Archer's vision returned, giving him his first view of the dungeon. It was mostly what he expected. His companions stood beside him in a dusty mausoleum, the air dry and still enough that each breath tasted of old stone. Cobwebs draped from the ceiling in sagging sheets, trembling faintly in the torchlight. Niches lined the walls on either side, each holding a skeletal occupant laid out in crumbling finery—rusted trinkets, brittle robes, and the faint suggestion of past lives reduced to bone.
Ahead, a flaming torchlit hallway about three metres wide stretched into the distance, its flickering shadows making the far end feel farther still. His Ranger mini-map outlined only the room they occupied; beyond that, the corridor dissolved into the familiar, opaque haze of fog of war, hiding whatever waited in the dark ahead.
He moved forward down the hall, arrow nocked on his bow, the soft scrape of his boots disturbing the crumbling bones scattered across the stone floor. The whole atmosphere was so dripping in cliché it almost felt staged. Torchlight, cobwebs, ancient corpses—it was like wandering straight into a 1950s horror movie set. Archer half expected a badly wrapped mummy to lurch out of the shadows at any moment, arms outstretched and groaning through paper-thin bandages.
The hallway opened out into a large crypted chamber. Fifty-four metres by twenty-two—at least, that's what Archer's skill whispered into his mind. Rows of ancient stone coffins lined the walls, some cracked open, others sealed beneath layers of dust. Dozens of half-decayed undead shuffled aimlessly across the floor, their dragging footsteps echoing like slow, uneven drumbeats. Beyond the mass of bodies, Archer could make out another hallway leading from the far end of the room, its entrance framed in shadow.
"Vulkan, to the front. Elenor, take the left side and keep his flanks clear as best you can. I'll take the right and start the fight."
The three spread out, boots scraping against the dusty stone as they formed their line, the Warrior stepping a few metres ahead. Archer drew back on his bow, the faint creak of the string echoing in the cavernous chamber, and loosed his nocked arrow at a nearby undead.
The arrow struck the creature's skull with a dull clack, deflecting off brittle bone.
He grimaced, already reaching for another. The second arrow flew cleaner, slicing through the stale air before burying itself through the undead's eye socket and bursting out the back in a spray of grey dust. The corpse sagged mid-step, collapsing into a messy heap of rotted cloth and fractured limbs.
Relief flickered through him—at least I'm not completely useless—and he kept the shots coming. His arrows hissed through the air, the sound swallowed by the rising chorus of rattling bones and low, breathless moans.
Dozens of undead turned as one, lurching toward them with slack jaws and hollow eye sockets, their movements jerky and unnatural, like puppets pulled by an impatient hand.
They were coming regardless. Now they simply had a direction.
Elenor was having better luck. Her fire affinity seemed to bite straight through whatever animated the undead. Each small fireball she hurled struck with a dull whump, igniting rotten flesh and brittle bone. Her targets dropped instantly, collapsing into smouldering heaps with skulls wreathed in flickering orange flame.
But it was still a wall of unflinching undead. They had no fear. They didn't hesitate when one of their own burst into flames beside them, nor did they react to the burning scraps of flesh that splattered across their neighbours. Even when an arm caught fire, the creature simply kept shuffling forward, oblivious. It was a relentless, slow-motion avalanche of rotten bodies—mindless, steady, and eerily patient.
Archer was moments from calling the group back toward the narrow hallway when Vulkan finally stepped into the fray. Nearly a third of the undead had been culled by arrows and fire before they'd even reached the Warrior, but once his greatsword came into play, Archer felt his tension bleed away. Vulkan moved with a brutal, almost graceful precision—each sweeping strike cleaving heads from shoulders, sending bodies crumpling to the stone floor in grisly, efficient arcs.
The Ranger kept up a steady flurry of arrows, each shot released with practiced precision. Nearly ninety percent struck exactly where he intended—through empty eye sockets or gaping mouths—dropping the shambling corpses with clean, silent efficiency. The few attempts he made at severing necks proved far less reliable; arrows skittered off vertebrae or lodged uselessly in leathery flesh. He abandoned the tactic immediately. In a place like this, he couldn't afford to waste good arrows on hopeful shots.
He swapped out his bow for his shortsword once the dead had been thinned to the final three. The weight of the blade felt reassuring in his hand after so many arrows loosed. Stepping forward, he met the oncoming corpses head-on. The first lurched at him with a rasping groan, all clumsy hunger and dead momentum. Archer slipped to the side, boots scraping over loose grit, and his blade carved cleanly through the back of its neck as it stumbled past. He flowed into the next motion without pause, spinning away from the second undead's reaching fingers. As he turned, his sword flashed through the stale air and took its head neatly through the side of the neck, sending the skull tumbling across the stones.
The last enemy received a shortsword through the mouth, the brittle jaw cracking around the steel as the tip punched into the back of its skull. The real thing was definitely not the same as training—not that he'd ever expected it to be. There was no controlled stance here, no clean wooden dummies or padded practice blades. Yet the resistance to his strike had been surprisingly minimal, the decayed flesh offering little more pushback than dense cloth. His growing dexterity did the rest, letting him slip and weave with enough precision to handle these slow, shambling targets.
They soon found that, in this area, at least, the loot favoured Vulkans skills. Although he currently wore heavy leather armour, he soon began replacing it with plate armour loot gotten from the undead. He now wore plated grieves, thigh guards, and a plated shoulder guard on his left arm that reached his elbow.
"I prefer iron rather than leather, but the expense and upkeep is high," Volkan said, turning his new steel plate over in his hands as though it were some long-lost heirloom. The faint torchlight shimmered along its clean, sharp edges. "Now I have steel plate—at no cost—and such wonderful quality." He let out a low whistle, equal parts impressed and relieved. "How much coin did we take?"
"70 odd silver coins and a few hundred copper. Someone told me once that you can tell the value of coin by how much a meal costs."
"A few copper for a cheap meal. Around 10 for a midling quality meal Ranger."
"Alright then. So, how could that fight have been better, folks? We didn't know the deads weakness to fire before. Can we kill them faster and easier?" Since he planned to check the next area and decide if it should be cleared or the leave the Dungeon to reset it, now was the best time to look at battle tactics.
"We killed the undead and took no injuries. Why must we change what we do?" Vulkan wasn't much of a talker when the other option is fighting.
"We will be clearing this room and the next, if it is similar, many times, Vulkan. The better and faster we fight, the sooner we will finish this Dungeon."
"Yes, yes, I know. I had hoped you had changed your mind. Very well then. Shall we move to the next 'area' then?"
They moved out to the next hallway. It was identical to the last hallway, similar bones on the floor as well. After a few minutes, it opened up again to an even larger space. Some kind of underground cemetery. They couldn't see the end of this room. A low mist covered the dirt ground. Headstones poked up through the mist here and there. A few dead wandered the mist slowly, less than the previous room, though.
"Less dead in a bigger area? I doubt that somehow. We'll stay here and draw whatever is out there into the hallway. Elenor and I will take the front this time."
They stepped back into the hallway, and when they were ready, Elenor sent a fireball at the nearest undead. An opening shot to get attention.
The moment the fireball struck the target, though, a stone block slammed down in front of them. Had they been in the room, it would have trapped them there.
"Looks like we'll be farming the first room only folks, at least until I get a level or two, and we all get some new gear. I didn't see any light or medium armour amongst the loot. Let's hope that changes."
They walked back to the entrance of the mausoleum and left. As far as Archer could tell, the sun hadn't moved in the sky. He asked the others about this.
"I am unsure either. We were only in the Dungeon less than an hour, so I may be mistaken. We will leave a test before we go back in."
With that, she walked off among the trees for a few minutes till she found a branch that suited her purpose. Returning, she hammered the stick into the ground, stand upright.
"Are we ready to go back?"
Archer and Vulkan nodded, and Elenor marked the ground at the end of the shadow cast by the stick. The makeshift sundial would time them while inside.
Once back inside, both Archer and Elenor took a drink of the Mana elixir. The Ranger had plenty of Ginseng to make more when needed, and this time, Vulkan would wait behind the Mage and Ranger. Archer needed to boost his Snipe skill, as well as ensure his Sureshot skill hit 100%.
The group advanced toward the first chamber, boots scuffing softly over the cold stone. As they crossed the threshold, the stale air stirred—another mass of thirty to forty undead waited in a loose, rattling cluster, their hollow sockets snapping toward the living intruders.
Elenor stepped up beside Archer without a word, the two moving with practiced ease. Heat swelled around her palm a heartbeat before she struck; her fireball roared forward and **burst over a skeleton's skull**, lighting the chamber in a flash of orange as bone fragments scattered.
Archer's **Snipe** skill seized the moment. His bowstring thrummed again and again, precise shots threading through the shifting haze. A dozen undead collapsed before they'd taken more than a few steps.
Catching Archer's subtle hand signal, Elenor shifted into a rhythm—a steady barrage of flame, each shot punctuating the muffled thuds of falling bones as the battle settled firmly in their favor.
Snipe proved just as deadly at close quarters as his old Sureshot ever had. Even with the undead pressing forward, Archer's arrows struck with clean, unerring precision. He'd caught the rank-up notification flicker at the edge of his vision just before Elenor unleashed her barrage, a small satisfaction buried beneath the urgency of the fight.
Whatever stat boost he'd earned was lost in the rush of adrenaline—his heartbeat still loud in his ears, his muscles taut and ready. There would be time to sort through the details later; for now, he simply let the momentum carry him through the last of the encounter.
The fight burned out even faster than the first—shorter, but far more intense, a sudden flare of violence that ended almost as quickly as it began. Not a single undead managed to reach the hallway; they collapsed in heaps before crossing the threshold, littering the stone with splintered bones.
Vulkan grumbled the entire time, his axe resting uselessly on his shoulder. Watching a battle unfold from the sidelines was a strange kind of torment for him, and every clean kill made without his steel drew another low, dissatisfied rumble from his chest.
HP +25
MP +50
Dexterity +1
Intelligence +1
No new passive or skill ability.
Less health, since I didn't get a Constitution boost. But a boost in my intelligence got me more Mana.
Steven Archer
Contender rank - 3 (25%)
Class - Ranger
Age: 37
HP - 325/325
MP 225/225
Str - 8
Con - 9
Dex - 10
Int - 10
Ranger Skills:
SureShot - 2 (30%)
Snipe - 2 (50%)
Ranger Passive Abilties:
Locational Map
Terrain Analysis
Tactical Distance Assessment
Flora Identify
Crafting:
Alchemy: Skill Level: Apprentice (15%)
The looting got much of the same stuff. Coin and steel plate armour. 100 copper coins equalled 1 silver. 100 silver equalled 1 gold. Only 1 item drew all their attention.
Ashen Bracers - Uncommon
Int +1
Set: 0/5
"Got some new bracers for you, Elenor. Mana boost for you should come in handy."
Both Elenor and Vulkan were openly surprised by Archer so casually giving away the piece of armour.
"This item would create a bidding war with the merchants in the cities. No where else could anyone afford them. Yet you give them to me without a second thought?"
"I might change my mind if you look too cool in the entire set. It really isn't a big deal, guys, certainly not when I wouldn't survive this Dungeon without you."
"Entire set? You plan to give me an entire set!? Do I look like a prince or king? I would the target for every thief and robber in all the lands!"
"Then I can carry the set in my inventory. Or you can become soo bad-ass, no one would fuck with you. I'm hoping to help you become the bad-ass."
"As for you, Vulkan, we can't carry all this extra plate armour you're collecting. My Inventory won't hold it all. And we don't have a cart either. Sorry, big man."