Announcement Warning: Gore and Violence Satch took off his jacket and waved the shirt to get some airflow; the high wind hitting the sweaty parts of his torso where the harness was pressing his clothes felt incredible, which helped relieve the tiredness of the climb. Normally he didn’t get so tired on the way up, but Barkly was slow, so he had to stay grabbing the cord for longer, which resulted in exhaustion. Only half the group was operational; he was panting and leaning on the wall, Barkly was recuperating from the fear on the floor near one of the two pilrs by the entrance and Libertas was barfing off the doors, and Paul, Thomas and Hound were waiting.

  “Who the fuck gets vertigo with wings?” Thomas commented, not trying to disguise his voice to be subtle. Hound let out one of his ughs and Thomas chuckled. Paul groaned.

  “You all done with the wimping? We are te already and have to be out by morning, c’mon!” Satch sighed and obliged, Barkly tried but ended up stumbling over to them, Libertas stayed, hanging her head over the edge.

  “I-I can’t do it Paul... j-just a second more.” She begged as she faced the outside, her hair flowing with the wind and getting stained in her vomit, Paul walked over to her and leaned over.

  “If you don’t join us before we get to the first level at the end of this hallway, I’ll rip your wings out and throw you over the edge.” Instead of a response to his threat, Libertas simply vomited again, which made Paul reel back and grimace at her, turning to go down the hallway past them. “Useless bitch, Tom! Torch.” Tom took out his torch, lit it up, and handed it to Paul, who snatched it from his hand. “C’mon, we are burning moonlight.”

  Satch looked at the hallway, the first time he thought about how well it maintained, for how many years the dungeon was said to exist, now he knew better; the big shots had cleaners for the hallway, which expined why even if the first level had the same marble bricks and golden linings as the hallway, it was substantially less well kept. Barkly looked at everything shocked, Satch couldn’t deny any further that he felt weird with him there, he may only have the looks of a child, but he also acted innocent enough to make Satch feel bad. He shook his head and focused on rexing about the fact that they’d go to level two, hopefully a samander’s skin would be enough. However, his train of thought got derailed by bumping into something mushy and hairy, stumbling back he saw that Paul was stopped, lifting his torch forward.

  “Shit!” The half-orc excimed as Satch leaned to the side to see what he was looking at, a figure stood in the hallway, just in front of the level 1 stairs. They wore a cloak with a pointy hood; the opening of the hood was dark because of the hallway darkness itself, thanks to the light of the torch, it looked like the figure was wearing a dark color. Hound growled at the figure, and feeling a tug at his trousers, Satch looked down to see the half-foot, who whispered something to him; he seemed less unnerved than one would imagine.

  “H-He’s not wearing a zenith symbol, Mr. Stach.” Satch's eyes widened as the half-foot whispered to him, he straightened and confirmed it, the flickering fire helped see that there was no Zenith symbol over the person’s heart. Satch sighed and nodded to Barkly.

  “Yo Paul, the kid has a good point, no Zenith symbol, that ain’t a delver.” He sighed in relief again and saw Tom do the same, but Paul still didn’t seem to rex, and Hound bit at the air in the guy’s direction.

  “You, drop what you have, we’ll leave, and then you can leave as well, we’ll even leave you the grappling hook, how’s that?” Paul’s words echoed along the hallway; they seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as the person didn’t flinch. Barkly whimpered as he heard that they’d leave the hook behind, maybe it was his. Satch whispered to Paul.

  “What are you doing? You said we wouldn’t rob anyone.”

  "Yeah, well, difficult to avoid them here, isn’t it?” He whispered back, the figure was unwavering in the distance. “Tsk, ‘sides, doesn’t this save you the trip? Be gd shithead.” Satch considered the options and concluded that Paul was right, they were 5 against 1, it was great odds. But then, why was he so nervous? And why could he see beads of sweat forming on Paul’s back? The figure stayed still, but Paul straightened and walked forward with his torch. “Aight, time’s over dipshit, my patience is thin, so hand all you have over and you might see the pretty moon that’s in the sky today.”

  Confident, the burly tall man walked forward, he was very tall, a head and a few over the fellow, who may have been paralyzed in fear or completely unafraid, whichever it was that caused their stillness, didn’t change the fact that it gave Satch a bad feeling, his stomach having a knot formed on it.

  “I don’t like this…” Tom took a step back, even Hound was silent, his lips still reeled back like a dog’s.

  “Hey you cunt! You think you look tough?” As Paul walked forward, getting increasingly mad, the cloaked person’s figure seemed to illuminate and cast a bigger shadow behind them, the flickering light of the fire getting rid of the darkness that clouded their face, and showing a bit of hair under the face, probably a beard. “I’ll spread your guts over the dungeon, you fucki-”

  The torch fell, the fire dying faster as, in a sudden movement, Paul’s body was unched forward. The group stared, eyes wide open at the scene before them: Paul floating still in the air, limbs stretched wide open and a purple glow surrounding his wrists, ankles and neck. The figure before him, still looking dead forward, had both arms raised pointed at the half-orc, bck hands emerging from the long and wide sleeve; said hands were pointed, pressed together, at Paul, their hands also glowed with a shivering purple aura.

  “W-What!?” Paul yelled in a panic, his torso wiggling, it being the only part of his body not restrained. The group looked in horror as they witnessed what was happening. Paul’s voice was full of anger and fear. “Release me, you fucking asshole!” The figure stood unbothered, focusing on the group still. “I’ll kill you! You hear ME!? I’LL RIP YOUR HEAD OFF Y- AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

  With a swift move, the figure separated their index and middle fingers outwards with both hands at the same time. Paul’s scream of pain echoed through the hallway as his arms separated from his body, the sound of them separating suddenly was loud, blood exploding from the separation and flowing from both his torso and his now limp limbs. The arms were separated cleanly, the bone showing surrounded by the red flesh of the half-orc, who kept yelling as Satch felt his heart sink even more.

  “GODS FUCK! YOU THINK THIS’LL STOP ME!? YOU ARE DEAD YOU HEAR ME!? AS SOON AS I GET OUT, I’LL MAKE THIS DUNGEON YOUR GRAVE!!” The figure’s fingers started moving again, this time the ring and pinky of both hands moving downwards; only slowly this time, Paul’s legs started moving in turn with the fingers. “What!? No! NononononoNO! STOP STOP STOAAAHH!” The sound of flesh separating was louder than one could imagine, but louder was the crack of the bones as the legs separated from the body. Another scream left Paul’s voice broken, the figure finally looked at him. The group gazed horrified as the person’s thumbs still pressed together started lifting slowly. “W-WAIT! NO! FUCK YOU! YOU HEAR ME!? F-” His voice was cut off by a horrifying crack, his head and limbs now floating as the torso plopped on the ground, blood flowing through the floor and staining the marble.

  “F-Fuck this!” Tom turned and ran, the sound of him running snapping Satch out of his trance. In a fsh and out of instinct, he grabbed the horrified half-foot’s hand and ran away as fast as he could with the speed the Barkly's tiny legs allowed him. Hound stood horrified, frozen in pce.

  The floor under the figure illuminated purple, then they lifted themselves up. Slowly, they started floating forward in the air, as Satch gnced back, he saw Barkly panting, crying and running as fast as he possibly could, and the figure in the distance separating their hands. The limbs then fell to the ground with a couple meaty sps as they pressed their hands together again, the purple glow surrounding the hands once more, then they shifted them so that one was above the other, the top hand was lifted up and as Satch saw it descend, a fsh of his sister fshed through his mind; she was smiling at her st birthday.

  With a cp, a horrible crunch resonated, and he felt warmth spsh him in the face, looking forward and involuntarily stopping, he saw Tom’s body still standing, it slumping forward as his head stood ft on his shoulders, as the body fell, Satch heard a gurgle come out of the body as he ‘drew his st breath’, which caused Barkly to scream in terror. Looking back, Hound was still frozen as the figure neared him, then gnced over at them, Satch snapped back and pulled from Barkly who still looked back as he ran.

  “W-Wait! H-He’s still back there.” Managed the half-foot to say between panicked sobs.

  “J-Just run!” Satch couldn’t believe his ears, was he serious?! What was he going to do?!

  The figure flicked at Hound’s direction with two fingers, which caused them to get unched backwards closer to them. The beastman then tried to crawl away backwards but the cloaked fellow pointed down a finger and pinned their body down, Hound may not have been able to talk, but he was able to whimper like a true hound. Satch felt his hand reel back as Barkly released himself from his grasp and ran backwards.

  “Are you fucking mad!?” Barkly didn’t respond to Satch, who looking back, saw Tom’s crushed head and decided to save at least his life that night.

  As he ran he stole gnces backwards, the whimpers grew louder as the figure raised their other arm and closed their hands in a fist, then pointed down and with two fingers less clenched and pressed down strongly. A circle of purple energy appeared on top of the dogman’s chest and pressed itself down, ending the life of Hound in a st loud cut-off whimper, staining Barkly’s clothes in flesh, pulverized ribcage and blood.

  The half-foot stood frozen and horrified; he wailed overwhelmed by fear, disgust and panic. The figure then, with one hand, pointed all fingers separately at the half-foot, lifting them up in a manner simir to Paul’s.

  “N-NO! P-Please no, nonononono,” His yelling dropped to a whisper as the figure drew close and tilted their head, examining him. Satch saw as the figure lifted their arm and, with a hand pointed to the ceiling, closed that hand’s fingers and flicked nothing forward, the sound of stone shifting echoing to Satch’s ears, and the sight of a liquid dripping from his child-looking companion making him turn his head. The figure then lifted Barkly above their head, his back inches from the ceiling, then they pressed the tips of their fingers on their free hand again. “Please no… no no please… Mother in the soil, please no... Dream my soul mother for i-” Satch couldn’t bear gncing again and closed his eyes as he ran, the sound of stone shifting and of a scream being indicators enough about what happened.

  He felt like he had been running an eternity, the sight of Zenith’s fortress being illuminated by the moon giving Satch the smallest bit of hope. Arriving, he grabbed one of the harnesses and stopped running, inertia throwing him to the ground, but adrenaline helped him on his knees as he started putting the harness back on, Liberta’s voice felt like it was miles away for him. She sounded doozy, but Satch couldn’t focus on anything else but strapping the harness.

  “Satch? W-what are you doing?” She gagged and covered her mouth.

  “L-Libby! T-T-There’s some crazy fuck; he’s killing us!” He spoke with a panic befitting the situation.

  “What?” She said, gagging at the same time but ignoring it as she spoke. “Wh-what do you- Is that blood?” Fear setting in was clear in her voice.

  “Yeah! He uses crazy fucking magic, o-or she or it or whatever they fucking are, a demon wizard or some shit.” With a final click, they secured the harness, then both looked down the hallway, seeing them floating towards him.

  “I-Is that him?” Liberta finally stood up, tripping on the stairs of the entrance before catching herself. Looking down she felt nauseous. “S-Should I f-” Another gag. “f-fly you down?” She was scared and confused.

  “NO! Just fly I’ll use the hook, now GO GO GO” He ran towards the entrance and crouched, attaching his harness to the cord and climbing down it. His hands hurt, but he couldn’t care less; his body was aligned with his mind, only focused on surviving. Once properly positioned, he started sliding himself down, catching himself pressing his legs on the wall and grabbing the cord as he stopped.

  After couple minutes he was already halfway down, as he descended at record speed he looked up to see if his pursuer was after him, instead he saw Libertas, taking flight towards the city, clumsily fpping her wings as synchronized as she could. He felt some satisfaction in knowing she escaped as she distanced herself from the dungeon. Sliding down more, he stole gnces at the entrance and the ex-astris fleeing. A smile crept up to his face as he started seeing hope; perhaps he would escape his fate and be able to hug his sister again. Looking up again, feeling the ground closer and closer, he saw the figure standing on the st step looking forward at Libertas as she flew away.

  “NO!” The scream came from deep within him, sliding slower as the figure lifted an arm and pointed with the index and the middle at her. The figure’s hood slowly slid down to face Satch, who’s blood froze at their acknowledgement. Then, in a blink, they flicked their fingers downwards, towards the ground, and when Satch looked again at Libertas, he saw an empty sky and heard a loud spt and a crunch.

  Satch started crying as the figure shifted their empty hand towards him. In life, he never went to the sanctuary but, in his final moments, he prayed to whoever heard for forgiveness and for a good life for his little sister, abandoning her and leaving her all alone hurt more than whatever he could do to him.

  Then he felt it; his stomach dropped as his body did, the figure moved their arm towards the hook and flicked a finger, sending it flying and condemning Satch. He tried to stay with his legs downwards as his eyes closed shut and all his mind filled with regrets, the sound of falling filling his ears as he tried to brace himself for the ground, the only image in his mind being his little sister’s smile, which sent an unexpected smile to his bloody and tear-covered face as his body and the grass met.

  Tears wouldn’t come out anymore; opening or closing his eyes made no difference as the room was in complete darkness. An unnerving silence filled the dorm as an unexpected peace filled Luca’s mind. He was there; he couldn’t leave, and that was the reality; he’d be there forever, and though the fact still shook his soul to its very core, he was accepting it, or, at the very least, he started comprehending the gravity of his situation.

  Not many things served to ease his mind; his oath to see them again that he pronounced to his family still sat solid in his heart, he had made a friend on his own for the first time in his life (even if she was already very friendly), and his job in the dungeon, while not an easy one, would be a good one, a good duty to have.

  Luca didn’t have the best sense of direction, it wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t exactly fit for a mapper, those who travel through the dungeon and, when resting, work to determine paths, the amount of monsters and other things about the pce. He also didn’t have that good a memory either.

  He liked studying certain subjects in school, like history or nature, but even though he was interested in the matter, Luca’s patience for reading a thing over and over wasn’t strong enough for becoming a schor.

  He, in fact, wasn’t that good at anything, a shameful fact that he never shyed away from but that he also was never proud of. Despite this, he did have some things to his advantage; Luca’s physique was toned over the years of doing the most physical jobs, his mother used to do them but, for whatever reason since he could remember, people preferred asking him to do physical jobs than to ask his mother, even if he was still a child. Because of this he grew strong and resistant; he wasn’t the fastest, but he was fast and could run for a long time. Like Alyska commented earlier that very day, he was more fit for a physical job, and not wanting to become an adventurer, he’d go in the dungeon, he’d be a delver.

  When one goes into a dungeon, they need to bring certain people with them in order to avoid certain doom: someone who recognizes the areas, someone knowledgeable enough about the pce to determine risks and others, someone to recognize utility, to collect what’s needed and throw out what’s not, and finally, some muscle. Luca had never fought anyone a day in his life, he had wrestled some wild animals down and broke Pierre’s leg, but that was about it, however, he had always been told he was a fast learner, so he’d probably spend his time training whenever possible, what weapon he’d fight with he didn’t know, hopefully a cool one like a warhammer or an axe, or a pin sword that he made his.

  Before long, Luca’s sorrow vanished for the moment; though his fantasies weren’t real, he’d find simirities that would help him go forward. And as sleep took Luca into his much-needed rest, he remembered the things that made him want to stay in Zenith.

  His devotion to see his family again.

  The help he’d provide to Dryleave.

  Feeling like in one of the legends he always liked.

  Becoming a mighty member of the Zenith guild.

  Meeting new people and making new friends.

  Holding Alyska’s hand again.

  And as consciousness left him, he smiled thinking of all the pretty women he saw that day. It couldn’t hurt to break a rule every now and again, could it?