''ve never seen before and Maryam playfully embracing Graham with all her being. Jonathan''s right. This cold and dark room feels at least a little less cold and dark. People have died - that''s a fact - and our current actions deceive, but they don''t hide what we all know to be true. Yet... "Yep," I respond. Although I don''t feel nearly as much sentiment as do Jonathan, I can surely share in his. There is certainly value in looking ahead while treasuring and accepting which is in some ways holding onto what we will from the past. After some time and some more sentiment, Maryman finally lets go of Graham and we get back to business. "Thanks for leaving me back there," Graham says disappointedly. "No problem," Jonathan says with a wink. I smirk. "Graham... was I a bother? Do you not like me?" Maryam asks with upturned eyes. "No, no way, that''s not the case!" Graham hastily, again temporarily losing his cool. Is... Graham bad with children? Mental note taken. "Let''s stop the shenanigans. So, now that we''re a group, I want to go over our roles and our general strategy moving forward. To recap what''s been said before, in Archie''s respects we will check out and clear the lower floors to check for survivors. Then we''ll move forward. Maryam and I will be the rearguard mages, while Ely, you will be the vanguard and main physical assault force. Jonathan, you''ll be with Maryam and me, but you''ll act more like a buffer between the vanguard and rearguard, and you''re responsible for protecting us when Ely can''t. I will serve that role also, but as I heard, you have some proficiency with a dagger, correct?" "Yes, back in my old group, I was part of the vanguard with Barry before I learned spells. I''m not as good as Ely, but I can manage," Jonathan replies. "Good," Graham says. "That''s the general gist of it. There''s a lot of unknown, but, at least we''ve got each other. And hopefully, hopefully it''ll stay like that. We''ll go over more specifics after we check our rewards." Graham picks up his staff that he set aside earlier beside Cheryl. Actually... "Hey Graham, what is that staff?" I ask. "I''ve never seen that before. Is it..?" "Yes, one of the dungeon rewards," Graham finishes and affirms my thought. The staff in his hand glimmers lightly due to the soft torch lighting surrounding us. It looks very mystical. "This was right before I came over to check on you. I found this very becoming staff in the reward chest. I haven''t had the pleasure to check it out just yet. Tell me, what do these staffs usually do? Pardon my lack of knowledge, Ely, I''d think you might know, from your games and all that." "Staffs?" I think for a short moment and say, "Staffs or staves are the popular choice of equipment for mages or any ranged spellcasters. Different staffs have different abilities, but they''re generally all made for some sort of magic use. While a mage can use a physical weapon, even if not very efficiently, warriors have probably no use for a staff - but the details differ from franchise to franchise, I''m speaking from a ''Phantasm''-point-of-view. Generally, staffs deal magic damage through spells based on one''s stats and may amplify damage or provide other buffs depending on the staff. Definitely, those with staffs have an advantage over those without. It''s common knowledge that mages or healers equip staffs." I easily drop an info-bomb on Graham and our party. Years of Phantasm still has its evident influence. Maryam looks dazed while Jonathan and Graham are taking time to comprehend the exposition. "Right. So, this staff is very beneficial to us. With its appearance, I doubt its simply a damage amplifier. Jonathan, since the two of us can cast magic, would you like to use this?" Graham asks. "I''m fine. You can have it if you want. I owe you - and Ely and everyone else, including Maryam - my life, so it''s natural that you get the staff. You guys stayed with us and helped us last to the very end and beyond," Jonathan says. "You''re also our leader, so it''s more correct if you have it." "I''ll take your reasoning. And also, what Jonathan said - is everyone alright if I lead? I must properly ask for a consensus before I continue." "Yes. Graham, you''re a more-than-suitable leader," I say. "I also think Graham is a good leader," Maryam assents. "And you''ve heard my thoughts. I also agree with everyone else," Jonathan says. "Alright. I thank everyone here for allowing me to lead the group. Sincerely, thank you." Graham bows formally. "Oh, right. Maryam. How does your ''magic'' work? Would this staff benefit you?" "Umm.. the ice powers are in this little ring," Maryam says, extending her left hand up to showcase a ring fit snugly on her pointer finger. It''s very dazzling with a huge, crystal clear gem, like a pure diamond, the size of a ring pop. It shimmers and looks picture perfect. It''s the biggest gem in a ring I''ve ever seen. I give my insights. "I don''t think it''ll serve much use to her. The staff is like an intermediary, considering you can already cast magic without a staff, to the actual spells casted. The ring is probably already her intermediary, and it''d serve more use if it were utilized by you or Jonathan who don''t have any such weaponry or equipment." "Sounds reasonable. We''ll discuss more after we check out the rewards. Let''s go," Graham prompts. He starts walking ahead, Maryam follows. Looking at Maryam, I recall the "ice princess" she mentioned earlier. I wonder who that is, and what that might be about. A "scary" ice princess, whose ring, which I assume originally would belong to her as does my blade to its monster, that powers over ice which causes only death. Terrifying death, which death much already is. I''m have a subtle feeling this won''t be the end of it. I shake my head vigorously to clear my thoughts. I was going to follow as well, but I see Jonathan crouched over, staring at the ground. He picks something up - an antique golden chain necklace, with a pendant. I don''t get to see exactly what the pendant says, as Jonathan firmly clasps it in his right hand and tightly clenches it into his fist. "Jonathan..?" I ask cautiously. Jonathan peeks over his shoulders at me. "Oh, Ely. Sorry about that. I just found Archie''s necklace. He said it was a family heirloom. His grandmother passed it onto him," Jonathan says slightly sadly. A necklace? I don''t remember seeing a necklace with a pendant on Archie. Maybe it was hidden, also I probably didn''t notice it because I was too preoccupied with the fight. Jonathan stores it into his pocket quickly. He doesn''t fret this time. It seems he really did let everything out. He seems much more at peace, even if slightly troubled. But, much more at peace. "Before we leave, we should check for any other leftover belongings. These things may exist in the real world, but they also exist here very genuinely - with substance and very real reality. It know it''s weird to loot the dead, but I feel that I have to do this. For keepsake and for memory. You know what I mean?" Jonathan says and asks slightly anxiously. "Yeah, I know." After all, I name my weapon after my dead crush. Heavy... "Oh..." Jonathan grips his head with his open left hand, covering his left eye. He starts to swing slightly. "Looks like it''s time to go. I''ll see you... all... next time..." Jonathan falls back and right before hitting the ground, vanishes discreetly, like a puff of air. I slowly feel tiredness creeping up on me. My consciousness floats away slowly but surely. "Jonathan?" Graham asks while very quickly turning around. After noticing Jonathan''s missing and my apparent distractedness, he says hastily, "It''s 5 A.M. already, huh. Ely, we''ll meet up again tomorrow. Maryam and I''ll go ahead to the reward chest, and we''ll inform you guys next time we''re together. Can you hear me?" I nod rather haphazardly, and I feel less responsive by the second... I can very faintly see Graham and Maryam. Maryam''s waving off to me very reservedly... I think... "See you," Graham says. I think... I wonder why it''s taking so long for me to... .. . . . ... wake up? My eyes open. I''m staring at a ceiling - a ceiling I can make out. I''m back in my room. It''s dark, but not sinisterly dark or dark that''s at least a little less dark. And it''s morning. I gulp, almost choking on my spit. The room feels cold yet cozy. Not cold as in a cold that''s at least a little less cold. Very certainly a cozy that''s very much the definition of the word and not some jumbled but familiar nuance. But, familiar in different ways, in gladly different ways. Cold and cozy - two very starking contrasts. And, for some reason, to my surprise, I find myself waking up to be crying. Tears fall down the side of my face slowly, inching closer and closer to the bed, and my pillow. Also to my surprise, my pillow is soaked. Soaked in my tears. I think back to my conversation with Graham, the both of us watching Maryam and Jonathan sharing great sadness together. "Public sorrow"? I said I was "past" that, that I''d rather not. But apparently, I''d rather. I am foolish. What''s the difference between crying inside and crying outwardly? I guess I''m as adult as Graham depicts. But, in contrary, it doesn''t feel sensible - not at all. I wonder why I acted such a way, as if I were living past it all, that I can shed no more tears because all my tears were "depleted", at least for the moment or moments. I assumed I reached Jonathan and Maryam''s point of liberation, liberation which was achieved by really letting everything go - something that I may not have done, and even Graham. I assumed it all, I assumed I just couldn''t reveal for my reveal''s "past". And I assumed wrong. I guess I can cry after all. 13 - Encounters and Realizations Another day. My bed''s messy. I appear to have had a rough sleep, as I''m all over my bed, and my sheets are scattered and weaved between my limbs without reason. My alarm blares. It''s a wake-up call voiced by the female warrior adventurer Saki, Merryl''s, one of the original heroes'', granddaughter in the third installment of "Phantasm". I won the special alarm clock at an event, and I cherish the alarm clock, not only because I love the "Phantasm" series, because it was the one time I went to an event, in which I attend many, together with Mark. The cute ''wake-ups!" from the alarm clock repeat endlessly. My eyes squint to focus. To my right is a slouched silhouette. Turning, I see it''s sitting in a chair - more specifically, my chair. More importantly, the figure - it''s my little sister, Lexi. She''s sound asleep, drooling and slightly hunched over on my chair. Did, did she stay with me? Turning off my alarm, I get up. Realizing what a mess I made, I quickly clean everything up. I change my sheets and pillowcase, and I make my bed. A couple of minutes later, my room is back to its neat and orderly composure. Well, neat and orderly beside Lexi, who''s plopped in the middle, very undignified. I sigh. Looking at her, I wonder what I should do. She must''ve caught me, well, I wouldn''t say crying, rather I was in a crying mess, shedding unawarely amidst my sleep. I already said it straight, what have I got to hide? I was crying, crying like Jonathan and Maryam last night, it seemed. Lexi, seeing this, stayed with me overnight. This is a great deal, because Lexi... she loves her room and her bed, and she''s not very fond of the dark, being away from her comfort. It''s a recipe for disaster. One of the reasons she hesitates going to sleepovers with her friends. Yet, she reluctantly goes. And, Yet, she stayed with me. It might seem very miniscule an act, but you can say we both have in common a sort of recklessness about us. And I would also like to say a kindness as well. Because, well, this is a very kind and sincere act. Lexi, my very clumsy little sister who my parents dote on, my mother especially (and my father even moreso but low-key), who I always tediously fight with (where, oddly, I never win), who is the sunshine of the family, who is great with anything athletic and who in turn eats like an athlete (that might be an insult to the athletes though am I right?), and a bunch of other things I don''t recall immediately but I''m sure I recall in my heart. I smile. Grabbing my glasses, as well as ingeniously plucking whatever clothes were immediately closest to me from my closet for the day, and any other supplies such as my backpack, I walk up to my bathroom door, the bathroom which is connected to my room. I look back at the very sleepy and rightfully sleeping Lexi. I can do better than this. I drop my stuff in the bathroom and leave my room into the hallway to her room. I return, very softly and quietly with a fluffy blanket and a equally fluffy neck pillow, the kind you use on planes. I am not very fond of those type of pillows, I don''t find it very comfortable, but Lexi loves them. These are all hers, of course, and I''m just borrowing them from her room. She''s very lax on people entering her room, which is why I did, and likewise very lax in entering others - such as mine. I would be slightly irked, but being that right now would be ludicrous. Absolutely. I cover her up snugly with the blanket and also very snugly equip - whoops, wrong word - adorn her with the neck pillow and fix up her posture to a more comfortable position. I contemplate laying her on her bed, but doing so I''m afraid I''d wake her up, or in some way mess her up. That might be too excessive, too. I''m unsure. Taking a glance at my special alarm clock, I notice I''m a bit late. I head back to my bathroom door, very quietly, and I pause again, looking once more at Lexi. Seeing her in a more-than-before comfortable position I relieve myself in affirmation. With these two words, said very softly - "thank you" I leave, I close the door, and I stand in front my mirror which is to my right. I know that I should wake her up, since it''s time, but I''ll let her sleep in a little, as she does everyday. The lights still off, I turn towards the mirror and I stare at my reflection, which is a bit hard to see due to the darkness, my reflection itself shrouded and tinted with dark blue or black or any plethora of colors darkness embodies, very much to the mirror itself. I think to myself. I cannot let my family worry about me. I have a lot to carry, and I must not burden my family. I narrow my eyes. Two more people died tonight in front of me. I also mustn''t forget what started it all. The anguish I feel may be hidden but it''s not absent - it''s brewing, in fact, and that may even be worse. More the reason the need I feel to be strong. For everyone, and for myself. I''m not nearly strong enough in every way. I bite my lip. My real life is not of my immediate concern. I have those I care about on both sides. That''s why, that''s why I must work even harder. To a new day and a new life ahead, I clench my fists. Things will only get more dangerous from here. I''m going to show life on both sides what I got! I turn on the lights and go about my day with a new, almost bitter, invigoration. ___ "So, now that you''ve played it, what did you think?" A cheery and informal voice escapes to my right that snaps me out of my daze. I had been looking outside, at the sky, cloudgazing if you will. It''s a very nice breezy day, and at that moment I felt a sort of solace from my tense life in the calm, easy nature of my surroundings. Of course, with the windows closed, I can''t actually feel the breeze. But I can imagine it, and I''m imagining it well. The voice belongs to none other than Mark. Mark and I are sitting with our three desks aligned and together, the third desk belonging to Mia, who''s joined us for lunch today and has pretty much become a regular and part of our little - not circle because that requires more people, not... line segment? A degenerate two-sided polygon? Well, none of those would describe us now that there''s three of us, and those are far from the accurate way to describe things. Let''s say, our triangle of friends. Yep, that seems much better. ... You can tell I''m very inexperienced. "Hey, Ely, you listening? You''re looking more distant than usual," Mark says. "Yes, yes, I''m listening," I say with a tone of indifference. "You''re asking Mia how Phantasm was, correct? ''Raising Knights'', the latest game, you were saying. I still believe that wasn''t the best decision. The seventh game, ''Megalomania'', is a good entry level game, and would probably be a better game to enter the series with, even though chronologically it''s still very much in the middle. And also, I''m sure I''m acting perfectly distant, if you ask me." "But," Mark replies, "each of the games, like you said before, are standalone enough in their own right. I was thinking she''d prefer the more modern versions of the game, and that''s why I suggested ''Raising Knights''. Also, no one was asking you." We begin our playful banter, that, like much of my banter with Lexi, will surely go nowhere. "Mia, I was surprised. I didn''t think you''d actually listen to Mark and play the game. I assumed you had too much on your plate to afford time to play games." I direct our conversation and attention to Mia. Mia, over the past couple days, has been lunching with us, and we''ve become more than simple acquaintances and now we''re definite friends. At least that''s what Mark says when he announced it very abruptly mid-conversation yesterday, unnecessarily calling attention to himself and us and turning Mia as red as a raspberry. I''m used to his antics, so I''m not too bothered, and I''m sure Mia will get used to it too, in due time. Hopefully. And that''s not to say I''m not bothered at all. I can do without all the ruckus, but that''s what you subscribe for to get the total "Mark Springfield" package - all that and then some. I still remember clearly when Mia approached us the day she did. The familiar Ding~ Ding~ of the school bells tolling the beginning of our very generously-long-on-paper lunch period, which in actuality feels astonishingly short, and Mark and I were shuttling our desks and chairs together for yet another meal accompanied every now and then by Mark''s passionate shouts for who knows what. In the corner of my eyes I see Mia, who was alone like usual, get up. I notice on her desk was nothing - no paper, no pencil/pen, no textbook, nothing of the sort - which is odd, because almost always she''s doing some sort of work, diligent as she is. She took out a piece of scrap paper and studies it very closely. She looked rather odd staring and studying closely the scrap paper, mumbling to herself. I didn''t pay it too much mind, as it already takes a good chunk of my focus dealing with Mark on a daily basis - which I do well enough. Mia leaves the classroom, and when she returns, she''s holding a boxed lunch, courtesy of the school. Holding the lunch close to her and looking very nervous, as if someone were out to steal her lunch, she slowly walks up to us- or, I thought she would, but then she stops, panic stricken, then hastily returns to her desk and takes out the scrap of paper again and studies it deeply, evidently trying to calm herself. Outside stares indifferently collect on her for a moment, but they soon wander off to their own affairs. Mia, noticing this, becomes even more panicked, looking as if she recieved very bad news, and shuffles very uneasily, trying her utmost to appear normal. But trying to act normal when one by nature isn''t is an unsuccessful venture. I know all too well. And so this charade continues. Sometimes she would approach, often times she would flee, sometimes hiding around the corner into the hallway. Sometimes she would leave for what would seem to be indefinite until she reluctantly pops her head back in. But she would never actually make contact with us, which she is so obviously trying to do. After 30 minutes passed, and into second half it became, I finally had enough. I was going to get up, when Mark, noticing that I finally wanted to take action, jumps the gun and without any hesitation walks up to Mia, who''s sitting in her desk, and stops right in front of her. "Hey, Mia, Ely and I were talking about that checkpoint we took in history recently and were arguing about certain problems. Knowing your specialty in the so-called dark arts-" "Liberal arts!" I correct him. "What? It''s not called the dark arts?" "No way. Though, the dark arts are a thing, depending on what you''re talking about." "Tch," Mark clicks his tongue, in obvious mockery of my sometimes fussy nature. I only say fussy now because I''ve come to a realization some of my less appreciable characteristics as I see and am allowed to reflect upon Mark imitating me. "Gee, I wanted to make history fun, why do you always got to ruin everything Ely? Why can''t Mia be a professor of the dark arts?" "Well, I wouldn''t recommend it. The dark arts job is dangerous position." "He''s right," Mr. Hoffman chimes in. "Very dark." Mark thinks to himself for a bit. "Yeah, I guess that''s true. We''ll stick with that. Ahem," Mark clears his throat, restarting, "-liberal arts, and also knowing you also have the same teacher, we would like to know what you think. Ely always says you can''t view the world from one spot - you need multiple perspectives. If you would like, would you care to join us?" How clever, I thought. Very very clever. Mark turned our conversation, which started with the history of sliced bread to eventually branching into our history class, by his prompt, at the precise time before I decided to act leading him to decide to approach Mia, then using that as a segway. It''s a subtle way of inviting her without being explicit, at the same time he still let her decide, making her choose to join us or not. Ingenious, Mark, very. He continues to surprise on many levels. It''s something I''m not capable of, definitely. But, there was no need to quote me back there. I don''t remember saying that, but I don''t doubt Mark''s legitimacy in his decision to quote me. And it''s embarrassing, you''re going to make me redden slightly, so please stop. "Umm... let''s see... I... I wasn''t..." Mia stutters. "Hmm? Well, I see, you must be busy then. I''m sorry for disturbing you. I''ll be on my way," Mark cuts in. "W-Wha..?" Mark turns around and takes haughty strides towards me. I look at him in confusion. He very slyly covers his lips with his pointer finger, in a "shush" motion, while smiling distinctly. Ah, I thought in realization. "W-w-wait up!" Mia calls out frantically. Eyes turn and she stares down and blushes. Mark stops and turns around, concealing his smile. "Yes, Mia? What is it?" Mark is such an obvious actor I''d be surprised, flustered even if anyone fell for his tricks. Except, Mia did, precisely because she''s so flustered herself. "I... I do not mind. M-may I join you, you and Ely both? Err... I mean... I would also like to... talk about the quiz. To help you guys, that is..." Mia is looking everywhere except at Mark. For a short moment she makes eye contact with me, and she very matter-of-factly cranks her head away. I''m not sure how I felt then. I''m used to sinking into the background, but to be so openly avoided is another thing... I''m still not sure how I feel... "Sure thing!" Mark laughs haughtily. Mr. Hoffman gives him one mean stare. As always, Mark shys a bit, before disregarding everything and continuing his charade - which might also involve Mr. Hoffman at this rate because he''s always here to give Mark the mean stares. Very mean, meaner than mine, in fact. "Before that though, Ely, what do you think? Are you fine with Mia joining us?" Mark gives me way. Mia half-looks at me very awkwardly, fidgeting slightly and blinking very rapidly. Her face is a mix between a half smile and half frown, on and off at times, but it''s not repulsing, not in the slightest. Normally I would''ve acted similarly nervous upon seeing her seeing me this way, awkward as that sounds, and it is, but between school and the dream dungeon and Mark, my energy has been drained and my focus occupied. I sigh and rest my elbow on the desk, my chin on my hand. "I''m okay with it," I said. "Right on! You heard that, Mia, come join us." With the grandest smile, Mark bowed slightly and signified in a grandiose manner the way to our unit of the room, opening his arms up in a manner like welcoming royalty. It certainly startled Mia. Mia bowed her head in appreciation, very oddly, and walked towards me. "Allow me," I got up and reached for an empty desk and chair, and reorganized our quarters to accommodate the guest. "T-Thank you, Ely, I''m grateful. How are you doing, it''s been a while," Mia says softly. "Yeah yeah! How are you Ely? Especially since Mia beat you on the last math test, even if it wasn''t perfect, I heard. Hehe," Mark says while smirking. To Mark, I could only half-close my eyes unsympathetically. To Mia, I could only really think... Stop being so cute! I thought that was appropriate. And I still do. And here we are. Mia''s been reluctantly joining us with Mark always inviting her, still very unnecessarily exaggerated, but much less so than that first day. Maybe. I recall her at the end of the lunch period throwing away that scrap paper. I wonder what it was, but the way she threw it away made me think it wasn''t as important as I assumed it to be. "Phantasm... I have actually played it. To sum it up, I would say..." she looks up and away and scratches her cheek, "fun. It was very fun." "See, I told you, ''Raising Knights'' was a good game for her to start with," Mark interjects. "Right, I concede. Mia, what specifically did you think was fun?" I ask. "Well, definitely the story. I didn''t expect a video game to have such a complex storyline. I read lots of books, and the hook, or the introduction of the game, far surpassed my expectations. It was very captivating! Though, I''m not really fond of having to grind... I''m only a few hours into the game, and although the battle system is unique and fun, it does feel like I''m bogged down..." "That makes sense. The ''Phantasm'' series is popular for its plot. The entire game series is like one expansive, interactive movie. Wait until you get to the alternate ends," I say. "Yeah, it''s crazy how fleshed out the characters are. The twists are especially great," Mark adds while nodding his head. "Yep, exactly. Although, about grinding, unfortunately, this series is very traditional. In all the games to date grinding is a very prevalent feature. It''s not too bad, not as in other series, in the newer games grinding is less of a hassle and integrated into part of the main story. It''s just something you have to get used to." "Things will really start kicking in after the introduction arc. At that point you''ll wish you''ll wish for more grinding time." Mark and I very smoothly drop our insights on ''Raising Knights''. Both of us being absolute fanatics, without hesitation we explain together. We disagree on a lot of things, but our enjoyment for Phantasm is always, for us, a topic to agree on. "I''m sorry," I say, "we don''t mean to overwhelm you." "No no no! It''s fine! Now that I''ve heard you guys talk more about it, I''m motivated to continue playing!" Mia holds two fists close to her chest and nods in affirmation. "You''re making a life-changing decision right here," Mark says with unnecessary weight and solemnity. His face grows heavy. "We''ll wait for you. Go. And enjoy the wonders of Phantasm!" "I''m glad you''re playing it," I say, with comparative lightness and ease. Mark gives me a profoundly deep, grim stare, as if expecting me to follow. I shrug it off casually. Mia giggles. Of course I don''t follow what do you take me for Mark? "Make sure, though, not to play too much. It''d be bad if it infringes on your studies and your sleep." "Here we go again," Mark says, back to his normally abnormal nature. "Preaching to the choir about responsible habits again." Mark rolls his eyes. "Ever since he started being more diligent, started exercising, and started caring about his appearance, non stop do I hear this guy telling me to do ''this'' and ''that'', and especially not to do ''this'' and ''that''. You don''t have to read to me every word of the book, Ely, I''m liberate." "You mean ''literate'', Mark," I correct him. "You exercise, Ely?" Mia asks with intrigue. "Umm... yeah, I do, but don''t make a big deal of it. It''s nothing, really." I blush slightly, less than I would''ve before, which is a good sign of growth... I think. I turn my attention to Mark. "But anyway, what''s there to complain about? This is a good change," I say. "Also, Mia used to be in the choir, in middle school, so I''m preaching to somebody." "Really? Mia, you were?" Mark asks. "Huh? Oh, yeah... I''m surprised, how did you know?" Mia asks surprised. "Hmm? You mentioned that during quarter 1 introductions when you became class rep, didn''t you?" I say unassumingly. "Eh? Really? Did I? I... suppose I did," Mia contemplates. "Wow, even the girl herself doesn''t remember." Mark smiles smugly. "Mia, Ely here doesn''t pay attention too much to the details around him. Him remembering something like this is saying something." Mark laughs boisterously. Mr. Hoffman need not stare. I elbow Mark concealingly but with great force, for both myself and Mr. Hoffman. Mr Hoffman glances up then uncaringly returns back to his desk work. Mia, on the other hand, is again as red as a raspberry. Though, really, that''s of course an embellished misrepresentation. More like a soft tomato shade of red than the distinct red raspberry. Yep, that''s more like it. Ding~ Ding~. Another conclusion to lunch. The bells tone and students shuffle about - some into their seats, some out to their proper class, most throwing away trash and bidding farewell to their friends. Mr. Hoffman''s class during lunch is particularly busy and filled during lunch, for reasons unknown, but not too busy, just a bit more than classes around us. A majority of the people here are from last period, the period before lunch, them being a part of my class who sees Mr. Hoffman twice for both periods 2 and 3. Instead of leaving for other things, I suppose most of the students remain, or they get lunch and come back, because this class is the next class after lunch anyway. That''s the same for me, but I also stay due to the fact that Mark always meets me here first. For Mia, she''s the class representative, so sometimes she would have class duties that would extend into lunch. Today, though, she had none. I reach down for my boxed lunch, now empty, only to find myself patting at an empty desk. I glance at Mia, who''s also looking around her area with confusion and dismay. My eyes shift to Mark, who, under our watchful gazes, or lack thereof, escaped to the doorway leading into the hallway. He smiles at me, and lifts up his hand, revealing cloth napkins, their ends within Mark''s grasp, drooping slightly with with rectangular, boxed outlines at the bottom, poking out from inside. Three of those distinct outlines clack inaudibly against eachother within three colored napkins, all suspended in midair from Mark''s hand. They are our lunches. Mia''s too, as she often buys lunch herself, lunch that, as I mentioned before, is very good and may be better than what some people eat at home on a daily basis. Though, they''re not as amazing as my mother''s cooking, I have to admit. But they''re way better than anything I could make, and even moreso Lexi. "Ah..." Mia lets out a soft shriek. She looks at Mark alongside me. "This is no surprise by now, but I''ll take care of this! Mia, don''t feel bad. The trashcan is on my way to my next class. Gotta blast, seeya!" With another shout and a little wink, Mark flies off. At this point, my feelings toward this issue are subsided. I look at Mia, who''s staring pitifully and regretfully at Mark''s dust. "Every time, you see? I''ve given up at this point. How does he do it, I wonder." "That''s no good! Ely, you have to keep fighting. Definitely, someday, if you and I join forces, we can beat Mark at his own game," Mia exclaims, very unnervous now. She''s settling more into the motions with us now, and it''s comforting to see her feeling comfortable and relaxed. "I suppose. Though, what will we do? I know not." A thought comes to me. I smile, revealing very sparkly teeth in a very handsome grin towards her. "You''re enthusiasm is appreciated. Someday." She blushes and looks away frantically. Her cheeks flush and she holds her arms very nervously. "N-n-n-n-no problem! I-I''ll see you, Ely!" With great words, she flies away back to her desk at a speed that''ll make a sprinter surprised, at least, that''s what I think. Once at her desk, she shrieks, in her body language that is, with chills running through her like a cat that''s just been frightened, and she hurries back to me and our lunch area and reorganizes the desks and chairs in a neat and precise order very quickly, quicker than it takes for me to stand up to help her. And then she finally returns to her desk, making every attempt to appear occupied. But like me, she''s not so good an actor. One bad actor in the complexes of life to another. I sit back idly. What I recalled back there was some advice Mark gave to me one frivolous lunch period, shortly after what Mark calls my "transformation". This was after an odd attempt at conversation with a classmate, the classmate, in fact, that threw out the question of tutoring after my "legendary" test score in Pre-Calc some time ago. Mark suggested I should act more naturally, and the question all people not so adept at social interaction ask is "how do I act ''natural''?" "What is ''natural''?" It''s a question which I do not want to wrap my head around because, especially now, I''m preoccupied with so much. My life has become much busier, busier than I could have ever imagined, and something which the old me, before the dungeon, could not have imagined. I often offer advice and insights to Mark, but most of the time, with increasing pettiness as demonstrated when he mentioned I was "preaching to the choir", he shrugs it off. If he has really taken my words to heart, as with his many underlying actions and intentions, which would surprise any passerby observing the usually unusual Mark, I wouldn''t really know. He doesn''t show it. He himself might have a deeper shell than I.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Ughh... Teenage angst. But this time, Mark is the one offering advice to me. Mark suggested simply that I should smile more. That I should "reveal those pretty boy teeth", which I took as a rather hefty insult. But, he added, as he always does, that beyond anything, being natural is being honest. This time, as with all times before, when those times uncommonly come, Mark can say some pretty impactful words, offer some pretty touching advice, that are pretty in themselves. But they hit home too hard too often. And so what he said I just did. Not necessarily the "honesty" part, but the smiling tip, that is what I did. And the result... Is something that I did not expect, nor that I want, or will want to happen again. Let''s maybe not do that again. And so is the continuation of "Ely''s daily life". The actors in this well-scripted live divine comedy continue to play their roles, and I always thought I was more of a spectator to this all. My recent experiences and changes make me realize that I''m very deeply involved in everything and that I''m in the center of a conspiracy of sorts, a very real and seeming conspiracy that turns out to be a lie. Meaning, this is reality - there is no intrigue, there is no machination, there is no trickery, there is no subversion or outlandish scheme, this is happening, this is right now - and I''m in the middle of it all. Underneath all this pleasantry, that everyone here, including me, takes for granted, is much more terrifying things. People are dying, every day, every night. This world is much bigger than I ever would''ve thought. There are untold terrors, and these terrors, which fills this world plentifully and which I have still no real idea of, have reached the confines of our dreams. They invaded our bubble of ignorant bliss, this life of mine and all of ours that we live in peace, relative as it is, though relative is a word that may be an insult to the places without any inherent peace. Still, that''s not to undercredit the work of tragedy this new terror brings. Another problem to an already long list of worldwide problems, and even problems limited to the country, to the state, and to our local society - to this school. My worries are that this problem is not simply a nationwide epidemic. It''s already proven to be a worldwide problem. And that''s troubling. My solace, my normal life in the real world, won''t be present forever. Someday, news of the dungeon will leak to everyone, and everything, the world and all we know of it, will change radically. What will happen inside and outside the dreams, I haven''t the slightest. But I can tell it won''t be good. Ding~ Ding~. The bell tolls the late lunch bell, and the beginning of third period, which for me is Gifted Algebra II. I wash away my thoughts - I''m thinking too hard. I focus again on Mr. Hoffman, who has turned on the projector for yet another normal but slightly riveting lesson, as Mr. Hoffman always does. Today we''re deep into functions, something that I''m particular adept at within my already studied aptitude in math, and even though I don''t need to pay too much attention, I do so anyway, moreso to learn at what might be on the test so I can better prepare for it. Mr. Hoffman''s test are always very hard, as people say. I take another glance outside the windows. The clouds move at their very slow pace, almost not at all if you aren''t paying attention, and most of the time, nobody is. But I pay special attention to it, and all the other landscape. This might be the only time I can, knowing what''s to come in the future. For some reason, the breeze which I felt, or I imagined to feel, before now oddly feels, or I imagine to feel, cold. Uncomfortably chilly, in fact, even though I''m within the warm confines of the school, which is remarked to always be very lukewarm. My glasses feel oddly heavy, and so are the lines of my face, causing me to frown slightly. I tilt my head and comb my hair to the side with my head and look towards the projector displaying a powerpoint of notes that is sure to intimidate the weak of heart. With deep sighs, I pick up my pencil and open a notebook. The chatter of students around me settling into their desks and agonizing about their impending doom - that is, that Mr. Hoffman''s class has once again started and they have to sit through another day of notes - fill the room until Mr. Hoffman himself halts it with his very intimidating stare. I''m used to it now, and even if I were lying, I act that lie very well as another troubling thought distracts me. Knowing myself that the real impending doom is yet to come, I feel my stomach churn, churn uncomfortably with the food I just ate, protesting against my forced ignorance to it all. True, I''m an actor in all this, and an actor with my own script in my own script. My acts are all a facade, both in the dream and outside. But, really, who isn''t acting? Maybe Mia... and in that, I respect her more. Honesty huh... Looking again at the students in the room, as well as Mr. Hoffman, as well as Mia, as well as outside, I wonder... How long will these peaceful days continue? Calm days before the storm of night. Thinking about these things, my frown grows. The rest of the day continues. ___ The afternoon sky shines a deep orange light through the windows into the students'' entrance of the school. This entrance comprises of glass doors in a steel frame, attached to a glass wall that appears thin but is actually very thick and durable. Due to it being transparent glass, any student or anyone can see into the school from the outside, into the main hallway with stairs a bit ahead and papers and other various posters attached to the few big bulleton boards to the side. These bulleton boards are filled with various student notices and activities posted mainly by students, with a big section for staff/student government posts. These bulletons, accompanied by the many other various items attached to the walls and turns of unconventional, distinctly modern infrastructure, make the area seem less like a school and more like a new community center. It teems with school spirit and the like. It''s the first things students see coming into the day and often leaving, as the bus lots lead into this hallway, and there''s fierce competition for the limited spacing on the bulletons where students are permitted to post. There''s even a strict fine for those that do not obey. I wouldn''t know what that fine is because I never get involved in anything. It''s here that I''ve gathered with my friends to end the day. I can say friends with an -s now because not only is Mark with me, and of course, my sister Lexi who walks home with me, but also Mia, who''s more than more or less officially joined our little group. The group of "distants" just saw the addition of another "distant", which makes us that much less lonely, as individuals and as a collective. Though, in the case of Mark, he''s not at all socially inept. He just prefers to stick to sore old me. And Lexi, well, she doesn''t count. I try not to let her count. I have enough headaches that the addition of another troublemaker with whom I would argue fruitlessly with is beyond me, and Mia, for that matter. Though, Mia may enjoy the company - my sister''s not unpleasant to be with, even if I say all those things. Mark is in the same boat. We are standing just outside the school, just outside the main student hallway, amidst a flurry of students bustling out with varying levels of haste, some entering the school and some popping into and out of hallways. School''s ended and various clubs are open now and today''s another busy day for many it appears. Not for us, though, at least at school. Today, as with most, if not all days, we''re apart of the short minority of students in the "Going Home Club" where we do just that. I only say "most" and not "all" days because Mia is actually part of a club, the "Class Representative Collective", where every class representative to discuss class representative-type affairs, if that counts as a real "club" like the chess club or the coffee club. It''s mandatory for all current class representatives, which would include Mia. But they meet once a month during the school year. Today is not one of those meeting days. Normally, Mark and I disperse here, in front of the main student hallway, as he normally heads home on the bus, but today, he has work, which is just nearby the school, so he leaves out the same exit as me. This makes me feel even worse though, knowing that he pays for my lunch with money that he earns from work. His household''s not very wealthy, either, so I don''t know how he could afford to keep paying for my lunch everyday - the costs add up. Even today, Mark paid for Mia''s lunch, which caught her by surprise. When Mark threw away our trash, I''m sure Mia felt especially upset, as I do, all the time, every time. Though, like I mentioned to Mia, I try not to let it bother me now and concieve it as the natural order of things now - I''ve given up mostly, to Mia''s distate. Mark, really, what will I do about you? I should speak with Mia about this sometime. Mia walks home as well, so we both normally leave through the school gate further beyond the entrance to the main student hallway. And Lexi, of course, is with us, and she goes home with me. The school encourages all students to join some extra-curricular activity, and true, most extracurricular activities and groups work with bloodthirsty invigoration to recruit as many people and as many talented people as possible. But Mark and I are mostly alienated from that experience. Mainly because we choose to go home and play lots of Phantasm. I''m unsure about Mia, she was probably afraid to approach and join clubs. There is a study club that is very diligent in keeping its members diligent, which she would be perfect for, but like me, we''re two distant people in a current of sociable youthfulness. But we''re much better now, together, together as it seems, with Mark who''s chosen to walk alongside us. And Lexi, she just chooses to hang out with her friends. "I''m really shocked!" We''re about to disperse, but before that, Lexi speaks up. "How many days has it been? Three days? Including today, four days! Four days you walked with us, Mia, I''m surprised." "Umm... is it really that surprising?" Mia asks in a soft, high pitch. "Mmm, very. This has never happened before. Anybody my brother tried to become close with never stayed, never stayed besides Mark that is. It''s always been just the two of them. I still remember their names - Sam, Courtney, Charlotte, Emily, none of them lasted longer than 2 days." "All... girls?" "Yep. Go figure. This was all in middle school though." "Oi, don''t bring up unnecessary pasts," I reprimand. "Yep, Lexi, don''t ruin Mia''s impression of Ely," Mark jumps into the conversation. Suddenly, his face lights up in thought. "Oh yeah, don''t forget Ellie." "Oh, how could I forget," Lexi says with sudden recollection. "Not helping," I say coldly. Lexi and Mark let out casual laughs. Mia looks content and, while not completely at ease, she''s not unhappy nor detracted. From an outsider''s perspective, I suppose we do look have some semblance of a real group, now, with four people talking about trivial matters, as real groups do. We continue talking about unnecessary things until we, shortly after, reach the school gate, which follows a different path from the main student entrance/exit, where Mark normally leaves to go home. The school gate is for those who walk home and who get picked up. There''s another branch in the path to the school gate for the student parking, for those that drive. The school gate itself is elaborate with an antique design but with modern finishes. This school is a very good school, and just from outside appearances, one can easily tell. This school is what you would call a "magnet school". Actually, this entire school district is a "magnet district". It''s a very good school district, this school, in particular, is especially high-quality, it resembles more of a private school than a public one. In front of the school gate, we''re all gathered together. "Oh, before we leave, Mia, can you send me your math notes for the class I missed," I say. "Which class? Pre-calc or Algebra II?" she asks. "Pre-calc." "Oh yeah, I do recall you leaving during Pre-Calc. May I ask, where were you when we took those notes?" "I actually took my skills test, for CPR and first-aid. I took a class in both outside school, but fortunately, the American Heart Association has connections to the school, and bi-annually they host classes and tests at Rivenburg. And, fortunately, I finished the class just in time for the tests hosted here. So, I took the test, but it happened during that period so I had to leave." "Is that what you''ve been doing?" Lexi asks. "All this time, cooped up in your room recently?" "Not all, but a chunk of my time, yes," I respond. "You''re certified now? So if I happen to choke tomorrow on a hot dog you''ll be able to save me?" Mark asks with a tone of amusement. "Yes, technically, but one of the last things I want to do tomorrow is perform the Heimlich maneuver on a Mark Springfield choking on a hotdog. I''d rather best avoid it." Mia giggles. "That''s so amazing, Ely!" Mia praises me. "First the clothes, then the games, Ely... you... you really have changed," Lexi adds, with adoration and recognition. Words that I''ve no doubt heard before. I think back to this morning. Lexi, who stayed with me the entire night, didn''t speak a word of it when she finally woke up - that is, like always, late. We''ve come to a mutual, wordless consent. Further words need not be added. And for that reason, I didn''t bring it up myself. "It depends how you define the word change. It''s time to go." I scratch my neck and look away to avert myself of this prolonged attention. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to me. "Ah! I forgot... I left my math notebook back in the classroom," I say with realization. "Would you like us to accompany you?" Mia asks with consideration. "No, it''s fine. I''ll go back. Mark, good luck at work. Lexi, you can go ahead. Mia, you too, I''ll see you guys!" I make haste to hurry back, waving behind me. Weaving myself through the horde of sociable youthfulness, back to the main student entrance, I glance back to see them waving back, very characteristically. I need not see there faces to know who''s waving. A very timid wave, an outstretched and sloppy wave, and a very casual, cool wave. In my heart, I actually feel very grateful. I have friends. And good ones at that. Amidst the terrors of the night, I can come back to this solace. At the same time, I think, this solace... It won''t last. I make my way back into the school through the student entrance to Mr. Hoffman''s classroom, the steady clack of my shoes hitting the very shiny and clean school floor. Mr. Hoffman''s classroom is not a classroom that''s used for clubs or any club activity, for reasons unsaid but probably obvious. Standing in front of the door leading into the classroom I try to peer into the window of the door to see if anyone''s inside. And nobody is. Mr. Hoffman''s not inside his classroom, not sitting at his desk doing computer work as I always see him doing during lunch when he has free time, probably out and about roaming the school for reasons unknown. I''ve never really stuck around the school after class. Even recently, I''ve shuttled straight home and went straight to homework and other studies, including studying for my CPR/first-aid test. This resilience of mine might be very surprising to those who saw me in the past, but I''ve always had this, this dedication. Though, this dedication was directed to playing Phantasm, as I was really absorbed into that game, for about my entire life it seems. Mark himself is the same, and he himself knows this about me, which is why he isn''t so surprised that I can do all these things. He surprised not for that reason, but that I was able to drop my dedication about Phantasm. Surely, my love is still there, but my focus is elsewhere, elsewhere more important. And this demonstrated focus of mine is what doesn''t surprise Mark. With the room empty, I consider looking around for him. But, knowing that he might be anyway, and not knowing where that anywhere is limited to, I hesitate. Looking around the hallways, there doesn''t seem to be anyone around, or at least anyone that can help. Nobody at all. Just me standing in this hallway. I reach out for the handle, thinking it might not be locked, and twisting my hand, I find out that to my luck it isn''t. I pause for a bit. Should I enter the classroom while he is away? Actually, I wonder why he didn''t lock it in the first place? Mr. Hoffman, as I know, is very diligent. He might''ve just forgotton, though. He does sometimes go on rather elaborate and entertaining tangents during his math lectures, slips of the mind that carry him and the rest of class elsewhere, that do drain minimal amounts of time before he snaps back into focus and likewise the rest of the class follows. This may be another one of his slips of the mind. He is a very efficient person, but all super machines have flaws. To my luck. I push on the door with slight force and it opens, without a creak. There''s nobody in my general vicinity that can see me. I''m the only one here. I peer inside. And, as I saw looking through the door window, it''s empty. Silence, very different from how Mr. Hoffman''s class is during lunch. I pop into the room. It can''t hurt to get my notebook. I''m just going to head to my desk and take my math notebook and leave. I''m not vandalising or anything of the sort. With those very unsubstantial words of reason, I quickly dash to my desk. In actuality, this is not a serious act or "offense" of really any kind. Students drop into and out of classes all the time, for various reasons, and after school, it''s common for students and teachers alike to be criss-crossing the school grounds. But, without teachers in the room, or a club, it''s not encouraged. Most of the time, students that are very familiar with the teacher and recieve their unspoken consent are allowed these privileges. I feel I''ve gotten to know Mr. Hoffman well, through being in his class, and being in his class during lunch, and Mark who always inevitably attracts his attention (I wonder why Mr. Hoffman doesn''t just kick him out, as he so easily can), and I''m sure Mr. Hoffman''s particularly attentive to me for the same reasons, and that I''ve aced his test, which places me on his list of "legends" as students say. Yet, for some reason, I feel like I''m doing something wrong, and I have a bad feeling. Mark would definitely snicker if he saw and knew this. I actually find it very odd that nobody is around. With all the clubs and other activities going on after school, there''s bound to be activity wherever you go. Yet, today it''s silent. Oddly silent. Peculiar. I wash away these feelings and grab my notebook, which was indeed in my desk still, thank goodness no one took it, with my heart rate just barely, slightly elevated, and walk with even pacing back to the door. Mission accomplished, I think trivially to myself. I left the door slightly open though when I came in. Not good if I''m trying to act secretive, I comment to myself, if there''s any reason to. In this pin-drop quiet and organized room, I pause to look at the posters and other things hanging on the wall. I never really did stop to glance, especially not recently. But in this silent room, I feel I have the chance to really just stop and see what''s around me - the little details I miss on a day-to-day basis, partially due because Mr. Hoffman''s lessons are so packed that you''d worry that if you blinked you''d miss valuable test information, but that''s Mr. Hoffman to you. There''s a lot of things I notice. Most of the posters are little factoids about math and equations and numerical riddles of all kinds, creatively displayed, covering the wall like an informative mural. It''s astonishing - I never really stopped and paused myself to look at it. The bad feelings from earlier subside, and I take a very minimal but very maximized amount of time to appreciate the effort Mr. Hoffman put into his classroom. I even see my recent test on the wall, laminated and embroidered, along with other high scoring tests, including Mia''s - the most recent one. My test has a particularly special embroidering, setting it apart from all the other tests, as it is the only perfect score on the wall. I never noticed these, actually, in this math bomb of a classroom. But I didn''t see the fabled aced test from 10 years ago, the last aced test before mine. But, then again, Mr. Hoffman might have just not displayed it. Or, it could not exist. Who knows. I also never really thought of Mr. Hoffman in this way. He surely is very artistic and dedicated to his class and math. Stopping myself from dragging time, I draw myself back to the door. With a renewed sense of calm like that of what you''d get if you were to look at a very profound painting, I walk with even steps to the door. Just a foot away from the door, and with my right hand outstretched, suddenly, I hear... A student pleading. "Ah! Let go of me! Help!" The student cries. "Shhhh!!!" Another person very hurriedly hushes the student. I pause, standing behind the cover of the door. I can hear footsteps in the hallway, that stop just in front of the door. I stand there puzzled. "What''s your deal? What did I do? Actually, who are you? I''ve never seen you in this school before. Are you a new teacher?" The student, a male, says. I recognize that voice. Paul, from English class. What is going on outside this room? He''s in the carpentry club, if I recall correctly. The room for carpentry should be on the opposite side of the school. I was about to go outside and help him, seeing as the situation is about to turn sour, but then... what I hear next causes me to freeze. "Don''t yell! If someone comes and sees us, you''ll be in a much more difficult situation!" The other person, an adult, says with a stern, reprimanding voice. A familiar voice, I know. A voice that chills my bones and reaches into my heart. What... What is he doing here? I don''t even drop my hand, still outstretched to reach the doorknob. Every part of me freezes, and my entire body feels as cold as ice. Ice almost as terrifying as Maryam''s. I wish, with the door still slightly open, that they absolutely do not notice me. I almost my breath, to remain as silent as I can. What... I recall memories of the past that make my gut churn, as these memories often and only do. What is her dad doing here? Yes... he''s back... again... But for what? And why? And why now? I''m afraid that I''ll be spotted. My formerly even heartbeat speeds up terrifyingly quick, with thumps so loud I''m afraid they''ll hear it through the door. Fortunately, they don''t. "My name is Ralph Davis. I work in security in the U.S. government," he says, in a cool and cold manner very different from his frantic outcry over the phone that one night. The one night that changed my life. "A badge? You really are from the government..." Paul''s voice shakes. "W-what does the government want with me?" He lowers his voice, enough so that only Ralph could really hear it. And me. "I''m glad you understand the severity of the situation. We''ve come to notice that you''ve been involved in a serious incident, and thus, we''re going to hold you for an indeterminable amount of time for interrogation. Shortly, my men will come to secure you. Don''t worry, we''re going to be as discreet as possible to avoid any attention." "W-what? No way!" Paul''s voice is distressed now. "Y-you can''t do that..! What about my rights? What did I get involved in? Also... the school won''t let you! My parents won''t either!" What did Paul get involved in? What''s going on? I don''t want to eavesdrop, but I find myself intently listening to every word. The bad feeling, which is proving true right now, that''s resurfaced within me, as if mocking me for underestimating it before, is telling me: Listen. "The school? Look around you - ask yourself why it''s so quiet, why there''s nobody around. We''ve cleared the hallway and nearby classrooms, with the cooperation with the school, with a diversion. We''re already working with Rivenburg high, as well as many other schools in the area. We have their consent. As for your parents? We''ll reason with them after the fact. You don''t understand, what you''ve encountered is something beyond the scope of the nation, of the world. We have to take all precautions," Ralph says. "But what did I do? I didn''t get involved in anything!" Paul argues, he starts sounding a little angry at his sudden circumstance. "Not directly, no. But, you knew someone that was," Ralph replies in the still easy voice. "I''m sure you''ll know once I mention his name." "... Who?" Paul says, uneasily, with a little belief now. Ralph pauses for a bit. "Connor Williams." And afterward, I suddenly hear pained gasps. "... No way... No way! No way no way no way no way no way! I-" Paul panics. "I''m sure you know. He was absent five days ago, and hasn''t showed up to school since. You''ve been telling your friends that he caught a really bad cold recently, playing it off as such, trying to distract yourself. But, I''m sure, you know the painful truth." "I... I-I-I don''t know what you''re talking about. And even if I did, it has nothing to do with me! I''m not involved at all!" I hear exasperated gasps bellow out painfully, in between words, and afterward. "It wasn''t that he got a cold, no. You thought that was a possibility, but with all that he''s revealed to you, you couldn''t help but feel worried, didn''t you?" Ralph''s voice started containing a hint of mockery now, but I feel for some reason it''s not directed at Paul, not at all. "You shrugged it all off, told him to quit it, to stop playing around with these things he was telling you, but he seemed to only be getting worse and worse with every passing day - no, night. Until, you suddenly stopped hearing from him." "No..." "Yes. You dropped by his place one day, to find something horrifying, hah!" That last little laugh that Ralph let out was short and forced, not actually a laugh at all. I can imagine him wearing an ugly smile on his stiff face. "His parents were out on a business meeting, and you used the keys he lent you to go in. What you found..." "How... how do you..?" More gasping. Frequent and short, like Ralph''s little laugh. "... was an unresponsive body. That of Connor''s. Unresponsive." Ralph ignored Paul. "How?!?!" "How? How I know is not the issue. But what I know. And I know, very certainly, he''s dead." "Dead," Ralph repeated the word for unnecessary effect. Gasping so loud and frantic it starts to get out of hand, more than it already has. I can physically hear something grinding, even from behind the door. Grinding of teeth, I can tell, in desperation. "This... This is all wrong. You''re wrong! He''s not dead, I''m telling you! You''re making this all u-up!!!" Paul lashed out at him. "Come with me. You have no choice left. We''ll make all the preparations for you and we promise we''ll take care of you. And discreetly at that-" "No," Paul almost yells now, interrupting him, "YOU are the one that has to leave. I''m not going. You''re crazy!!! CRAZY! I''m leaving!" I hear footsteps again, frantic, crazed ones, that start and pick up speed quickly in a rush away from our current spot. "I didn''t want to have to do this. Jamison, O''Riley. Get him," Ralph says decisively. ""Yessir"" Two deep succinct voices respond in unison, and loud, heavy footsteps follow. Then, I hear a good thump, some struggling, and then the struggling fades away. I''m unsure whether they''ve gone too far away for me to hear, or Paul was suddenly silenced, or both. Probably both. And I''m terrified. And now there''s just the two of us. Ralph and I, separated only by a slightly open door. "Another one is gone," Ralph starts speaking, speaking to himself. "How many people does that make? I''ve taken 25 now, and 17 have died." Ralph lowers his voice to a faint, melancholic mumble. Paul from English class. Paul Rider, to be exact. A tall guy, very strong, and very social and easygoing, in a different way from Mark. I don''t know him all too well. I knew him well enough to exchange greetings every now and then, and we got along fine. I know he does carpentry, as his uncle owns a carpentry company, and so he is thought to be the "successor", if you will. One time, when we were doing a partner assignment, and it was early in the year, and I didn''t know anybody, which either early or later in the year, it wouldn''t make too much of a difference, he offered to work with me. And we worked well together. And ever since, anytime we''d do partner assignments or group assignments in that class, we''d work together. That''s the extent of my familiarization with him, though. And now, he''s gone. He''s gone. It''s so... odd. It feels wrong. And Connor Williams. He''s Paul''s good friend, and I usually see him around with Paul, much in the same way you see Mark and me together. I know of him even less than Paul - all I really know are his name and that he''s Paul''s buddy. And now, he''s dead. He''s dead. Dead! And he''s been dead! Just like that! But where... where does Ralph fit in? "Cardiac arrest and a shutdown of the brain... Are you kidding? Why is all of this happening? This job of mine, where I have to seize all potentially involved and deal with the deaths of so many innocent people is absolutely ludicrous. No, I''m ludicrous, I''m terrible. I can''t believe I just talked down an innocent high school kid like that. What am I doing? Hah..." Ralph laughs that short laugh again. He relinquishes with guilt. "Funny, isn''t it?" He spites himself. My eyes widen. I had a feeling, a feeling I didn''t want to believe. But what else could it be? I don''t dare move. I laugh to myself in my mind. What the heck am I idling around for? Self-improvement? What''s that, in the real world, going to do about the dream dungeon, a world on its own, and even its dominion in the real world, what is a little exercising or changing hairstyles or getting new clothes going to do? Another life has been claimed in front of me, less directly this time, but certainly not less important. It''s almost as if the world was telling me to wake up! To stop distracting myself from the reality of the dream. Everything''s coming together. I''m an idiot, a real idiot. How many lives are involved in the dungeon? How many lives will be "replenished" as the announcer declared, how many more people will get involved? How many people will die? I know not of the many problems of the world, but I do know this: The dream dungeon, it''s got to stop. "Argh!" A pained grunt escapes. A pound on the ground follows. I''m still frozen, and I''m not going to move now. Ralph is still outside, and he let out a groan while smacking at the ground in frustration, with his fist I presume. You can tell a lot from a person''s cry alone. People have an odd attunement to sounds of pain from others. It''s chilling. "I promise... I promise, dear, I promise..." Ralph heaves his voice, as if speaking through clenched teeth. "I hate doing this job. I hate it. But I will endure. I will endure until I find the truth to what happened to you, my dear daughter. "And then, after that, I... I..." I hear a loud pound! against the wall, just a few feet away from me. The papers and other posters on the wall shake a bit. Ralph kicked the wall on the other side in bitterness. I cannot see from my blinded view, but I can see his distress. After all, we share the same bitterness for the same person. "I..." he cries, almost exactly like he did that night. "I will definitely avenge you. Definitely. Even if I can''t, I have do something, at least." Sadness wells up within me, probably like it is in Ralph Davis, but my sadness is probably only a minuscule fraction of that of Ralph. His child died. I only knew the girl for really some months. Yet, I won''t mask the fact that I''m sad. I don''t know Paul that well, or Connor, who died, among many others, but I knew her. And I saw her. And I let her die. But, I want to make it clear, he''s sadder. Much sadder. Then, the stars aligned in one moment. "Cheryl..." Cheryl... We both say, simultaneously, him out loud, me in my mind. Funny how the world works? Funny, isn''t it? Haha... I understand his mocking attitude now, mockery not directed at Paul, or at anyone else, but himself. What am I doing? We both ask ourselves. I know it. "Hey... this classroom... isn''t it..?" Ralph stops and pauses. Oh yeah, Cheryl used to be in this room. She used to be apart of this class. I look back at her seat, empty, void, much like all the other seats, but this seat looks to feel much heavier. Much more weight is attached. Weight that cannot ever in forever and in eternity and in all thing''s real and imaginary, rational and irrational, substantial and unsubstantial - everything, it cannot be removed. When did I stop looking at her seat? My eyes widen once more. Not good! I realized he''s only that far away from me, and there''s the possibility that he''ll see me through the cracks of the door. I can be exposed. I can be seen. He might even enter the classroom, for the same pitiful reasons with the same pitiful desires as me. If that happens, I don''t know what I''ll do. My mind starts screaming in my head. My heart races and my stomach turns upside down. Please! Please don''t catch me! I wait. He waits. I hear footsteps approaching me. My expression turns ugly. I prepare myself for the worst. What will he do if he sees me? Will I be taken? Will he possibly recognize me? That''s even worse! He stops just in front of the door. I can almost hear his breathing from the outside. I can almost feel his bitterness emanating through the crack in the door and through the door itself. I can almost see him on the other side, his arm outstretched to reach the doorknob or to push the door open, exposing me in all my imperfection. What do I do? I retract my hand finally, afraid of the doorknob, and hold my breath. Fortunately, I hear footsteps pacing away. He left. I wait an extra length of time just to make sure, then I finally calm, at least a little. That was too close. I don''t know how I was able to enter the hallway without any resistance, or what exactly went down - my mind is still jumbled, in a mess trying to absorb everything - but I do know, with greater assurance, that things are about to go down. This is only the introduction. I turn my head to see a paper on the ground. I walk over to it and crouch down to look at it. It''s my test score. I look up at the wall to see the other tests and posters. It must''ve fallen when Ralph Davis kicked the wall. It''s the only paper to fall. I clench it, forming wild folds and slight creases in it, ruining the perfect, flat, embroidered, laminated piece of display. Funny, isn''t it? I think again self-mockingly. Really... Isn''t it? Who cares about a test? Who cares about anything really? I look back at Cheryl''s desk, then at my paper, then back at Cheryl''s desk. I get up, and with apologies in my head to Mr. Hoffman for ruining his wall, I tack the test back onto the wall with the thumbtack used to fix it onto the wall in between all the other tests nicely and orderly. I waste no time taking my notebook with me and leaving the room, in-case he were to return or I were to get caught. This school is large, very large, and sections of the school get closed off all the time for maintenance and such other things. I''m sure the guards or agents or whatever you call them will have little trouble escorting Paul out secretively. I think those previous thoughts with helpless bitterness. Closing the door with haste and delicacy, I almost feel an uncomfortable breeze, a gust of wind, not of the air shuttled out from closing the door. I know the windows are closed. Another turn of the imagination, my own odd tangent, slip of the mind, and yet again, this imagined wind... It''s very cold. Bitterly so. I safely leave the premises of the school and head back home in glum sullenness. 14 - Steps I¡¯m sitting in my chair in my room. It¡¯s a nice, swivel-ly chair, with feet that roll across the floor. It¡¯s comfortable, and I do all my studying on this chair, at my desk, which is more like an office with the way I¡¯ve set it. There are sticky notes all over in a seemingly messy way, but at the same time it gives off a pleasingly organized look. On it are various phrases, various things to do for various dates;Rhetorical Essay 2/5, Themes Packet 2/14, Mark¡¯s Birthday 2/25,etc. There¡¯s a particular sticky note I see -Study for Pre-Calc Checkpoint, Beat Mia!!!, with that last part especially highlighted. I chuckle to myself in the dim lamplight, a lamplight very reminiscent of torches in a particular dungeon. My chuckle dies. I put my glasses away, prepare for the night, and sit on my bed. My lonesome bed. But before I get to sleep, I hear a knock at my door. Lexi drops in. ¡°Hey, Ely, you okay? You¡¯ve been acting weird ever since you got home,¡± she asks out of concern. I look at her weakly. It¡¯s strange for her to show any semblance of courtesy. I¡¯m surprised she knocked on my door - she¡¯s never done that before. Actually, maybe she has, once. But that one time, I do not recall. However, I do recall it was a rather extreme event. And extreme events call for extreme measures, as Lexi demonstrated this morning. I smile. ¡°I¡¯m okay. There¡¯s no need to check on me.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± she stands in behind the door, opening it slightly to peek her head through the gaps. My face tightens. Seeing her face, I can¡¯t help but scrunch at what I¡¯m hiding, what I¡¯m holding inside me. Despite that though, I can respond fine. ¡°Yeah, really. I¡¯m going to sleep now. Night.¡± It seems I¡¯m getting better at responding in a tight atmosphere. I was never good at these types of things. It¡¯s one of the many reasons I choose not to be more proactive. Because I¡¯m afraid of confrontation. ¡°... If you say so. Night.¡± And with that, she leaves, turning off the lights, and shutting the door. I drop my crude smile. I fall into my bed and without trouble, I fall asleep. ¡­ .. . ¡°Ely, come on¡­¡± a small voice hovers outside a doorway within a hallway of a residence. ¡°You idiot.¡± The voice originates to a girl. That girl is Lexi. With her neck pillow and a fluffy blanket, she wraps herself and leans back against the door in the darkness of the hallway. Moonlight seeps into a somewhere and travels somehow, illuminating her smooth face. Unbeknownst to Ely, Lexi¡¯s still in front of his door, waiting. Her face frozen in a slight frown. . . . I open my eyes. Back in the dungeon. The scene feels so familiar I don¡¯t even bat an eye to the chills I receive instantaneously following waking up. It¡¯s all so normal to me now. Bending up, I see Jonathan in a new, flashy robe. He¡¯s reading a book and mumbling to himself. Immediately, he notices me and stops all that he is doing. ¡°Oh, Ely! You¡¯re awake now. That¡¯s good - hey, Graham! Ely¡¯s back,¡± Jonathan shouts. Over a small hill of metal, Graham treks over to Jonathan, into my view. I look for Maryam, whom I don¡¯t initially see, but then I notice her behind Graham¡¯s legs. She, likewise, is wearing a robe, though, the way it¡¯s fashioned makes it appear more so a mix of pajamas and a robe. It¡¯s lightweight and looks very comfortable, and it seems to be made of some very vibrant silk material. There is evidence of rough tears as if someone crudely cut it with a knife, and the cuts are tied at the ends as to make it fit on and conform to the wearer. I see Graham''s exposed left arm, gloveless, compared to his right side, and I''m reminded of the bloody scene that met us upon opening the doors carelessly. I frown subtly but bitterly. ¡°Ely.¡± Graham stops, his foot planted at the top of the metal hill. He stomps his new staff down atop the surface of the hill, which gleams. ¡°Welcome back.¡± Maryam pokes her head out. ¡°Hi, Ely.¡± She says softly but not necessarily timidly. I breathe in some breaths and breathe out some as well, allowing myself to calm. Getting up like an old man who¡¯s slept too long and needs to stretch his old bones, I make my way to the group. ¡°I¡¯m back.¡± As always, I come back without fail.
¡°So, this is the detail of the rewards we received from this dungeon loot. There were two robes, 1 staff, 20 regular healing potions, 20 regular mana potions, 1 high class healing potion, a few gems, a shard of some sort, some basic weaponry we¡¯ve seen before, but stronger, and most notably, a small metal cube, with the dungeon¡¯s insignia.¡± Graham is explaining to me and Jonathan our dungeon spoils - not Maryam, because she, I assume, was there when Graham uncovered it all. There¡¯s a lot of loot this time, with most of it being consumables. Though, that itself is really good. Normally, there are 2-4 potions per regular 1-star room conquered, so 20 is a haul. Jonathan came to about half an hour before me, but Graham delayed explaining, waiting for me so he wouldn¡¯t have to go over everything twice. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of potions,¡± Jonathan remarks. ¡°Yes, 40 potions in total, 41 if you¡¯re counting the high-grade potion. Though we used that, and about 5 regular healing potions. So now, we¡¯re down to 35 potions - 15 regular healing potions and 20 mana potions,¡± Graham explains. ¡°Still, that¡¯s a lot,¡± I say. ¡°Yes, but like always, we have to be careful not to waste a drop. We need to always be frugal. These potions may be our life-force.¡± I stare at the potions, which stack next to each other neatly in their caps, the liquid inside them rippling with an alluring color. ¡°So, we¡¯ll split them evenly. Everyone has a potion belt, or at least some carrying bag of some sort, correct?¡± Graham asks. We all nod. After spending some time in the dungeon, we¡¯ve all accumulated the basic supplies. Potion belts are very common rewards in normal dungeon rooms; carrying bags of all types all the more. Even under the sheer force of being blasted multiple times do the attire still last. I myself still have my satchel bag, and a potion belt of my own. Inside the satchel bag is theOfficial Guide to Dungeon Apparelbook and the alchemy ingredients. Graham splits the remaining healing potions among the four of us. Each of us gets four, with one of us getting three. That person was Graham. ¡°Okay, now about the mana potions. Maryam, I have a question. About your boss room item, the ring - does it consume mana?¡± ¡°Mana..?¡± Maryam thinks to herself in confusion. She furrows her tiny eyebrows. ¡°Mana, or the energy in this dungeon that lets you use spells¡­ or, well, it¡¯s hard to explain, if you¡¯ve never properly cast a spell¡­ How about this, when you use your ice powers, do you feel even slightly tired, like something is being drained from you?¡± ¡°Umm¡­¡± Maryam looks up and circles her eyeballs pondering. She places a finger on her chin. ¡°Not really, but if I use it too hard, I start getting really sleepy and my body starts to hurt a lot. Especially my head.¡± Graham looks up - his thinking habit again. He crosses his arms, his robe sleeve meeting exposed skin and blanket of groomed arm hair appropriate for an astute adult like Graham. ¡°Okay,¡± he says, ¡°let¡¯s try this. Maryam, can I see your ring for a bit?¡± ¡°Sure, Uncle Graham,¡± Maryam readily consents. She pulls the ring off her finger and hands it to Graham. Graham takes it and examines it. It¡¯s a fairly nice ring, certainly a ring you¡¯d probably only find at top-tier jewelry stores, maybe not at all - it¡¯s more likely a ring you would have to have custom made. It¡¯s beautiful. Its gem is even more beautiful, sharing the same alluring color as the mana potion, except with a lighter, ice-tinted hue. Dazzling. That¡¯s the one word I¡¯d describe it. Graham puts it on his left forefinger, and it competes for the spotlight with his wedding ring finger. He has a bit of trouble putting it on, and it gets stuck a short way in, due to his rather larger-than-Maryam¡¯s fingers. The ring itself was obviously not made for adult males. He tries to pick it off with his thumb fingernail on the same hand, holding his left hand with his right, but right when he does... CRACK. A shard of ice shoots out from his finger, out forwards him, flying very quickly. The shard creates a trail of ice parallel to its path on the ground, with spikes of ice sticking up like tiny waves splashing. The air that encompassed the ice shard as it flew left behind a trail of icy mist, mist like when you exhale on a freezing day. The ice shard disappears somewhere far ahead. Graham opens his mouth agape. Fortunately, he was pointing in an open direction, so when he flicked his finger, the ice shard that blasted headed the direction opposite of us. Nobody was harmed. Shortly afterward, all the leftover ice on the ground that formed the trailcracked!simultaneously with a less explosive crack of sound and ice and shatters into fine ice dust. We all look in awe. Even Maryam. Graham quickly snaps back into action. ¡°Everyone, is everyone okay?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°We¡¯re alright.¡± ¡°Yes, Uncle Graham.¡± ¡°Good, I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t accidentally hit anybody,¡± Graham says, very tense. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my lack of caution. I can¡¯t believe I let this slip me. In the wrong direction, I¡­¡± He stops and restarts. ¡°Ahem, sorry. Here¡¯s your ring back Maryam. Please be careful with that. I barely applied any pressure and launched such power without even trying. That ring is amazingly powerful.¡± We all center our focus on the ring. A boss item doesn¡¯t disappoint, even if it is 1-star. I shudder at the thought that the 1-star boss room might be more terror-inducing than what we just experienced. Without sufficient power¡­ and a child¡­ What did Maryam go through? ¡°I can confirm that this ring doesn¡¯t use any mana, and if it does, it¡¯s probably so minuscule that you wouldn¡¯t even notice. I didn¡¯t feel any mana drain from me. Actually, let¡¯s do this now. Ely, can you try the ring?¡± I stare at the ring, in Maryam¡¯s hands. I for some reason feel that the ring stares back. I look in anticipation. I always had this excitement for casting spells, but my lack of affinity prevented me from such. ¡°Maryam, can you pass him the ring?¡± Graham asks politely. ¡°Okay, Uncle Graham,¡± she answers with respect back. She passes me the ring nonchalantly. I grasp it. I can feel the fine contours of the ring. Dazzling. I fit the ring on, with much more ease than Graham. It slides perfectly as if responding to the call of a destined presence. I raise my right hand, where the ring is fitted on. I stand back and turn my back so it faces the rest of the group. I take a sizable distance of caution, then, with gusto, I launch my hand forward. ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Nothing. Nothing comes out. I wonder if I fitted the ring wrong. I rearranged the ring to where Graham had it in his hand - his left pointer finger - and I try again. ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Nothing. I stand there dumbly. ¡°Hey Graham, am I doing something wrong?¡± I ask Graham. ¡°I¡¯m unsure myself,¡± he calls out to me in response. ¡°Just keep trying.¡± I do just that and keep trying. To no avail. I return to the group and return the ring to Maryam. No luck. It appears destiny lied to me. ¡°Can I try?¡± Jonathan asks. ¡°Sure, why not. Maryam?¡± Graham asks. ¡°Okay. Here, Jonathan.¡± Maryam hands the ring to Jonathan. ¡°Thanks.¡± Jonathan fits the ring on snugly on his finger. He stands where I stood before, and, after prepping himself, he shoots his finger. Suddenly, a wave of ice appears and shoots from his hand. Wherever Jonathan moved his hand, ice would appear. ¡°Hahaha! This is amazing!¡± Jonathan exclaims. He starts manipulating the ice, bending its trajectory from his hand. Then, he figures out how to make ice appear from thin air, away from him, without ice shooting from his hand. Before any time passes and without much effort, an admirably large ice wall appears in front of us. But a few seconds after Jonathan casts the ice, it shatters and crumbles. Same with his impromptu ice wall, it crashes down with minimal impact. And the ice - from the wall and not - blows away like fine dust, sparkling in the air. He returns and gives the ring back to Maryam. ¡°This ring is much stronger than my ¡®freeze¡¯ spell. It feels so responsive and powerful,¡± Jonathan comments, panting. Graham looks at him and all of us, re-enters his thinking stage for a bit, and returns back to us in consciousness. ¡°Jonathan, after casting that much ice, how do you feel?¡± ¡°I feel a bit tired, but not like when I cast magic. More like right after I exercise. I also feel a bit sleepy at the same time,¡± Jonathan responds, his breathing stabilizing. ¡°It¡¯s as I thought,¡± Graham surmises, ¡°this ring doesn¡¯t rely on mana. Its power lies in its ability for fast, mass production. In an environment with lots of enemies, this ring is extremely powerful.¡± We all listen to Graham with intent ears. ¡°From what I observed in both Ely and Jonathan, it seems to be a matter of affinity. I assumed that Ely, who hasn¡¯t shown affinity for anything yet, that if he doesn¡¯t have any water affinity, which I assume this ice spell would be derived from -¡± ¡°It is,¡± Jonathan says. ¡°... So it is - then he wouldn¡¯t be able to cast a thing. Jonathan, though, you have a confirmed affinity for water, with your freeze spell. So you were able to cast it,¡± Graham continues. ¡°I can definitely confirm it if Maryam and I are able to cast thatfreezespell, while Ely can¡¯t. If that¡¯s true, then not only does Maryam have water affinity, and very excellent affinity at that, from what we¡¯ve seen in her last performance, I do too. Unfortunately, Ely doesn¡¯t.¡± I sort of expected this outcome, so I¡¯m not that disappointed. ¡°But,¡± Graham says, ¡°this ring, while powerful, isn¡¯t invincible. The ice only lasts a couple seconds, 5 seconds at most, which means that if Maryam needed to keep a solid foundation of ice, she would need to keep recasting it. The ice isn¡¯t that durable itself, though it does seem very sharp. And not to mention, you can¡¯t use it infinitely - it causes fatigue, both physically and mentally, if you exert yourself too much. But, Jonathan, how do you feel right now?¡± ¡°I¡¯m completely fine now.¡± Jonathan stopped panting completely and is how he was before using the ring. ¡°You¡¯ve recovered, and fast. If you allow yourself enough time to recover, if you pace yourself, you can keep casting ice and not have to worry about replenishing on mana potions, if you were to use freeze spell to the same effect, if that¡¯s even possible. Not to mention, if you layer ice, it¡¯ll grow durable enough, as with the shields Maryam protected us with before she destroyed the monster.¡± I remember. Everytime those shields that protected Graham and me back then split or weakened, they were ¡°automatically¡± reinforced with ice many layers more, and the ice protected us from the blazingly fast and dangerous metal shards. ¡°It¡¯s odd,¡± Graham says, ¡°this ring is extremely versatile, maybe even more so than your boss weapons, Ely, and it¡¯s a grade under. If I were to pit Ely¡¯s weapons against Maryam¡¯s, I¡¯d weight in Maryam¡¯s favor. Either the ring is just better, or, Ely, your weapons are not as simple as we¡¯ve seen.¡± I look at both of my faithful companions. I¡¯ve re-equipped Ringarde upon removing the ring, and Cheryl is sheathed on my waist sharing space with my potion belt. Something else? I wonder what it is? ¡°Now that we¡¯ve uncovered that mystery, now let¡¯s decide on splitting the mana potions,¡± Graham continues the discussion, bringing our attention back to splitting the spoils. ¡°Since the only real magic users are Jonathan and me, we¡¯ll split the potions 50/50. I¡¯ll take 10 and Jonathan, you¡¯ll take 10. Be careful to preserve it.¡± Graham gathers all the blue mana potions and splits them accordingly. ¡°Ely and Maryam, if you ever learn spells yourselves, you¡¯re free to also have mana potions. In that case, we¡¯ll divide again amongst us.¡± Graham nods to himself, affirming that another bullet has been checked on his list of dungeon to-dos. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get on with the other gear. The robes have already been distributed to Jonathan and Maryam, Ely, as you can see. They needed new apparel, and the robes here are much of an upgrade to their old attire, which was absolutely tattered during the fight. They didn¡¯t have any of the clothing that you prefer, Ely, and they were in more need.¡± I look back at Jonathan and Maryam. Their new robes are sleek and pleasing to the eye and seem very comfortable. Only, Maryam¡¯s robe, in particular, looks slightly baggy. ¡°Jonathan¡¯s robe fits well for him, but Maryam¡¯s was a bit too big. It was an adult-sized robe, so I did some makeshift work and fitted it to her. It¡¯s a skill I¡¯ve learned in the past but never had the opportunity to put into practice. Until now, that is.¡± Maryam feels around her robe and plays with her flowy yet thick silk-like costume. She smiles a pretty smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Uncle Graham, you did great. It feels even better than my nighty-night clothes.¡± Graham starts. ¡°T-That¡¯s good. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re satisfied.¡± He nods, looking away and crossing his arms. Jonathan smiles affectionately. I feel the same warmness, but a smile doesn¡¯t work its way onto my face, it appears. ¡°Now, I did some looking outside of this room. As we all know, each room is assigned a ¡°star¡±, a tier that only reveals itself after completing the room. To my relief, the doors opened, and I was able to return to room 79 and check out the tier of this room. Guess what it is?¡± Graham pauses intentionally, but not too intentionally. He raises his right hand up, right next to his face, and extends all but two digits - his thumb and pinky. ¡°3 gold stars. This is a 3-star dungeon room. And not a boss one, either - just a 3-star, regular dungeon room. I didn¡¯t know whether to feel amazed or horrified that what we just went through was only a 3-star regular room experience.¡± I start, very shocked. Likewise Jonathan. Maryam doesn¡¯t seem to be too afflicted - she probably doesn¡¯t understand, or never paid attention to these things. ¡°Only three?¡± Jonathan asks. ¡°Just three. Or, spectacularly three, depending on how you take it,¡± Graham replies. ¡°But this was no less difficult than when I faced the 1-star boss dungeon, maybe even more difficult. I had two boss weapons, yet I could barely damage it,¡± I reason hectically. Graham shuts his eyes in deep thought. ¡°You might¡¯ve just been lucky.¡± He frowns. ¡°Actually, we¡¯re all lucky, lucky to even make it past the room. We were severely disadvantaged, yet we survived somewhat. The same goes for you.¡± I think back to that memorable night. True, I only relied on the blade monster¡¯s extremely precise attacks to take down the room¡¯s boss, which fortunately killed it in one strike. Fortunately, Cheryl was there to help me fight the skeletons. Fortunately, Cheryl was there to wear the boss down. Fortunately, we were able to kill the monster before it revealed any other special tricks, or special forms, or both. Fortunately, we even survived that long! Fortunately, the blade monster didn¡¯t kill me, when it so easily could on so many occasions, even afterward. Fortunately, the blade monster only killed¡­ What am I thinking? Only by complete luck did I survive. How in the world could I have survived? I¡¯m not nearly strong enough, and I know, I know oh so well, that the dungeon spared me. What I experienced that night wasn¡¯t nearly the worst the dungeon had to offer. Nor, was it the worst, or near the worse, of what the dungeon boss room had to offer. I was just really lucky. And here I am. Funny, isn¡¯t it? I look bitterly at the ground. ¡°...You¡¯re right.¡± That¡¯s all I say. That¡¯s all I need to say. ¡°Ahem, by the way,¡± Graham says, changing the topic, ¡°when I went to room 79 to check the room level, I also searched for my arm. But, mysteriously, it disappeared. A stray monster must''ve gotten to it, or something, but now a 2-star fire-resistant glove is gone. I sincerely apologize." "You''re fine, Graham. You... couldn''t do anything about that, or anything, really..." I say with some melancholy. "You''re right, and that applies to you too. So, don''t beat yourself up," Graham says concisely and kindly. "Right.'' I sigh calmly and regain myself. What Graham said is right - what''s done is done. I can''t always act this way. I can''t always react negatively. Not like this. I must be strong, like Graham - like everyone else. "Anyway, the point is, this is a 3-star dungeon room, which means all the rewards are 3-star, including the apparel, excluding the potions. We still don¡¯t know what types of robes these are, but they are definitely very high quality and durable. Say, Ely, can-¡± ¡°Here.¡± I pass a book to Graham from within my satchel. The title readsOfficial Guide to Dungeon Apparel. ¡°There¡¯s a 3-star section in the book, but no 4-star and above, nor any boss apparel.¡± I anticipated his line of thought and pulled out the book ahead of him. Of course, he understands. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°What is that?¡± Jonathan asks. ¡°It¡¯s a book Graham and I came across in a dungeon chest sometime before we ran into you guys. It¡¯s a book detailing various dungeon clothing that can found in chest - insignia and all.¡± Jonathan nods. Graham shuffles through the book, and we all gather around him as he sifts through the pages. The various fashionable clothing appears - from body armor to gowns, to robes, to even suits. Graham pauses just a fraction of a second, I¡¯m sure of it, to look at the suits, before flipping on. Reaching the 3-star section, we come across even more gallant attire, until we reach the robes section. And, sure enough, we quickly find the two robes. They are on two separate pages, but the pages are right next to each other - Maryam¡¯s partial robe in its complete splendor on the left page and Jonathan¡¯s equally dazzling robe on the right page. Both robes are very individualized, with their own designs and accessories. Jonathan¡¯s robe, accurate to what he¡¯s currently wearing, is deep blue with large sleeves that hang. Down the middle of his chest to his feet are vertical silver and gold embroidery. At his upper right chest is the familiar dungeon insignia. The robe also has a hood and separate shoulder designs. The hood can go down to shroud the wearer¡¯s face completely, leaving only the glints of the eyes shining subtly. It¡¯s actually really cool looking. Above the picture, centered in a bold and clean font, reads the title -The Deep Blue. ¡°Jonathan¡¯s robe is namedThe Deep Blue. The book reads - ¡°¡®The Deep Blueis a specially crafted mage''s robe that enhances mana regeneration of user, boosts spells of the four basic elemental types: water, earth, fire, and air, with an especial favoritism towards water!¡¯¡± Graham reads the description. ¡°¡®The robes are crafted with hybrid salatle-gyrocloth material, harvested from Gyro-beasts and treated with C-Sotalocortocid essence! They are extra durable and extremely light, and C-Sotalocortocid ensures that it stays preserved and vibrant! Only the highest quality materials 3-star rooms can provide are used in the production of these luxurious gowns!¡¯¡± We all stare in awe at the specifications of Jonathan¡¯s robe. We look at Jonathan. ¡°What the heck is C-Sotalocortocid? Sounds like a medicine,¡± Jonathan is the first to ask. ¡°I thought the same, Jonathan,¡± Graham responds. ¡°It¡¯s probably a dungeon-exclusive ingredient or material. Same with the gyrocloth.¡± ¡°C-solo¡­ C-salado¡­ C-...¡± Maryam peeps. ¡°I hope that we don¡¯t have to meet these ¡®gyro-beasts¡¯ explicitly mentioned in the book,¡± Jonathan says. ¡°But even if we do, I guess more information helps.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. The more information we can gather, the better,¡± I agree. ¡°Anyways, that robe you have, Jonathan, is really good. It boosts all four types of magic in the user, especially water, and it enhances mana regeneration. It¡¯s lightweight and very durable - it¡¯s the perfect mage¡¯s raiment.¡± I sigh with slight admiration. My gameorientation is bringing all sorts of possibilities and applications to my mind for Jonathan¡¯s robe. ¡°I guess I¡¯m going to have to learn more water spells,¡± Jonathan says in amazement. Graham flips a page, then flips back, and starts reading the description for Maryam¡¯s robe remnants. ¡°Maryam¡¯s robe - or what¡¯s left of it - is namedFaiiredoxin. The book reads - ¡®This robe has an explosive speed attribute, in the literalist of sense! It utilizes an iron-sulfur reaction catalyzed by its unique material - made primarily from the bombastic Smith Ferrets - channeling mana into an explosive increase in speed. Further enhanced with top-tier alchemy runes and ingredients, this robe is lightweight, durable, and comfy. Feed some mana and watch yourself fly!¡¯¡± These entries carry an unusually giddy tone. This entire book, actually, feels like a sales catalog, rather than my aforementioned judgment of a fashion magazine. It¡¯s really a mix of both. Graham raises an eyebrow. ¡°This dungeon master or announcer sure is one¡­ interesting individual,¡± he comments. ¡°Right¡­¡± Jonathan agrees. I look at Maryam. ¡°Hey Maryam, do you know how to channel mana? Oh, right, you¡¯ve never learned a spell. I guess we can test your robe¡¯s abilities later.¡± Maryam shakes her head in consent. She lifts up hanging parts of her robe in the spotlight of our eyes. ¡°It is very comfy though. Very.¡± Jonathan feels his hand on the robe end. ¡°You¡¯re right, this is really comfy.¡± ¡°The Deep BlueandFaiiredoxin, huh,¡± I say. ¡°What interesting names. Graham, do you think Maryam and my weapons have their own names?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they do, Ely,¡± he says as coolly as ever. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll come across a similar book someday but for boss weapons. Who knows. Anyway, that covers the robes. Ely, there is no leftover attire for us, but I did keep Maryam¡¯s robe fragments just in case. I might repair the tear at my left arm with the fragments, but I''d need something like a sewing kit to attach it, and none of the pieces are the right size and shape to allow me to tie or fix it on me conveniently. I''llconsider something at another time. Next on the list¡­¡± Graham goes over some more items. Shards and gems that hold unknown significance are stored in our bags, and the common weaponry we normally see aren¡¯t that notable. We did replace Jonathan¡¯s dagger with a newer and stronger, more durable dagger. These are 3-star weapons, after all, but they are very simplistic. They are just sharper and more durable. Graham, too, replaced his dagger with another, sharper, curved mini-blade. For me, they serve less purpose, with my boss weapons and all. As for Maryam, Graham¡¯s decided against giving her a blade. I suppose he doesn¡¯t feel comfortable giving a weapon to a little girl. I wouldn¡¯t either. The weapons available are also especially dangerous and provocative - not safe company for little girls, even little boys in our environment; the weapons are adult-oriented, even Graham¡¯s mini-blade. Even if Maryam did have a weapon, it would serve more as a hindrance and wouldn¡¯t wield well. Either way, she¡¯s got her boss weapon, which is already overpowered as it is, so I suppose it¡¯s unneeded. For now, that is, I know Graham won¡¯t delay too long in providing extra protection to the members of our party. We need all the protection we can get. ¡°Hey Graham, about that staff, have you tested it yet?¡± I ask. We turn our attention to Graham, who¡¯s holding his staff in his right hand. He looks up and reveals a calm expression. ¡°Yes, I have,¡± he says. ¡°I suppose it¡¯d be easy to just show its effects rather than explain.¡± He gets up and stretches his limbs. Wielding his beautiful spider-webbed staff, he stands back a very far distance - almost to the opposite end of the room, stopping a hundred feet short of it. Looking the opposite direction, he aims his staff and a light appears at the empty, open spherical space at the end of the staff, outlined by the golden threads. Immediately, a fireball, about 1.5 times larger than normal, shoots out the staff almost instantaneously, firing at a heightened speed. It zooms across the remaining distance between him and the wall, before drilling into the wall and dispersing, leaving a smoky trail. The fireball crashes the wall with acrunch! He returns shortly afterward. ¡°That was amazing,¡± Jonathan says in admiration. ¡°Yeah, that fireball was faster in casting, faster in launching speed, bigger, and stronger. The staff increased almost every aspect of the spell,¡± I add. ¡°Not only that, I used the same amount of mana to cast that fireball. The same amount of mana with the staff can create a completely superior fireball to one cast with that amount of mana without the staff,¡± Graham says. ¡°I might as well demonstrate too. I did a bit of experimenting with this robe when I woke up in the dungeon before we read the description. Here¡¯s what my fireball looks like boosted by the robe,¡± Jonathan says. He heads to the same area as Graham, and, standing in the same spot, aims his right hand at the wall. Fire bursts from his hand into a ball. The ball wasn¡¯t as fast as Graham¡¯s, nor did it launch as fast, but it was certainly faster than a regular fireball. But, when it hit the wall¡­ CRACK! A larger explosion. The fireball held a very explosive amount of force, stronger than Graham¡¯s.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Also, check this out!¡± Jonathan yells. Jonathan drops down to a sprinter¡¯s position. After a short pause, he launches off. He zooms very quickly towards us, before skidding to a stop right beside us. A small whirlwind blew about him, causing some of my very messy dungeon hair to sway. He snaps his head up at us and smiles. We¡¯re all shocked. ¡°Wow, Jonathan, you¡¯re really fast!¡± Maryam says. ¡°Really fast - you¡¯re as fast as a professional sprinter,¡± I say. ¡°Right? What a crazy passive boost. This costs no mana. I noticed this while walking around - it even speeds my walking speed. And another thing, for the time it took me to run back here, I¡¯ve already regenerated the mana used to launch that fireball. I thought up a tactic - to launch magic and use my speed to avoid enemy assaults, then while I¡¯m avoiding regenerate my lost mana so I can stayinthe action and keep fighting. The problem is, I¡¯m probably going to get really tired after a while.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a worthwhile tactic to consider though,¡± Graham says. ¡°Right! I will definitely get stronger, for all of us,¡± Jonathan says with a determined look in his eyes. Right, a determined look. Determination¡­ ¡°Maryam,¡± Graham says, changing his attention, ¡°when you learn how to channel mana, you might be able to utilize your robe¡¯s powers. I don¡¯t know the efficiency of the robe now that we¡¯ve cut some of it off, but I¡¯m sure that you¡¯ll still be fast.¡± ¡°Faster than Jonathan?¡± Maryam asks, with a little bit of sparkle in her eyes. Right, sparkle. A sparkle rarely seen in the usually, even now, reserved Maryam. ¡°Right, faster.¡± Graham smiles. Maryam breaks into a tiny, tiny, itty bitty smile. We all enjoy this peaceful moment. I can¡¯t help but think that our¡­ our team is really strong now. 3-star gear, 3 boss weapons, loads of potions and mana potions - our survival rate is going up and up. ¡°So, that covers everything. Everything except this black cube.¡± Graham holds up a small, fist-sized metal cube with the dungeon¡¯s insignia. This must be the unique ¡°boss¡± weapon, though this is not a boss room. This must be the special reward item for beating the metal monster. Graham holds the cube up for us all to see, still gathered around him. He twirls it to reveal the cube in various angles. It matches the characteristics of the metal monster, except packed into a much tinier cube. It looks like an ancient artifact, except it¡¯s designed to appear ¡°futuresque¡±. ¡°What do you think it does?¡± Jonathan asks very curiously. ¡°I do not know yet,¡± Graham replies. Maryam tilts her head, staring at the cube intently. We all remain there examining the cube. ¡°May I see the cube?¡± I ask Graham. ¡°Sure.¡± He gives the metal cube to me. I hold it up. It feels unusually heavy for a cube its size. I wonder what type of metal this is - it¡¯s definitely not common steel or iron. ¡°Earlier, I tried putting mana into it, but no luck,¡± Graham says. ¡°It doesn¡¯t react with mana? Maybe it¡¯s a smelting ingredient or something?¡± Jonathan inquires. ¡°Smelting..?¡± Maryam asks unknowingly. ¡°As in, creating swords and stuff out of it,¡± Jonathan explains. ¡°I think you mean forging - smelting is extracting the ore. From what I can observe with my limited knowledge, this cube seems refined enough,¡± Graham says. ¡°What if it¡¯s a gem?¡± Maryam asks. ¡°It could be, but I¡¯ve never seen a gem with the dungeon¡¯s insignia. And a perfectly cubical gem?¡± Jonathan reasons. ¡°We don¡¯t know a lot of things. It could be, but I¡¯d weigh with Jonathan here - it¡¯s probably not a gem,¡± Graham follows. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± I say, thinking. ¡°Have you tried-¡± WHIRLLL~ We all start and jump back in surprise. Mid-sentence, the cube started to make odd, high pitched sounds, sounds so high-pitched it starts to feel uncomfortable. Then it starts to hurt. The dungeon insignia lights up, or rather, glows, with a deep red color. It glows just like the metal monster¡¯s eyes glowed the night previous. It sends shivers down our spines. The cube floats off my hand as it reverberates, slowly rising in the air. We all cautiously step away, in fear of something grand happening, that it might possibly explode or something of the like. The cube continues rising, slowly, and it jitters very rhythmically. WHIIIIIRRRRLLLL~ It continues screeching and jittering for about another 30 seconds. Then it stops. And suddenly, with a loudVROOMlike energy phasing from a lightsaber, it spins. It spins faster and faster and faster and faster. Around us, some bits and pieces of metal start reverberating, start jittering slightly. Then they fly. Fly past us and center around the cube, as if it were a cosmological mass attracting space dust due to its field of gravity. Just like the metal monster, this metal replica attracts metal chunks and the chunks orbit around the cube. We all look up in alarm. I wield my weapons, and everyone else theirs. Graham slowly inches towards Maryam, while Jonathan and I spread out. The metal cube turns to me, it¡¯s red eye staring daggers at me. My heart stops. Then¡­ it zooms towards me! Extremely fast, like the fastest pitch of the best baseball player in the world, it zooms toward me. Not good! Did we awaken another monster? Would the dungeon chests contain fake rewards? I didn''t think they would, but they very well could! And it appears they did. With Cheryl in Ringarde¡¯s grasp, I ready myself in a defensive position. Shoot! It¡¯s about to hit me! ¡°Ely!¡± Graham yells. Jonathan runs towards me. But it¡¯s too late for that. Panicking, I hurriedly swing¡­ Slashing Cheryl with hyper speed, I aim towards the metal cube. Cheryl glides toward and right through the metal cube... ...I missed. Strike, you¡¯re out!I think trivially. I don¡¯t even have time to blink. It headed straight towards me, and right before hitting my face¡­ It disappears. Breathing heavily, I turn around, looking for it. Adrenaline is pumping through me, and I cannot help but feel very pronounced fear, from all directions. Where is it? Where did it go? My eyes are fixedaroundme intently. It¡¯s only then that I realize that it¡¯s hovering over my head, not rushing anymore. It appeared to have changed directions last millisecond and swirled around me to remain high above my head. I look at it with confusion. What? It¡¯s not going to kill me? The metal chunks are not as large as the metal monster¡¯s, but considerably large enough. Considerably large enough to kill someone, if killing someone it willed. But will it? I¡¯m afraid to move, like a boy who just walked into the scary neighbor¡¯s yard, in the vicinity of their sleeping, ferocious dog, afraid to wake it up. But what do I do? Jonathan inches closer and closer towards me. ¡°Ely!¡± he whispers. ¡°Jonathan!¡± I whisper back. ¡°Get away! What are you doing!¡± ¡°I¡¯m here to help you. Hold on to me, using the robe¡¯s speed, I might be able to pull you away,¡± We continue our little charade. ¡°Are you kidding? It¡¯s much faster than you. How do you expect to outrun it even without me holding you back?¡± At this, he doesn¡¯t speak. All of us witnessed the terrifying speed of the metal cube. It seems we¡¯ve run low on options. ¡°What about trying to escape? I¡¯ve made it here without notice, maybe you can too,¡± Jonathan suggests. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll give that a shot.¡± Jonathan and I both inch away. We seemed to be making good, albeit tiny, progress, but, as if I walked out of its target radius, with one step it suddenly zooms by and again hovers over me, except closer this time. We freeze. No luck. I look at Graham and Maryam. Maryam appears very very nervous, but her expression is solemn, unfitting for a girl her age. Graham¡¯s staring at the metal cube. His eyes are flickering between me and Jonathan. For some reason, he exhales. Then he starts walking towards us, with even and broad steps, leaving Maryam. He continues walking towards us, then around us, stopping a good distance away from the metal cube still hovering in mid-air, alone by himself. ¡°Graham! What are you doing!¡± I stare at him and whisper loudly and angrily towards him. Beside me, Jonathan is sweating nervously and profusely. Graham simply raises a palm up, facing me, telling me toCalm down. I don¡¯t calm down. Pointing his staff at the metal cube, out of nowhere, he shoots a huge fireball, larger than Jonathan¡¯s fireball previous, and it flies through the air at a speed that¡¯ll give the metal cube a run for its pocket change. What! What are you doing Graham! The fireball smashes into the metal cube, luckily avoiding the metal chunks circling it and shielding it. The metal cube staggers back and recoils. Graham stands there waiting. Jonathan, Maryam and I are also fixed to the ground but in worry for Graham. Graham looks at us, then the metal cube, then he smiles forcefully, not at naturally as he did to Maryam before, to reassure us of our concerns. We aren¡¯t reassured. I stare at the metal cube ahead of me. I want to run to Graham to help block him if the metal cube were to fly towards him, seeing as Graham has no way to defend himself. But I remain fixed to the ground, with everyone else. We remain fixed and unmoving. But, contrary to our expectations, the metal cube also stays fixed and unmoving. There are evident scratches on the metal cube, but otherwise, it¡¯s not damaged at all. It stays in the air, the metal still orbiting. ¡°Huh?¡± I finally release clearly audible words. Graham walks to us very calmly, as if he were void of any danger. ¡°Graham¡­ you..?¡± Jonathan followed. The metal box doesn¡¯t react. It appears he was void of danger. ¡°I had my assumptions, and I thought about the possibility of a mimic treasure, or a ¡®pandora¡¯s box¡¯ of some sort - not the metal cube, but the treasure chest. I was observing its movements from afar. You can¡¯t tell from where you¡¯re looking, Ely, and Jonathan too, but from afar, its movements looked very strange. Not as if it were trying to attack you, but as if it were following you,¡± Graham talks. ¡°And, indeed, it was.¡± ¡°What do you mean Graham?¡± Jonathan asks. ¡°I received the definitive answer when you two tried to escape,¡± Graham continues, disregarding Jonathan. This is another one of his many quirks - whenever Graham is riding his train of thought, he doesn¡¯t like to stop for other tracks or trails until he reaches his destination. You can call it his ignorance, I suppose, or a sign of brilliance. ¡°When the both of you walked outside what seemed like a radius, the metal cube bounced back to you. Do you see what I mean?¡± A light bulb goes off in my head. I look up at the metal cube. ¡°Graham, I understand what you mean, but that is too daring,¡± I look at him with shock. Seriously, to derive all that and pull everything off despite the obvious danger - Graham, you¡¯re way too incredible for me. ¡°What? What? Please don¡¯t do this to me again,¡± Jonathan complains. ¡°Jonathan, this metal cube is not a monster or an enemy. The dungeon announcer doesn¡¯t seem like one to place traps in treasure chests in the first place,¡± Graham explains. ¡°What? If it¡¯s not a monster, then what is it?¡± Jonathan asks. ¡°A companion, correct?¡± I ask with eyes wide opened. ¡°Bingo.¡± Graham snaps his fingers very uncharacteristically - in a way seemingly uncannily forced than when he smiles. Graham surprises me in many ways, all the time. I¡¯ve never stopped to think how interesting people are. Jonathan stares at the metal cube. ¡°You¡¯re saying this cube is like a ¡®partner¡¯ device?¡± ¡°Maybe, maybe not. I really only definitively know as much as you all,¡± Graham says ambiguously. Graham shakes his head, ¡°I apologize for being rather cryptic, Jonathan. I am implying that this is a sort of ¡®partner¡¯ device, one that functions similarly to the metal monster.¡± Jonathan nods in cryptic understanding, understandingly still a bit perplexed. I look at the metal cube above me. Cryptic as it is, it does give off a very familiar vibe - but familiar not in the fact that we¡¯ve come across its ¡°sibling¡±. It just feels very familiar, now that I look at it - very intimate, almost liked¨¦j¨¤ vu. Where previously I felt I had no connection, the more I look at it, I feel that I¡¯ve connected to it all along - like the memory of an old friend that¡¯s resurfaced.I take the initiative to walk away, and the metal cube follows. I walk back, and it follows back. It doesn¡¯t attack, nor does it get close enoughforits orbital masses to cause harm. I stare at it not with fear but with spiking curiosity. ¡°I assume it¡¯s bound to you, Ely. Somehow, you triggered it to activate. And likewise, I¡¯m sure you, Ely, can control it,¡± Graham says. ¡°That¡¯s crazy¡­¡± Jonathan mutters in awe. I reach my hand towards it. I have this strange feeling, I can¡¯t really explain it, but it¡¯s like an extra sense. I feel like I can see through the cube as if my consciousness is shared with the cube. That might be the source of my ambiguous, cryptic feeling of reminiscence where reminiscence does not apply nor should it. Maybe, maybe not. I don¡¯t mean to be cryptic here, but then again, this entire dungeon¡¯s a mystery. I think that this metal cube hovering in the air makes for a good match, or addition, to the piece of the room that is this room and that this room is in the scope of this cryptic, mysterious, ambiguous dungeon. Slowly, as if I willed it, it wills itself and draws towards me. Its orbits avoid my hand and arm. And then, I touch it. I wince. Something runs through me, through my body, through my blood, and out my finger, draining me suddenly of a bit of strength. I stagger a bit. ¡°Ely!¡± Jonathan calls out in concern. But I¡¯m fine. I get back up from one knee and stand up. I still feel fine, but the sudden reaction like a change in G-force in a roller coaster caused me to feel repercussions. I look at the metal cube as if knowing, and as if it knows me. The red light gleams. I notice on the surface of the cube, the scratches on the cube were fading. As if it were repairing itself. ¡°That confirms it,¡± Graham says, still reserved, as if cooly coming across an epiphany. ¡°Ely, did you perhaps feel something drain from you, causing you sudden fatigue?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I¡¯m still staring at the metal cube. ¡°Right, then that means it does run on mana.¡± I turn my head in shock. ¡°Mana? From me?¡± ¡°From you. Good news, Ely, you can channel mana, somehow. You probably activated the cube with your mana unknowingly. I can¡¯t say how - the technicalities of mana in the dungeon are as mysterious as this dungeon. And mana control isn¡¯t that difficult once you get adjusted to the feeling. This dungeon makes it very accessible to adjust to the mechanics of the dungeon¡¯s various fields, mechanics and technicalities and other subjects unknown to the real world. Yet another mystery of the dungeon.¡± Graham sighs calmly but deeply. I stand in disbelief. I stare at my hand which just touched the cube. Shutting my eyes closed, I try to reimagine what I just experienced - the flow, the drain, the fatigue - I try to reimagine. In my silence, I am interrupted by Graham. ¡°I suppose what just happened is the cube drew mana from you to repair itself. That just shows that it reacts to you. I don¡¯t know exactly why - either Ely, you¡¯re special, or¡­ ¡°Or..?¡± I open my eyes and stare at Graham. ¡°Or, you might have a special affinity that I don¡¯t have that the cube reacts to,¡± Graham says. ¡°I have an affinity?¡± I ask in surprise. ¡°It appears so. I could just not be ¡®channeling¡¯, if you will, the right type of mana, if you can channel affinity-specific mana, which I don¡¯t think anyway is true. But, also, considering your unique situation with magic, Ely, I feel that this isn¡¯t the case - for if you have mana, I assume you have an affinity to something, and that something is a high chance something which none of us have. Judging from the monster¡­¡± ¡°Would it be earth? Since it¡¯s a metal monster, and metal would correlate to earth. Not to mention, the whole vibrational stuff and magnetism thing going on - that would make one think of earth, right?¡± Jonathan inquires. ¡°No, that¡¯s not right - I have an affinity for earth, with the foothold spell - yet I couldn¡¯t get it to activate, no matter how much mana I placed into it,¡± Graham denies. ¡°Then, null?¡± I ask. ¡°Probably. Though unless we find out specifically what the monster¡¯s affinity is, or more specifically the cube itself¡¯s affinity or affinities, or what your affinities are, Ely, we wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Graham says. ¡°Anyways, that¡¯s my rambling. I apologize for going on such a tangent, and for not being coherent if I was. Ely, I would suggest experimenting with that metal cube. If my assumption is right, the metal cube is probably draining mana from you to function, even if slowly. I would prioritize trying to learn how to control and use it effectively. If this metal cube holds even a fraction of that metal monster¡¯s power, then it¡¯s already more than powerful enough to be helpful, and, despite our bad associations with the metal monster, it¡¯s best we utilize it to make the most of what we get and have to survive. We gained a lot from this dungeon and this dungeon room - but also lost a lot too.¡± Graham turns around and walks forward and back to Maryam. I see in the distance, Maryam, who¡¯s been still ever since Graham left her, suddenly throw herself at Graham and hugs him, except she¡¯s very short so she really only hugs his stomach. Graham starts panicking, trying to handle the situation, in relief and in worry and in upset because he left her and did something that even she can easily perceive as reckless. Looking at them from afar, I feel like I¡¯m watching an awkward parent and child. In this dungeon, I might as well be watching just that. It¡¯s touching, to say the least. ¡°You know,¡± Jonathan says, ¡°we¡¯re much stronger tonight than before. It¡¯s crazy to think that items can make you this much stronger. I¡¯ve been striving to become stronger like Archie and Barry ever since I came into this dungeon, but now I feel like strength is an illusion. As long as you have the gear, you can become strong.¡± Jonathan stands there with me. The metal cube begins to hum very faintly. ¡°In this dungeon, that might as well be the case.¡± I sigh. ¡°But, Jonathan, there¡¯s much more to strength than just tangible power. Real strength runs deep. Archie and Barry didn¡¯t have any boss weapons or 3-star weapons. Yet, they stood among the strongest in the dungeon in their own ways.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. Graham too. Maryam, even. And you too, Ely.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t flatter me. I¡¯m still miles away from anyone.¡± ¡°You can say the same about me.¡± I look again at the metal cube, hovering. I extend my hand again and it draws near. Again, I can sense faintly that I¡¯m connected to the cube, but I can¡¯t grasp that feeling. As if reacting to my notions, it circles around me before stopping right in front of me, very, very closely. Yet, the metal orbiting it doesn¡¯t contact me at all. It expertly floats around me, avoiding me, and I don¡¯t feel any sense of danger. Tapping the red, glowing, insignia, it makes a short, stifled, high-pitched beep and the light fades. The cube drops in my hand, and the metal orbiting the cube and mefallsto the ground. I store it in my satchel bag, as well as the pieces of metal orbiting around the monster. It¡¯s not too heavy, nor is the metal pieces, so I¡¯m still able to move about freely. I do not know whether the metal cube requires these metal pieces specifically, or what it does when there are no metal pieces around. A lot, I do not know, but I suppose I will eventually. At least now, I think, I can deactivate it. I only say I think because even turning it off, which I did just now, felt odd and unclear. Yet another mystery of the dream dungeon - hopefully, more will be revealed in the future as time passes frivolously in the dungeon and in our own world. All things In due time, I suppose. ¡°I¡¯m going to look around for any more leftover weapons and gear and items that Archie and Barry might¡¯ve left over¡­ after their deaths. I was looking before you woke up, but I didn¡¯t find anything yet,¡± Jonathan says. ¡°Alright. Be careful and good luck,¡± I say. ¡°Okay, thanks. I hope I can recover other memorabilia - I think that¡¯s the word.¡± ¡°It is.¡± He nods at me then sighs a short while. ¡°I remembered that Barry had a wristband from a gym he frequents. I¡¯m going to check to see if I can recover it.¡± Jonathan leaves to search the dungeon floors. After a while, Graham calls all of us to him. Jonathan never found anything.
We collect in front of the dungeon room exit door. Fully stocked up and ready, Graham opens the door cautiously. We already covered our strategy and our roles, which, in the general gist, involved our previous strategy with Maryam and Jonathan implemented in. We stick to each other, and put ourselves in a position ready to fall back at any time. On our toes, with careful treading, we walk into the door, with me leading, followed by Jonathan, then Maryam, then Graham. Maryam¡¯s sandwiched in so that Jonathan and Graham both can protect her. She¡¯s still uncomfortable with using her ring, so most of the firepower will stem from the three of us, but that¡¯s fine - we¡¯ll manage well with our upgrades. Entering the room, which appears to be a maze of wide but short hallways, we encounter many of the usual traps - pitfalls, steep slopes, open canyons, and the ¡°spearstorm¡±, where countless spears shoot across from wall to wall. Graham and I are very accustomed to these usual traps - the only real difficulty is the spearstorm. Jonathan and Maryam, too, don¡¯t have issues detecting and traversing over these environmental hazards, but they seemed much tenser going about the room. ¡°Easy there, calm down. Don¡¯t worry, you guys are fine - we¡¯re here, together,¡± Graham says reassuringly at one point. And this time, his words did ease us up a little. Maryam and Jonathan easily jump over the pitfalls. And down the slope, they slide down carefully. Maryam actually uses the force of some of her ice, in the minimal levels comfortable to her, shooting down, to slow herself. Graham also uses spells to help himself down, using the foothold to stop himself from gaining too much momentum, stunting his fall at timed intervals. Jonathan and I just brave our passage down. It¡¯s a bit uncomfortable, but at least we don¡¯t sustain any injuries, thankfully. When I first approached this trap in my first week, I almost broke both of my legs. We both smoothly slide down, and all of us, reaching the bottom, continue on this wide maze. The spearstorm trap is something Graham and I have witnessed before, and we know how it works - the timing of the spears, the pockets where we can escape, and how to use the ¡°tools¡± at our disposal to protect ourselves. But Maryam and Jonathan have never seen this trap before. Not only that, but right in front of the spearstorm, company arrives¡­ ¡°Watch out!¡± I jump ahead and slash with Cheryl at a scurrying little apparatus on the floor, no bigger than a rat. Actually, it is a rat, except... ¡°Huh?¡± My blade slides into the rat and it deforms. I feel like I¡¯m chopping into really dense and viscous gelatin. Or maybe butter? The little purple-black rat, chewing very fervently, screeches. With much effort, I finally pop the blade out of the deformed rat, and the rat shoots forward and around. I look at it alarmingly. Despite receiving a full blow from the extremely sharp Cheryl, the rat can still move? With a blade sized indent, the rat suddenly flies towards Maryam, and, pausing in mid-air, it spits! Black-purple liquid flies from its mouth straight towards Maryam¡¯s face! Before it could reach her, who looks at the rat with shock, Graham jumps in front of her and takes the spit directly with his arm. ¡°Gah!¡± Graham moans. The spit sizzles on his arm, releasing some sort of steam or smoke. The spit landed on his fore wrist. It sizzles like eggs being fried. He grabs his wrist in pained agony. Very quickly, I rush up to the rat, who stopped in place to fire the spit, and I crush it with Ringarde. SMASH! The rat splats like a dropped cake, releasing black and purple ooze. It¡¯s not a very delectable sight in the slightest. ¡°Graham!¡± Jonathan calls out. Maryam reaches out to Graham, before retreating to herself, deciding against it. ¡°Ah- I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine.¡± Graham quickly drinks a little bit of his potion. His wrist slowly heals, and he relaxes. ¡°That rat, though, must be this room¡¯s monster. It shot some sort of acid towards me. Maryam, are you okay?¡± He turns around to Maryam, who nods frantically. Jonathan sighs in relief. ¡°That was only one rat. We¡¯re probably going to see much more,¡± he says. ¡°With that type of monster and the possible estimate that this room may contain, this is probably a 2-star dungeon room at the least. Everyone, be extra careful,¡± Graham announces. ¡°I tried cutting it with Cheryl, and it didn¡¯t work. It felt like cutting through sludge. I can definitely say that it¡¯s not a flesh monster,¡± I add. Yet again, Cheryl proves useless in this situation. ¡°We need to find it¡¯s weakness and find it soon before we encounter much more than we can handle and it overwhelms us. For now, let¡¯s go and continue vigilantly.¡± At Graham¡¯s words, we continue. Graham and I go ahead through the spearstorm and reach the deactivation switch for the spearstorm, sustaining only minimal injuries, allowing Jonathan and Maryam to follow. We continue navigating the tricky dungeonscape, running into dead ends, encountering more traps, encountering more sludge rats, and often both at the same time. Dealing with both monsters while being careful of traps caused us to be on extreme alert and proved very stressful. But we continued on, and we continued on strong with a continued confidence. Graham continues to lead us, and we follow. Very expertly, he¡¯s adjusted to the dungeon well, and upon entering the room, kept a mental image of the dungeon¡¯s current path. He memorizing our path while leading us while protecting Maryam while fighting. He¡¯s a very good leader. Fighting a couple more rats, we find out that their weakness is fire. The sludge they¡¯re made of burns easily, and if you burn one, there¡¯s an easy chance it might spread the fire to other sludge rats, making it easy to handle them now. Jonathan and Graham take care of most of the rats, while I switched to protecting Maryam. Jonathan and Graham sometimes take acid head-on, which is very painful to them, but they are still able to stand strong and cast spells before they take a health potion or portions of. Rarely, I was hit with the rat acid, and it burnt immensely - like burning radioactive chemicals spilled on you, corroding your skin and bones. It stung and it burnt and it also felt like my body was melting simultaneously. I don¡¯t know how Jonathan and Graham are able to take so many of these attacks. Drinking a bit of health potion alleviates it a little, but the ¡°aftertaste¡± of the burns remain for a bit longer. I realized I could completely block it with Ringarde and Cheryl, as the acid doesn¡¯t affect them, which made it much easier to handle. Only a couple would come near us, and the rats would have to stop to spit, making them easy targets for Ringarde. It seems they can¡¯t move while they¡¯re charging up their attack, and when they do ¡°charge up¡± their attacks, they chew very distinctly and very loudly. If they could move AND spit at the same time, or if their spit attacks were quicker and more discreet, we¡¯d have much more trouble. Luckily, also, they themselves aren¡¯t too fast. I can keep up with them, nonetheless Graham, and Jonathan easily with his speed. Even moreso, Maryam every now and them would use her ice powers to help. Whenever acid would come dangerously close, she would actually freeze the acid mid-air. The ice would still hit us, but it wouldn¡¯t be acid, it would just be small, sharp, but less daunting icicles, and that¡¯s much better. Although, she doesn¡¯t do it all the time, partly because the acid moves fast enough and I don¡¯t think she can control her ice powers and precisely trap every flying spit attack. But her contributions are very very much regarded highly. We deal with each rat, and with each rat defeated, we handle the next one slightly better and easier. We quickly developed into our concrete roles, and, although our teamwork could do some work - especially Graham and Jonathan with their coordination, which is nowhere near as good and Graham and mine¡¯s - we¡¯re making it work, and making it work working together. We progress through the dungeon room slowly but surely - Graham confidently yet cautiously leading, Jonathan nervously backing him up and aiding him, Maryam silently keeping pace, and me simply acting in accordance to Graham, the both of us in sometimes in astonishing mental sync. I would sometimes overextend to cover Jonathan¡¯s mistakes, who would then make improvements the next time, and I would cover him less and less. Graham and I scout for traps, Jonathan jumps in to aid Graham in casting fire spells, I drop back to cover Maryam, who would sometimes use her ring to support all of us; we enter a good rhythm - a rhythm much better than I expected initially, probably because we all, together, braved past the hellish challenge previous to us and worked together to survive. It¡¯s definitely a better rhythm than when Graham and I first worked together. We¡¯re surviving through our strength. We finally approach a hallway that¡¯s not very wide, but alarmingly long - foreshadowing the climax of the room. We all give each other meaningful glances, and this time I start ahead first again. When we entered this room, I led the group under Graham¡¯s guidance, then when we encountered the first sludge rat, I switched with Graham and retreated to the back. Now that we are entering what I assume is the final destination, I am leading, again under Graham¡¯s watchful eye. We move forward with determined steps. And we make it to the other side. The walls around us open up significantly. Upon entering the partition, all the torches light up the dark room, shining blindingly bright - per usual the backdrop for an intense fight. They seem to be different types of torches than the usual dim and warm but bright enough vibe, and a bit unique compared to torches in the rooms of previous boss-like ventures. They burn with dazzling blue flames, shooting up to the infinite sky, but oddly not lighting up the sky in its infinite darkness. In the middle is an elevated platform, with stairs on all sides as wide as the sides of the platform. ¡°This place is huge,¡± Jonathan comments. This area is amazingly huge - almost as huge as the metal monster room. All the previous short hallways and they area they encompass altogether don¡¯t seem to make up for the sudden contrast of this area. The platform in the middle looks very alone compared to the unnecessarily wide margins of this new section. After our eyes fully adjust to the new light, we all look around cautiously, in search of monsters. Once we find none, we slowly draw to the middle platform. This platform must be our way out, somehow. The new room area, after activating all the torches, remains afterward mysteriously quiet. There doesn¡¯t seem to have any traps. That¡¯s a bad sign. Standing at the foot of the stairs, Graham stops us. He examines the stairs a bit. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything wrong. These appear to be ordinary stairs.¡± After saying that, he cautiously lands one foot on the first stair. Then he picks up his other foot on the next, then the next, then the next. Then he stops. ¡°These steps are fine. Everyone, follow.¡± And we do. At his words, we follow him up. We are all watching our surroundings like starved prey - always eager, always earnest, always ready to react. Jonathan amongst us all is the most nervous. Maryam appears to be the most composed. I¡¯m staring at Graham¡¯s back so I cannot see his face. And like that, with seconds feeling like minutes, we reach the top. Graham takes the initiative to again test the surroundings. And he gives us the clear. We join him on the slightly elevated platform. It¡¯s just a flat area, with a mural¡¯s amount of elaborate inscription, inscriptions like with any of the dungeon¡¯s inscriptions or the dungeon itself, I do not understand. But these particular inscriptions, I¡¯ve never run into before - with Graham or without. ¡°What now?¡± Jonathan asks with a hint of nervousness. He¡¯s much more intact than when we first met him. He¡¯s holding onto a stronger determination. Maryam, as always, keeps to herself. But, she¡¯s very cooperative and less downcast. I wait for Graham. He frowns. ¡°Well, there¡¯s definitely no traps. I don¡¯t see any monsters from here either, nor any doors leading out. This may be where the treasure chest appears after you beat the room,¡± Graham comments. ¡°Well, do you think we missed some parts?¡± I ask. He shakes his head. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be right. This is a maze, I don¡¯t think the goal is to explore every nook and beat every monster. I think the goal is to make it to the end, like with most rooms.¡± ¡°But we¡¯ve made it to the end,¡± Jonathan says. ¡°Exactly. And your question still stands. What now?¡± Graham asks us and himself. We think for a bit. We converse over other possibilities, and in the middle of that conversation, we are interrupted. ¡°Hey, guys,¡± Maryam says sheepishly. We all turn to her in curiosity. ¡°Look at this.¡± She points to a particular inscription on the ground. It spells an unknown hieroglyph of some sort, with multiple elaborate geometrical designs, as with its neighboring drawings. What¡¯s interesting is that the area she¡¯s pointing to is slightly elevated - the stone is protruding just slightly. You wouldn¡¯t notice it at all unless you were really looking, and Jonathan, Graham, and I weren¡¯t. But luckily, Maryam was. Graham walks to it and examines it. He touches it and finds that the stone is loose. Slipping his fingernails in the cracks, with some effort, he pulls it out. And what¡¯s left is two buttons. Two red buttons, previously hidden and now revealed. There are words engraved crudely under the buttons. In English. DIE or DIE AND FIGHT. We are left with those two options. The words are barely readable, but we are able to read it. And reading it, we don¡¯t falter in the only choice we can make. After some silent glances, Graham hits theDIE AND FIGHTbutton. The whole room starts rumbling. The rumbling is exceedingly loud, like a high magnitude earthquake, except we aren¡¯t shaking. ¡°YOU FOOLS! Hahaha! I was going to give you guys a painless death if you chose the first option, but you have chosen the hard way. It¡¯s been a while since humans visited my room.¡± A voice echoes through the room from an indeterminable location. It¡¯s frisky while aged, and raspy all throughout. It sounds shrewd and every now and then it squeaks. ¡°Humans: they always choose the second option, huh? Go, my children! FEED!¡± ¡°FEED!¡±the voice repeats with more emphasis. Suddenly, a magical translucent barrier appears over the platform at all sides, rising towards the dark sky with no roof. We all look at each other panicked. ¡°Who was just talking to us?¡± I say, shaken. ¡°Rather, what was talking. But we have no time for that, let¡¯s leave!¡± Graham points away, and, behold, an exit door has appeared. We rush towards the door but crash into a stop. For some reason, something is blocking the edge of the platform, preventing us from going downstairs. ¡°A forcefield?¡± I ask in alarm. ¡°Appears so. And not only that - look, we have company.¡± Graham points in the opposite direction. Towards the door where we¡¯ve entered, very far away, we see a black-purple wave. A black-purple wave? Am I seeing things right? I squint and see bits and pieces of skin-brown sticking out; an innumerous number. I open my eyes widely. ¡°A¡­ a¡­ a sludge rat wave..?¡± Jonathan is the first to respond. ¡°So many?¡± I ask, or rather say in disbelief. Maryam¡¯s left hand is clutching at the leg of my pants. ¡°Everyone! It¡¯s time! No time to waste! Prepare for battle! Don¡¯t assume that since we can¡¯t get out, they can¡¯t get in. Hurry!¡± Graham hastes us, yelling. We all regroup together, our backs facing each other. We look all around us. The sludge rats keep pouring into this area. They¡¯re stampeding closer and closer towards us, and they split up as to surround us on all sides. We are helpless to act. Graham lifts his staff and light pours out. Magically, a large foothold appears half the size of the platform. ¡°Jump on!¡± he yells. He jumps on and we follow, frantically. He continues to cast the foothold higher and higher, and we rise with him. After a 4 or 5 footholds, we are high up in the air, just in time for the sludge rats to invade the platform. ¡°I¡¯ll maintain the platform! Jonathan, fire with everything you¡¯ve got!¡± ¡°Got it!¡± Jonathan fires fireball after fireball after fireball at the rat group below us, who catch fire and, since they¡¯re so clustered together, spread the flames very quickly. ¡°An earthen foothold to get the height advantage and fire spells huh? Elevation is nice, and those fireballs aren¡¯t bad, but how will they protect you from this? All the rats in the room, burning or not burning, stop and stare at us. A bad feeling fills all of us. They continue staring at us while Jonathan continues casting fireballs. The problem is, even though Jonathan is hitting a wide area with each fireball and doing significant damage, there are just so many sludge rats in the room it¡¯s discouraging. If we didn¡¯t have the footholds, we would¡¯ve been done just like that. The rats suddenly stand on their hind legs, and all start chewing, their furry little mouths quickly jittering, and their black, beady eyes staring straight through us, filling us will dread. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Graham gripes. ¡°They¡¯re going to attack.¡± I look at him in horror. Maryam remains silent. ¡°What?¡± Jonathan asks while firing a fireball spells. He gulps down a mana potion and resumes. ¡°A synchronized attack¡­¡± Graham drops his jaw. ¡°Ah, what should we do?¡± He starts pacing about, every now and then recasting the foothold. ¡°What about a shield made from the foothold? Is that possible?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t suppose - the footholds are rather thin, and it won¡¯t hold up against so much acid¡­ but¡­¡± We interact in quick succession, asking questions and relaying back and forth. Graham continues pacing while all of us keep our eyes focused on the innumerable vermin staring evilly at us. We are severely outnumbered. ¡°What about Maryam?¡± Jonathan finally says. ¡°Can she cast a shield to protect us?¡± Maryam doesn¡¯t say anything, still silent. But she¡¯s ashen white, and doesn¡¯t appear to be responding anytime soon. I grip my weapons bitterly. I want to do something, anything, to help - but I¡¯m helpless. ¡°ATTACK! KILL THEM ALL!¡± The voice in the sky screeches. ¡°No time!¡± Graham gathers us all together into a huddle. And just then¡­ all the rats fire around us! Quickly, in a split second, my view is filled with countless projectiles of liquid, individually small, collectively hope-tearing. Just as we are about to be hit, suddenly, I see my friends around me dip down out of sight, blurring simultaneously. And I fall with them as well. Falling suddenly and quickly. From such a great height, it takes no time for us to pick speed and speed through the air at an alarming rate. I try to reach and grab onto something to no avail. My body floats and my heart clenches as I steepen. Graham released the foothold, or rather, let it expire, and so we all fell. Because we dropped, though, we were able to avoid the mass collection of acidic, deadly spit shooting from all distances towards us, crisscrossing throughout the air. I can hear mass sizzling all about. It appears the rats can get hurt by their own spit? But more alarming is our descent. We are falling and are about to hit the ground! But before we could, I suddenly feel a smooth and cold sensation under me, and when I look down, I find that I¡¯m sliding down what appears to be an ice ramp! Maryam!I look back and see her with her hand extended and the veins on her face bulging slightly. Everyone around me is also sliding down on makeshift ice slides that soon crumble. But, our point of conversion, the exit, is covered with tens of hundreds of sludge rats, and the ground is blanketed with hundreds more. There is no end to the number of sludge rats! What type of dungeon room is this? Is this why the dungeon room is so big? To fit in all these rats that seem to be infinitely replacing themselves? Why the difficulty gap from the maze to here? A rat suddenly jumps on my right hand, atop Ringarde, which I smash into the ground. It creates a small tremble, crushing the rat completely into goo. Oddly enough, the surrounding rats also seemed to be shaken by the vibrations, causing them to melt and deform a bit. I pay no attention to it though as more rats jump at me from all sides. I preoccupy myself with trying to keep them off using Ringarde, while looking down our path. Maryam¡¯s prolonging our path to our destination by adding twists and turns, delaying our inevitable crash into inevitableness. She can¡¯t hold it long, though, I know. ¡°Jonathan! Fire!¡± ¡°Right!¡± Jonathan and Graham both, while sliding, fire 3 successive fireballs each into the exit, smashing into the rats and easily incinerating them. They are easily cleared, leaving a sizable gap in the ground where no living sludge rats lie. Just in time for Maryam to cast us right toward the exit. And we reach the exit, just a hundred feet away. Jonathan and Graham continue casting fireballs towards rats filling the gap. We all land next to each other at the same time, and spending no time, we all run towards the exit. Maryam drops from her ¡®slide¡¯, falling off prematurely, sweating profusely and huffing rather heavily. She maintained 4 simultaneous ice slides for a good 20 seconds. She should be exhausted. I take no time to catch her falling in mid-air, put her on my back, and run alongside Jonathan and Graham, still preoccupied taking care of sludge rats. ¡°You think I¡¯d let you away!¡± The voice says playfully and filled with subverted mockery and distaste. ¡°Haha! Humans, prepare to die and suffer an absolutely painful death¡­ HAHA¡­¡± The voice laughs absolutely disgustingly. ¡°ALMOST THERE!¡± Graham yells. We were running for about 10 seconds, but those 10 seconds felt like an eternity. All around us sludge rats of all numbers caved into us, and all of us were preoccupied with reaching the exit! Almost there..! Almost... ¡­ there..! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK! We stop to a halt, just a few feet away from the door. To our horror, tens of hundreds of rats climb down from the shrouded, unknown sky, down the wall, easily stubbing all our hard work. Hundreds of thousands of rats have now congregated into one convenient stack right in front of us. A stack as tall as a building, and then some buildings- And then some. ¡°You think it was going to be that easy? Kfukfukfu, not a chance!¡± The voice sounds like it is playing a game with us. It really is. Jonathan, running from behind me, focused on stopping the rats behind us, easily catches up to us with his speed and bumps into me and starts. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the ho-¡± He turns and sees this monster of monsters and opens his jaw in almost wonder. Graham beside me is silent - he doesn¡¯t even think to pace what to do, not like he can, anyway. Maryam is half-conscious on my back. Behind me, I hear chewing of all kinds. All kinds of nasty chewing, at levels almost deafening. I wish it was deafening. The tower of sludge rats sways and loses balance, and rat armageddon topples above us. We¡¯re doomed. Despite receiving such a generous upgrade in our arsenal, it proves almost useless besides prolonging our demise. ¡°We¡¯re doomed.¡± I can¡¯t help but let out softly. ¡°NOT YET!¡± Graham screams. ¡°WE CAN STILL-¡± The rats fall on us, and I can very visibly hear the sounds of sizzling. Painful, painful sizzling.