Soulforged Dungeoneer

There were only two people manning the floor 20 checkpoint; in all honesty, I was a little amazed that they found someone willing to remain on this floor, or maybe tasked low-level people with it constantly, just in case people might sneak in. As they both squinted uncomfortably at the level over my head, I found myself immediately distracted by the logistics, probably because I didn't really want to have another conversation about why exactly I was here. Also... the fact that I was still, technically, a blooded diver--a player killer, a murderer--wasn't likely to make this go any easier.

The man with the National Guard badge frowned, but instead of asking about my level, just rattled off the spiel that I knew was standard. "For security reasons, we need to ask if either of you have any human corpses on your person, or were party to any incidents that resulted in the death of a human or Dungeoneer within the dungeon."

Chelle cleared her throat, but spoke clearly. "No." The priestess next to the Guard kept her eyes on my face, but nodded generally towards the other woman in acknowledgement.

How do I even phrase this in a way that isn't suspicious? Knowing that the Priestess would find any lie or evasion suspicious? I rattled some words around my brain, and spit them out as, "I have done nothing except what is already public record."

The two exchanged looks, and Michelle turned to look at me, bewildered. I felt like I had just shoved an entire foot in my mouth, because I did, and tried again.

"What I'm trying to say is, no, but with the caveat that in the past I committed crimes that I have already served jail time for, atoned for, and do not wish to repeat. In the way the question was asked, I cannot technically answer no to that question." Again... ugh. This was so stupid.

It was the priestess who spoke up. "Why are you--"

"There is a quest here that I need to finish. The dungeon god Kalamitus sent me here to make sure that it gets done."

The National Guardsman suddenly got a look on his face, and he turned and spat. "Those things are not God," he said, and I could hear the capital letter, plainly.

I didn't care, and just smiled politely at him. As a psychic, I'd not exactly... been on good terms with Church-goers even before things showed up calling themselves gods, but I also didn't entirely disagree that they were using the term loosely, and that it was ...borderline offensive, to me, and worse for the church. Mostly, I just didn't want to argue with people like him--past, present, or future.

Which sucked, because apparently he wanted to argue with me. I felt bad for the Priestess standing right next to him, as he started rambling.

"This is all just a big attempt to make people lose their faith. It's just like Pastor Nugget says--faith in God is the only way to keep people from falling into darkness. It's the enemy, like he says. Enemy of the faith, enemy of the church, enemy of God... he's just a bastard, they're all just bastards, pretending to be something they're not. Monsters, they are..."

As it became clearer he wasn't going to stop, I focused on the Priestess instead--she looked like her stress level had risen just by standing there, but she did her best to keep her expression neutral. "Are we free to go?" I asked her, ignoring the man.

Of course he wasn't going to ignore that.

"No, you're not fucking free to go. I'm the one in charge here, and you're not leaving until I say so." He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to stand up to me, as though... as though... no, honestly, I can't make any sense of his mindset. I guess he was just used to bullying people to make them shut up?

I turned to face him. "Do you have further questions?"

His face soured like he'd bit something. "I don't like your tone."

"That's not a question."

"Sounds to me like you're resisting an officer of the law."

"National Guard aren't police, they're military." That was a vaguely gray area, as they'd been deputized in most places, but I was pretty sure you had to be a policeman, by occupation, to be considered an officer of the law.

"And you think it's a better idea to resist the military?"

"It worked at Armand Bayou." Well, no, technically it didn't, but I couldn't help feeling like that was a fantastic bluff. It did sort of work out, but...

The man just snorted. "That guy was arrested for what he did."

"After I picked up an entire military base, and held off a woman who was... what, level one thousand? And also, now that I think about it, there was the assassin too..."

The guy just sneered at me, getting out a police baton or something of the type from his inventory. Both the priestess and Michelle actively moved away from the two of us, trying desperately not to get any of the guy's stupid on them, or possibly just scared they were going to get caught up in the bullshit. "Quit playing games, asshole. That guy was some fucking high-level douchebag, and you're just some random asshole."

I glanced to his right, at the scared face of the woman who'd been beside him. "Priestess, am I lying about my involvement in that incident?"

The guy tensed, as though the idea that I might not be lying didn't even enter into his thoughts.

"...no," she said, her eyes as wide as dinner plates, as she continued to slowly step backwards.

"And there you go," I said, quite politely, turning back to the national guardsman. "Now as I asked you five fucking minutes ago--" not that it had actually been that long, "--do you have any other fucking questions or can I go?"

He continued to stare at me, and I got the impression that he genuinely thought that if he somehow arrested me things would work out for him. Like, he'd be hailed as a hero by someone, or something. I don't know; I have enough trouble understanding people who were my brand of crazy--people like Michelle, or Suzy, or Louise, or even Jenna or Mel. This guy was something else entirely.

After a minute, though, he kind of deflated. "Nah," he said, as though he was doing me a favor. "You can go."

I rolled my eyes and continued on past him. The priestess, now clearly thoroughly scared and confused, continued to shy away from me, but I ignored her, since she did nothing wrong and I'm pretty sure even treating her normally would just spook her more.

This whole incident was a pile of shit, and I knew it. Honestly, I should have long since gotten better at dealing people, but... I shook my head quietly to myself as I continued walking. I was still just as defensive and prone to escalating stupid shit as I was back at Armand Bayou. Hell, I knew better than that guy how bad things got for me, back then--and here I was, not learning that fucking lesson.

'Cos you're scared, Jay, offered my fairy, sounding fairly relaxed. Real consequences or something like that. I dunno.

I considered what she said, as I sensed Michelle hurrying to catch up to me, and paused long enough for her to catch up, if that's what she wanted to do. Because, I mean... Merry wasn't wrong, of course. I didn't know how to handle douchebags like this guy, and there were real consequences if he just... if he just abused his authority to start a fight over nothing. And, I mean... it's not like I'm innocent in general, having just admitted to murder, but... but in the end, what I want is peace. And that guy didn't seem to want that. He knew he could get pain and chaos if he stirred things up, and he was eager for it.

I felt that thought seething through me as Chelle caught up to me, and tried to put it out of mind, and I half-turned to face her.

"So, uh... sorry, I should have stood up for you, but..." Michelle brushed her hair away from her face, as it had kind of landed wrong as she hurried up. "That guy was a real piece of shit."

I just waved at her. "You don't need to stand up for me," I said, though I felt a little sad to say that. I kind of wished I lived in a world where she really could--that my being good to her meant that my life was going to be better, but as things were, I was the one responsible for the whole situation. More levels, more experience... I'd been through a lot of things I couldn't expect her to take responsibility for. "But, I appreciate the thought. I'm just going to ahead and go down, so I guess this is where we split up."

Michelle nodded, looking sad. "Thanks for your help... for the, uh..." she seemed to put a lot of thought into phrasing exactly what had happened correctly? It's not like I didn't know. "...training, I guess. Is it alright if I come to you again with questions?"

"Sure." I offered her a smile. "And, uh... I guess as a last piece of advice, don't... don't spend your whole time going solo. I do it, or I was doing it, but... it changes you. Sometimes, maybe, but it's a lousy way to live."

Michelle just nodded, her face calm, like what I had said wasn't a personal revelation to her at all--something I couldn't really relate to. "Yeah," she said, after a minute. "I don't plan to. I've actually got a group of people I normally go with, and some of them are friends... I don't know. Maybe we'll have to change things up a bit. With the damage I do now, I can't exactly share fights with people."

I had to smile at that. "Just don't get arrogant. The whole point of the system is that it scales up, and eventually, you'll need to have your edge back. It just... might take a little while."

That she did seem a little disturbed by, but with another smile and a handshake, we parted ways, I dropped her from my party, and entered into the Cannibal Biome. And as much as some part of me wanted to sit there and reflect for a while on meeting a new friend and improving her game as far as being a solo diver went... well, I was kind of in the middle of stuff.

Now, we've been over the cannibal biome before--it, in and of itself, isn't interesting, and every time after the first, when I arrived back in this biome, I was overwhelmed by the fact that the entire biome was aggro'd on me from the start; that's a side effect of betraying the Hag after making a deal with her.

The monsters here, though, were not... were not really all that fantastically dangerous. The quantity, yes; with all my extra levels above the cap, my defense still isn't super high, and that means that even now it's not really a fantastic idea for me to be at the center of a never-ending grudge match. My thing was always to avoid getting hit wherever possible, not taking the big hits.

And of course, on this run through, the Administrator was going out of his way to make extra work for me, so... great.

The cannibals that screamed at the top of their lungs when I entered the floor had various shapes and colors; a lot of them were "deep African jungle" chic, others were definitely "southern US white trash" chic, and others, I think, were various other cultures that I didn't recognize. None of them managed to seem out of place in the lightly foggy, swampy mire that was the biome, but part of that was likely because they acted roughly the same; the Administrator seemed not to care in the slightest whether the human-like creatures were of any given race, as long as they played their part, and in the end, that felt natural.

With my telekinetic sense active, I was in no real danger even from their ranged shots, despite the fog, and although I had to be on edge, I didn't exactly rush through the biome. It was... well, it never felt like home, although the first time I came through I was safe until I betrayed the hag, on account of being a killer. Even then, the humanoid monsters skulking around gave me the creeps, not least owing to the fact that their species ID labeled them as cannibals, but also... just because the ugly fucks were very obviously the worst kind of killers, and I wanted no part of their bullshit even then.

I mean... that's not quite what was in my head back then. I expected betrayal, I guess. When the hag asked me to betray people... at first I thought it might be some kind of trick. And eventually, I realized, it was--a trick to turn me into the monster, the real bad guy. And I fell for it, but then betrayed them back... and they were ready for that, and...

...and, well, we've been through all that before, I know.

The point is, my reunion tour through the cannibal biome was not sentimental, even now that I could walk through it without running in fear. I actually took some satisfaction in picking up gross cannibal bodies and pitching them into the shoddy, thatch-roof huts that were randomly scattered. If the cannibals dropped their corpses to the ground on death, I would have left them there, or even piled them up just as proof I'd been through, but I had to settle for dumping a whole stack on the ground by the exit, keeping the couple rare drops that were, by now, utterly uninteresting.

Floor twenty-two started showing swamp witches alongside the cannibals, which were no serious danger, and twenty-three was where the hag and her little garbage hut were. As a point of pride, I went there before heading to the exit, my Executioner blade cutting through the cannibals either as they approached, or thrown telekinetically to take out the ranged opponents before returning.

Showing a little more humanity than I expected, a wave of enemies surged out of the fog and grouped up around the hag's hut, forming a tight ring of growling, insensate monsters, which somehow gave the impression of human-shaped dogs on invisible leashes, straining against their bonds and ready to leap at me the moment their owner leg go of the lead. Even the bows and blowguns were held ready, but didn't immediately attack.

I recognized the set piece for what it was and waited for the hag to show.

The stooped little witch was a typical cartoonish stereotype of a swamp hag; big floppy pointed hat, comically long nose with a big bulbous wart on one side of it, yellow eyes, clawed hands, too short even before adding her hunchback to the equation, leaning on a gnarled wooden cane as she slowly limped forward until the cannibals parted to let her through. In my head, as I waited for her to talk, I envisioned the blow that I knew would kill her--a single swipe to the head with the Executioner, with a fair bit of extra oomph just for my own personal satisfaction.

"The wayward son returns," her whiny little voice echoed through the fog. It had that screeching quality that ...I guess people referred to as nails on a chalkboard? I never actually heard anyone do that. "Come to thank me for all I've done for you? Pathetic."

I just snorted. "The only thanks you deserve is a forever-end to your miserable life. And, I suppose, you'll get that, if I finish the Full Clear Quest."

The hag cackled, too amicable for my taste. I wanted her to be full of hatred, or something--for this to mean as much to her as it did to me. But, of course, it wouldn't, would it? Even if she were real, and not an NPC. "Without me, boy, there would be nothing special about you. And I could just will it to be, you know? Here, a gift." And with a wave of her little ugly claws, the entire gathered crowd of cannibals vanished into a bloody mist that coalesced into her hands.

Which, uh, brought back bad memories, but not the kind that this NPC was expecting, for sure. Instead of being frightened that she could kill a bunch of chump mobs, all I could think about was a Dungeoneer reduced to a spray of gore in front of that fairy.

Anyway, the cannibal blood became a big ugly red dagger that she threw at my feet. I looked at it, not really sure what to say or think, but firmly aware that under no circumstances was I to actually pick it up; even if it were harmless, even it were actually just a harmless gift of a dungeon item, even then the theatricality of this whole event said not to mess with it. It might not be literal poison, but it definitely was, narratively speaking.

Merry, to my surprise, studied the dagger even as I looked away from it, seeming intrigued by something. I put her out of mind.

"Go on, boy, take it. Momma knows what you need, and momma will give it to you." The hag kept her hat in between her eyes and mine, but not so much that it hid her ugly smile.

"All I really need is closure," I said, knocking the dagger away with the Executioner. "To really and truly put this all behind me. And yes, you can offer that, in a way, but not the way you'll like."

The hag laughed, again, the sound too human, not nearly monstrous enough. "You still today seek power, boy," she said. "Oh, don't bother to say it--that's not why you're here. But your deathly little friend sees the truth; the only way to get power is to take it from others." The hag reached up with her non-cane-holding hand to tilt back her hat. One eye was grotesquely larger than the other; good. That helped me keep focus. "And that's what there really is to see in the dagger, something you'll never understand. Theft, boy, theft--it's what we live to do, it's what we are."

That... that spiel didn't make any sense at all, and I squinted at her, trying to make sense of it.

"You want human bodies to be special," the hag rambled, suddenly pacing away, "but they're not. We steal meat from creatures made of meat, and we eat it. Your friend does the same with magic, and what I just did was the combination of both--steal meat made of magic, and create with it. This is the path of evil, boy--to recognize just how much there is within your grasp, and that you need only reach your hand out to take it for yourself. To understand just how the weak society that raised you leaves exposed, to understand that you could be rich beyond your wildest dreams--not with petty money, but with strength. Power. Food, of the kind your new body really needs."

Jay...

I made an executive decision, moving forward and killing the hag before any more words slipped into my head that I wouldn't be able to get out. Like so much else about this conversation, it wasn't satisfying. She wasn't some level-100 secret boss, and a sword blow to the head was all it took to drop a single piece of loot into my inventory. I stood there, confused and frustrated, and after a moment, moved forwards towards the hag's ugly little hut.

It took about ten sword strikes before the entire thing was a pile of rubble. Not because the structure was particularly tough, but because unlike creatures, structures didn't just run immediately out of hitponts and die; they broke into pieces, and you had to further break the pieces. Almost like real life, but not quite working within the laws of physics.

Jerry... in my head Merry sighed. I have been reading the document that K--that, uh dragon-god gave us about the power that you... that you got here. And I think that what she just did with those monsters was the same skill. In fact I think that's why she did it.

I frowned, The skill--The Devil's Rebirth Contract--was one I had only ever vaguely understood, and I'd never wanted to. From the name and description, it should only really apply to bringing something--someone, or a monster--back to life, as your slave. I had no real desire to know how that turned monsters into a dagger; certainly, if it was a living dagger, or whatever, then that was its own ugly thing. But whatever the answer was that made living things into an item, I almost certainly didn't want to know it.

I stalked towards the exit, leaving the gross dagger--as well as the hag's drop, which I didn't even consider keeping--behind.