Dakota Krout - Dungeon Born (The Divine Dungeon Book 1)

His grin somehow widened, “And I’m glad I look so young! Well, I am the youngest in the group, just my mid-sixties after all.”

Dale looked up in shock, failing in an attempt to make a witty remark. “What? You are kidding me.”

“Frank told you that the lifespan of a Mage is calculated in hundreds of years, yea? Well, the life of a cultivator ain’t too shabby.” Hans danced around a bit, light on his feet. “We age slowly enough that we have the effective lifespan of three or four people. If we break into the Mage rank before we die, our body heals up the ravages of time even more.”

He stopped and looked at Dale, “Meeting Frank was the best thing that ever happened to you, and don’t you never forget it, boy-oh. People kill to get into the Guild, if we ask them to. You’ll notice pretty quick that you are about to become a whole helluva lot stronger, and harder to hurt. That’ll be your Essence toughening you up. There’s a whole slew-a benefits. Including that enchanted armor you’re wearing.”

Dale looked at the gear he was putting on, surprised. He hadn’t known anything but the shield was enchanted.

“Heh, about what I figured. You think it was hundreds of gold for poor equipment? That discount dropped it to about twenty percent of its market value.” Dale was nearly vomiting from this revelation. The full price would have been over five hundred gold?!

“Yeah, Frank musta figured you’d be able to pay it off pretty quick, or he’d have given ya only decent gear. That stuff will become light as a feather and let ya be as mobile as Craig in his blasted cloth, when ya learn how to cycle Essence through it o’course. Right now it’s a good muscle builder I bet.”

“I hurt everywhere, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yup, that’s what I mean.” Hans retorted flippantly. “Time for us to get some food. Don’t want what kills you in the dungeon to be hunger.”

They walked to the mess hall tent, and got in the line. Early enough that they got through fairly quick, they were just starting to eat when a chef walked over to them.

“WELL HELLO THERE!” Boomed the Chef, “Going into the dungeon are you?” He had stopped blasting his voice when he saw them wince. “Sorry, used to train soldiers, poor bastards. Listen, I hear there are pretty decent herbs down there. No one complains right now, but it’s hard to eat food that tastes of dirt.”

Handing a few sacks over, he continued, “Fill these up and I’ll make it worth your while. Different plant, different bag. Got it? Great!” He turned away, paused, then finished menacingly, “Don’t fill ‘em up, and I’ll make sure you get your... reward.”

Hans looked at the chef warily, and responded in a voice that was almost bereft of his previous accent, “Hmm. Dale, I’m gonna let you in on a secret to a long life. Never piss off your chef, your Boss, or your wife. I even rhymed it for you, that’ll help ya remember. Also, when you get famous never let someone make a song about you. Never ends well.” He advised sagely.

“Did someone make a song about you, Hans?” Dale looked at Hans, trying to figure out if his alternating accent was just for fun or if he had taken a blow to the head.

*Cough* “Well, I’m full! Don’t forget to bring your bags, it’s your first quest after all.” Hans hurried away… blushing ?!

Dale followed him at the greatest speed he could manage, his armor creaking and groaning almost as much as Dale was, and they found the rest of their group waiting. Craig looked over at Dale and examined his Chi spiral. Pleased by his continued work, and the high quality of it, Craig gained a bit of respect for the young man. Stronger men than Dale had been broken by the destruction of their center.

“Good to see you up and about. I’m impressed you found the time to bathe.” Craig stated blandly, making the others laugh and Dale get a bit pink around the ears. “Today you are going to take a more active role. I want you near the front of the group killing Mobs. The best way to get good at fighting is to practice after all. Gotta build that muscle.” Dale nodded seriously, and they walked toward the entrance.

The goal today was to mimic what had been done yesterday, fight the Mobs and cultivate. They would also be stopping for all loot, so that the Guild could determine what they valued most. As they neared the center of the first room warily, they readied their weapons for the expected ambush attempt. Easily slaying the mushroom type Mobs, including a ranged type that Dale was able to practice blocking with, they were a bit confused when none of the rabbit types appeared.

“What is going on? Where are the Mobs?” Dale asked mistrustfully.

“How about instead of worrying, you just collect your herbs?” Hans countered. While Dale did so, the others exchanged dark looks and collected the dropped loot and mushrooms. They made their way to the next room, and again only found mushrooms. This continued until they finally came to the Boss room. The Bloody Bane was awaiting their arrival, and they were glad to accept the challenge. A short fight ensued, the humans being the victors after only a brief struggle.

No holy symbol this time, but a fistful of copper coins and two right boots clattered to the ground, which were collected by the other members as Dale sat and began to strongly cultivate. While not as dense as the previous night, the Essence in the air was allowing him to cultivate far more than he would be able to in a week topside. The others joined him, and within an hour were moving back toward the entrance, done for the day.

“Tell me again why you aren’t attacking them?” Dani seemed frustrated that I was holding back my Mobs.

I was asking a leading question, so she stayed quiet.

When she nodded, I continued, I really hoped she would like this plan.

“That is… actually brilliant.” She stated, eying me as though I had been replaced by someone else.

I pretended to be hurt,

She brutally ignored my pain. “Aaaanyway, why do you think this will work?”

“Yeah. I see, that makes sense. So, most of the groups should be rather weak. I propose that we give regular fights to most of them, and only wipe out a party once a week or so. Enough people are showing up out there that I think that could be attributed to poor group decisions.” Dani amended my plan, prototypically making it a better one.

I mocked her.

“Hey!”

I allowed my admiration for her to seep into my ‘voice’.

“I agree.” She brightened considerably, “How is the place looking?”

She agreed with my estimation, “Sounds good, did you have any ideas for the acid yet?”

I tried to keep the volume of my voice down, but this scientific breakthrough needed to be known!

She dimmed, and turned a bit green in a way I had taken to mean ‘disgust’. “Wow. That is horrible. Also, I don’t know what you are talking about, Cal. I think that you forget that when you absorb things you learn their name, and what that name means. When you say those words to me, they have no meaning and I can’t remember them... Just tell me what you are going to call it.”

I hoped she would heed my warning, that Basher had seemed like it was really in pain.

She looked at me questioningly, “When did you make this stuff?”

I began sheepishly.

“And when Cal gets bored he creates deadly stuff for entertainment.” She interrupted dryly.