Chương 71: Chapter 045 My First Starter Dungeon (Part 2)

In the chaos, the blood spiders attacked. Three of them leapt at Ben, their legs splayed wide, their fangs aimed at his flesh. Ben swung his sword wildly, hitting one of them, but the other two latched onto his arm and back.

"Get them off! Get them off!" Ben was screaming, his voice high and panicked. Jack drew his bow, but he couldn't get a clear shot; Ben was in the middle of the group, and the spiders were too close.

"They're biting him!" Carol shouted, trying to reach Ben.

"Mary. Now!" Arthur yelled, his spear already pinning the goblin to the stone floor. The creature squirmed and shrieked, its arms flailing. Jack saw his chance. He lowered his bow, drew his dagger and rushed forward. The goblin's right arm was thrashing wildly, almost hitting Mary as she tried to get close enough to use one of her skills. Jack grabbed the creature's arm and slammed it against the floor, his dagger pinning its wrist to the stone. The goblin squealed in pain and rage, but it was trapped.

"Now!" Jack shouted at Mary.

"Do it now!" Mary stepped forward, her hand glowing with pale blue energy.

"[Frost Touch]." She pressed her palm against the goblin's neck, and the creature convulsed, its flesh turning white as the cold seeped into its body. A moment later, it went still. The surge of power hit Jack like a wave; hot, energising, almost electric. His fatigue faded, and for a brief moment, he felt stronger than he had all day. And then a vision came, unbidden and sharp as a razor's edge. The scarred woman's hand moved with liquid grace, her dagger flickering through the air like a silver serpent.

A goblin lunged at her, its rusty sword raised high. She stepped inside its guard, her blade sliding beneath its ribs and into its heart. The creature collapsed without a sound. The vision faded, leaving Jack gasping. What… what was that? Then the memory was gone, but the assassin's technique remained.

"Jack? Jack, are you alright?" Mary's voice pulled him back to the present. She was looking at him with concern, her hand still glowing with residual cold.

"I-I'm fine," Jack managed.

"Just… adrenaline." He looked down at the goblin's body. That surge of power. I felt it. The same as in the forest. What's happening to me?

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ben said from somewhere behind him. Jack turned to find the young swordsman slumped against a broken table, his face pale and sweating. Two of the blood spiders were dead at his feet, and Carol was already working on his wounds, but there was a worrying tremor in Ben's hands.

"He got bitten," Carol said, her voice tight.

"Three times. The venom's already taking effect."

"What does that mean?" Barney asked, his voice filled with concern.

"The venom's a paralytic," Jack said, forcing himself to focus.

"Weak, mostly. You need a dozen bites to incapacitate an average person. But with three bites…" He looked at Ben, who was starting to drool slightly.

"He's going to be partially paralysed for about an hour."

"Phartial?" Ben's voice was slurred, his words coming out thick and imprecise.

"I canth feel my armth. Or my legth."

"Gggrrmmfflth," he added, which Jack assumed meant something rude. Carol finished healing the bite wounds as best she could.

"I've healed the puncture wounds, but the paralysis needs to run its course. I don't have an antivenom skill. He won't be able to fight properly for an hour or so."

"Great," Barney sighed.

"So we have to carry him out?"

"Looks that way," Arthur said.

"We can't leave him here." Stolen story; please report.

"Canth we just thake a breakth?" Ben asked, his words still slurred.

"Thleep it off?"

"An hour in a dungeon isn't safe," Mary said.

"We've got enough rat and spider corpses to make a profit. We should go."

"Wait," Jack said.

"We should at least see what's in the next room. There might be something valuable." He was comparing where they were to the small amount of information he had on the dungeon. There was a small chance of a treasure chest in the next room. Mary shook her head.

"Jack, I appreciate the help, but Ben's a liability right now. We need to get him out of here."

"Then we'll check the last room and leave," Jack suggested.

"If it's a dead end, we turn back. But we've come this far… might as well see it through." The group considered this. Ben was slumped against the table, drooling slightly and muttering what might have been obscenities under his breath.

"Fine," Mary said.

"One room. Then we leave." They found an empty goblin's lair in a small chamber off the kitchen. It was a dead end, as Jack had suspected. The creature had been hoarding junk: a few old coins, a couple of broken weapons, and a collection of mismatched boots that made no sense.

"Gods, what was it planning to do with these?" Carol asked, holding up a boot that was four sizes too big for any goblin.

"No idea," Jack said.

"But we should probably leave them. They're not worth anything." The goblin ear and the corpses are the real profit here. They gathered the corpses—fourteen blood rats and nine blood spiders—and managed to drag Ben out of the dungeon. The young swordsman's paralysis was slowly lifting, but he was still too unsteady to walk on his own, so Barney and Arthur took turns carrying him. Ben was not quiet about his discomfort.

"Thith ithe therrible," he complained.

"I theel like a bag of thand."

"You look like a bag of sand," Carol said.

"Thuck you." Ben tried to point a finger, but failed. Mary frowned.

"Language. There's no need for that, Ben."

"Thuck you with rethpeth," Ben drooled.

"That doesn't even make sense." Barney chuckled. Jack followed at the rear, keeping watch for any stragglers, but the dungeon seemed quiet now. The spiders and rats had been culled, and no more spawns were coming. When they reached the surface, the early afternoon sun was warm on their faces. Jack realised he'd missed lunch.

"That could have gone better," Arthur observed.

"Could have gone worse," Barney countered.

"No one died."

"Ben nearly died," Carol complained.

"I thidn't nearly anything. I jutht had a minor venthom thing," Ben corrected.

"Your face is still drooping," Carol said. Ben touched his cheek, which was indeed still slightly slack. He made a noise that might have been a curse but came out as, "Mmmphl." Mary turned to Jack.

"Thanks for your help. We couldn't have made it without you." Jack shrugged.

"It was fun. Mostly." He grinned at Ben, who was still trying to regain full control of his face.

"I'm glad I got to see this, though."

"Shuth up," Ben slurred. They walked to a nearby merchant and sold the corpses. The blood rats went for 5 coppers each—70 coppers total—and the blood spiders for 7 coppers each—63 coppers. Combined with the goblin's ear, which earned them 3 silver, the total haul was 4 silver and 33 coppers.

"Split it six ways," Mary said.

"Jack, you get an equal share."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"I didn't do much…"

"You pinned the goblin so I could kill it," Mary said.

"That's more than enough." The coin was divided. Jack received 72 coppers. He'd also lost one arrow in the dungeon, so his profit was closer to 57 coppers. Ben, because of his injury, got an extra copper; 73 in total.

"Is that it?" Ben demanded, his voice still a little slurred.

"There are holes in my trouth—trouserth."

"That's because you were bitten by spiders," Carol said.

"What did you expect?" Ben sighed.

"I expected to be thrich."

"Then you'd better kill more goblins." Mary pointed out. Ben grumbled something under his breath. Jack said his goodbyes and headed home, a slight smile on his face. The dungeon had been chaotic—Ben's near-death experience, the surge of power—but somehow, he felt better than he had in days. The weight of the past week was still there, pressing on his shoulders, but for a few hours, he'd been just a young man with a bow, helping some new friends clear a dungeon.

Maybe this new life isn't so bad after all, he thought as he walked through the streets of Lundun. And for a while, he almost believed it.

Jack spent the rest of the day with his family relaxing. That night, he sat in his room, staring at his hands. He'd felt the surge of power four times now; twice in the forest when he killed the goblin and the rat-faced rogue, once when he killed the large swordsman, and again in the dungeon when Mary struck the killing blow to the goblin. There was no mistaking it. It was the same feeling he'd had during the blood magic ritual in the barn, though far weaker. What's happening to me? he wondered.

The palm of his right hand itched where the blood-red rose had cut him. Is it the dagger? The scar? Something else? He looked at the damaged assassin's blade, resting on his desk. It was just an old, scarred, tarnished dagger. What did the merchant say again? He'd been so engrossed in getting the dagger that he didn't listen to her ridiculous tall tale. It was something about an important assassin that was as powerful as the Gods. He shook his head. No. That can't be right.

Jack shook his head, pushing the thought away. He couldn't afford to dwell on it. He had bigger problems: the Baron, the hunt, the blood mages, the three remaining adventurers who wanted him dead. One thing at a time, he told himself. Saturday. The hunt. Deal with that first. Everything else can wait.