The first room of the [Astoria Boondocks] resolved into focus as Alastair stepped through the portal.

  As the leader and tank of his party, it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of his teammates. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit nervous or afraid.

  Taking his team out hunting monsters in the fields and forests was one thing, but diving into a dungeon was another beast entirely. Never mind the fact that the guild promised (and history backed up) that they would be revived if they perished; nobody wanted to die. How could they? The memories of their gruesome end would stay with them forever.

  An end he was determined to do his best to ensure never came to pass. Especially now that Y’cennia had joined them. Adding the non-combatant was a surprise, something he never thought he’d see, but that could be said of a lot of things in the last week.

  A single week.

  That’s how long they’d known the gnome, Melia. A little less, actually, but it felt like a lifetime ago when he and Jessica eavesdropped on her telling stories to children. Perhaps his team would make a story of their own now.

  The room was clear, to his great relief, even if the catalogue of information they’d purchased from the guild said as much. Most dungeons had a safe area near the entrance, not that enemies couldn’t travel into it, but delvers wouldn’t be dumped into combat instantly.

  Chaos, inscrutable in her ways, was strange like that. Only the god of randomness, chance, and disorder would create a system in which everything tried to kill them, and yet they were given all the tools they needed to survive.

  “Clear,” he said loudly so his three teammates could hear them even as they materialized into being. That first step was disorienting and he knew they were likely paying more attention to their lurching stomachs than their surroundings. To their credit, it only took a handful of seconds for them to snap to attention and huddle closely together.

  Alastair cringed. Perhaps that was not the best response, given that many monsters would love to have three soft targets grouped together for an easy meal. Jessica seemed to realize this too as she quickly sprang away, taking up a wary stance several paces to his left.

  “Is this it, then?” Y’cennia asked with a frown. She wasn’t with them in the guild when they received their information, so she didn’t know what to expect. Not that the rest of them did, not really, and it wasn’t like they didn’t share everything with her, too. But some things were more important than others, like what to expect from monsters and bosses, rather than the first room’s layout.

  A decision Alastair was quickly considering a mistake.

  “There’s a hidden passage nearby,” Ellesea said, knocking the butt of her staff lightly on the ground and causing the gem on top to emit a soft white glow. “The guide said this dungeon is very straightforward. More puzzles than labyrinth. We need to find the way forward.”

  Y’cennia and Jessica nodded and got to work. Alastair and Ellesea helped a little, but scouting was neither of their strong suits. Alastair needed to keep his awareness of his surroundings focused in case of a sudden attack, and Ellesea was, sadly, more oblivious. As a [Hunter], Jessica had some skill with traps, though not as much as she’d like since she was building toward [Ranger], and Y’cennia, as a catkin, had excellent senses.

  In fact, it was her hearing that gave them the first clue.

  “There’s water draining,” she said as her ears twitched.

  Alastair and the others focused on the sounds instead of the sights. As Y’cennia said, a faint trickle of water could be heard, steadily dribbling like a leaking pipe. And since the small room they were standing in wasn’t flooded, that water had to be going somewhere.

  Very little furniture cluttered the basement, hardly more than a handful of broken-down old crates and a canvas tarp covering what could have been an armchair. That left very little to be scouted while searching for the source of the water, which turned out to be a broken pipe jutting out from the wall.

  If this were a real basement in the actual world, perhaps that pipe would have led to a servant’s chamber to aid in washing, since this was clearly a well-to-do residence or inn long since fallen on hard times.

  Regardless of its origin, the pipe was there. Meaning the water was there. Spilling gently down onto the floor, following the cracks between the uneven stones lining the basement.

  The tiny stream flowed directly into the fireplace.

  “Something must be underneath.”

  “Ah.”

  Alastair and Jessica must have come to the same conclusion at the same time, as they bumped into each other, striding toward the grate.

  The fireplace wasn’t big, certainly not spacious enough to heat the main tavern chamber. It was large enough to hold a few logs, which sat unused atop the grate, and maybe a cooking pot, which was absent. Evidence existed, suggesting one may have been there once upon a time.

  Without thinking, the group made its first mistake.

  Jessica, Ellesea, and Y’cennia all gathered around behind Alastair as he crouched down low to toss the wood and blackened metal aside. No sooner had he touched the wrought iron than it exploded upward with great force, missing his head by inches.

  Four gigantic shadows flew from the depths with a deafening screech, making Ellesea actually drop her staff, while something incredibly rough and leathery began roughly beating around each of their heads.

  “Argh!”

  “Off! Get it off!”

  “It’s scratching oh god that hurts!”

  Alastair was the quickest to recover and his years fighting out in the fields and forests kicked in. He cast [Inspect] even as he began laying out his plan.

  ?

  [Vampire Bat]

  Elite

  Level: 192

  ?

  “By the Light,” Alastair swore, already in motion. He finished casting [Consecration] and a golden light erupted from the ground around him in a perfect circle. Even though the bats were hovering several feet off the ground, two of the four instantly turned to focus on him.

  Jessica, familiar with what to do when cohesion broke down, cast [Feign Death] and was lying sprawled across the floor. It was only due to their connection as a system party and his familiarity with her style of fighting that he knew she was merely injured and not actually dead.

  Ellesea should have reacted similarly, casting [Invisibility] on herself to drop her agro, but she was panicking. She was lashing out at the bat ineffectively, waving her arms around like crazy, causing random arcane sparks to fly off and annoy the monster.

  Y’cennia was the highest priority. The bat attacking her had latched onto her shoulder and was viciously biting her; the only thing keeping it from tearing out her throat was the fact that she shoved her arm directly into its face and its fangs were lodged deep into her forearm.

  “[Avenger’s Shield]!”

  Alastair reared back his shield arm and thrust it forward. Golden light shimmered around the dull metal and formed into a round, disk-like projectile that hurled directly toward the bat. His aim was true, and with a resonating gong, it ricocheted directly into the one harassing Ellesea, before striking the other two.

  Suddenly, he found himself the target of all four vicious [Vampire Bats], no longer able to keep them all at bay with his shield and hammer. With each scratch and bite, he could feel his health plummet. This wasn’t the same as getting chipped away by some lowly monster on the outside, protected by his defenses. More than distracting, the pain was searing, seeping into his bones, his blood. His veins felt like they were on fire; sweat, blood, and tears blinded his vision.

  “Focus!” he yelled, right before hearing the sharp twang of a bow. A satisfying crunch, a shriek, and the pressure bearing down on him eased ever so slightly.

  A wave of arcane power blew by his right ear, sizzling in the air and distorting his vision with warping fields of reality, and another screech. He could not look, he could not lose his focus. He squared up to the mass of bats, raising his shield, blocking, retaliating with powerful strikes. He could only trust his teammates. They would see their enemies fall, just as he would keep them safe. The Light would guide them, as it always had.

  Alastair became aware that only one bat remained, and with a mighty roar, he brought his hammer down and crushed his opponent into the ground, a pained cry of malice and hatred the only revenge it was able to offer before dying.

  Alastair stood on shaking legs, taking in deep lungfuls of air. In all his experience, and from every tale his seniors told, fights were very fast. Over in seconds. Minutes at most.

  And yet he felt like he had been running for days. Exhaustion crept over him, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep…possibly forever.

  A glance at his status told him that if he did, he might not get back up.

  “Holy hell,” Jessica panted from beside him. She gave voice to his thoughts, though perhaps not in the words he would have chosen.

  “Is this…normal?” Y’cennia asked. She was already tending to her own wounds, the cuts on her arms and face already sealing over, the empty bottle in her hand evidence of the potion she drank.

  “No,” Jessica replied instantly. “Definitely not. For one, we normally don’t get eaten right away. They caught us by surprise, and it’s only because Al’s a quick thinker that he got them off of us so fast. ‘Normally’ we’d try to tackle one monster at a time, not…four.”

  Y’cennia nodded, looking pale, but firmed her shoulders. Thankfully, it didn’t look like she was going to run. Or collapse into herself. That was always a risk for a person’s first foray into battle.

  Instead, she marched to Ellesea, reached into her storage, and pulled out another potion.

  “Drink,” she commanded, watching the shorter girl do so carefully, only moving onto Jessica when the tiny vial was empty.

  Jessica needed no instructions and as soon as the bottle was in her hands, she was knocking it back like a shot of dwarven whiskey. And much like that firewater, the face she made afterwards told Alastair all he needed to know of the taste. Y’cennia walked up to him and handed one of his own.

  Alastair found himself staring down at the thumb-sized vial of potion in his hands. He was familiar with potions, as they were the team’s primary source of healing, since without a healer, they didn’t have access to any spells except for his, [Healing Light] and [Lay on Hands], which were costly with long cooldowns, and not very effective for what they needed.

  Normally, they would carry a dozen potions, which needed to last them an entire outing. While they weren’t exactly expensive, they weren’t cheap, so they only used them when they really needed them. They always kept a strict count of how many potions remained, because if they ran out…they could easily die.

  Using four within the first 5 minutes of entering the dungeon did not bode well.

  “Drink,” Y’cennia commanded him, and though she was physically much smaller than he was, he felt like he was getting nagged by one of the sisters at the abbey. He glanced up and met her eyes. She nodded once as if reading his thoughts.

  “Don’t worry. I have hundreds of these in storage.”

  He gave her a curious look.

  “No, seriously,” she said in a tired voice with a faraway gaze. “Hundreds. I’m following Melia’s plan for leveling, and the first thing she had me do was make enough [Minor Healing Potions] until they no longer gave me any experience. She gave me enough materials for 750. 750 potions, Al, and I nearly used it all.”

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  Without another word, Alastair popped the cork and threw it back.

  Potions were, while not disgusting, not flavorful, either. At least health potions. And calling it a “flavor” was a bit too generous, because it never actually tasted exactly the same twice. Something to do with how the magic interacted with the exact wounds a body had and healed them, translating that discomfort to the tongue. Today it tasted of cabbage steeped in pond water.

  But the effects were immediate, if not as encompassing as they wished. He glanced at his status and saw that his health was back up to slightly over half. Good, but not full. As it stood, his party was low level enough that [Minor Health Potions] were still “good enough”, but they were quickly losing potency. For the rest of his team, they were likely fine, since they had smaller health pools, but for him…he was already worried about what they would do when they decided to go to the next zone. That was part of why he was hesitant to move out of Gold Coast.

  He’d have to find a way to tell Melia how grateful he was that she was willing to take their [Alchemist] under her wing.

  Alastair paused.

  …perhaps literally?

  She was a dragon. Maybe.

  “Are we good?” he asked, shaking away the intrusive thoughts. He didn’t have time for that right now.

  “Yeah,” Ellesea sighed. “Maybe a bit more carefully next time.”

  Alastair gave a light chuckle. Despite the rocky start, their first encounter in a dungeon, with elite enemies, was a resounding success!

  ?

  Which was something all of [Sunrise] was keen to keep steady.

  Alastair led the group down the ladder, slowly maneuvering down the dark, dank hole, careful not to slip, fall, and either hurt himself or draw the attention of any monsters. According to the notes they received from the guild, this dungeon did not have an overwhelming amount of enemies. But those notes were unconfirmed rumors from before the guild was formed and had dedicated branches devoted to intelligence. He wasn’t sure he was going to trust his life fully against some hearsay from a hundred years ago.

  His team made it down in one piece, Ellesea going so far as to waste some reagents and cast [Slowfall] on herself. While it strictly wasn’t necessary in the end, he was glad she did because he nearly had a heart attack when her hand slipped on the wet surface and she stuttered down a step, missing her current footing but catching the next. He placed his hand over his heart as Ellesea knelt low to the ground when she reached the bottom to catch her breath. They were learning so much for next time.

  If there was going to be a next time.

  Right now, they were still riding the high of finding a dungeon, entering a dungeon, and not dying to the first pack of enemies in said dungeon. Oftentimes, the first pack was some of the strongest. Something of a gear or skill check to keep unworthy intruders out. Once everyone was safely at the bottom, they took stock of their surroundings.

  The hole they climbed down looked much more treacherous from the bottom. Looking up, the faint light from the entrance portal was like a pinprick. Alastair had no idea how far down they’d climbed. It was long, arduous, and he doubted if the girls, especially Ellesea with her minuscule stamina, could make it back up.

  So if the road behind them was closed, the only path left was forward.

  The small stone bricks from the basement and narrow ladder transitioned into the larger, smoother-cut stone of an aqueduct or sewer. Judging from the smell, everyone in the party knew which of the two this was. At least the question of where the leaking water drained to was answered...along with unidentified refuse which nobody dared [Inspect]. The tunnel they now stood in opened up into a semicircular shape 10 feet high and 15 feet wide, though 5 of those feet were filled with opaque, black running water. It stretched on as far as Alastair could see, fading into a murky haze. Several dungeon torches lit their way, but he cast a faint light spell while Ellesea increased the intensity of her staff.

  The group walked forward in a triangular formation. It was their standard protection pattern, with Alastair in the front to intercept any hostiles, while Jessica and Ellesea stood about 6 feet behind and apart from each other. Adding Y’cennia to the mix saw her directly behind Alastair, another 6 feet behind the [Hunter] and [Mage], where she would hopefully be the last to draw attention. Perhaps, in another setting, she would be in the center of them all, but right now, where they knew nothing was behind them, it seemed safest.

  Silence reigned as the only sounds to ring out in the sewers were the steady crunch of grit beneath heavy boots, the drip and swish of water dribbling down dank walls into the slowly moving stream, and the occasional patter of tiny rodent feet scurrying out of sight.

  There were no great packs of monsters waiting for them, out in the open or on ambush, which put them on edge and made the going twice as slow. They couldn’t see into the inky blackness of the water, but they got the feeling if they did, they might not like what they saw, or they might find they weren’t so alone after all.

  After five or so minutes of steadily creeping forward, pausing before passing broken crates and shadowy recesses in the walls, they came across the first junction.

  “The map says it’s a dead end,” Jessica frowned. The notes they received from the guild included a crude, hand-drawn map that was little more than a long, squiggly line with a couple of circles attached.

  “It also says the first boss is down that direction,” Alastair replied, also frowning. “It’s technically optional, as it isn’t required to beat it to clear the dungeon.”

  “Benefit to killing it?” Ellesea asked, always practical.

  “Loot,” Jessica said simply, “But there’s no notes saying what it drops.”

  “And how about not?”

  “For one thing, we aren’t risking our lives in a fight if we don’t fight it,” Alastair chuckled, but it was dry and short-lived. “But that in itself causes a different set of problems.”

  “Such as?”

  “Leaving an enemy at our backs.”

  The group glanced at each other and a few eyes lingered on Y’cennia longer than the rest. They understood that part of the unspoken confidence they currently carried stemmed from a sense of safety from behind them. If they left an enemy undefeated, no matter how “neutral” their notes claimed it was, that illusion of assurance was shattered, as their rear was no longer guaranteed clear. That required shifting their formation to protect their [Mage] and [Hunter], not to mention their non-combatant [Alchemist], which would be an added strain all around. They’d move more slowly, devoting more time to scanning their surroundings, and it added one more thing their minds couldn’t turn off, compounding the mental load.

  “Do we know what it is?” Ellesea asked. She seemed to recall there being vaguely sewer-themed enemies in the report for this section, like giant rats and other scavengers. If there were any giant spiders, though…she was prepared to throw the biggest fireball she could conjure at it while fleeing back toward the entrance.

  “[A Rodent of Unusual Size].”

  The group paused as everybody turned toward Y’cennia. She hadn’t been with them when they received their info, so how would she know what it was called? She was pointing down the dead-end corridor with a slightly shaky finger on an outstretched arm. The others turned to follow it.

  There, at the end of the tunnel, was perhaps the strangest sight any of them had ever seen. A rat the size of a large dog or a small cow sat on its hind legs, barely visible under the glow of a nearby torch.

  “What is it wearing?” Ellesea asked, doing her best to ignore the fact that the rat was larger than she was.

  “Better question,” Jessica countered, “Why is it wearing?”

  Indeed, the rat was not, as rats should be, naked, or as naked as fur-covered monster bodies went. It wore a white robe tied with a black belt, different from any style of outerwear for the baths.

  “I think it’s called a gi,” Alastair said. “Some of the [Monks] and martial artists in the order wear similar things while sparring. It’s eastern.”

  “I don’t care what direction it comes from,” Jessica growled, “That means it’s dangerous. Does that mean the rat has some kind of martial class?”

  Alastair frowned, searching his papers.

  “The notes don’t say.”

  “So what do we do?” Ellesea asked. Nobody wanted to answer. Nobody wanted to hold responsibility over anyone else. They stood in silence, listening to the dripping water and echoing scratches. Unknown sounds, probably harmless in nature, were twisted into warbling moans and hissing whispers by the flickering shadows cast by sputtering torches. Every crevice could hide a monster; danger lurked behind every corner. At the very least, here, in the moment, they were sheltered by the illusion of safety.

  “We vote,” Alastair said at last, taking a deep breath. As much as he was the leader, he was the leader of friends, not a dictator. They each had just as much of a say regarding their safety as he did, especially Y’cennia. More so Y’cennia, who never experienced combat like the others, an oversight Alastair was dearly regretting. He should have taken her out with them sooner, somewhere much less…extreme.

  “What if we tie?” Ellesea asked.

  “Y’cennia will be tie breaker. Her vote will count for two.”

  “In that case, she votes last,” Jessica said, ruffling the catkin’s hair. “I’ll go first. I say kill.”

  “Kill,” Ellesea answered without hesitation as three pairs of eyes slid onto her.

  “Avoid,” Alastair said with a grimace, watching his two normal partners raise an eyebrow at his answer. Everyone looked to Y’cennia. She stood, fidgeting, but seemed deep in thought, not at all hesitating or stalling for time.

  “Kill,” she eventually said at length, deflating as she did so. The way she seemed to crumple into herself made it seem like some monumental decision, something that could decide the fate of the rest of her life.

  Perhaps, in a way, it could.

  Alastair gave them all a wry smile.

  “For the record, I want it stated that my decision was born from the desire to protect everybody, not because I’m afraid of a fight.”

  “Nobody’s calling you a coward,” Jessica laughed. “Now go tank that rat with your face.”

  “You’re the thick-headed one, not me.”

  ?

  The dead end the boss stood in was about 30 feet away from the intersection the group stood in, which could be seen vaguely due to a torch placed conveniently over its head. That was how Y’cennia had seen its name, and it was how the rest of the group noticed it was neutral the moment they turned left and stepped off the main path.

  The system was more generous in dungeons with what information it gave when somebody cast [Inspect]. Or perhaps that was the trade-off for staring down at an elite monster, something that was far more powerful than something its level had any right to be. Elites hit harder, had more health, and were generally more difficult to kill. One elite could be the equivalent of three to five normal enemies of the same family. So while the system did not give exact details of how much health an enemy in a dungeon had (unless a person had very specific skills or classes), it did show a health bar over their head once somebody successfully [Inspected] it. It was exactly how target dummies in training facilities worked…or rather, as was more likely the case, target dummies were modeled after monsters one could encounter in a dungeon.

  Dungeons had been around forever, after all, and many aspects of society revolved around them.

  The health bar that appeared over [A Rodent of Unusual Size] was yellow, signifying that it was a neutral monster. It would not attack them without being provoked.

  That did not mean that it would not attack them until it was attacked. Believing that a neutral monster was safe to approach until physically harmed was the downfall of many a foolish adventurer. They could be triggered in any number of ways, whatever bound them by their creation, and it could be something common like aggression towards them, or they could be linked to the state of a nearby mob, or something more complex known only to the gods.

  Or it could be something as simple as proximity, which was the case here.

  Once the group reached the halfway point, about 15 feet down the hall, the boss’ health bar went from yellow to red. Its eyes, a crimson color dancing like fire in the torchlight, snapped in their direction. The group froze, but it was already too late.

  “[Bulwark]!” Alastair roared, raising his shield. The rat flew with alarming speed and agility, swiping down across Alastair’s chest just as he raised his shield. Sparks showered off the metal, revealing how close he had been to being sliced open. He didn’t want to guess how sharp those were.

  “[Scorpid Sting]!” he heard Jessica yell from behind. That was a good decision. A poison to addle the mind and blur vision; any chance to reduce the accuracy of an attacker, he would take. He watched in real time as the sting took hold, the rat’s eyes dilating and then squinting as it tried to focus, and a blow aimed at his neck glanced harmlessly off his armored shoulder.

  But despite its hampered vision, the rat was still incredibly fast. Alastair was pushed onto the back foot instantly at the start of the fight and he struggled to retain even that much composure. Every ounce of his concentration was devoted to dodging and making sure he didn’t slip on the moist stones; he barely had a chance to refresh a buff or get off an attack between parries.

  This was not a fight he could win. Any damage would have to come from his allies…which was fine if he could keep the boss’ attention on him. The best way to do that was to not die.

  A feat easier said than done.

  The rat attacked ruthlessly, unrelenting, and nearly unerring. Without realizing it, Alastair was backed into a corner, which could be deadly against a foe where mobility was a must. And just as Alastair realized he was trapped, the boss pulled a feint: Alastair dodged to the left, realized too late he had nowhere to go, and was forced to throw himself right. Directly into the path of those razor-sharp claws. Pain seared his side as crimson blood bloomed through his leather padding, a deep, penetrating cut.

  Alastair’s eyes bulged even as he scrambled to adjust, raising his shield to stop a flurry of blows.

  “Little help?!” he cried desperately to his teammates. “I can’t hold this forever!”

  A glance at his status had his heart plummet. That single blow took nearly a fourth of his health. On top of that, he was bleeding. If he didn’t stabilize soon, things would only get worse.

  “Potions!” Y’cennia yelled from the side, thankfully unharmed. “Use your potions!”

  “You think I have time for that?!” Alastair roared. Truly, a potion would help. It could probably save his life. But there, in that moment, he was woefully under-equipped to drink anything. He’d have to reach into his inventory to retrieve one, which at best would have him drop his hammer…or at worst, his shield.

  Thankfully, Ellesea had entered the fray. It didn’t feel like it, but only 10 seconds had passed since they engaged. 10 short, measly seconds, and Alastair was already down to slightly under half health. One of those precious seconds was wasted on indecision, and another two were spent on positioning so she wouldn’t accidentally target or hit her allies. Three seconds were spent channeling [Evocation], buffing herself and prepping to dish out damage. Another 2 seconds to confirm her allies weren’t about to die by her own hand. And finally, two last seconds to cast her first [Arcane Blast].

  While none of the party was particularly high level, Ellesea was the highest. As a pure damage dealer, with very little in the way of defense, she was the most lethal person in their group.

  Alastiar watched with relieved breath as a streak of white slashed across the rat’s chest, even as it lashed out and he ducked low to avoid a more desperate swipe of claws. A good chunk of health evaporated from the boss’ health bar, as Jessica continued to pepper it with arrows and another streak of white sliced through like some ethereal hot knife.

  Alastair was down to a third of his health pool, but he no longer felt panic rising with the thought that they were all going to die. He blocked as he could and grit his teeth where he couldn’t.

  Four more blasts of arcane energy struck the boss.

  [Kill Shot!] Jessica cried, and less than a blink later, a large, glowing arrow burst through the rat’s chest below its right lung.

  It paused in its relentless attacks, glancing down at its own body in surprise, as if confused at how this could have happened. Its arms, already losing strength due to loss of health and blood, slumped sluggishly against its sides. It spared a final glance at Alastair and gave him a look of such disdain, as if promising that next time would be very different. Then, without fanfare, it fell on its face and died.