Chương 11: Rat Catcher

We brought the wounded goblins into the tower in waves, setting up cots along any open space of floor. Karen floated high above the throne, perpetually spinning and sending her sickly green glow across all of us. A few goblins stared up at her, picking their noses and making guesses as to what it might be, but most moved on after a minute or two. So long as no one gave the dungeon core a hostile eye, there wouldn't be a problem. Just let me know if any of them get any wise ideas.

[If one even looks at me funny, I will use whatever essence I have to strike them dead. Do not worry.] You can do that? [Yes. But it would be messy and I would prefer not to.] Stick squatted next to a woman with a nasty head wound. He slowly peeled off her bled through bandages, dabbing the wound with a sponge and bowl of water. Once clean, he wrapped the wound again with a fresh piece of cloth. Her chest raised and lowered at an unsteady pace. I stood over them both, placing a hand on Stick's shoulder.

"Will she make it?"

"Unsure," Stick said.

"We found her shortly before you came out of the tower. It will be a miracle if she survives the night."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No need to repeat yourself," he said, turning to face me properly. He lowered his voice and spoke in a gravelly whisper, looking up at the dungeon core.

"My lord. We may have bigger fish to fry. I don't know if you noticed, but the dungeon core is right at the entrance of the tower." I rubbed my temples.

"I'm aware. We'll have to find a way to protect it for now. I have a plan, but it involves claiming the rest of the tower first."

"Cleaning the tower?" Stick asked.

"But it is spotless. Minus the blood we tracked in."" Claim," I repeated.

"By bringing the tower up to the surface, I accidentally severed the connection to the upper floors. I'll need to climb up and reclaim them, one by one." Stick blinked, eyes opening wider than ever.

"That is a monolithic task."

"It's a lot," I agreed.

"I will be starting shortly, now that most of the wounded have been moved inside."

"I can spare some people to—" I waved a hand.

"I'll handle as much of it as I can myself. If I got anyone else hurt after what I did to you all…" Karen had made it clear enough already: in my current state, I'd be lucky to lift a finger against some of what waited on the upper floors. Hell, I'd barely survived the first floor without losing my toes. All I could do is move forward, and pray I get stronger. Strong moved next to me, and I instinctively reached down to ruffle his nonexistent hair, nails instead grinding on bone. I settled for a pat instead.

"Nevermind all that." I said.

"Let me handle things for the first few floors. If I need any help, I'll let you know."

"Of course, my lord. We will continue to clean up the town in the meantime." I grabbed the hilt of my blade from where I had planted it in the floor next to the throne. I would need to find a sheath to carry it at some point, but with its size, wicked edges, and slight curve, it would be a while until I found something that worked. For now, this seemed to work for temporary storage. Stick called after me as I approached the stairs.

"Oh, but wait. There was one thing." He cleared his throat.

"Er, my lord—where did your skulls go?" I stopped. Where had they gone? They'd been in the throne room above the temple before all of this—all six of them. I closed my eyes and pushed the question toward Karen. Do you know where my skulls went? [No idea. They must have been lost during the rising.] Problems for later. I made up an excuse.

"I used them for redecorating upstairs."

"Ah! I never expected you would be such a genius interior designer as well!" I headed up the stairs, leaving the chaos behind me. A better tomorrow could not be forged on the path of misdeeds. Before I could do anything, I would need to right my wrongs, whether they were intentional or not. I couldn't rebuild the city on my own, but I knew where I could find enough spare hands to start. Not two steps into the first room, and the first of many rats scurried off, screeching.

I held the Carrion Blade loosely in my hand and took a breath. They may have just been rats, but they were still lives. Still souls I was collecting to bind to my will. I held onto what Karen had told me earlier: I'm not destroying anything by using their souls. They live on in a different vessel. Besides—these are just rats. Just rats. The repetition of the fact didn't make it any better. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Any choice in the matter was taken away from me. As I crossed into the vestibule, a rat screamed, baring its fangs at me, and leaped at me. My sword moved in a flash, my arm moving before I could fully comprehend what was happening. I cut deep into the rat, and the runes of the Carrion Blade flashed red before I finished the swing. A splash of warm blood spattered across my clothes. [Minor Soul Harvested] A soul-guppy dropped into the spectral fish tank. The first of many.

I moved into the room on the left, meeting the eyes of several hissing rats, their hackles raised.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I don't want to kill you, I just need your souls—" The three rats moved at once, jumping toward me. I exhaled and took a defensive posture, batting away the first, and slicing into the other two. Their souls siphoned into me, and when I turned to face the third, it skittered off into the next room. The blade buzzed in my hands. I had made the moves, swung the blade with my own two hands, but the blade did most of the work.

The angle of attack, the speed of the swing—all of it signalled from the magic resonating deep within. I gripped the blade and let its power flood through me. The same text that filled my vision my first time I grabbed it appeared again. [The Carrion Blade] [Soul Cleave]: The blade drinks deep. Each kill by the Carrion Blade harvests the victim's soul, forever binding them to your will. There was more to this blade than whatever this text said.

Soul Cleave was only the surface—just below there was an itch just waiting to be scratched. Karen, do you know much about this blade? [My knowledge is just as fuzzy and vague about the blade as it is about the floors above. I know that it was my blade in life. I had raised it from just a dagger.] Creepy. Strong shuffled into the room, Skully in one hand, both their eyes lighting their way. They rattled their jaws at me in unison.

"Alright. Gather as many bones as you can. We'll get you some friends soon enough." I walked up to the first of many cubbies—loculi—and looked at what I had to work with. Inside, an intact skeleton lay peacefully on the stone, arms crossed and undisturbed for who knows how many millennia. Another question, Karen. Last time I tried to use one of these Minor Souls to raise a skeleton, I got strong here. Is that just going to keep happening until I get something more powerful?

[Soul size is proportional to the strength of the spirit in life, and that power can only be used to power something equal to that power. A rat's soul is, unfortunately, only good for raising a skeleton like Strong.] There are other skeletons down here I fought that had no souls, or at least—they lacked the blue fire of a soul. Their eyes were just black pits. What are those? Can we raise similar? [Constructs,] Karen said. [Held together by death essence. And yes, we can.] Great. How?

[It is something I can do with the dungeon's essence. The power of the souls you gave me earlier can be used to raise our very own constructs, if you'd like.] I hummed and summoned my visualization of my fish tank. Three soul-guppies floated around the unadorned tank that was my spiritual core. I chewed on my knuckle, and imagined some cheap aquarium decor—a treasure chest that opened and shut as bubbles flowed through it, a green plastic fern.

The guppies swam about, brushing against the treasure chest and blowing their own bubbles. Alright, now, who wants to come out of the tank? I asked. All three barreled to the top, eager to leave. I scooped two of them out, channeling their power through me, and laid a hand on the skeleton.

"Bind." Both souls flooded into the restful bones, clanking together and rattling with the new energy of life. The thread that connected me to the new skeleton hardened, constricting around my core, and the blue soul-flame flickered in the skeleton's eye sockets. Layers of dust clouded the air as the bones rose from their resting place. Don't collapse. Don't collapse. Don't collapse. The skeleton stood and met my gaze.

"Hello there. How are you feeling?" One of the blue flames flashed. The other one dimmed. And then the skeleton went cross-eyed. And then it exploded. Not in a ball of fire or magical catastrophe, but each bone in the skeleton's body ejected away from each other. Bones smacked me in the face, they clobbered the ceiling, and some even smacked Strong and Skully, causing them to topple over. I blinked. [Hah!] Karen shouted. [It was even funnier than I thought it was going to be!]"You knew that was going to happen and you didn't tell me?" [Sometimes you have to learn by doing.] The bones moved back together, connecting in all the right places after several painfully long moments. The skeleton rose back to full height, setting its skull back on its shoulders. Both soul-flames flashed, glaring at each other.

"What have I learned?" I asked, exasperated.

"That skeletons have a tendency to explode when you put two souls into them?" [Just be glad it wasn't a zombie. It would be a lot more fleshy and gross. But yes. You have placed two souls into one being. They don't magically combine. They remain separate.] I met the skeleton's eyes.

"So, you are two rats stuffed into a single skull?" The skeleton nodded, and exploded again. This time nothing hit me, at least. [You should put the thing out of its misery,] Karen said. [It's kind of sad.] At Karen's words, the skull shook its head vigorously, and looked to Strong and Skully for support. They shrugged.

"I think it might like it," I said, and the skeleton nodded.

"Alright, well. You need a name, at least. I'll call you Explosion." Explosion's half-formed body exploded again in joy.

"Okay, well, if I can't do this, are you able to raise those soulless skeletons for me?" Something rattled on the far side of the room. Two skeletons rose from two loculi, their eyes black voids. They gathered next to me and stood at attention. [Just be careful with them. We only have so much essence to spare right now if we want to have any hope of actually protecting my core below.] I pinged the connection between Karen and I, bringing up the dungeon stats once again.

[Dungeon of the Carrion King] [Level 2 Dungeon] [Dungeon Essence: 0/2] Our essence had lowered back down to zero.

"So a single point of essence can only raise two skeletons?" Her haunting laugh resolved into a chuckle. [No, not quite.] An assortment of squeaks echoed through the dungeon, and the pitter-patter of a dozen tiny feet charged into the room, bringing with them the smell of dried blood and rot. The zombie rats all lined up in an arrow formation, and the one at the front let out a bloody gurgle. My stomach soured.

"Why?" [They're so cute!]"I think we might have a different impression of what that word means. Can you at least…keep them away from me and the goblins? I think they might give the wrong impression." [You're an evil overlord, Travis. You need to embrace them sooner or later.] The rats scurried off, and Explosion reassembled to its proper stature. I looked over my skeletons.

"Okay. Hi. Hello. Welcome to the world," I said.

"Your first job: collect as many bones as you can. We're going to need a lot if we want to rebuild this village proper." Strong and the two soulless skeletons saluted. Explosion tried to, but accidentally shot their arm off. Small improvements.