ã€ŠDungeon&#x27;s Championã€‹


 Ch 01

    The air was cold and damp, mixed with the stinging scent of mana. Rubble and dirt covered the floor, the cavern walls picked and scraped. In the middle milled about a small group, what should have been a quick break turned out to be much longer than the five minutes initially said.

    Marco sat on top of a crate, smoking. Eyes focused down the passageway leading further into the dungeon. Standing lamps dotted the large cavern, illuminating the walls with pale blue glow. Clicking his tongue, Marco flicked the spent cigarette on the floor.

    ¡°You might want to ease up on the littering boss. I heard from some hunters that dungeons don''t take lightly to litterbugs.¡± Jun said, standing on the side. Marco thought about them mining the walls would have offended the dungeon much more than littering but opted to let it go. Instead, his thoughts wandered to the crate containing their bounty.

    Mana stones. Stones magical properties that defy physics and common logic. Despite initially being found as a rather useless and relatively toxic substance in its discovery, it has grown to be a critical resource to the world at large. Its use ranges from simple power generation, weapon manufacturing, up to pharmaceuticals. One being an indispensable component for the budding but well funded and pioneering magical treatments and medicines. The treatments range from the cure for once untreatable STDs to cancer. Some treatments even claim to be able to regenerate lost limbs of course for the comparable price of an arm and a leg.

    Still the mana stones in the box were of the low grade. Low in mana density and brittle, its use limited for fuel and claiming the least profit. They also have to dig and mine deeper just for the chance of finding it, being inside a low levelled dungeon. Compared to the higher graded dungeons, where higher mana stones practically grow out of the walls, the haul sucked. Still, it was an accepted compromise. The air doesn¡¯t try to stop them from moving at all, burn their lungs, or kill them instantly. As is common when the Mana density is far too high for weaker hunters.

    Marco looked at the small pile of cigarettes littered about. They should have been waiting for an hour, probably more. ¡°I¡¯d take a shit in here if I hadn¡¯t already done it at the guild.¡± He replied, fishing another before lighting it up.

    Still. Dungeons. Marco thought to himself with a sneer. A hideous sore in the face of the earth. A hole in reality where demons, and creatures of nightmare spawn out, unless delved by a unique class of men and women and face the monsters within. There, they would risk their limbs and life to reach the end and kill the final monster waiting in the end. In return, they would eliminate the aberration and reap rewards left behind bearing otherworldly characteristics.

    Save for some unique circumstances, these people, coming from a fraction of a percent of the population, are the only ones that could enter the dungeons. Recruited by the guilds and governments, they are given a designation corresponding to their given powers. S ranks almost equal to mortal gods walking among men, to F, who are nothing more than normal human beings but with the ability of being able to enter the dungeons.

    Marco despite his irritation, despite his effort, was an F.

    They were expected to fight for self-defense, but their jobs were mostly as support personnel, porters, and miners. Their careers had an average expectancy of six months, ending with death or retirement after recognizing the pay was not worth the danger. Despite the danger, Marco had kept working officially for four years. A feat that was recognized by people, with their reasoning for Marco staying that long ranging from bravery to insanity. While others thought that it was just the money.

    They were all correct, to a point. They were right that Marco needed the money, seeing little other career opportunities, brave and crazy for how long he kept coming back to the dungeons and their inherent dangers despite being barely above human. But it was never the full picture.

    ¡°How long are we going to wait?¡± Sarah, the youngest in their mining crew of five, whined as she sat, leaning on the pickaxe in boredom.

    ¡°We wait as long as the Screening team takes to make sure the area is free of threats.¡± Marco replied, taking a drag off and blowing it high into the air. He coughed up a thick glob of mucus before spitting it on the floor.

    ¡°This is going to cut into our output. You know that right?¡± Hong, the rest of his name, Marco couldn¡¯t bother to remember, replied. Piping up from the edge of the group.

    ¡°Relax, all you''re doing is worrying about someone else¡¯s business. The fallout is going to drop in the upper management¡¯s heads. The Lions guild fucked up big time for not leaving this dungeon squeaky clean and is within our contracts. So we are expected not to do anything. That on the discovery of the mining site found to be unsecured, we are to stop work and wait until it is then deemed safe.¡± Marco replied. ¡°Until then. We sit tight.¡±

    ¡°I know. I read the contract, but it didn¡¯t account for the expected output. We¡¯re going to be having unpaid overtime at this rate.¡± Jun replied.

    ¡°Would you rather come home in a box? Adjustments will be made, clauses in the contract cover exactly the situation where we¡¯re at. We just have to make sure the proper paperwork is submitted.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡± Jun replied, standing up. Waving at the meager haul of mana crystals packed in crates. Low quality, almost powder. ¡°It might have been back a couple of years ago, but with the new management and the way they are running things. Nothing is.¡± He continued, earning a few nods from the rest of the team.

    ¡°What the fuck do you want me to do? It''s not like I can just pull a magic wand off my ass and wave it to get it all solved.¡± Marco replied, arms wide. Pausing, he looked ahead to the branching cave passage leading deeper into the dungeon. There he saw two figures walking towards the group.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Marco said, flicking the cigarette in front of him. ¡°Time to work.¡±

    ¡°I-Is that?¡± Sarah stuttered, staring at the passageway with wide eyes, taking a step back.

    Walking into the light, the creatures looked human, but wrong. Their legs were shorter, torso longer, and arms coming up to just above their knees. Standing at about five and a half feet, it wore rags covering its groin with lengths of leather stung diagonally on itself. Filled with dangling trinkets or bone, teeth, and ears. Most of the ears were pointed, and some not so. It was armed with a bone club, its edge honed to a relatively sharp edge.

    It was a pair of hobgoblins, an evolution of the usual trash goblin who stood about 3 and a half feet. A goblin would have the strength of a child, the savagery of one and the aggression of an attack dog. A hobgoblin was just like that, only that it''s bigger, meaner, and stronger.

    And it was not supposed to be here. The Screening team should have handled that sweep and eliminated it. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team arming themselves up with tools. ¡®Where the fuck are they?¡¯

    ¡°Everyone stay calm.¡± Marco said despite his heart running a mile a minute. Living in caves, they have bad eyesight but are compensated by heightened smell and hearing. Somehow, the two hadn¡¯t noticed the group standing still in the middle, but it would only be a matter of time. ¡°Anyone have a way to contact the guards out front?¡±

    ¡°The Screening team didn¡¯t leave communication devices. Uh. No. No. It was supposed to be just a routine mission. There aren''t supposed to be monsters in this part of the dungeon.¡± Sarah, the accountant turned miner said, mumbling in a panic.

    ¡®But that¡¯s not the case here isn¡¯t it?¡¯ He sighed. He then reached to his belt and drew one of his two issued daggers. They should be enough to deal with it. Still, it wouldn¡¯t be ideal. He would have preferred to be fully armored and with a sword to handle the creature.

    ¡°Sarah. Go run back to the entrance and get help. Lead the guards at the entrance back here.¡± Marco said, knowing now that Sarah would just be a liability from now on. She was afraid, terrified and deathly so. Flight would have to be the only option for her. ¡°Go. Go now.¡±

    A couple of seconds later, Marco heard the sounds of feet running, fading. Good, it was better for her to leave else she would just be another easy target or worse, get in the way.

    ¡°Okay, I can handle one. You guys take care of the other. Try and kill it, but if you can''t, just do your best to keep it occupied.¡± He looked to the side to see Hong, white as a sheet and looking to be one jump scare from pissing himself. ¡°What? You fucking scared? I thought you got the haul first thing in your mind. That¡¯s standing between you and a good meal for your wife and son. So what are you going to do?¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    He had the hobgoblin''s attention now, 30 feet away, and able to be crossed in just a couple of seconds, attracted by the commotion.

    His palms were getting sweaty. The fight hadn''t started yet and he was already vibrating in energy. His skill, his ¡®second voice¡¯ kept on yelling at him that it was a bad idea, but not enough to tell him to just run away. His ability, called survival sense by one of the people at the association, allowed him a supernatural sense of somehow being able to measure the level of danger he is in and allow him to act accordingly. Listening to it had always been the right choice, having saved him and many others multiple times.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that you¡¯re here to hunt. Well, come on then.¡± Marco said, standing on the balls of his feet and spreading his arms as an invitation. ¡°Bitch.¡±

    The hobgoblins, seeing as they were outnumbered 2 to 1 and found the odds in their favor, grinned at each other. They separated and one broke off to try and cover the exit to the cavern. The rest of the team, three guys, bunched together facing the other but gladly not breaking ranks.

    Marco¡¯s gaze focused on his enemy, it was looking at him with rage filled eyes and salivating grin. Marco pointed at the hobgoblin, then to him. A universal language between species and extended his hand, palm up and waved for him to come.

    The hobgoblin charged, weapon raised for an initial strike. Marco stood his ground, flicking his dagger around for an underhand grip. He took a deep breath, straining his muscles, then met the hobgoblin with a fake charge and he paused right before making it into range of the hobgoblin.

    The creature swung, and missed him by an inch. Catching the over swing, Marco came inside his guard and sliced at the inside his forearm before grabbing the hobgoblin¡¯s wrist with an iron grip, dragging the sharp knife up from the inside of its forearm to its bicep, leaving a much shallower laceration than it should have been. Their skin was tough, like trying to slice a tire.

    As much as it was deadly if applied to a normal human being, it wouldn¡¯t be enough for the creature, far from it. He then continued the scarlet line up the creature¡¯s arm before pulling his arm back to stab it on the neck.

    It was blocked by the hobgoblin¡¯s other hand, the blade bit into its palm, but failed to punch through.

    Marco wasn¡¯t done. Stepping forward into the Hobgoblin¡¯s space, he twisted his body and levered his hip pressed against the creature¡¯s own into a textbook hip throw.

    The hobgoblin landed on its head, momentarily stunning it.

    Taking the moment of vulnerability, Marco sliced at its throat, its thick skin causing nothing more than a superficial cut. Changing tactics, he then stabbed it at the neck, the ribs, its gut, only for the dagger to snap after stabbing it on its hip.

    ¡®Danger! Step back!¡¯

    His second voice flaring up, he stepped back barely out of reach as the hobgoblin wrapped around to try and pin him. Many had died from their bite after being grabbed. Marco cursed at himself, almost falling to a rookie killer move.

    Taking a step back, Marco stood and watched as the hobgoblin tried to stem the bleeding from its wounds. It tried to pull out the broken knife blade stuck on its hip but finding no purchase to grab. It tried to get up, only to stumble and fail as its hip failed to bear its weight. Growling, it looked at Marco with eyes filled with fading hate.

    ¡°Die slow. Piece of shit.¡± Marco muttered, panting. The short fight had left him close to winded. Taking a few deep breaths, he put the ruined dagger¡¯s grip into his pants, knowing that it wouldn''t be as smooth if there had been two of them.

    No. He would have died if the two went for him at the same time.

    The hobgoblin let out a pained wail before laying on the ground. Marco gave it a few more seconds, watching as more blood pooled from its wounds. Pulling his last knife out of his belt, he took the long way around behind hobgoblin¡¯s laying form and stood behind it, away from its reach. He swung down with his knife, with as much strength as he could and sent the blade plunging down to the creature¡¯s temple. It bit deep and with a final twitch, the creature stopped moving.

    Pulling the knife out, Marco turned to the rest. The three were only able to fend away their hobgoblin with their tools, but still managed to keep it busy.

    Marco spit to the side, walking towards the ongoing fight and already thinking about how he would be able to slip between the fending attacks and get close.

    The remaining hobgoblin looked at Marco approaching. The momentary distraction allowed a blow to slip between its guard and hit it on the side of the head. It then realized that its comrade was dead and decided that the smarter move was to run.

    With Marco blocking the passage further into the dungeon, the Hobgoblin then turned around and sprinted towards the cavern entrance Sarah ran to. It slammed into one of the standing mana lamps used to illuminate that part of the tunnel as it passed and turned it pitch black. Disappearing.

    Marco cursed, his legs pumping to chase the hobgoblin. His ¡®second voice¡¯ screamed at him that it would be suicide to pursue the creature stronger than him into the dark. But he had little choice.

    A scream followed. Long and pained, later cut off suddenly.

    Marco stopped, took a ready stance and readied his last dagger.

    Someone tutted up ahead, followed by a man clad in an ornate leather armor coming into view. He was armed with a bloodied longsword and a wooden shield and walked into the open, eyes slowly scanning around without any sense of urgency. He looked at Marco with an amused look, as if it was a toddler squaring up to an adult.

    Here was a hunter. A proper one. A person with the ability to easily take out something that Marco had much trouble fighting and the rest only able to fend off.

    As much as Marco didn¡¯t want to admit it, he couldn¡¯t do anything to the man even if he tried.

    ¡°Seems like you took care of it.¡± Marco said as he looked behind the man to see Sarah standing and another hunter taking up the rear.

    ¡°There¡¯s a change of plans. There is a dungeon break outside and the association is calling up all available hunters. That means us. We''re pulling out. Everyone. Even the screening force. We are abandoning this dungeon for the moment.¡±

    ¡°What about the contract? We only got one of the sites cleared and have 2 more.¡± Marco replied. With the security they can make some quick work for the rest of the sites. Hong was right about the haul, they barely had enough. Even with the contract stipulations, it only meant that they get the bare minimum pay.

    ¡°None of my concern. You can put it up to someone upstairs who cares about it.¡± The hunter replied, unconcerned.

    ¡°How long do we have?¡±

    ¡°Leave. Right now.¡±

    ¡°Uhh. Can you at least give us some time?¡± Sarah said, sidling up close and eyes pleading at the hunter.

    The hunter said nothing as his eyes roamed up and down Sarah, then grinned. ¡°Fine. We can give you 5 minutes.¡±

    Marco looked at Sarah which she returned. ¡°That¡¯s not even enough for us to clear everything out. Can you help us out at least? I can make it worth your while. Give you a cut.¡±

    ¡°Not my problem. And I don¡¯t want your pennies.¡± He replied, sheathing his sword. ¡°Unless you want to stay here a bit more?¡± The gleam in his eyes were telling, almost daring, Marco that they wouldn¡¯t last long without their protection. Worse, it would void the insurance clause in their contract.

    Marco bit back a retort as he turned to the rest and signaled everyone to pack up. The time left just enough time for them to take the crate of low grade mana stones and leave some of the tools behind. Never mind treating injuries that might have been sustained in the scuffle. They complained all the while, but they knew that another fight wouldn¡¯t turn out like the last time with just them.

    They carted the crates back to the exit, leaving the mana lamps where they hung on their stands, relatively affordable, but costs still added up. They can still call the loss and claim insurance and compensation on the part of extenuating circumstances but litigation takes time.

    They would also burn their only chance in the dungeon. Hunters are only able to enter instance dungeons once. With all of it added up, was turning this contract into a loss rather than just a waste of time.

    Marco was still cursing his luck as they headed towards the dungeon exit when he noticed a man standing on the side.

    He wore a crisp matching blazer and slacks along with mirror shined shoes and a pair of shades worn indoors. He had a government issued haircut, trimmed sides and long on the top. In his hands, he held a leather briefcase along with wearing an expensive silver watch.

    No one bothered the man, even the hunters not giving him a glance as they stood by the side of the portal, waiting for the mining team to leave first.

    Marco didn¡¯t want to deal with the man either. But he could feel the man¡¯s gaze zeroed on him even with the pairs of shades covering the man¡¯s eyes. Marco met his stare, and the man gave a thin smile.

    ¡°You guys go ahead. I think I need to get this one.¡± Marco said, waving to the rest of the group and approached the man. He could feel the eyes of the rest boring through his back ¡°I hope you¡¯re not here for me, Mr. Kim.¡±

    ¡°I have a contract for you.¡± Mr. Kim said. Marco knew that it would be unlikely that it was his real name. It would be like someone introducing himself as John Smith while wearing a suit.

    Mr Kim, seeing no reaction, continued. ¡°If you accept, you are to lead a group of Association trainees and bring this dungeon to heel. You will be paid in the portion of the dungeon profits after its subjugation. Added to a flat consultation fee.¡± He said, pulling out a thick file from his briefcase and handed it to Marco.

    Marco read the file, the hunter dossiers and could say that the raid would be a cakewalk for the assembled team. A team of Cs and Ds going to clear a low levelled dungeon was the closest to a babysitting job.

    Still the problem was that first dungeon raids should be after a month of lessons and training. Even then, they wouldn¡¯t be expected to fight, not mentioning clearing the rest of the dungeon. Worse, they have only been inducted for a couple of weeks. Which means, greener than green.

    Fast tracked? Should be. The problem is that the last time the same had happened was around four and a half years ago. Back when it all started. Marco thought.

    His ¡®second voice¡¯ wasn¡¯t talking to him now, it being only limited to actual dangers at the moment. Still, Marco knew from experience that it was a bad idea, but the money was not something to sneeze about. It was good. The fee was equivalent to about a month¡¯s wage of exceptionally good hauls mining dungeons, and added to the portion of the boss loot.

    Nevertheless, it was peanuts to a larger guild.

    He read the rest of the contract, with Marco earning at least the flat fee as long as none of the hunters died on the raid. Even with a failure to subjugate the dungeon, he would still be paid. And assuming that there would be nothing but hobgoblins or goblins in the dungeon, along with other evolved forms for the monsters along the same line, it should only be the boss room to worry about.

    Still there had to be a catch.

    ¡°Running out of trainers?¡± Marco probed, leaving out the fact that the trainees were less than green.

    ¡°A new initiative. To make sure that equal, if preferential treatment should be extended to people belonging to¡­¡± He gave Marco a sharp look. ¡°Disadvantaged people, but possessing the needed experience.¡±

    ¡°Rank F. Not even mentioning the fact that I never led a raid team before.¡±

    ¡°But you still have the relevant experience. Much more than hunters with higher ranks, currently indisposed. This dungeon being abandoned by the Lions guild causes the property rights to be passed on to the association, and for us to do what we please.¡± Mr. Kim replied, adjusting his shades. ¡°This raid will continue on with or without your participation. I advise you to take it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? No other reason?¡±

    ¡°Consider this a favor if you want.¡±

    Marco snorted, ¡°I don¡¯t like favors.¡± then Signed the dotted line. He handed the contract back to Mr. Kim who nodded back.

    ¡°The team should arrive within ten minutes.¡± He said and walked back outside and left Marco with the rest of the team dossier to peruse through.

    Alone, Marco sat on a crate. His back to the exit and watching the tunnel heading further in. It should be a short wait.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t help but think that there had to be another catch in all of this.

 CH 02

    Marco waited, sitting on one of the empty crates left behind. Getting bored, he tossed his knife and caught it by the grip. All the while, his eyes locked to the passage leading further into the dungeon. The moment a shadow or a figure would show up, Marco would simply step back and would be out of the dungeon in a moment.

    If he was better armed, he might have considered differently. Yet, he was just armed with a knife.

    It was just a simple combat knife, 10 inch blade length of good quality spring steel, with a full tang and wrapped with a paracord for grip. Still, despite being razor sharp enough to shave, it only managed to cut the hobgoblin¡¯s skin. Stabbing flesh felt like going through thick rubber and breaking after a few relatively deep stabs.

    As much as it didn¡¯t make sense, dungeons play with a different set of rules than the normal reality.

    He clicked his tongue. A blade made with magical materials would have lasted and worked magnitudes longer. Yet even with his time and experience in the business, was still not afforded to be armed with one. No guild, even the association, would allow it since he didn¡¯t have mana. Or even if he did, it was pitifully low that it might not have existed.

    Mana is a universal constant among E rank hunters and above. Without it, any magical weapon would only serve as its mundane counterpart, with normal limitations, and magnitudes in cost.

    It was only his ability of barely being considered a hunter, the ability to enter the dungeons, which allowed him to keep working. To keep risking his life. Stabbing the crate, he pulled out a cigarette.

    Behind him. The entrance to the dungeon, The portal swirled, thick concentrations of mana powering the otherworldly phenomenon churned into blue mist, once in a while showing the space it led to the other side. Outside the dungeon, if one was perceptive enough, police lines were built in semi permanence to keep civilians out. Armed and alert men watched the entrance guns slung and held at a low ready or sitting behind a gun emplacement to deal with any monsters lost and thinking to find prey outside the dungeon. Or at least slow them down.

    The buildings surrounding the dungeon have been evacuated, windows reinforced with steel to serve as bunkers and firing ports. Conventional guns were found to have reduced effectiveness on the other otherworldly monsters, but it doesn¡¯t make them useless.

    Monsters caught out of the dungeon, even with their unnatural states kept, would still have to follow the laws of the natural world. Making it so bullets and bombs fired in anger would commit damage allowing human civilization to be able to resist and adapt to dungeons.

    It had been a chaotic and dangerous first year after their arrival. Now, it is simply a new thing in the world.

    ¡°I think it''s just us here¡­ Oh.¡±

    The voice came behind him, and he looked behind to see a group of eight enter the dungeon with the rest looking around with awe and wonder. They wore the usual guild colors; black overalls with patches on the shoulders, red blue and yellow. All were armed with the magically smithed weapons and armor with some bearing personal weapons that are definitely better than standard issue. There were four guards, armed with shields and short swords, likely two for the van and the rear. Along with two with spears one with a bow, the last was unarmed, his hands glinting with multiple rings.

    Marco hopped off the crate and faced the group. He held the folder containing their files. ¡°All right, listen up. You¡¯re already briefed on what to do but this is still worth repeating. Rule number one! As much as this is an E class dungeon it is still a dungeon. Keep up with your team. Never leave your buddy. If you hear something, don¡¯t go traipsing off and checking it out. Notify the rest of your team first before doing so. One of the easiest ways to die in the dungeon is to be separated. Second, in the event of you thinking you might have bitten more that you could chew, don¡¯t be shy to call me for help-¡±

    Someone in the group was clearly not listening. He continued looking around the dungeon with interest. He didn¡¯t have any weapon on him, a caster. Marco simply ignored him and continued on.

    ¡°-or simply retreat if I am not nearby to do so or already occupied.¡ª¡± and so Michael continued listing out the rules to the crowd growing glassy eyed from boredom, all which grew alert the moment he finished.

    ¡°Do we really have to waste our time with all this kid shit?¡± The same inattentive guy in the group piped up.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Marco asked. The caster, now facing him, allowed Marco to recognize him from the files. Gabriel Lim. A C class prospect with the capacity of high intensity pyrokinesis. On his file, his ability along with the coaches¡¯ glowing reviews of his potential would have him higher up in the guild.

    ¡°We''ve been recruited and have already fought monsters much stronger than the ones here.¡± He replied.

    ¡°The point is for you to follow basic instructions. But it seems like you can¡¯t even listen.¡±

    ¡°Why would I listen to you? Guild leaders are S or high A rank hunters. The Association president is a S rank hunter. Hunting parties are led by the highest ranked. I bring the firepower here. That should be me, telling you what to do.¡± Gabriel stepped up.

    ¡°Leadership is a matter of seniority. Not what you just happened to be born with. I¡¯m already running these dungeons long before you even learned to wipe the snot off your nose. This paper.¡± Marco showed the file, ¡°Means that I get the final say. So back the fuck off kid.¡± Michael said, making a further point by poking Gabriel in the ribs with an unfolded Balisong. Marco always kept it with him as a utility knife. And compared to knives in the market, it was much better at persuading people. ¡°It''s either you do that, or get some iron introduced in your bloodstream and fail a training mission.¡±

    Marco knew he shouldn¡¯t be threatening trainees. It was dangerous, even harmful to his career in the Guild Association. But it wasn¡¯t like instructors weren¡¯t afforded correction lessons on the field.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Gabriel replied. His look almost daring him to do it.

    ¡°Try me asshole.¡± Marco grinned. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind stepping in and giving you a lesson your dad missed teaching.¡±

    The two stood in a tense few seconds, but Gabriel relented. With a huff, he started to walk back to the rest of the group. Still, he kept glaring daggers. The rest of the team had his attention now.

    Marco, had his prepared briefing ruined, simply shook his head and turned back to look at the tunnel.

    ¡®Danger! Behind!¡¯

    Marco ducked as the bolt of fire went over his head. He had to give the kid credit, Marco could feel the searing heat. But it was just that, if he wanted to kill him, he should have aimed for center mass. The kid aimed at his head instead, making it a lot easier to miss.

    Turning, Marco sped towards the crowd. Bear crawled from the crouch and sprinted towards the only culprit. He had a surprised look as he started winding up for another cast.

    Marco threw his Balisong, Gabriel ducked out of the way and interrupted his cast. The fire in his hand fizzled out just as Marco tackled him and took them both to the ground.

    Gabriel hit the ground with Marco on top of him, forcing his air out. He tried his best to fight, but Marco was better. Trying to push Marco off earned Gabriel a punch to his rib. Everybody heard the snap and the following cry of pain. Gabriel tried to curl up on himself from the agony but Marco simply turned him to his stomach and wrapped his arm around his neck. Marco squeezed and pulled, held Gabriel and dumped him to the side a few seconds after he went limp.

    Pecking order established, Marco checked his pulse. It was still there.

    The rest of the group looked dumbfounded as Marco turned to them. ¡°Now, Listen up! This will never be put on any of the guild manuals and lessons but if you¡¯re going to learn only one thing from me, let it be this one. Ranks are only a measure of a hunter¡¯s skills and abilities. That doesn¡¯t mean that they will always win against someone of lower rank. It might work 9 times out of 10. Forget that, take your higher rank for granted and take that chance enough times, that 1 out of 10 chance would be enough to get yourself killed. Are we clear?¡±

    There was a mixture of assent and agreement. Whether they would take it to heart, Marco didn¡¯t care. He had a job to do.

    ¡°You and you. Get Mr. Lim by his legs and feet and dump him out of the portal. Once you get back, we¡¯ll continue on to the rest of this exercise. I didn¡¯t get this job because I was the strongest, nor the smartest. I¡¯m just some asshole who came back and waded through shit that you wouldn¡¯t believe. I¡¯m here to make sure that you get to the boss and kill it and come back. Not put up with your shit. So, if any of you want to bring up shit, do it now, because when the spells start slinging and the monsters start charging, I won¡¯t knock you out. I¡¯m just going to kill you.¡± Marco said, waiting for a response¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Sir?¡± One of the vanguard raised his shielded hand, his sword hanging off his waist. ¡°What are we going to do with our Caster out of the picture?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t always get to clear dungeons with a full complement. Losses are not a matter of if, but when.¡± Marco replied, giving a serious look. The two hunters sent to dispatch their incapacitated member came back. Marco nodded. ¡°You have your roles set. And this place is just a series of caverns and passages so go ahead and get in your places. Vanguard in the front, support and damage on the middle and rearguard, on the rear.¡± Marco said, to which everyone got into their places. He noticed a gap in the formation, from the missing Caster and some looks were sent his way but he simply ignored it.

    ¡°Also, as much as I have read your files, you cannot rely on me to remember them. So, I will be calling all of you according to your roles.¡± Marco pointed at the vanguard who raised his hand, ¡°You will be Vanguard 1.¡± Then to the other, ¡°Vanguard 2. Support 1, Support 2, Bow, Rearguard 1, Rearguard 2.¡±. No one argued and with a wave, Marco had them move forward.

    Tunnel fighting is as simple as it went, but that didn¡¯t mean the easiest. The lack of light, corners, niches and the risk of hidden alcoves where ambushes could be initiated from allowed for a lot of dangers in a small confined space.

    The lack of space also had the risk of undisciplined Pyros snuffing the air for everyone to use and causing carbon monoxide poisoning. There is also the heat, and smoke from the fires. This made Marco think that he was a bit lucky that he had taken out the undisciplined Pyro early out of the team, despite the reduction to their damage potential.

    Marco had them pick up the mana lanterns the mining team left behind. Holding one, and standing in the middle of the formation, allowed a good coverage of the whole team along with one of the vanguard and the rearguard carrying one.

    The trip down the passages was uneventful, with the exception being another pair of two hobgoblins and a quartet of goblins blocking the entrance to the boss room.

    It was quick work. With the two shield vanguard taking up the front, the rest flanking at the sides, hemming them into a corner. Support, with their spears, did most of the damage, slipping between the shields and attacking with impunity while their bow harassed from wherever she could find an angle.

    For the most part, Marco simply stood in the sidelines, watching the team as they worked and making sure that their training didn¡¯t slip. A part of him worried about the gap left by their missing caster but it was soon disregarded. They were working well, even though Marco had to intervene one time, kicking an enterprising goblin on the side of its head. The goblin managed to use the blind spots and slip between the shields and tried to strike the unarmored Bow in the middle.

    Everyone cheered from their first actual engagement. Marco let them bask in their achievement for a bit considering that they didn¡¯t have any injuries and casualties on the skirmish. After a while, Marco drew a whistle with his lips and caught everyone¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Congratulations on winning your first battle amongst hundreds or thousands. Take a minute to rest, charge your mana and refresh your quivers. After that,¡± Marco said, pointing his thumb behind him at the large wooden door nestled in the middle of cavern walls. ¡°We¡¯ll be heading down to meet the boss and you¡¯ll be taking them on. It''s a green monster dungeon, so expect a caster, a hobgoblin shaman. Not all are the same and so it can range from being able to cast ranged magic or buff magic for his minions that are sure to be around him.¡±

    ¡°We have formations for both scenarios, but in your opinion, Which is much more troublesome.¡± Vanguard 1 asked. Clay. Marco recalled his name. The same guy who was concerned about the loss of Lim.

    ¡°Both have their challenges. But in my personal experience running these kinds of dungeons, the strengthened minions supported by an enhancement were the most dangerous on my person. That is considering that I was running as a second van position. I was what was considered to be a dodge tank, back then. When there wasn''t enough equipment available for the conventional tanks to take blows. They didn¡¯t have those magically enchanted shields and armor and they had to make do with either heavy or light shields made with conventional layered composites. We dodge tanks had to make sure to take attention and not get killed for it while the rest bum rushes the shaman and take them out.¡± Marco said, looking at all the faces of the assembled team. ¡°Any other questions?¡±

    There was none. And so with a final nod. Marco opened the door to the dungeon boss, letting everyone take a view inside. It was a long narrow hall, rectangular, with large pillars holding the ceiling and was about 20 meters wide and 40 meters long by Marco¡¯s reckoning. On the end of the hall was a raised throne, where the shaman stood, along with a couple of burly evolved hobgoblin bodyguards.

    Marco nodded to the team. ¡°Come on. The door only opens for five minutes once a day.¡± Marco said. Boss fights always resembled something like a cage fight, where two sides go in and one comes out. Following that and destroying the dungeon core, they only have another few hours before the dungeon closes following a complete subjugation of the dungeon.

    The team filtered in, with the same formation as their approach to the dungeon room. The Vanguards took the lead, the Supports and Bow ten feet behind, the only difference this time was that the Rearguard took in the far flanks to make sure that none of the greens was able to hook around and surround them from behind.

    Which was exactly what happened. A team of eight hobgoblins were hiding behind the pillars and were found by the rearguard holding the flanks. The discovery caused the shaman to start chanting and doing a dance on his altar. The effect was immediate, putting the hobgoblins into a frenzy.

    The greens attacked, but the distance allowed about a few seconds between contact . The flanks collapsed into the van, taking the shape of a blunted V, their sides protected by their comrades while the spears and bows took the center.

    ¡°Van. Harden up. Support, take the right side first. After that, the right flank would swing around to the front.¡± Marco shouted, ¡°Support. Skills free at the right side. Time it on contact with the van. On contact, the right flank executes your own skills and try to take them all out in one move. I repeat, the right flank would then swing around and relieve the van. Van and Left, use no skills. Don¡¯t tire yourselves out.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡± they all shouted as one.

    The vanguard and their first charge met with a resounding clank. The force of two sides meeting forced the vanguard to slide a few inches back but their well-timed shield bash allowed some of the charging hobgoblins to fall on their backs. One of the vans managed to get a good shot in and stabbed at one of the calves exposed within range.

    Still, it is the signal. Bow and the Support spears followed up with their piercing strikes into the right flank, timed well along with the right flank¡¯s cutting slashes and flame strikes. Two fell on the arrows, both having their foreheads pierced while the rest was bisected and the other fell with burning wounds, smoke coming out its mouth and nose.

    The first wave dying that quick was expected. Mr Kim was right in saying that it was pretty much a field trip. Marco judged that even if they are missing a team member as they are, they can reliably take out a D rank dungeon given that their cohesion doesn¡¯t break or they face any surprises.

    Just as planned, the right flank folded into the van and took the rest of the hobgoblins in usual melee, while the bow behind the van helped finish off the ones on the left flank with little fanfare. The left too, collapsed on the enemy van. With slashes and thrusts coming from three directions, the enemy center fell in quick succession.

    ¡°Maintain formation. Lock step, double time it.¡± Marco shouted, ¡°Bow, harass the shaman only when he is about to cast magic. Only then! When within lethal range, try to take him out. They can be tougher than they look and can try to dodge. Van! Keep the bodyguards busy. Flanks take care of the opportunities only when they arise! Skills free only on contact!¡±

    ¡°Confirmed hit on the shaman. It didn¡¯t kill him. Unable to follow up. He¡¯s now hiding behind his throne.¡± Bow reported, standing next to him.

    ¡°Go back to supporting the line. He won¡¯t be coming out soon.¡± Marco replied and felt his sense. He looked behind him and grabbed Bow on the shoulder to face the same direction. There he saw a group of 4 hobgoblins coming up behind them. Looking back at the fight, they were all engaged and would be unable to respond to the danger without risking themselves.

    With the threat of getting surrounded, Marco had to step in. He glanced at Bow ¡°Change of plans. Take them out. I¡¯ll make sure to keep them off your back.¡±

    ¡°I say again! Skills free. Give them all you got!¡± Marco shouted above the din before meeting the charging group to meet them as soon as possible and buy as much buffer space as he could.

    As he sprinted, an arrow whizzed by his head and took out one of the lead hobgoblins in one shot. The arrow digging between his eyes and the creature fell on his back, his legs collapsing under it mid run.

    The sight made Marco grin and was partially thankful that it didn¡¯t trip the group¡¯s rout instinct. The usual way would be for the range to take out the rear ones first to make sure that the charge didn¡¯t falter and continue. But that is only applicable if the defenders are confident that they can take the attack.

    ¡®Danger! Dodge! Ahead!¡¯

    His ¡®second voice¡¯ screamed at him as he got within range. Marco stuttered his step, slowing him just enough for the lead hobgoblin to miss. He went past its guard and kicked its feet under it before rolling, to the right to dodge another attack.

    A body dropped and Marco saw the farthest hobgoblin fall with an arrow on its leg just as his ¡®second voice¡¯ once again screamed. Marco snapped his arms up, barely catching the other hobgoblin¡¯s wrist, mid swing. Knowing that he wouldn¡¯t be able to stop it, a nudge to the right caused the swing to miss a wide margin and with a strong pull, caused the creature to lose balance and tumble into the first hobgoblin he first tripped, who was trying to stand up. The two collided in a mass of flesh and tumbled to the floor.

    He walked up to meet the last on the line. Its leg wounded, it looked at him with a look of second thoughts before earning another arrow digging into his eye. Marco turned around, towards the two hobgoblins tangled up in a pile of limbs. Both tried to get up, only for one to earn an arrow on the temple as soon as he got up.

    The last one, stood and seeing as his team was dead on the ground, tried to run, only to earn one arrow sprouting from the back of its head. Seeing no movement, Marco turned to Bow and gave a thumbs up, walking to connect with the rest.

    ¡°Good shooting.¡± Marco said, breathing hard. ¡°Wrap it up!¡± He ordered and the vanguard ran up the stairs and took out the shaman. Its body later rolled down the small set of stairs before slamming into the ground in a bloody heap.

    ¡°So that was a dodge tank.¡± Bow remarked, looking amused. ¡°You know I never got your name.¡±

    ¡°Marco Santiago Luna. It wasn¡¯t my best performance. And It never did look as good as it sounds.¡± Marco replied. ¡°Also very dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Alona.¡± She said with a glint in her eye. ¡°I hope we get more chances to work together.¡±

    ¡°Unlikely.¡± Marco shook his head. Alona Roces, C rank hunter specializing in bows. With high accuracy and speed scores, as she demonstrated, only limited by range given by her low draw weight but was still regarded highly with much potential to grow. He did have to wonder, she was holding a basic recurve bow when she is likely to be given much better equipment, either by the association or by her family.

    And even with Marco ordering it outright, she didn¡¯t even use a hunter skill.

    ¡°We''re clear here!¡± Vanguard shouted.

    ¡°Clear.¡±

    ¡°Okay, go ahead and take whatever we can take with us.¡± Marco said, it was time to exploit the dungeon for whatever they can take.

    The shaman¡¯s corpse was the first to be checked, then the bodyguards, after taking whatever they could, the rest of the group spread out, within view of each other and started poking around. In the end, they came up with some low grade loot. Planks torn off wherever they can be pried, some torches with some life out of them, bits of bone, trinkets, all low grade stuff. There was also the shaman¡¯s staff, which can fetch a bit of a good price in the market, able to enhance the casting abilities of Casters and the like.

    So with the loot all accounted for and packed for transport, they all looked to Marcus who stood by the throne. Marcus tapped its leg with his shoe and it faded and turned into a small piece of floating black stone, emanating mana.

    The dungeon core.

    It was small, the size of a large coin. This dungeon is a rank E dungeon. Still the sight of it made Marco¡¯s heart race. He didn¡¯t want any part of it. But¡­

    Everyone in the raid team was watching him now. It was the standard for the honor of breaking the dungeon core to the raid leader and with them allowing him to do so, despite being rated much lower than them meant some measure of respect.

    Marcus smiled at the thought. Wouldn¡¯t that be nice for this batch of new hunters not to turn up as a group or raging assholes. He thought as he reached his hand forwards and grasped the stone in his palm. Hitting it with a magical weapon would have had it break in a spectacular shower of light, but he didn¡¯t have any, so he had to settle with the first known way of destroying them; crushing it with his hands.

    The core resisted under his grip, not crumbling as it should whenever he saw other hunters do it. For a moment, Marco worried he wouldn¡¯t even be able to do it, that he would be denied even the honor of destroying a dungeon. But with a flash of rage, Marco gritted his teeth and put all his strength into crushing it.

    The walls of the dungeon cracked in a thunderous sound. Everyone flinched and looked at the walls. Marco opened his hands and the core was gone. More cracks appeared and it was the telltale sign of a dungeon collapsing after its core was broken.

    Marco nodded. He then turned to the rest and ordered the evacuation.

 CH 03

    Subjugating the dungeon was only part of the job for hunters. For the layperson, a hunter¡¯s work is to subjugate a dungeon, exploit it, then head back to their guilds or the association to deliver their loot to be evaluated, celebrate their successes then reap the results of their hard work.

    What they didn¡¯t know was the amount of paperwork involved following the subjugation and exploitation of a dungeon.

    First would be for the accounting of everything that has been taken out of the dungeons. At the entrance of a subjugated dungeon, they would meet with a representative of the association who would count and give detailed written and photographed evidence of the loot, kept and transported through an armored car to authorized authenticators and given an estimated base value. It was lauded as a service done for the convenience of hunters, but it really was for one thing.

    Taxes.

    Even with men and women who had to risk their lives for the survival of humankind, they are not extended the exemption for even one thing that is considered certain in this life.

    After that, everyone would have to write up the after-action reports, as there still had to be accountings for what happened within. The dungeons have the effect of making all electronics null, even a simple circuit of a battery and a light was not spared making it so that light sources like torches and mana lamps are a vital resource for delving in dungeons.

    So everyone who participated, even Lim, who had been kicked out shortly after entering, had to write up their own accounts to be notarized in duplicate, as they were working for the association directly, and triplicate if they are under a guild. They are then fed into a database which scans every detail done all in order to set up an encyclopedia of how to handle the monsters encountered in a dungeon.

    It also serves to address one thing that is inevitable when delving.

    Death.

    That bit of paperwork was to account for the deaths of the hunters. To establish a pattern if any exists and rewrite training for newbies and refreshers pamphlets for already existing hunters. Another, was to aid in the investigation of deaths, to ascertain if it involved any foul play.

    It was natural. The arrival of the dungeons, despite its effects in everything, failed to change humanity for the better. It may have even caused it to teeter into being worse. Pride and ego doesn¡¯t mesh well with hero worship. Add money and fame, it all blends into a bad mix.

    So as Marco finished up writing his reports, along with writing an extended addendum as to why he kicked out a C rank mage off the group, even with the self defense aspect. A mage is still a mage. Especially if it was one who would have made the dungeon clearing trivial. He signed it, notarized, copied and filed.

    He knew it would come back around and bite him in the ass, he knew these kinds of people, but there was nothing else he could do. If he would have caved in and let Lim get what he wanted, everyone else would start walking all over him. Now, all he has left is to hope, not expect,  that the association would come and help him handle it when it comes.

    But what¡¯s done is done. That would have to be in the future. Marco thought to himself, smiling, as he walked out of the last station on the metro. He had just finished his bit of shopping and is looking forward to getting back home.

    Down the station, he looked over the stalls selling street food, along with pre cooked dishes for people just coming home late from work who had no time or were just too tired to cook for themselves. The usual mixes of dish coming from multiple stalls but found nothing that interested him. Besides, he would be coming home from a home cooked meal which his bag of grapes, oranges, and apples would add to.

    Men and women filled the street. They walked about enjoying the end of the day, along with people who were just starting their own. Most headed towards the station, heading to their night shift in offices and factories through the Metro. Marco stayed out of their way, with some faces he recognized, giving him acknowledging nods which he all returned with a slight smile. The arrival of dungeons didn¡¯t make the world stand still, it only made it run faster.

    Still, as much as he would like to be home, he was a bit early to be dropping in. So as much as he promised a certain someone he wouldn¡¯t visit the place as often, Marco found his feet leading him to Miguel¡¯s bar.

    It was a hole in the wall where the entrance led to a bright lit alley with men and women standing by the sides. All were engaged in conversation with each other or just standing alone, smoking. They nodded, and Marco nodded back as he passed by them without a word and entered the bar.

    Bars usually had that smell, of some cleaning agents, puke, and spilled beer, their scents sticking on the walls of the establishment and staying like a ghost, or a soul. But for Miguel¡¯s, most of it was fried foods sizzling and steaming from the kitchen in the back with the scent wafting enough into the main area that it would make anyone hungry.

    ¡°Marco.¡±  Miguel greeted as he polished the bar. He wore a black silk pants topped with a loud and colorful button shirt, the patterns always changing everyday and despite his jobs handling drinks and drunks, Marco saw that it never had a stain land on the gaudy colors. ¡°Here for a drink?¡±

    ¡°Just give me the usual Miguel.¡± Marco said, taking up his usual seat on the corner. It allowed him a good view of what¡¯s happening inside along with a good view of the patrons coming and going. There was a hook underneath the bar, on the side for the patrons where they could hang their bags, or purses. ¡°Any word about the block?¡±

    ¡°Some kids got caught trying to break into a local store when it was closed. They thought it was left empty after closing.¡± He grinned. ¡°Well, Sandra got word, left her husband inside and left the store in case they were casing her joint.¡± The beer arrived and Miguel popped the cap. ¡°A little showing of a shotgun and a little monologue of what it could do, they gave up. No charges, they didn¡¯t want them harmed. Kids got their hair shaved though, and you could bet their asses are raw.¡±

    ¡°These kids from the towers?¡± Marco replied, taking a sip.

    ¡°From the shanties up north. Also, Mikki died. That¡¯s his box right over there.¡± Miguel replied, sliding over a bowl of peanuts. His head jerked to the other side of the bar, where a box covered in white plain paper sat alone, lit up by small candles on each side. A name and a picture of an almost gaunt, fully bald, man was smiling in the picture.

    ¡°Oh yeah. ¡®Shiny¡¯. Fuck. Have it here.¡± Marcus said, pulling out his wallet. He remembered now, they called him Shiny because he was always worrying about his hair. ¡°It''s been a year. Haven¡¯t talked to him since. Shame. Used to put some greasy shit to try and save his hair.¡±

    ¡°He shaved it off. After he got cancer.¡±

    ¡°Got a shit hand on that part. But we all deal with what we got.¡± He replied and fished out wad of bills equivalent to 500 dollars, about a quarter of his base monthly wage. But would be able to feed a family of 3, now 2, for a month.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Are you sure about that? You still got your own.¡±

    It almost made Marco pause. He sighed. ¡°It''s fine. I got a bit of a windfall, so might as well spread out the luck.¡± He replied, putting the rolled up bills.

    ¡°Who got a windfall?¡± A voice said, followed with a man wearing a pair of faded jean pants and jacket. Somehow, the young kid was still able to wear them even with the ever present tropical heat.

    ¡°I did.¡± Marco replied, and reached under his side of the bar to catch Jan¡¯s hand reaching for his shopping bags. With a grin, the hand pulled away but catching Miguel and Jan¡¯s eyes, only meant that he had to share what happened just this afternoon. So he did, the part of the mining job, the fuckups, evacuation call and the contract for him to lead a team and the problems that came with it.

    Jan whistled, but Miguel was the first to talk. ¡°Yeah. I heard about the recall. I thought you gave your mother a promise to never join a dive.¡±

    ¡°It was as safe as it could be.¡± Marco met Miguel¡¯s gaze. ¡°Mid ranked team, low ranked dungeon. I¡¯m only there to make sure they don¡¯t get hurt on what could have been a field trip.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡± Jan said, eyes laughing and sipping a beer, with Marco¡¯s drink suspiciously missing. Jan having just hit his 19th birthday a few months ago, Marco didn¡¯t like giving kids barely breaking the legal age alcohol, but Jan was an exception. Anyone willing to put themselves in danger deserved a drink.

    ¡°Not a word of this gets out okay?¡± Marco replied, his voice missing an edge. Miguel then put a new bottle of beer in front of him and opened it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll put it on Jan¡¯s tab.¡± He replied.

    ¡°Hey man. Unlike Marco, I¡¯m not really flush with cash right now.¡± He replied sheepishly.

    Marco and Miguel only gave him a look. Not much was known about him. Jan Michael Tayaban had just appeared in the neighborhood one day and signed up to volunteer. Other than that, there was little else Marco knew about the kid before coming here. He could have run away, and his family name likely pegged him as hailing from the northern provinces. Still, he was living alone and he needed someone to watch out for him.

    ¡°Actually, you got any word about that upcoming dungeon break?¡± Marco said, turning to Jan. As it was, dungeon breaks have developed to be some kind of natural phenomenon, along the list of typhoons and earthquakes. And just like typhoons, there were ways of seeing it coming long before it came.

    It has been established that after the confirmed arrival of a dungeon break, priority hunters are to be recalled and ordered to rest up and recharge. The army is sent WARNOs and reserves called up to report to their barracks. Supplies are moved from stockpiles and forward deployed. Militia and local leaders are contacted for coordination of their capabilities and willing tasks to do.

    All the while, the media would be telling the populace of what would be coming, and to prepare accordingly.

    Jan simply shook his head. ¡°I got nothing. Just the same old order to stand down and prepare. Not even a probable location.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Marco said, sipping his drink. ¡°If nothing else, I guess we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±

    ¡°Hey. I¡¯m home.¡± Marco called, taking off his shoes by the entrance.

    ¡°Welcome back. Your sister called. She should be here in around five minutes.¡± Said a voice in the kitchen. Their apartment was a 3 bedroom condominium with a kitchen and enough space left for a small living room. Marco managed to snag it five years ago back, with a significant discount during the first years following the dungeons. Before that, the price attached to the listing would have been far from his reach, but his change in profession was the only thing that brought it within his grasp.

    The reasons shared back then was to ¡®reward heroes on defending the people of The Philippines¡¯. But Marco knew that it was just a way to lure Hunters into living in their high rise condominiums with the implied caveat that they would help defend it.

    As much as the underlying reason was, it worked. The discount attracted not only him, but others too. Marco personally knew a few dozen hunters of different ranks were living in the same building, providing a blanket of safety that extends even a bit to the properties outside. Thus, ¡®hunter¡¯s villages¡¯ and the areas around have skyrocketed in price.

    One of them was here. The Grand Towers. If Marco was to decide to sell the place, it would net him five times what he paid at the least.

    ¡°I got us some fruits.¡± Marco said, leaving it on the dining table.

    ¡°Bring them here so we could wash them while I have the broth simmering.¡± Said his mother. She was busy washing dirty pots and had her back facing him.

    She moved with slow, measured moves; back ramrod straight and would not reach past a certain distance. Marco recognized the same thing when people were hiding pain. Having been with enough people, training them to make sure they get to their best without breaking them past limits.

    Marco stepped forward and hugged his mother from behind, laying his head on top of hers. Maybe with the money he got from the job, he and his sister could pool enough to afford paying someone to skip the queue for the expensive rejuvenation treatments. Set her age back a decade.

    ¡°Marco? Is something wrong?¡± Mother asked with worry. It was true that he did rarely hug his mother ever since he was younger, and doubly now that he was much more busy with his current job.

    ¡°Nothing. I just felt like it.¡± Marco said. To which his mother dried her hands and reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

    Marco let go. Mother turned around. ¡°Oh, your clothes are dirty.¡± she said, eyes roving over him and turned to worry. ¡°Did something happen on the job?

    ¡°It''s nothing. Mining¡¯s a dirty job anywhere.¡± He said. ¡°Sorry I dirtied your clothes. I¡¯ll go wash up and maybe hang around outside for some air.¡±

    ¡°You know, I think it''s time for you to be hugging some other woman than your mother.¡±

    Marco only smiled.

    Marco sat alone, lit a cigarette in his hand as he watched the basketball match between the shirts and jerseys. Around the court, people watched. Some made bets while others were simply content on sitting on the sidelines and cheering whenever a point was scored.

    But even with the levity and normalcy of the sight, there was still a layer of tension in the air. Everyone is already alerted, and even the few who lived under a rock would soon be informed by other people about what¡¯s about to happen. Everyone was waiting for the shoe to drop. For a few, it may as well be their last days on earth, but that won¡¯t stop them from enjoying the moment.

    Time is going to be spent either way, might as well enjoy it.

    ¡°I knew I¡¯d find you here.¡± A familiar voice called, a girl, no, a woman now, sat beside him. Marco still couldn¡¯t wrap his head around the fact that the little girl he always helped cared for had all grown up.

    ¡°Other than in the house. Where else would I be?¡± Marco muttered.

    ¡°The bar.¡± Joy, his sister, shrugged. ¡°I find you here whenever you get into an argument with mom. What was it this time?¡±

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t an argument. I just thought I¡¯d come watch.¡± Marco replied, taking a drag and blew the smoke away from Joy. ¡°She¡¯s worried.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to help. Of course she¡¯s going to be worried.¡± Joy replied, her tone flat and admonishing.

    ¡°Like I always do.¡± Marco said, reaching into his pocket and handing a small box wrapped in a small red ribbon. ¡°Here. I saw this at the store and I thought of you.¡±

    ¡°You know I can afford to buy these myself. I¡¯m a B rank now.¡± Joy replied with pride. ¡°One more rank and I can make it illegal for anyone to accept you into joining their efforts.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d still find a way.¡± Marco grunted. He looked to the side to see Joy giving him a sharp look, the box unopened. ¡°Come on, open it. You could afford it but I know you well enough that you¡¯ll never buy one for yourself.¡±

    She looked at the box and her gaze softened. ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll also find my own way.¡± Joy replied, unwrapping the ribbon and opening it. Inside was a small heart pendant on a thin gold chain. It wasn¡¯t as personalized as Marco would have liked, but he also wasn¡¯t the type of guy to know much about jewelry. So he just went for the safe option.

    Joy looked at the piece of jewelry for a bit, ¡°put it on for me?¡± She said, turning her back on him.

    Marco stubbed his smoke. He then picked the necklace and gently put it around Joy¡¯s neck. ¡°I know that what I do makes both you and mom worry. But I just can¡¯t stand aside when people need help. I¡¯ll do whatever I can, no matter how little that may be.¡±

    ¡°It''s going to get you killed someday. It''s going to break her heart, and mine..¡± Joy replied.

    ¡°I won¡¯t. I know how to handle myself.¡±

    ¡°You only need to be unlucky once.¡± Joy replied, her tone clipped.

    ¡°Been unlucky a few times. Still here. I got my skill. It¡¯s done its job in keeping me out of trouble.¡± Marco replied. ¡°It''s you I worry. Where will you be stationed?¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t be skirmishing if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about. I¡¯m told we¡¯re going to be holding a few key points north.¡±

    Marco shook his head. With Joy looking ahead, she didn¡¯t see it. Either she was lying or was just misinformed. B ranks don¡¯t just stay on points of interest waiting for the enemy to come, they head out to find them, away from entrenched support. And when they do find the enemy, they would hit them hard, then fade away into the city before getting overwhelmed.

    Either way, it was not his place to question. Not as an F rank. ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to wonder when I¡¯d have my chance to scare a suitor.¡± Marco said, locking the necklace with a click.

    ¡°Seems like you didn¡¯t hear about him. He¡¯s an A rank hunter who I can order around to beat you up if you don¡¯t follow what I say.¡± Joy said, turning around with a serious tone, but later smiled. ¡°It''s a joke. I don¡¯t have anyone.¡±

    ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t know if I should be worried or relieved.¡± Marco replied.

    ¡°I know my types.¡± Joy said, just as her phone chimed. ¡°Ma said dinner¡¯s just about ready. We should get going.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll stay for a little while.¡± Marco said, putting an unlit cigarette on his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll follow along in a bit.¡±

    Joy looked at the cancer in a stick and gave him a sharp look. She quickly dropped it and nodded.

    Marco shrugged. ¡®What¡¯s cancer in a few decades when you don¡¯t see yourself living that long anyway.¡¯ He thought then lit the tip and took a drag. Watching as the match continued on only for red and blue flashing lights reflected off surfaces. A patrol vehicle came into view and squawked its siren. The game stopped and soon men and women started packing up to leave.

    Marco stayed, ignoring the cops who got out of their car and approached him. They waved, Marco waved back and pulled out his hunter¡¯s badge. They stopped midway across the court and gave Marco a nod. Marco nodded back and the cops turned around to leave him be.

 CH 04

    Marco jolted awake, gasping and covered in sweat. His heart raced as he snatched the ginunting hanging over his bed. His eyes locked to the doorway finding no dark figure standing at the door, just shadows. A nightmare, he sighed, tossing the sword aside, landing on the sheets with a dull thump.

    Sleep never came easy anymore, a dreamless sleep was all that he could wish whenever he closed his eyes, but this time it was so much worse.

    Flashes of his life; his mistakes, desires, and fuckups. The losses, deaths, and the injuries he witnessed and caused after the emergence of the dungeons in this world. Their faces were clouded, but he could still remember their smiles, the laughs and the good times as they all shared the rewards and risks of diving. And finally their last words as they screamed for their mothers, the pain to stop, or just their horror of leaving their spouse and their children without a mother or father as they died.

    The screams faded.

    He was back on his bed, only to find a shadow loomed over him. Marco was pinned, crushing his chest that he couldn¡¯t breathe, muscles straining but couldn¡¯t move.

    He didn¡¯t know how long it lasted, but he woke up.

    Marco sighed, reached for the cigarette on his bedside. He managed to tuck one between his lips before realizing that he was still in his room. His mother wouldn¡¯t appreciate smelling tobacco whenever she comes in to clean, so simply he sighed and put it back.

    His clock read 4:30 am. Too early to rise, but too late to sleep.

    Then an alarm went off. A sharp, repeating whooping cry coming from his phone.

    A dungeon break event was imminent. Localized nearby, near the condo. Near his home. Near his family.

    He dressed fast. Tight black clothes to avoid grabs, thick soled boots for running on jagged streets. His gear was packed in a duffel bag and he threw the ginunting along as he got out.

    Marco moved quietly, through the small hall leading back to the kitchen and the door. Despite the walls of the condo muffling the sounds of his movements, his mother¡¯s ears were still sharp. He didn¡¯t want to wake her up this early and make her worry as there were only a few reasons he would be awake at this time in the morning, and all of them were bad.

    He¡¯d then have to reassure his mom. But the last thing Marco wanted would be to lie.

    Walking past his mother¡¯s room, he found Joy standing at the kitchen, fixing up a drink and both locked eyes.

    Marco paused as Joy looked him over. He remembered the times before and the arguments that followed. Her tear streaked face pleading him not to go back out there when many were already reported dead. Marco went anyway.

    But instead of pleading her case one more time, Joy simply sighed and whispered. ¡°Stay safe okay?¡±

    Marco forced a smile. ¡°You too. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make sure I¡¯ll come back, like I always did. ¡± He said, before heading outside and slowly closing the door. He sighed, pressing his head to the concrete and feeling the cold seep into his forehead. A cigarette quickly found its way between his lips and lit it. He stood there at the hall for a moment, gathering himself for the day ahead.

    It was a somber walk down the elevators. He pressed the call and it opened to a group of men and women carrying their own gear. They exchanged nods as Marco headed in and was joined by other hunters on the lower floors.

    The ride down was quiet. There wasn¡¯t any small talk to be shared.

    The walk to the command center was short. The basketball court last night had been converted into a local command center with massive tents, small cafeteria and briefing area. There was a spot for coffee on the side next to boxes of freshly baked salted bread along with peanut butter spread. The chairs facing the projector on the upcoming brief were quickly being filled out, each hunter holding a steaming cup of coffee and bread.

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    Marco found Jan holding two cups of coffee on both his hands with a piece of bread balanced on the lip of the cups, warming them.

    ¡°Rough night? Here¡¯s yours.¡± Jan said, eyes bright and well rested. Seeming to be ready to face the day ahead. ¡°What¡¯d you do without me?¡± he smiled.

    Compared to the kid, Marco guessed he looked like shit. Still, he couldn''t help but be infected by the cheer and smiled. ¡°You''re probably just trying to take two for yourself.¡± he replied, taking the coffee.

    ¡°Oh come on.¡± Jan said looking hurt, ¡°If I was, then I wouldn¡¯t have thought to bring this.¡± He said, opening his jacket where a flask glinted on the inside pocket.

    Marco chuckled. ¡°I guess an apology is in order.¡± He said, offering his cup for it to be spiked with a shot of whiskey.

    ¡°Here¡¯s to coming back.¡± Jan toasted.

    ¡°Here¡¯s to coming back.¡± Marco echoed.

    The hard polymer crate was clear of any signs of tampering. Any scratch or cracks were made sure to be filmed along with an association representative to make sure, along with a video camera recording everything.

    With the cost following the demand of magical potions in the market. There was an allocation portion which is set aside for events like dungeon breaks, where potions, mana and healing, are much needed and are burned through at an industrial rate. Guilds would have their own stockpiles, but volunteers and neighborhood militia¡¯s do not have such luxuries.

    This is where the Guild Association, subsidized by the government, comes through. They would supply the organizations with much needed resources, not just potions, but with ammunition like magical tipped arrows and even loans for defensive and offensive equipment. Those were being distributed across the courtyard. And being taken care of by the other half of the team.

    ¡°Looks good. No tampering.¡± Roman said, turning off his phone. He was one of the two other volunteers that was attached to Marco¡¯s group. Marco led the team, with Jan his second in the 4 man group and was out and about doing the many miscellaneous tasks needed done.

    ¡°Open it up to account for the contents. Have Mr. Kang confirm the count.¡± Marco ordered. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time for the crates to have missing contents even after being sealed.

    Marco took a deep breath. Nothing makes a man want to get chased, hunted, and fight against monsters more than pure bureaucracy.

    It was dumb. But he would be lying if he¡¯d prefer being on the back lines making sure that everything was up and up, rather than be out there doing something. Everything done with tedium that cost time all because of some dishonest assholes thinking that the best time to steal potions for themselves is when it was needed the most.

    The count was finished and the papers cleared. Everything was accounted for and packed just as Jan rolled up with his modified truck with Eric riding on the bed. Its suspension beefed up to handle a couple of tons on the back and run through beat up roads at a good pace. That along with run flat tires and skid plates underneath. It was an overkill for the 99% of the times running through manila roads, but on the 1%, this 1% was where it was all made worth it.

    ¡°Take your grub while you can. Might be the last time you¡¯ll eat in a while.¡± Marco said, waving at a man distributing bread to the teams. He was given a pack of salted bread, to which he handed off to each member.

    ¡°I got you your comms.¡± Jan said, handing over Marco¡¯s phone along with a set of radio. A military grade UHF/VHF radio with the needed codes to connect with the rest of the AFP, and more importantly the units deployed in the area. It wasn¡¯t their only set, with each member given a cheap civilian Ham radio to which they could communicate internally. A ¡®just in case¡¯ measure, and just like with the case of the truck, would be useful if they need it.

    Marco and his team of supply runners was a mix of hunters, him and Jan, with the rest being non-hunters. Marco, the only one wearing a vest. The piece of clothing was a mark distinguishing himself from the rest as the leader, along with the vest having a mount for his phone. Along with a row of 3 magazines. Just in case.

    They shouldn¡¯t be looking for any fights, but Marco still insisted on taking a bit more firepower than should be trusted for civilians. He had his rifle on him. A fully automatic 5.56x45mm AR-15 pattern rifle fitted with holographic sights, lights on the rail and a heavy barrel for longer full auto fire.

    While the rest ate their quick meal, Marco fitted his phone to its chest mount. It was loaded up with the needed tactical programs and paired with the radio, allowing Marco a squad leader¡¯s view of the battlefield. Testing the device for its connectivity, he could see the overview of the battlespace along with the distribution of friendly units and assets in an area. Pressing on an icon, it changed to a drone view of the portal, its usual swirling blue color changed to an angry and turbulent red.

    The portal would break soon. The portal entrance would dissipate, and the area around would start spawning hordes of monsters. In this case, Orcs.

    Pressing on another feed, his fists clenched as a mass of refugees filled the road. A river of humanity, flowing around islands of armed men clad in camouflage and mounted on their APC¡¯s and utility vehicles, armed with heavy machine guns and towed trailers filled with ammo cans.

    Even with the mass of people, Marco knew that there would still be a stubborn few refusing to leave their homes or property. Either with the naive notion of protecting what belonged to them while keeping their head low. Marco hoped that they would simply be passed along, but the pessimistic side of him knew that it wouldn¡¯t hold true for everybody.

    Blades thumped overhead, echoing between the buildings. Marco looked up just as a black hawk bearing sigils belonging to the Philippine Air Force, hovered on the building rooftop. It then dropped a slung loaded pallet then before rising up to the sky and disappearing out of view.

    Looking back down on his phone, Marco submitted his readiness and was immediately given his orders to go up the third phase line to run support to designated hard point 6. They are anticipating breakout within fifteen minutes and they are to be pre positioned for an eventual supply run.

    The break ended. Marco and the rest of the team hauled the supplies on the bed. The value of the blue and red vials set into the Styrofoam packaging on the crates lining up the truck being enough to set a person for the rest of his life.

    Marco then watched Eric and Roman, the non hunter volunteers. He looked them in the eye and nodded. There was fear in those eyes with anticipation mixed in. ¡°I''ve said this before, but I¡¯ll say it again.¡± Marco said as the rest all gathered, ready to mount up. ¡°Our team¡¯s job is to make sure these supplies get to where they need to be, but my job is to make sure all of you are going back alive. Put your trust in me, follow my orders and that job is going to be a whole lot easier. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡± The two replied in unison. Jan replied with a lazy salute.

    ¡°Alright. Mount up. This day ain¡¯t going to be easy, but it¡¯s not going to be your last.¡±

 CH 05

    Marco raised his hand, causing the truck to stop on the side of the road. Black smoke billowed ahead, curling over the building rooftops as gunfire echoed throughout the city. Luckily, this dungeon break didn¡¯t have any flying monsters to deal with. Otherwise they would be watching the sky along with the road.

    The fires worried him. Cities and uncontrolled fires don''t mix. Blazes can block routes previously open as much as it can block avenues of approach for the orcs. Marco checked his phone, confirming reported fires in the area. A firefighting helicopter has been dispatched and en route, arriving in a few minutes to service the fire as best as it could.

    It was just a plain fact; fights bring fire. Tracers break off of bullets, still burning. Pyro and electro mages deal with ignition temperatures whenever they cast their magic. That, along with the orcs, hobgoblins, goblins and other humanoid monsters having the tendency for arson despite lacking any fire starting tools, added to the problem. It was a testament to the firefighters that much of the Metro hadn''t burned down.

    ¡°Why are we stopped?¡± Eric asked from the backseat. Marco turned and winked just a burst of gunfire erupted up ahead.

    With fighting up ahead, they had no choice but to wait. Marco watched the flanks, trusting Jan and other recruits to cover their own sectors.

    He glanced at the two volunteers in the back. Eric, the skittish of the two, darted his eyes about as if monsters would come pouring out every corner and shadow. Roman was not much better, he clung to Marco and Jan¡¯s words like gospel but still holding his cool as best he could.

    Marco couldn¡¯t blame them. Only the brave and stupid would join them on supply runs without abilities to fall back on. The two were just looking to have broken through their 21¡¯st birthdays. Their reasons for coming shone with altruism, but Marco could see it in their eyes. They had that look of someone with something to prove, and hoping for anything to change.

    Trying to get close to the portal and roll their chance on being a hunter? Maybe. Marco couldn¡¯t fault them for it either. Even as dangerous a hunter¡¯s life may be, the rewards are very much worth it. When you¡¯re poor, you might as well risk it. Still, Marco wasn¡¯t lying when he said he¡¯ll make sure to get them back.

    They waited on the truck a few moments longer. Marco said to the radio as soon as the gunfire subsided. ¡°Kilo Kilo 2-4, this is Sun 6-1, respond, over.¡±

    ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-4, Receiving. over¡± came the reply.

    ¡°Kilo 2-4, We are 100 meters south of known position. Interrogative. Is MSR clear? Over.¡±

    ¡°Sun 6-1, go ahead. MSR is clear. Over.¡±

    ¡°Kilo 2-4, acknowledged. Over.¡± Marco replied. He flicked his fingers forward. ¡°You heard it, drive on.¡±

    Silence settled as the truck rolled on by, ¡°How did you know that, sir,If you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± Eric asked after a moment.

    ¡°The skill I got when I became a hunter.¡± Marco said. ¡°Makes it so that nothing almost gets the drop on me.¡±

    ¡°Almost?¡± Eric pressed.

    Marco winked. ¡°No magic is infallible. If it were, the monsters out the dungeons would¡¯ve long picked our bones long ago. Same goes for us too. A lot of hunters thought themselves invincible that were¡­ proven wrong.¡±

    The truck slowed around a corner, revealing the blocking force up ahead; an open top Humvee, its M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun mounted on a turret, its dull red glowing barrel pointed up the street, smoking. Six men stood behind barricades, brass case and belt links piled at their feet, eyes up.

    A Sergeant standing at the rear turned at their approach, waving them over. They were only meant to pass by, but at the soldier¡¯s urging, Marco waved back. ¡°Let''s check it out.¡±

    The truck veered towards the squad, offering a clear view of the carnage. A dozen green hulking figures lay on the street, adorned with pelts, bones and teeth, secured on leather straps. Their bodies, tough against bullets and bombs but not immune, lay mostly intact against 7.62 and 50 caliber rounds when their flesh should have been shredded. Bullets worked. Eventually.

    The Sergeant jogged over as they stopped, lowering his half-balaclava to reveal a grizzled face.

    ¡°What can I do for you, Staff Sergeant?¡± Marco asked.

    ¡°Staff Sergeant Contreras sir. We¡¯ve requested a supply for a while, is this for us?¡± he asked.

    ¡°These are for Kilo 2-3¡± Marco tilted his head noting the Humvee¡¯s open rear hatch, strewn with empty crates and ammo cans. ¡°Ammo level?¡±

    ¡°Concerning sir.¡±

    Marco shrugged. ¡°Look. It''s not up to me, you¡¯ll have to contact your sister squad.¡±

    ¡°Already did sir.¡± Staff Sergeant Contreras said. ¡°They agreed we get half.¡±

    Marco nodded, then pressed the radio. ¡°Kilo 2-3, Sun 6-1. over¡±

    ¡°Go ahead Sun 6-1.¡±

    ¡°Confirm Kilo 2-4 requests half your ammo run. Claims permission. Over.¡±

    ¡°Sun 6-1. Kilo 2-4. Permission confirmed. Over.¡±

    ¡°Acknowledged 2-3. Over and out.¡± Marco turned to the back.  ¡°Give them half the ammo.¡± Eric and Roman hopped out of the back and into the bed, handing over crates of .50 cal and 7.62 ammo. Staff Sergeant Contreras then ordered half of his men to assist.

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    ¡°Staff sergeant. Word on the ATAK is that you¡¯re holding a stable line.¡± Marco asked as the men worked. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll hold on as long as we keep supplied.¡± Staff Sergeant Contreras replied, then glanced at the truck bed. His eyes widened. ¡°Potion crates. You¡¯re heading past the front lines.¡±

    ¡°They need to be where they¡¯re going to be needed.¡± Marco simply replied.

    ¡°That¡¯ll light you up like a Christmas tree.¡± Contreras warned. ¡°They¡¯re going to be on you like flies on shit.¡± Then barked at his men. ¡°Hurry it up! Unload it first. Unpack it later.¡±

    ¡°Was only supposed to deliver these straight.¡± Marco replied, ¡°but we got roped into hauling some ammo for forces along the way.¡± Marco replied.

    ¡°You got protection? I can spare some equipment if you need it.¡±

    Marco raised his AR, compared to the servicemen his was tricked out. ¡°Got this. But the plan¡¯s to run when trouble hits. Plus, we got a talking stick.¡± He thumbed at a green painted tube on the back window rack. Eric and Roman finished unloaded and climbed aboard, ready to roll.

    Contreras gave him a searching look. ¡°God gives the toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.¡± He stepped back, giving him a salute. Marco simply nodded as they pulled away towards the next roadblock.

    To some, it might look like they were on a suicide mission; volunteers with no heaver weapons or hunter¡¯s gear venturing beyond the front when even soldiers who had were held back. Hell, even Marco agreed. It was the reason there were very few logistics crews running mana and health potions to hunters operating past the front lines.

    If they could, they would have stockpiled the supplies near the hunters past the front line to retrieve at their leisure. The problem lay with the skirmishes, they were fluid, hit-and-run tactics that traded space for safety. Leaving supplies risked monsters sniffing them out with their uncanny knack for finding value, especially with mana-charge items. Just like Contreras said, flies on shit.

    That left teams like Marco crossing the potions through the hardened lines then track down the hunters wherever they may be. Finding them during a skirmish was easy, just follow the sounds of battle. The risks lay when the hunters are too busy to update their position or movement to the battlefield program, giving supply runners the chance of running into a horde of monsters themselves and the hunters missing.

    A lot of men and women died that way, cut off then cut down. It was a grim price to pay, because a lot more would if they didn¡¯t.

    Marco lit a cigarette, cold sweat beading and he hoped that it was just his body looking for a fix. Today would be a bad time to catch the flu. A health potion would fix that right up for a normal hunter, but he wasn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t even use a healing potion to save his life.

    ¡°You okay man?¡± Jan said, eyes on the road but glancing over.

    ¡°I¡¯m good. A warm meal and a thick broth, and I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Marco replied, a headache brewing. He fished out his medical kit and picked out a blister of ibuprofen, swallowing it dry. ¡°Pick up the speed, this stretch should be clear the rest of the way.¡±

    Jan nodded, flooring it. The truck surged, rolling through rubble and damaged roads like it was nothing. They hit the checkpoint on schedule with Kilo 2-3 unloading their ammo quickly. Letting the team through, they swerved around bullet-riddled corpses. Blocks later, Marco¡¯s ¡®second voice¡¯ spoke. ¡°Turn left here,¡± he said.

    Jan obeyed. The moment they rounded the corner, a cacophony of gunfire erupted behind them, tracers zipping down the road they just left. Marco marked the engagement on his ATAK, eyes locked on their own location marker as it crawled towards the hunter¡¯s last location, tagged ¡®engaged¡¯ for the last fifteen minutes.

    ¡°Stop here. Keep it running.¡± Marco ordered as they got within a couple of blocks.

    Wind carried the sounds of battle up ahead. They couldn¡¯t just roll right in the fight, but turning back wasn¡¯t an option either.

    ¡°Jan. You know this place?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a funnel, alleys tight, and a deathtrap if we¡¯re spotted.¡±

    Marco looked up. This stretch was lined with old three story buildings containing stores. ¡°Roof?¡±

    ¡°Could work.¡± Jan said, leaning forward on the dash, scanning. ¡°That one¡¯s got a straight stairway access to the roof.¡±

    They couldn¡¯t stay out in the open. Marco hopped out and grabbed the bolt cutters from the truck, snapping the lock on the rolling metal door. Inside was dark, the power cut since the evacuation to prevent electrical fires. With lights in hand, they headed deeper into the building and up the stairs, past off limit signs, they arrived at the rood.

    On top, the sounds of fighting were much clearer. They set the crates of potions down and took a minute to catch their breath while orienting themselves to the nearby fighting. It wasn¡¯t moving. Either the hunters were holding, or worse, surrounded and unable to break contact.

    Marco tested the radio. ¡°Hunter 2-6, this is Sun 6-1, we¡¯re in the area with support equipment. Advise. over.¡±

    The radio crackled. Signal interference. Despite being equipped with the best radios and signal filtering, it couldn¡¯t defeat hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity passing through the air.

    Marco turned to the team. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan, Jan and I will get as close and establish contact before handing the supplies to them. If we¡¯re lucky, we can just throw it to them, but they¡¯d need to know about it, else we could risk being mistaken and take a magic bolt to the face. Any objections?¡±

    There was none. The skyline grew quiet but distant gunfire persisted. In the distance, smoke and steam trailed to the sky. The gunfire, in a different situation, would count for worry. But here, it gave an odd assurance, it meant people are still fighting. There is nothing more worrying than a quiet battlefield.

    ¡°You two stay here, keep an ear on our internal radios. Do not transmit, just listen. Got it?¡± Eric and Roman nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

    Jan trailed Marco as he led the way through the rooftops. They leapt gaps between buildings and climbed levels for vantage. Below, two hunter squids stood back-to-back, surrounded but still holding. Casters stood behind the line, hurling fire and sparks tearing gaps in the green tide the vanguards kept at bay with their shields and weapons. They were holding, but it wasn¡¯t sure for how long.

    They¡¯ve boxed themselves against a building to cover one of their flanks, problem was; they¡¯re too far to reach. Drones would have been useful, but the little fliers just kept getting shot down with their supplies.

    A bead of cold sweat stung his eyes. Marco cursed, definitely a bad time to get sick.

    Jan met his gaze, determined. ¡°I can do it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to confirm it first.¡± Marco said, keying the radio. ¡°Kilo 2-3, Sun 6-1. Interrogative. Hunter 2-6 is dire. Status to support. Over.¡±

    ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-3, Capacity limited. Over.¡± Staff Sergeant Villega replied through the radio, his transmission filled with static.

    ¡°Kilo 2-3, Sun 6-1, Roger. Plan of action. Bait 1, relieve pressure Hunter 2-6, check ATAK for proposed ambush location.¡± Marco said, dragging the icon to an intersection within their range.

    ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-3, confirm plan of action. Wait 10 mikes for site prep. Over.¡±

    ¡°Negative, Kilo 2-3, I repeat, situation is dire. Over.¡±

    A pause. Marco and Jan glanced at each other when the radio squawked. ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-3, acknowledged. Moving to support. 2 minutes out. Over.¡±

    Marco nodded to Jan. ¡°Go.¡±

    Jan vaulted the banister, dropping then hung off a balcony, down another level, then the street. Unnoticed, he whistled, swaggering towards the fight arms wide. Jan grinned as a portion of the green mass turned to him. The closest, a juvenile orc, bare of trophies, charged at him.

    The lead orc struck, a killing blow aimed at Jan¡¯s neck, only for him to disappear in a puff of quickly fading smoke. Jan appeared ten meters back, laughing mockingly. He flashed a mana potion, shaking it towards the crowd. Eyes followed the object and he turned, sprinting away in the middle of the road. A couple dozen orcs trailing after him.

    He would then slow down, then blink ahead the moment they closed in.

    Marco frowned, he¡¯ll just have to write that potion up as a field expense. ¡°Kilo 2-3, Sun 6-1, Bait 1 is go, ETA three minutes. Rabbit is on foot. I say again Rabbit is on foot. Over.¡±

    ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-3, acknowledged. Over.¡±

    The hunters adjusted, the mages focused their magic on the thinner flanks and cleared it up. Marco tried the radio once more but still no response. He fished out a laser pointer and aimed it at them, flickering the light between each one to get their attention. A caster waved. Marco, annoyed, waved back.

    ¡°Hunter 2-6, use your fucking radio. Over.¡±

    ¡°We hear you.¡± The caster replied, fumbling with his radio with one hand and his staff on the other. The signal came loud and clear.

    ¡°Hunter 2-6, this is Sun 6-1, we have support equipment. Head down to grid D6-9 for resupply over.¡± Marco said as loud automatic erupted in the distance. It was joined with a few more lighter rips as Medium machine guns joined into a cacophonous din.

    ¡°Uh, can you say that again?¡±

    Marco sighed. ¡°Head down this road and take a left. Go up the building with a truck in front. Site is secure and can serve as a rest point. Over.¡±

    ¡°Uh. Yeah. Roger that Sun 6-1, Hunter 2-6 will come after finishing up. Over.¡±

    ¡°Hunter 2-6, Sun 6-1. Acknowledged, over and out.¡±

    Marco retraced his steps. Eric and Roman were likely terrified. Which was why he left them the other squad radio for reassurance. In the distance, gunfire still continued, but tapering until reduced to a few distinct pops.

    ¡°Sun 6-1, Kilo 2-3. Ambush complete, over. Sun 6-2 reports no injuries and on the way to rejoin you. Over¡±

    ¡°Kilo 2-3, Sun 6-1, roger that. Pass on message Sun 6-2. Rendezvous on truck. Over and out.¡±

    ¡°Wilco.¡±

    Marco was one rooftop when the radio squawked. ¡°Sir! Orcs are entering the building. Where are you sir? Over.¡±

    Fuck¡­

 CH 06

    Marco was one rooftop away when the radio squawked. ¡°Sir! Orcs are entering the building. Where are you sir? Over.¡±

    Fuck¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m one building away. Hold tight.¡± Marco replied, double timing it to reach them. ¡°Get off the stairs and take everything on the roof.¡± He ordered. ¡°Find anything you can use to place and brace against the door.¡±

    He switched radios. ¡°Hunter 2-6, Sun 6-1. Come in. Request immediate assistance. Over.¡± Marco vaulted the fence as he waited for an answer. Silence. He cursed, sprinting to join Eric and Roman. They stood close, eyes locked on the barricaded door, terror etched on their faces. They carried what they could to the roof, but some supplies remained in the truck, thankfully minor enough to write off if lost.

    ¡°Hunter 2-6, Sun 6-1. I say again. Request immediate assistance. Definite monster presence nearby. We are barricaded on the building rooftop. Over.¡±

    His gut churned as something heavy slammed hard against the metal door. It shook, but thankfully held.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It''s my job to keep you boys alive, and I¡¯m damn serious about keeping my perfect record.¡± Marco said, turning to the two. Something wet dripped down his nose. He wiped it expecting snot from a worsening flu, it was blood.

    ¡°Go. Head up to the next building rooftop and stay hidden. Leave the supplies.¡± He tossed them his radio. ¡°Keep it safe. I still got my HAM. Last contact with the hunters had them heading here. You can just wait out until then. Keep trying to contact them once you''re clear. Also, I would appreciate it if you''d all get out of the way so that I can focus.¡± He turned back as another slam rattled the door.

    Marco loosened his AR¡¯s straps, extended the stock and flicked the selector to full auto. He sent a last glance back, Eric and Roman climbed to the next rooftop, out of sight. Grabbing the crates by the handles, Marco heaved them towards the industrial AC units then tossed out a smoke grenade to the side. Billowing high, it¡¯ll signal distress visible for miles.

    A third hit. The door buckled. Bright afternoon sun glared down and made the shadows pitch black past the now opened door. Marco held fire, shooting blindly into the darkened stairway was a waste of ammo. With four magazines, one on the rifle and three on his vest, he¡¯d have to husband his ammo.

    A figure emerged, stooping to fit through the ruined door. It rose to a near eight feet, its muscular and scarred body draped in bones and beads, wielding twin short handled axes. Two smaller orcs followed, smaller but still six foot tall slabs of muscles.

    His ¡®Second voice¡¯ should be screaming at him, but was strangely silent. A cakewalk? Not a chance, Marco thought to himself.

    Beady eyes scanned the roof, locking on the crates behind Marco. It grinned viciously and barked an order.

    The two smaller orcs advanced.

    His rifle snapped to his shoulder, the holo reticle landing on the first one¡¯s head. Marco opened fire, full auto. The rifle rattled and buckled against his shoulder but he held steady, his aim true in such a short distance. Marco shifted to the other orc, sending another burst trying to blind them with a lucky consecutive shot to the eye rather than trying to kill them.

    Four of five rounds hit. Two bursts. None of them lethal.

    Both charged, Marco shifted aim to their legs. One stumbled, as a burst caught its knee, superficial damage, but the orc slowed. The other continued and closed in, swinging.

    Marco feinted; stepping back then ducked forward under the swing as the Orc swung far to reach him. He swung his rifle around, dumping the mag into its knee, point blank. Its flesh mulched, joint cracked, and burned. It fell, now with one working knee.

    He dropped the mag and slotted a new one just as the first orc caught up and hopped over its fallen brother. It lunged, Marco dodged to the right, slapped the bolt released and aimed for the head. At point blank range, rounds tore through its softer throat, jaw. Marco rode the recoil and bullets tore into its eye, piercing the orbital bone and fragmenting inside its skull. Half a mag left. The orc toppled back, landing on top and pinning its brother.

    The pinned orc glared, enraged. Marco snapped his rifle up and emptied the rest of the mag into its face. It went limp.

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    He reloaded and faced the Leader, arms spread wide in challenge. He felt good. None of the sickly feeling he had been suffering prior. ¡°Easier to kill you shits when in our turf. Scared little boy? Not when you got no dungeon tricks here.¡±

    The leader growled as it advanced, each long stride eating the distance between.

    [Dodge!]

    Instincts flared. Marco tried to sprint to the side as the Orc blinked in front, swinging its axe. He tucked his arms and twisted his body, presenting his back. The axe hit. Marco¡¯s back plate ate the impact, stopping it and distributing the force over a wider area, but the strike hurled him forward. He kept his balance, firing blindly behind him as he bolted for the stairs.

    Down one landing, he spared a moment to catch his breath. He raised his rifle and crept back up the stairs. The Leader¡¯s head appeared. His ¡®second voice screamed¡¯ as Marco saw his death coming. He jerked his head aside as an axe whistled past, embedding in the wall and a shower of concrete. Gritting his teeth, Marco stepped back to cover but not before flipping the Orc off.

    Heart pounding, Marco grabbed his HAM radio. ¡°Eric, Roman. Are you both safe?¡±

    ¡°We are. Are they dead? Are you safe?¡± the reply crackled.

    ¡°Stay put. Still got the big one. Need to figure something out.¡±

    He had to keep the Orc¡¯s attention off the supplies. If it got the mana, it would grow stronger. The running theory between research pegged mana accumulation as the culprit.

    Ready for another go, Marco took a couple of deep breaths when shuffling echoed below. His rifle snapped down the stairs. Adrenaline spiked at the thought of being trapped.

    ¡°Hello? Marco? Anyone?¡± Jan whispered from below.

    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± Marco shouted, meeting Jan halfway. ¡°Almost shot you. We got a big Orc up there with the supplies. I think we can take it.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡±

    Marco nodded. ¡°Eric and Roman are safe. But it might just loot or hunt them down.¡±

    ¡°What did you do to piss it off?¡±

    ¡°Killed its boys. Took two mags and a whole lot of luck.¡± Marco replied, taking the magazine off his rifle and looking down the stack of rounds left. ¡°I got half left on this and another spare.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± Jan said, handing over a bandolier filled with magazines. ¡°I heard the shots and grabbed them off the truck.¡±

    Marco filled his vest and reloaded his rifle. ¡°Go get the talking stick from the truck. I¡¯ll try to slow him down in case our hunter friends decide to get their heads off their ass and finally get their box of supplies.¡±

    Jan nodded and bolted downstairs.

    Marco sighed, flicked his rifle off safe and crept back up. There he found that while they were distracted, the Large Orc had ripped the wire door and took the crate. It laid ripped open on the ground, bottles scattered, and one held in the orc¡¯s grip. It tilted its head back for a drink for the glass to shatter, its contents turned into mist and spray as Marco shot it.

    The Orc snarled. Marco stepped into the light. ¡°Oh, sorry. Go ahead, drink up if you''re that thirsty.¡± He grinned.

    It charged. Marco dodged to the right, emptying his mag. He reloaded on the run, as he felt thick fingers graze his clothes as he barely dodged the Orc grabbing him. Whatever speed boost it had seemed to be of limited use.

    Still, the Orc was fast for its size. For the moment, Marco only needed to keep away from its reach.

    [Death. Axe. Downward swing. Ahead!,

    He dodged the swing, if barely, and slapped in a fresh mag.

    [Death. Axe. Horizontal swing, from the right!]

    Marco stopped and stepped back. The Orc missed and overcommitted into the swing, its weight slowing its recovery. Marco dumped the mag into its exposed knee. It buckled, unable to bear its own weight.

    Marco slapped another mag and hit the other causing it to scream in pain and rage. It used its axe to shield its face, while Marco tried to slip rounds between the gaps. Realizing the ineffectiveness of the rounds, it curled into a ball, protecting most of its vitals.

    The rifle glowed red hot, heat searing through his gloves. Last mag. Marco felt grim satisfaction standing over what looked to be a proud Orc monster taking that passive pose. They were at a stalemate, he couldn¡¯t just shoot it on the back of the head as its thick, magically enhanced skull would just resist the rounds. Marco needed it to show its face.

    Marco circled, aiming for its ear. The Orc shifted, raising its face, biting down mana and health potions. It glared, its eyes filled with rage between the gaps in its fingers.

    Its once mangle flesh knitted itself at an unnatural rate. Marco fired, but the wounds closed faster. It blinked, slapped the rifle away and scooped him into a crushing hug.

    Marco struggled, left arm pinned against his chest. Pressure built, he fumbled for his knife on his belt as his ribs cracked. The orc grinned sadistically. His back plates crumbled. Marco gripped the knife and pulled it free. His ribs snapped, black spots flared in his vision and he heard another rib crack, followed by another bone. He didn¡¯t knew where, he couldn¡¯y feel it anymore. Numbness spread along his left arm as he angled the knife at the Orc¡¯s chest. With what little leverage, he braced the handle on his leg, and kicked.

    Pain exploded as he dropped. Marco quickly gripped the Orc¡¯s legs and pulled, dragging him underneath the Orc as it tried to stomp him underfoot.

    He scrambled free.

    His legs shook. Left arm limp. Something sloshed inside. Breathing hurts. He reached around his waist, drawing his ginunting, and roared. ¡°You think this is going to be easy? Come and earn it!¡±

    The Orc turned, knife buried to the hilt high up on its gut. It growled, and took a step forward. Marco dropped his stance, ready to meet his end fighting.

    An explosion rang and engulfed the Orc¡¯s back. Marco was blown away and he looked up to see a large bleeding gash on the Orc¡¯s chest, bleeding profusely. It stumbled forward, one step, then another.

    It fell and laid on the roof unmoving, breathing ragged and slow, until it finally stopped.

    Marco was blacking out and he fought through, barely seeing Jan standing by the roof entrance. A smoking m72 Law Anti-Tank launcher thrown to the side. He ran, taking the long way around the dead Orc.

    Marco laid on his back, looking at the sky. Jan came to view, saying something but he couldn¡¯t hear it. He grinned. ¡°What the fuck took you so long?¡±

    Jan said something, then looked to his right. Marco followed it to see Joy. Marco couldn¡¯t hear it, but he saw her scream, then sprinted after him. She knelt over his form, tears streaming.

    Marco reached up with the last of his strength. He wanted to wipe away those tears, but he couldn¡¯t. He tried to say it was okay, but only coughed blood.

 Ch 07: Interlude

    Nations celebrated hunters, those who delve into danger for the safety of others. The higher you go up in rank the more laws become mere suggestions. Court interpretations loosened, misdemeanors were overlooked, even strange desires catered.

    But in return for all the preferential treatment, there was an undeniable fact that was made clear; They were resources, critical to the nation¡¯s survival.

    It was why hunters, like Jan, could never leave the country without jumping through a lot of hoops. He couldn¡¯t simply obtain a visa and transfer his services into another nation for better pay. International agreements have been signed to prevent nations from poaching each other¡¯s hunters. A or S-Ranked hunters were held and hoarded like treasures, as one defecting could tip the balance of power in a region or enhance a country¡¯s influence over another.

    And just as any other resource, deals were struck; millions of dollars in military aid, technology transfers and looser ITAR regulations. Cold war stocks were opened and transferred from first-world nations to the country. Hundreds of armored vehicles, helicopter squadrons, surveillance drones, and tons of small arms and ammunition, all to bolster their own military and deal with the oncoming dungeon threat.

    All this in exchange for the service of an S-ranked hunter.

    Self-sacrifice always sounded noble, until you¡¯re the one doing it. Worse still, is when your loved ones put themselves at risk.

    Jan was torn. His brother had clawed his way to A-rank, one of the few, securing Jan¡¯s comfort and draft exemption. Putting himself in harm¡¯s way was the last thing his brother would¡¯ve wanted, but Jan yearned to help, just like anyone who saw suffering and had the power to act.

    Caught between two extremes, Jan chose a middle path. He would get ranked, but would underperform for a lower rank and safer assignments.

    But now, Jan couldn¡¯t help but think of the what-ifs. What if he brought the anti tank rocket up with them just in case? what if he sprinted all the way and returned much faster? What if unleashed all his abilities?

    Was he a coward?

    The multiple live-streams of the dungeon break playing on the monitors did little to distract him away from such thoughts. He sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling. ¡®What would Marco be if he had my abilities?¡¯ Jan wondered.

    ¡®He wouldn¡¯t be holed up in his condo, wasting time.¡¯

    ¡°Fuck.¡± He muttered. There he was again. ¡°Fuck me.¡±

    The feed shifted to a long line of evacuees lining up for a bowl of porridge, doled out by volunteers. Some would return to homes burned, looted, or destroyed.

    He couldn¡¯t stand by any longer. Not with things as they were.

    ¡®Sorry Mark,¡¯ Jan thought to himself.

    He took a deep breath and entered his room. He found the crate in his closet, opened it, and found Sisig, an axe with a short handle, and Puneg, a spear with a long-leaf shaped blade. As much as Jan hated his brother naming a pair of magical weapons along two dishes, he cherished the two expensive gifts. As the two weapons aided him on his abilities, which were focused on swift attacks, dealing damage quickly before blinking out of danger.

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    Trained by the best, he couldn¡¯t let his skills go to waste.

    <hr>

    Bright lights blinded. Marco''s heart raced, ears ringing. Something gripped his arm. He pulled. Something clattered on the ground but he was free. He rolled to the side and fell, slamming to the ground hard, but he didn¡¯t care.

    Strong arms seized him, pinning his shoulders in a vice-like grip. He struggled, arms flailed, snaked for leverage, all to break from the grip and escape from a blow that never came.

    ¡°-arco! Marco! Calm down!¡± Joy¡¯s voice pierced through the ringing as the bright lights faded. He lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, held down by his scrawny sister. She was unnaturally strong. But that¡¯s a hunter for you.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Marco said, relaxing. ¡°Fuck. Sorry.¡± He was safe. ¡°Get off me please?¡± he asked, seeing Joy still straddling him.

    ¡°You scared me waking up like that.¡± She said, softly. ¡°Don¡¯t do that again. Okay?¡±

    Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Marco knew she wasn¡¯t talking about how he woke up. But as much as it pained him to see her like this, he couldn¡¯t just lie to comfort her.

    He looked away. ¡°I¡¯ll try my best. It¡¯s all I can do.¡±

    Joy sniffed, then climbed off. ¡°Once I get to A rank, you wouldn''t have to try at all.¡±

    Marco returned to the hospital bed, noticing that his arm was bleeding. The cause was a set of needles attached to a saline bag on a toppled IV stand. He¡¯d need it reinserted soon, but damned if he¡¯d do it himself.

    Joy sat in a chair by the corner. Marco couldn¡¯t help but notice her nursing slight bruise on her forearm. She caught his gaze and let go. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    He gritted his teeth and nodded. ¡°Does Mom know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I went with her to church before I left. She¡¯s doing her usual prayer vigils, saying she¡¯d pray for us both.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I guess it worked.¡±

    A nurse peeked her head around the curtains, the commotion now subsided. She assessed the damage, took away the bags and went to fetch sterile replacements. The bags weren¡¯t the usual saline, they were mana IVs.

    ¡°What¡¯s the damage?¡± Marco asked, as the nurse returned.

    She glanced at Joy, Marco nodded. ¡°You came in with four broken ribs, a broken arm, a punctured lung and severe internal bleeding. We rushed you into surgery, aided with a lot of healing potions.¡±

    Marco turned to Joy. ¡°See? I did say I¡¯ll come back.¡±

    Joy glared at him. The nurse didn¡¯t overstay her wellcome, quickly slipping away mumbling about other patients to tend to.

    ¡°Stop it.¡± Jane growled.

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t.¡± He whispered.

    ¡°You just don¡¯t get it do you? I was there! I gave you the healing potion hoping to keep you alive. Even though it shouldn¡¯t have worked. We punched through a horde just to get you here the fastest. I delayed relief operations elsewhere, risking another team¡¯s lives, just for you.¡± Tears streamed down her face. ¡°And here you are, acting like it''s nothing!¡±

    ¡°Joy. I-¡±

    ¡°I have to go.¡± She said, leaving before he could respond.

    Marco sighed, hitting his head against the pillow. Once, twice. Stupid. Fucking stupid. Bradley was right. Being a hunter costs more than just the dangers. Worse, you don¡¯t get to notice it until it''s gone.

    But he couldn¡¯t do anything else. He can¡¯t go back to his old job, and he¡¯ll still be required by law to participate during the dungeon breaks.

    Now Joy is gunning to be an A-rank just to exempt him from conscription.

    His little sister.

    Pitiful.

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