Chương 11: Chapter Ten

Bob was around three hours out from the goblin corpses when he first began to notice some interesting changes in his local environment. His time up till then hadn't been terribly successful. It had only taken him reaching the first tangle of brush to uncover a fairly crucial flaw in his armor. Or, more specifically, in his ability to move within it.

While his 'inching' method had shown great strength in the long, straight stretches of the lakebed; it was proving to be rather lackluster in the more 'difficult to navigate' areas. Specifically, those areas he was most interested in searching for coins and any other lost or 'newly unowned' bits of treasure. Bob even being forced to leave his bracer outside the mess of brush and stone before he investigated his most recent location.

And unfortunately, as evidenced by the sleeping catfish he had rudely awoken, these were some of the places he needed armor the most. Luckily, the catfish had seemed more startled than hungry; doing no more than knocking Bob to the side in a desperate rush to escape the hole he'd found it in. It was as he slowly picked himself back up – his eye fearfully tracking his foe's own panicked escape – that he first noticed something strange happening in the waters around him.

The fish he'd woken had calmed down fairly quickly and almost immediately corrected its course. For a moment, Bob had been anxious it was about to head back to its burrow, a spot he was unfortunately still right next to. But it shortly proved his worries unfounded; the creature instead seeming to twitch in place before shooting off in what appeared to be a random direction. A random direction which, after a few moments of watching the surrounding waters, Bob realized every other fish was also swimming in.

At first, he thought it was just a coincidence. Or simply fish following a current. But, as he continued to observe his surroundings during his trip back to his bracer, he noticed not a single, solitary fish deviate from that path. Even the ones scared off by a slightly larger passer-by would eventually correct course. Popping out of whatever hiding spot they'd managed to find once the coast was clear and heading back on their way.

It was certainly enough to have piqued his curiosity so, once he was comfortably secured in his leathery cocoon, Bob veered slightly right in order to join them. For a time, he simply continued on like that. He obviously wasn't fast enough to keep up with any specific fish, but there seemed a never-ending supply of fresh travelers to keep him on the right path. It must have been about an hour or so before he noticed the slowly increasing illumination, his vision of the darkened lake beginning to stretch out.

Most notably in the direction he was currently heading. He was only just beginning to wonder what could be causing the increase – considering bioluminescent jellyfish as well as the fungus the three men were talking about – when all confusion was quickly put to bed by the sudden appearance of a bright, piercing light shooting down from the waters above him. He found himself simply staring up in confusion for a moment, before he felt his non-existent heart skip a beat or two when he realized exactly what it was.

Sunlight. Sharp and vibrant; pouring in from a break in the cave somewhere overhead. From a way out of the Dungeon. Bob immediately put himself back into gear and began to move. Trying to keep any wild hopes of a direct exit in check even as his eye remained locked on the glimmer in the distance. The light seemed to be coming from far above him, after all. And he'd yet to find any sign that this massive reservoir even had a shore. It could be sheer rock on all sides for hundreds of feet for all he knew.

Leaving the cave would also, admittedly, be venturing into the unknown. But it was an unknown Bob felt had a good chance of being objectively better than his current location. This world seemed to be operating on RPG logic after all; at least in terms of levels, stats and taking damage. And in the world of an RPG, there were no more dangerous locations than Dungeons. True, some dungeons might be more dangerous than others.

And some areas of the overworld, especially in older jrpgs, might well be far more dangerous than dungeons located at the beginning of the hero's journey. But, in every game he'd either played during childhood or squeezed into his already packed hours as an adult, he didn't think he'd ever seen a dungeon that was less dangerous than the world directly around it. Plus, money lived where people lived. And people didn't live in damp, dangerous holes in the ground; at least not by choice.

Given how lightly packed the men he'd encountered seemed however, he doubted wherever they hailed from could be too far off. And if he could somehow make his way there, Bob imagined he could make quite the killing in just his first night skulking underneath people's floorboards. Perhaps even enough to ease his worries about rising experience totals. That is, if someone didn't spot and kill him first. Admittedly, petty theft also probably wasn't the most honorable of aspirations.

But, in his opinion – given consideration to his current state as a crawling sack of random textiles – it was well within the bounds of 'necessity'. The closer he moved towards the source of the light, the further his vision began to expand. And as it did so Bob noticed that the landscape around him was beginning to shift. The once endless-seeming plain of silt and sand slowly being replaced by bare stone and bedrock. Inch by inch, the surrounding lakebed becoming increasingly torn apart.

Rocks and stalagmites beginning to jut out like broken and shattered teeth from the floor below, taller and broader than all he'd seen before, even in their mangled state. Though conflicted on whether to consider the changes positive or negative, Bob still pressed on. Feeling determined to get a glimpse at possible salvation even if it had the potential to put him in harm's way.

Until finally, after bypassing a jagged, cracked boulder larger than a one-story house, he suddenly found himself at the edge of a mild drop off. The lakebed falling away into an almost crater-like indentation. And what lay in the center of that crater leaving him briefly stunned to immobility. The Sun, shining down in a perfect circle from high above, seemed to impact the water with an almost physical force. It cut a hole straight through the gloom and murk of the lake, creating a glorious halo where it passed.

Fish and even some traces of underwater vegetation drifting in the sunlit waters. However, it wasn't the sunlit waters Bob found himself focused on, but rather what was below them. The giant stone spikes appeared more like mountains to him than stalagmites. They stretched out far into the distance, forming a massive reef circling the pillar of sunlight stabbing through the waters.

And littered throughout that reef was not only the possibility of his salvation, but also a sign that perhaps his dreams of raiding villages weren't so far-fetched after all. Garbage. Not his world's commonly seen fare of trash-bags, aluminum cans and plastic bottles; but still recognizably human refuse. Strewn as far as his eye could see were the remains of broken clay pots and the burnt, gnawed-upon bones of animals.

There was even the water-logged ruin of a wooden cart teetering on a few of the larger peaks in the distance. Bob remained there at the edge of the downward slope, stunned, for several more moments. Until he was distracted from his condition by an odd flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Something unlike the swift motions of the fish surrounding him. He turned himself to see, not terribly far away, what was recognizably the core of an apple fall slowly through the water above him.

Tilting his eye up towards the light allowed him to spot yet more tiny specks drifting further in the distance. The sight causing a strange feeling to well up from within. The hole far above him wasn't just where some village decided to dump their trash, Bob realized. It was something someone had built a town around. Given the continued descent of endless bits of refuse tossed into the water, there must be hundreds or even thousands of people directly above him; with who knows how many more in the surrounding area.

Bob had always been a very introverted person. Someone who preferred solitary activities and had a very limited social battery. Because of this, he found himself surprised by the intense mixture of emotions which suddenly flooded him upon seeing signs of people. A mix made all the more potent by the understanding that he'd never be able to interact with them. It was strange, Bob couldn't help but reflect. Being transformed into something so utterly alien and yet still, fundamentally, remaining a human being.

There were numerous impulses, survival instincts even, which you were forced to stifle due to them being objectively useless for you. Or, in this case, even potentially dangerous. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Despite knowing it would do him no good even if he were able, a large chunk of him wanted nothing more than to somehow climb his way out of that hole in the sky. To reach the community beyond it clinging blindly to the social contract.

Desperately believing someone would see through his circumstances and give him the help he so badly needed. Luckily, a greater portion of himself realized that chunk was an idiot. And that, even if he were able to climb what looked to be hundreds of feet to the light above, introducing himself to the locals would be nothing but a death sentence. This part of him began slowly trudging down to the mountainous stalagmites below; eye set on the mounds of trash and debris piled between them.

On what he would be concerning himself with for the foreseeable future. Bob remembered reading an article once that said Americans lost an average of sixty million dollars a year just in coins dumped into landfills. Admittedly, he doubted a society still using clay pots and wagons would be quite so free about throwing out their wealth; but even the most intelligent of humans can be beset by children, idiots and their own clumsiness.

These three constants in life significantly increasing his chances of striking it rich. Concerns about finding intelligent conversation, or the comfort of human touch, would have to wait. Potentially for quite a while. Long enough that Bob decided it would be best to simply not think about it for the foreseeable future. Getting closer to the light made him realize just how massive the stalagmites in the surrounding reef actually were.

Even the most cracked and broken of them towered nearly six feet above his miniscule form; with larger specimens easily cracking the double digits. Though their larger size had seemed a bit intimidating at a distance, once he got closer, he realized it was actually something of a boon. The larger the stalagmites got, the larger the empty spaces between them started to be. There was evidence that some smaller peaks once sat there; lumpy, water-rounded bases lingering around the area.

But it was obvious that whatever calamity had so damaged their bigger cousins had wiped them out entirely. This meant at least a portion of the area might be navigable without having to leave the protection of his bracer. Something which, given the number of large, carnivorous fish currently within vision, could only be good news. The fact that his surroundings were so badly damaged did weigh slightly on Bobs mind. But, in the end, he decided there was nothing he could do but ignore it.

Even if the damage was due to flooding or some other localized disaster, it's not like he'd find himself safe of it just by scooching his way in the other direction. His best, and really only, option for survival was getting stronger. Something which he felt quite confident that shattered pile of decaying human refuse could assist in. Even if his enthusiasm was slightly diminished by the realization that if the town above used this reservoir as a landfill, then they most likely also utilized it as a sewer.

For the first time, he felt a sudden appreciation for the lack of some of his senses. Smell and taste specifically. Despite minor misgivings, it didn't take long for Bob to make his way to the reef. The downhill gradient allowing him to pick up quite a bit of speed, even as it simultaneously made him feel a bit uncomfortable when considering the return trip. As he began approaching its outer rim however, he found something about the area just felt… off.

A feeling which continued to grow the closer he came to its boundaries. Eventually, he realized the thing bothering him was how… fresh, everything appeared. A strange sentiment to hold towards a pile of garbage, perhaps. But in this case, Bob didn't think it an unwarranted one. Especially given his previous line of thought concerning the town's plumbing system. As he slowly made his way past the first few rows of stalagmites, he found no congealed or calcified together piles of filth.

No half-buried and water eroded pots. Everything in sight looked like it could have been tossed down within the last week or so. Even the butchered and burnt remains of animals not having fully been picked clean; legions of tiny fish nibbling away at the still-there flesh. Bob felt an uneasy tingle run down his seams as he looked at the area around him, before then turning his attention back up to the hole in the Dungeon.

In just a few brief moments he could see at least three more 'donations' fall from the sky above. One of which seemed quite large, casting dozens of little specks into the water on the far side of the reef. Probably someone paid to haul trash dumping out their collected refuse; something which would be common in a town of any size. There was no way, given the amount and rate at which trash seemed to be thrown in, that the pile should be this small.

Even just a few months of things at this pace should have mostly buried the stalagmites from view. And yet he still had clear vision of the ground below, only slightly obfuscated by stray piles of shattered pottery. Which meant that something was getting rid of the trash. A statement Bob couldn't help but find intensely menacing. Perhaps due to his own, objectively, trash-like appearance.

This feeling caused Bob to hesitate; gazing at the reef for several long moments before slowly beginning to creep forward once more. His jeweled eye intently scanning his surroundings as he inched his way towards possible doom. While he found the current situation more than a bit unnerving, he was also in a position where not taking chances might actually be more dangerous than taking them. The fact of the matter was, Bob was currently too weak to live.

Whether he wandered into danger or it stumbled upon him unexpectedly; their paths were eventually going to meet. His only chance at survival was to somehow get stronger before that meeting. And he wasn't going to do that hiding under a rock in some safe, secluded corner of the lake. Besides, he'd found every situation he'd encountered since his unfortunate reincarnation here a bit unnerving. So, to let that stop him now would just be silly. Bob found his own impromptu pep talk surprisingly morale-boosting.

Each 'step' forward now ringing with confidence and a sense of purpose. Even if, to the untrained observer, they appeared identical to his sad, plodding motions of the past. This newfound confidence didn't keep him from jumping at every sudden movement, however. Certain that each nearby fish or randomly falling bit of debris was going to be his end. This paranoia only starting to fade some twenty or so minutes later, when the only enemy he'd been forced to battle was boredom.

He had managed to get himself fairly deep into the reef at that point, his guard slowly coming down as the only insidious feature remained its lack of excess garbage. Before long he'd even felt comfortable enough to start heading towards its center; straying away from the safer-feeling outskirts. He'd just passed by the picked-clean skull of an entirely alien animal, momentarily distracted by the unfortunate number of horns sprouting from what should be its nose, when he spotted it.

Something glinting in the sunlight two stalagmites ahead of him. Something glinting golden. Bob felt his focus narrow as the world around him seemed to still. His eye, once bobbing almost casually through the water, freezing likewise. Its attention pinned on the item dangling precariously off a chunk of shattered limestone. A pendant. Round and golden and speckled with what looked, through the filth and tarnish, to be precious stones around its edges.

Had he a mouth, Bob felt almost certain that it would have begun to salivate. His body began moving forward almost of its own volition. The thought how much a chunk of gold that size would be worth, especially given the base hundred system at play here, completely overwhelming what few thoughts of caution still lingered in his mind. Something which nearly saw him dead before he reached it.

Only making it halfway to the stone spire holding his prize before some unknown aspect of his brain screamed for him to dodge out of the way. So, having come to trust these little feelings during his stint in this hellhole, he did. Or at least did the closest thing to dodging that he was currently capable of; slapping the two ends of his bracer together as quickly as possible to launch himself up and away through the water.

Where he had the distinct displeasure of witnessing a solidified mass of the lake itself slam down in his previous location. Further shattering the small bones and other bits of debris which once lingered there. Before then – Bob noticed with an astounding degree of dismay – quickly beginning to dissolve them within itself. It was only as Bob began floating to the ground that his brain was able to fully disassociate the creature from the water surrounding it.

Its amorphous form was nearly invisible, congealed motionlessly around a near-by stalagmite. Minus, of course, the slowly retracting tentacle which had just attempted smash him into a paste. A slime. It couldn't be anything else. For a moment the gamer-nerd part of Bob's brain almost wanted to congratulate him for encountering one of video game history's most iconic monsters.

This moment was quickly ended when it slowly reared back its blobby tentacle, obviously planning on having another go at mashing him into a fine tapenade. Bob's initial attempts to flee resembled something out of his worst nightmares. The kind where you're trying to run, but for some reason just can't seem to move forward. Even when you reach down to dig your nails into the ground and pull. Moving in his 'armor' was something of a process.

A process which his panic had utterly stripped him of the ability to properly execute. All memories of how to delicately shift his weight and balance banished by the sight of his death rushing straight towards him. Issues he probably should have concerned himself with before entrusting his safety to it in high-stress situations. His only saving grace was the slime's own glacial movements. Though these were made to feel looming and inevitable due to Bob haphazardly flopping through the water.

As its arm began to slow in its rise, the sudden horror of what was about to happen shot through Bob like lightning. The shock of it somehow calming his mind and allowing him to regain control of his body; which quickly stilled on the ground below. Before instantly launching off again with a sudden 'clap'! Hurtling himself to the side right before he was once again about to be crushed. Ding! You have aquir-'Shut up! Close Window! Go Away!'

Bob shouted inside his head as he landed and began inching himself away from the toddler-sized blob. Focusing on the slow, careful movements which would hopefully propel the mass of hardened leather – and himself – to safety. Once he was well and away out of its strike range, he glanced back to see that the mass was slowly detangling itself from its stoney perch and reaching towards another. Obviously intent on coming after him. This, however, had nothing on the horror of what happened next.

Bob was just about to turn his eye away from the slime to focus on mapping his escape route, when a small series of bubbles rose through the blob's disgusting body And then a dull, emotionless voice rang out inside Bob's head.

'Eat… Hungry… Eat…' Bob felt his body freeze against his will. His eye locked on the slime's form while his mind was stunned to silence.

'Oh, holy mother of God. Why the fuck can it speak!?' Briefly.