Chương 31: As the Gears Turn

We'd gathered around Smith's forge as the cycle of the dungeon ticked ever forward. The forge had extinguished a few minutes after we sat down, but after fifteen minutes of waiting, the cycle repeated. A bout of flame ignited at the top of the forge, and Smith went back to work. I watched Smith work in silence for a moment. He never tired. No smoke ever got into his eyes; no sparks ever burned his skin. He never had any need to gather more coal or stoke the fire of his forge.

In some ways, the skeleton was a machine.

"Here," Freddie said, tossing a sack on the ground. He'd been away for the better part of half an hour. He leaned down next to Hollow and smiled. From the sack, he pulled out some bandages, and a pouch full of rice.

"What's the deal—" Hollow started, brushing him off, but he grabbed her wrist, looking at a large gash on her arm that had mostly scabbed over. He pulled out his waterskin and poured it over the wound. She winced. He used a clean cloth to wipe away the dried blood and dirt, and re-wrapped it with fresh gauze. I could only watch and smile. Freddie didn't make eye contact with me. Hell, he hadn't even acknowledged me. But he was a good guy. Someone I respected, now more than ever.

I would find a way to make this all up to him. Hollow's dark eyes never left the floor as he worked, only muttering, "Thank you," when he was done.

"Of course," he said.

"That's what party members are for."

"Thanks, Freddie," I said. He scoffed and shook his head. The Carrion Blade begged me to grab it. To wield it, and sever the life from the ranger. I ground my teeth, the sharp edge of anger fueling my words.

"What's the deal? What do you need from me? If we're going to be stuck here, you can't just refuse to talk to me. We have to work together." Freddie flinched.

"Listen, man. You have to understand. When I showed up here, you were growing on me. But you, back there... I just—" He shook his head.

"Necromancy isn't something people see very often. Most of the knowledge and research around it got destroyed over the last several hundred years. The only ones who still practice it are liches and ancient, evil bastards. Now I'm stuck here with one, in a place where I will probably die, never to see my friends or family ever again.

"A place where, when I die, you'll probably take my soul and put it to work like the rest of the skeletons. Apologies if that isn't a fate I'm looking forward to.

"I want to believe you're trying to do right by people. Or at least I thought I did. But the way you were back there, fighting that thing—you were a monster. The things you can do. To use those souls so casually and wield that kind of power…"

"I don't have a choice, Freddie."

"I know you don't have a choice. I've heard you say that before." He stood, turning his back on me.

"I don't understand how the hell you ended up here. And, quite frankly, I don't care. I just want to live. To get out of here alive and with my soul intact." I clenched my jaw.

"All I've done since arriving here has been trying to build something better. The goblins, their clan—I didn't mean for your friend to die. For that I am sorry. But I built that village down there. When you showed up, I welcomed you with open arms. I can understand if you find my powers uncomfortable. Hell, I do too. But I've been—" Something clanked in the distance. Patch froze.

"Boss, what was that?"

"Please, let me—" Another clatter cut me off. Something heavy had fallen further out on the factory floor.

"Over there," Patch said, pointing into the dark alcove next to us. I jumped to my feet, glaring at Freddie.

"You don't have to like me," I said, "but I'm not going to let you die. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure we all get out of this place alive. I'll get you back to your friends and family. You can count on it." He frowned, and I plucked my sword from the floor. It weighed heavier than ever, but I tried my best to look stoic as I rounded the corner into the alcove. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"All right, who's there?" I said. Two great yellow eyes met my own and growled. A creature a foot taller than me, its face covered in rotten, mangy fur, with a long, wolfish snout. In its hands it held a pole—a shepherd's hook—and slammed it against the ground. A light bloomed at the top: a lantern, catching flame, revealing what could only be described as a werewolf.

"A-a… a beastman!" Patch yelled. Deep inside those yellow eyes flickered a blue soul-flame. Black ichor dripped from its snarling lips, revealing a row of sharpened teeth. The Carrion Blade twisted in my hand, driving me forward as the beastman snapped its jaws down at me. The weight of the blade shattered the beastman's front canines, but the creature bit down, clamping onto it like a vice. I tugged back, but the beast's jaw held stronger than it had any right to.

It used its free hand to punch me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me as I collapsed to the floor.

"Boss!" Patch cried, sprinting forward to meet it. The beast's hook lashed out and caught him, throwing him back. Around us, more things skittered in the dark. Footsteps. Claws. More growls and snarls. This floor was a lot more dangerous than we'd thought. The lantern swung on the shepherd's hook, flame growing brighter with each movement. The dark alcove became a flickering nightmare, illuminating the walls and machines around us, revealing the stains of blood and viscera that had built up over generations.

I ripped my blade from its jaw and met the next swing of its shepherd's hook's metal with a lazy parry. Freddie stared down at his own blade, unsure what to do with it. Hollow was in no shape to fight, and Patch still recovered from his last blow. I needed more strength. Why? Was every floor going to be like this? Would there always be another foe more powerful than the last? Hook and sword clashed again. And again. And I realized something. This foe was not stronger than me. We were on equal footing.

The abomination on the last floor had been a test of my limits, but this—this was just something new. Something new to overcome. I planted both hands on the grip of my blade and growled. The rage and hunger of the Carrion Blade led me forward, and I gave it a promise.

"If you can take this soul, you can keep it." A faint, reddish spark illuminated from its point. I dove forward into the shepherd's hook. This time the edge of the blade dug in. It didn't cut clean through, but the hook bent around the weakened joint. The beastman swung the hook again, and when our weapons clashed, it snapped. Without wasting a moment, I stepped through the broken defense, and whipped the blade upward. Black ichor sprayed as the beastman's head hit the floor.

[Notable Soul Harvested] [The Carrion Blade Is Sated] The runes on the blade illuminated again, but even after consuming the Notable Soul, there was more hunger deep inside. How much does this thing need? I panted, sword planted in the ground. Everything around me went still, quiet. Then more clattering sounded ahead—more lights illuminating up throughout the factory floor.

"We need to get out of here," I said, turning to my companions. Smith stayed behind, still forging away. I sent a mental message to him through Commune. I'll call for you later. Just keep an eye out for anything. The soul wasn't strong enough to answer in words, but I felt an affirmative tug through the connection. Hollow limped up. I grabbed her.

"Don't carry me."

"You don't have a choice right now, Hollow." I picked her up and set her on my back. She groaned, but said nothing once she was there.

"Come on," Freddie said, running ahead.

"There is a room up ahead. It's not far." I let him take the lead, and he twisted through the maze until we came across an open doorway. We ran inside into a room that looked a lot like the one we'd first arrived in—the only difference was the lack of stairs, or any way out. Metal crates filled the space, one already pried open, presumably by Freddie earlier. I peered inside: random supplies, bits of scrap metal.

"Help me push this," I said. He nodded, and together we shoved the heavy crate against the door. The crate squealed, digging deep into the metal floor, but we got it into place. The crate was chest height, not quite tall enough to block the doorway entirely.

"Find something!" I shouted. A moment later, a set of blue-flamed eyes appeared in the dark—a ghoul, just like the ones we'd fought on the floor below. It shoved its head through, jaws snapping, scrambling to squeeze in. I drove the Carrion Blade forward, straight through its open mouth. [Notable Soul Harvested] The body went limp. Patch and Freddie lifted a much smaller box, and I helped them stack it against the doorway as dozens of undead crowded and pushed against the blocked entrance.

They heaved, pushing and slamming against the blockade. I drove the Carrion Blade into the metal floor, bracing it against the crate. The creatures outside continued to push and shove, but I had created an immovable object. We would be safe. For now.

"Is everyone okay?" I said, setting Hollow down.

"Much better. Got my own two feet under me," she said. Patch cried, "Why is this place so scary?"