System, I’m confused, why even have a gate?
:: System: The Dungeon Aspect is known for its capricious nature. Perhaps it was only intended to keep the villagers out.
Harry shifted his weight and glanced at the broken stretch of wall where stones had collapsed inward, leaving a jagged gap at the top choked with thick green vines.
Is this stupid rule of needing an invitation going to keep me out?
:: System: Only one way to know for certain.
Harry shrugged and walked to the base of the wall beneath the damaged stretch. He set a boot against the rough face, tested the vines with one hand, felt their fibrous strength, and climbed. Leaves brushed his face, grit sifting down as his weight pulled the growth taut. He swung a leg over the gap and dropped into the tower yard, landing in a crouch on packed dirt and scattered gravel.
Well not so far. Maybe the tower?
:: System: Speculation is that the Dungeon Aspect did not account for a vampire when this dungeon was crafted.
Harry straightened and scanned the yard. Broken crates near the wall, a rusted bucket on its side, weeds forcing their way through old flagstones.
Is that why this sun doesn’t bother me?
:: System: Possibly. Regarding entry, it is also possible Korven’s statement to “Come join my little collection” gave tacit invitation.
Harry frowned and headed for the tower door.
There’s nothing in messages about it being a restricted area?
:: System: Negative.
The door was old, dark wood bound with thick iron bands. A round iron handle sat at chest height, worn smooth by hands long gone. Harry reached out, wrapped his fingers around it, and pulled. It didn’t budge. He leaned into it and shoved.
Nothing.
Locked. But no invisible wall. No warnings.
He looked around the yard.
Near the gate sat a woodpile stacked against the wall, split logs cut clean and kept dry. A chopping block stood beside it, scarred and sunken at the center. A large axe leaned against it, the haft dark with sweat and weather.
So, in dungeons, if there’s a problem, the solution is always nearby?
:: System: It is incorrect to assume the solution will always be readily available. But that is often the case.
But why though?
:: System: The Dungeon Aspect and User Interface Aspect work in tandem. The Dungeon creates challenges and environments for growth. The UI measures and tracks that growth through experience and levels. An insurmountable obstacle serves neither purpose.
So, if dungeons were full of locks with no keys, people would stop going in.
:: System: Affirmative. The Dungeon Aspect would destroy its purpose if dungeons could not be completed.
So what’s up with this one?
:: System: Unknown. Speculation continues to run rampant.
Harry put his spear and shield away and grabbed the axe. He tested the weight once, rolled his shoulders, and walked back to the tower door.
The first blow rang out loud in the yard, iron bands shrieking as the axe bit into wood. He settled into the work, strike after strike, breath steady. Once a minute he pushed strength through his limbs, without touching his vitae. The wood splintered slowly, stubborn and thick. Chips piled at his feet.
It took about fifteen minutes.
By the end he had hacked a rough hole through the door, wide enough to shove an arm inside. He reached in, fingers scraping iron, found the bar, and lifted. The door sagged inward with a long groan. Harry shoved it open and stepped through, axe still in hand.
A short hallway stretched ahead, dark and narrow, opening into a larger chamber beyond.
At the far end of the hall stood an Ancient Desiccant.
Harry adjusted his grip on the axe and moved forward, watching the rotted green thread trailing from it through his Blood Sense. As soon as the thread began to stir, he stepped in and brought the axe down in a long overhand arc. The blade crashed into its shoulder, driving it to the stone. Harry followed through without pause, raising one booted foot and slamming it down onto the skull.
The red spark in its eyes flared once and went dark.
He stepped past the body and into the large chamber beyond. The last rays of light filtered dimly through high stained-glass windows, their colors dulled by grime. Six arched alcoves lined each wall, all of them empty. Wooden benches filled the space in neat rows, worn smooth by use. At the front stood a stone altar, its surface dark with old stains. Behind the altar, two stairways. One rose up into the tower. The other descended, stone steps disappearing into deeper black.
Behind it stood Captain Walls.
Alone.
He wore one of the plain black robes, the fabric stretched tight and barely closing around his middle. His bare feet planted on the cold stone.
Walls looked smug and terrified all at once.
“Walls, it’s not too late. You can still leave.”
He tried to sneer, but the fear leaked through. “You think you’ve won? Lord Korven prepared for this. He always prepares.” He stepped out from behind the altar and let the robe fall away.
His body was a mass of soft rolls, skin pale and sickly, yellowed in places and mottled with angry red patches.
Harry took an involuntary step back. “Um… that’s not…” He frowned. “Where are your clothes?”
Walls threw his head back and laughed, sharp and breathless. “Ha. I don’t need clothes. Or armor. Or pathetic weapons.” His smile stretched too wide. “Lord Korven has made me strong. Powerful...”
Harry took another small step back. “Surrender, Walls. I’ll take you to the portal. You don’t have to do what he says anymore. Be free of all this.”
Walls was sweating now, breath coming fast. “Power is freedom.” His hand shook as he held up a vial. It was so swallowed by his thick fingers that Harry couldn’t even see the color of the liquid. “Lord Korven will destroy you. Make you his pet.”
“I only see one pet here,” Harry said. “Korven is finished.”
Walls fumbled with the stopper, fingers slipping, panic flashing across his face before he finally wrenched it free. “I get to put you down myself.” He tipped his head back and gulped the potion.
For a heartbeat, triumph spread across his face.
His muscles rippled under his skin, swelling and tightening as he shuddered, chest heaving.
Walls’s body jerked hard, muscles seizing as cramps tore through him. He twisted in place, limbs snapping straight and curling again, breath ripping in and out of his chest.
His face contorted. The triumph drained away, replaced by raw panic.
He screamed. His hands clawed at his own flesh, nails scraping as if he could tear whatever was happening out of himself. The scream broke into a wet gurgle. He bent forward and vomited across the stone, thick and foul.
Harry backed away, boots scraping.
Walls’s skin began to dry and split, fine cracks racing across his body. Pale flakes peeled away and drifted down like ash.
Horror spread across his face. He dropped to his knees, hands shaking as they pressed uselessly to his chest. “Help… me…”
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Harry called up his inventory. One Cure Disease potion still sat there.
He looked back to Walls.
System, is that any disease you know of?
Walls’s eyes went black, sclera and all. His jaw slackened. Drool spilled down his chin, his expression frozen in shock and terror as his body went still.
:: System: Negative.
A hand burst up through the inside of Walls’s neck, red and wet. Bone showed beneath slick strands of muscle. It shoved the head aside with a hard, boneless snap.
Another hand followed, forcing its way out. Fingers hooked the torn edge from within and pulled. Flesh ripped with a thick tearing sound as the opening widened.
Something crawled out. A living horror.
It squeezed through the ruined neck in a rush of meat and bone, tall and slim, skinless muscle stretched over exposed structure and glistening organs. Round lidless eyes stared wide and bright. Its mouth pulled into a fixed, rictus grin.
Harry’s Blood Sense showed it was not human. Not undead either. The thread was thick and pulsing red. Close enough to grab but his sense rebelled from touching it.
The change had only taken seconds.
Walls’s body collapsed to the floor, limp and empty.
The black eyes locked onto Harry.
It launched itself at Harry in a blur.
Time stretched, his enhanced perception taking over. He saw it coming, every detail sharp and slow. He was holding the axe wrong, one hand choked up near the middle of the haft, no room to bring it around in time.
Harry let himself fall backward and snapped his legs up.
Both boots hit it square in the chest. He shoved hard, sending it flying end over end across the stone behind him. Its bone-tipped fingers scraped down his legs as it passed, opening long gashes that seeped dark, almost black blood.
Harry rolled onto his side and pushed up, eyes locked on it.
It landed on its feet in a low crouch, already facing him.
It giggled.
The sound was thin and wrong.
It launched again.
Harry came up swinging the axe in a hard, desperate arc. Too slow. The thing ducked under the blade and sprang away.
Harry didn’t think. He threw the axe.
The blade missed, but the iron head slammed into its side with a wet, meaty thud and the sharp crack of breaking bone.
It staggered, one arm hanging loose and wrong.
A high-pitched scream ripped out of it, the limb dangling uselessly at its side.
Good. That should slow it.
It spun back toward him.
The arm twisted. Bones ground and snapped, sliding back into place with a wet, popping crack.
Dammit. System, what is this?
:: System: Flayed Demon.
Harry plucked a spear from inventory and dropped into a low crouch, angling the point toward what used to be Walls.
It rushed him.
Harry spent vitae on speed, snapped the spear up and drove the point forward, aiming to skewer it mid-charge.
It slipped aside at the last instant. A bone-tipped claw flashed toward his face. Harry jerked his head away, but not far enough. The claws raked down one side of his head, tearing deep from his neck upward. Pain flared hot and sharp. He felt the sick pull of loose skin and knew his ear was hanging by little more than meat.
Harry pivoted fast, keeping the spear between them, boots scraping as he backed toward the center of the room.
The creature circled him in quick, jerking bursts. Left. Right. In and out. Testing. Measuring.
It giggled, high-pitched and childlike.
It sprang from the right.
Harry whipped the spear around and thrust.
It twisted in mid-air, the tip missing by inches, and landed behind him.
Harry spun and swept the spear in a wide arc.
It leapt straight up, clearing the shaft with ease.
It bounded away and landed atop the arch above one of the alcoves, crouched low, head tilted, eyes locked on him.
The giggling never stopped.
Harry adjusted his grip, his thick blood trickling warm down his neck from the torn ear.
The beast sprang off the alcove, straight at his face.
Harry drove the spear forward.
It caught the shaft with one hand, wrenched it aside, and slid along the length toward him in a blur of motion.
Harry let go and stumbled back.
In one motion it dropped the spear and landed in a low crouch.
Harry drew a sword.
It laughed. The sound was high and mocking, nothing of Walls left in it. “Missed me, missed me.”
It rushed him low.
Harry slashed down.
The demon rolled under the blade and came up inside his guard. Claws raked across his chest. They screeched against the chainmail, tearing links open as they cut through.
It tumbled away and flowed back to its feet in the same motion.
Harry’s frustration built. He hadn’t landed a hit of any kind since throwing the axe.
It was still giggling. Still laughing.
Blood ran down his chest in warm rivulets under the torn links of his chainmail.
The creature moved to the far side of the room and sprang up onto the stone altar. It perched there, crouched low with its arms spread wide, head tilted, that rictus grin locked in place. “Tip tap, swing and miss.”
Harry circled slowly, sword held forward in a long guard, boots sliding over blood-slick stone.
He checked his meters.
H: 72 | V: 104 | TM: 5%
It was tearing him apart.
Need to end this.
He burned vitae, pushing it into healing, strength, speed. Heat surged through him as his body started to knit itself back together.
H: 73 .. 74 .. | V: 62 | TM: 44%
The thing cocked its head and laughed again. “Too slow. Down you go.”
It launched off the altar.
Harry snapped the sword down, but it was still too fast.
It dropped low and swept his legs out from under him.
Harry hit the stone hard on his back.
The demon was on him instantly, claws reaching for his throat.
Harry caught one wrist. The strength behind it shocked him, muscle and bone driving down with relentless force.
He released the sword and drove his fist into the side of its head.
Bone crunched under the blow. The creature flew off him and skidded across the floor.
Harry rolled and got his feet under him.
The demon sprang back up and stayed crouched where it landed. One side of its head was crushed inward, an eye hanging loose and slick. It watched Harry as the damage repaired itself, bones grinding back into shape, nerves twitching as the eye dragged itself home.
It giggled again, higher now. “Can’t hurt me. Can’t kill me.”
The spear hadn’t worked. The sword was too slow.
It’s too fast.
Harry watched it rocking on its heels, arms stretched out to either side, gently waving as if keeping balance on a line. It tilted its head one way then the other way and clacked its teeth.
It giggled again. “Slow little vampire, catch and kiss.”
Harry drew two daggers from his inventory.
The demon began to circle him, bobbing up and down as it moved, light on its feet. Harry adjusted his stance, daggers held underhanded, low and ready, turning with it to keep it in front of him.
He focused. His vision sharpened. His muscles coiled tight, every movement clear and bright.
It launched.
Harry triggered Frenzy.
The world went red and he drove forward.
They crashed together. The demon slammed into him and wrapped its arms and legs around his body.
Harry brought both daggers around and drove them with everything he had, burying them deep into the demon’s back. He hauled it in tight, locking their bodies together.
Its teeth sank into the side of his neck and tore.
Bone claws punched through the chainmail on his back, fingers forcing their way in, digging deep, shoving ribs aside.
Pain detonated white-hot through his body.
Harry snarled and pulled it even closer.
Blood poured from his throat as its teeth kept grinding and ripping.
His fangs slid out.
He bent his head and clamped down on the monster’s neck, biting hard.
Drain.
The demon jerked its head back, mouth tearing free as it shrieked.
It thrashed violently. Bone fingers ripped out of Harry’s back with wet popping sounds as it tried to push itself away. Claws and feet scraped and kicked at his chest and legs, carving long, bloody gashes.
Harry tightened his grip on the daggers buried in its back.
He drank deep.
The blood hit him like lightning. Pure ecstasy flooded through him, hot and electric, racing through every vein. It tasted of raw power, thick and heady, corruption woven through it like honey through wine. He'd never experienced anything like it. Nothing even close. Every pull sent fresh waves of strength surging into his limbs, his chest, his core. It felt good. Better than good. It felt like he could tear through stone with his bare hands, like he could do anything.
Give me more.
The thought cut through even the Frenzy.
More.
The struggles weakened.
Its arms sagged and fell to its sides. Its head lolled.
Harry kept drinking.
The body went slack in his arms.
He drank until the heartbeat stuttered and stopped.
Harry released it.
It hit the floor in a wet heap.
Harry stood over it, swaying, blood slick across his chest, his neck, his face.
The beast in him wanted to reach for it again, to drink more even though the heart had stopped. The urge was sharp and hungry.
He scanned the room. Maybe there was another.
The Frenzy bled out of him and he dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
The weakness that followed Frenzy barely registered, drowned out by the buzzing energy flooding his veins. For a moment it felt like too much, like his skin might split and something else might tear its way out. Just like Walls.
He checked his meters.
H: 210 .. 209 .. | V: 207 .. 206 .. | TM: 0%
He had never felt stronger.
Never felt more alive.
He looked around. Nothing moved.
Where’s Korven?
Harry reached out with his Blood Sense. There. Somewhere below. A thread. Human, but wrong, corrupted in a way that set his teeth on edge.
Harry pushed himself to his feet and headed for the stairs. Time to end this.
***
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