A Devil in the Dungeon: Delving

Delving

Tanya’s first willing foray into the Dungeon was already shaping up to be a much more pleasant experience than her desperate dash to safety.

Tanya regarded the monster charging toward her with narrowed eyes. A quick flick of her wrist as it got into range, and the goblin dropped to the ground, choking on its own blood as its mangled weapon slipped from its fingers.

Tanya watched it writhe for a moment, her knife dripping onto the stone floor of the Dungeon. The creature’s hands clawed weakly at the wound in its neck, its beady eyes rolling back in its skull as it gasped for air that would never come. Stepping forward, she ended its suffering with a firm stomp to the neck, feeling the vertebrae crunch beneath her boot.

“Much easier,” Tanya murmured, crouching beside the dissolving corpse to retrieve the magic stone. “It’s remarkable how easy it is to deal with these things when one isn’t fighting for their life.”

The stone wasn’t very big and shined dimly under the light of the cavern. Tanya examined it for a moment before dropping it into her pouch with the others.

She had killed six creatures just like it so far. Six corpses, six stones, and not a single scratch on her person. So far, she hadn’t even been grazed.

Preparation, she decided, made all the difference. She had spent a great deal of time researching the monsters she might find on these upper floors, as well as those she had come across on the ones below. Her efforts had clearly borne fruit.

Tanya moved forward, her boots making soft sounds against the stone. The Dungeon’s upper floors were a labyrinth of corridors and caverns, lit by luminescent moss that clung to the walls in patches. The light was dim but serviceable, and she had already mapped out a route that avoided the more heavily trafficked areas.

Her knife sat comfortably in her grip. It wasn’t her preferred weapon, but she was not going to use her Luger unless she absolutely couldn’t help it, and not just out of mercy for her eardrums. Her ammunition was finite. She couldn’t exactly requisition more 9mm rounds in a world that had never heard of Parabellum cartridges.

A sound echoed from somewhere to her left. Tanya pressed herself against the wall, slowing her breathing as she listened. The skittering of claws against stone, the guttural chittering that marked goblin communication. A patrol, perhaps, or a hunting party.

She counted the noises. Three, maybe four. Manageable if she was careful.

Tanya crept forward, keeping her footsteps light. The corridor bent ahead, and she used the angle to peer around the corner without exposing herself. The goblins were huddled around something on the ground—a corpse, from the look of it. They were preoccupied, their attention focused on their meal.

The first goblin died without ever knowing she was there. Tanya’s knife found the base of its skull, severing the spinal cord and dropping it instantly. The second turned at the sound of the body falling, but by then Tanya was already moving, her blade slashing across its throat in a spray of blood that thankfully mostly missed her.

The third and fourth reacted with the predictable panic of ambush victims. One fled, scrambling to its feet and running down the corridor in a desperate attempt to escape, while the other charged, brandishing a crude club and a screech of rage.

Tanya sidestepped the charge, lashing out as it ran by her. Her knife found the goblin’s heart, and she twisted before yanking it free. The creature dropped, twitching and smoking.

The fourth goblin had made it to the ceiling, clinging to the stone with wiry limbs as it screeched for help. Tanya considered her options. She could let it go—it would warn others, potentially draw more enemies, but she could simply leave the area before they arrived. Or she could pursue, risking being led into a trap.

Neither option was optimal.

Instead, Tanya breathed and reached deep within herself.

Magic in this world was different. In her previous life, it had been more akin to science, answering to formulas as opposed to feelings. Her computation orb had served as the crucible in which raw mana was refined into usable spells, and without it, complex casting was essentially impossible. The formula for a simple optical spell might exist in her mind, but without the hardware to process it, the mana remained mostly inert.

Here, however, the rules had changed.

Tanya had spent her evenings at the Hostess of Fertility experimenting in the privacy of her room and what she had discovered was both surprising and deeply intriguing. Her magic in this world was more malleable or at the very least responsive. Though she still needed to set the rules that her magic would follow, the equations had been… dumbed down, for lack of a better phrase.

It was still difficult, certainly. Like learning to write with one’s non-dominant hand after lifetimes of using the other. But it was possible, if only for a moment or two.

Tanya raised her hand toward the fleeing goblin. She visualized the formula in her mind, the complex equation that was usually handled by her Type 95 doing the grunt work instead of her brain. A second passed, and then two, before her mana responded, pooling in her palm with a warmth that was familiar yet foreign.

The goblin turned, as if to check if she was pursuing, or perhaps it had felt the surge of magic. Either way, that decision cost it dearly.

A green glow suffused the edge of Tanya’s knife before shooting outwards as if it had been shot from a cannon. Tanya flicked her wrist as it sped past the goblin, and the creature shrieked as her magic caught it along its back.

Tanya prided herself in keeping her knife as sharp as it needed to be. Her mana blade was even sharper. Magic wasn’t bound by the limits of metal, and it would be fair to say the edge of her attack had more in common with a strand of hair rather than the razor that was used to cut them.

The goblin let out a gurgled cry as its body fell to the ground in two separate halves, bisected along the waist. Tanya’s spell, for its part, lasted just long enough to get the job done before wavering violently and dispersing. Tanya frowned as the fatigue set in immediately. Though magic was easier achieved, it seemed that the trade-off was a drain far greater than she was used to. Hopefully it could be mitigated with practice.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar vein. Tanya established a rhythm: find a corridor, carefully clear the monsters, harvest the stones, move on. The Dungeon’s upper floors were teeming with the creatures, and while individually they posed little threat, their numbers made them a consistent source of income. Each stone wasn’t worth much—perhaps a hundred Valis if she was being generous—but the volume added up.

She was not alone in her efforts. Other adventurers passed her by occasionally, parties of two or three who moved with a variety of confidence through the upper floors. They would nod in her direction and then proceed to clear out tunnels before she could reach them. It was mildly irritating, but Tanya understood the nature of the workplace. The Dungeon was bountiful, but not infinite. Competition was inevitable.

Still, the Dungeon was, in essence, a self-sustaining resource extraction operation. The monsters were the product, and they regenerated at a rate that allowed for continuous harvesting. It was the kind of system that would make any industrialist weep with envy, and Tanya certainly wasn’t going to complain.

By early afternoon, her pouch had grown heavy. The weight of the stones pulled at her hip, and she could feel the strain in her lower back from the constant crouching. Her knife was slick with residue that she hadn’t had time to properly clean, and her cuirass bore a new scrape from a kobold that had managed to land a glancing blow.

Even so, it was a profitable day, all things considered. She didn’t know quite enough about the exchange rate to estimate her haul, but the weight of her pouch spoke for itself.

She was considering packing up for the day when voices echoed through the corridor—human. Another pack of adventurers was just ahead, heading in her direction.

Seeing no reason to hide herself, Tanya rounded the corner and found herself face-to-face with a group of three. They were dressed in a mix of leather and metal and bore the emblem of a wine chalice on their breastplates. Their equipment was well-maintained but showed signs of wear, the kind that spoke of regular use rather than neglect.

The party consisted of two men and a woman. The taller of the men had a spear slung across his back, while his shorter companion carried a shortsword at his hip. The woman, who appeared to be the leader based on her position at the head, had a rapier at her side and an expression of mild surprise as she saw Tanya round the corner.

“Well lookie here,” the woman said, her eyes scanning Tanya’s form with an appraising look. “Didn’t expect to see anyone this out of the way on the third floor. Are you by yourself, kid?”

Tanya kept her face blank, though her eyes narrowed a bit. Though the Dungeon was ostensibly the enemy of all adventurers, that didn’t mean that humanity wouldn’t still do what it did best. Give a man a knife and there’s a chance he’ll use it to take what isn’t his.

Deep below ground, surrounded by monsters and dangerous terrain, “accidents” were bound to happen. It wasn’t common, but it certainly wasn’t rare enough to remain ignorant of the dangers. Tanya would be best served keeping her solo status to herself for now.

“I just wandered a bit from my party,” Tanya nodded curtly. “I’m making my way back to them. We have a spot to meet up nearby.”

When in such a situation, it was always prudent to ensure the other party believed that you would be missed. Tanya had made it appear as if she was expected to rendezvous with her party soon and dissuaded this group from preventing her from doing so.

Whether or not they picked up on her subtle threat wasn’t easy to tell. A snort came from the shorter man. “And you’re taking the time to loot? You’re pretty thrifty.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a pragmatist,” Tanya said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my destination lies past you. I wouldn’t advise going the way I came anyway. There’s not much there anymore.”

She moved to step around them, but the woman shifted to block her path. The motion was casual, almost friendly, but Tanya immediately tensed.

“Wait a moment,” the woman said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “That armor you’re wearing looks familiar. Where did you get it?”

Tanya’s mind flashed back to the dead adventurer, his face caved in from whatever had killed him, his armor still serviceable if battered. She should have guessed that he might have friends who would realize she was wearing a dead man’s clothes.

Tanya’s fingers twitched around her knife. “I found it. Why do you ask?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer. The two men flanked her, their postures shifting from casual to something more alert at their leader’s movement. “That armor belongs to a member of our Familia. He went down into the Dungeon a few days ago.”

Tanya filed away the timeline. A few days. That aligned with her own arrival in this world, and with the state of the body she had found. The corpse had been fresh, or close to it.

“I see,” Tanya said, keeping her voice neutral. “Then I’m afraid I have unfortunate news for you. I found the armor on a body a few floors below us. The individual in question was already deceased when I came across them.”

The woman’s expression flickered—not with grief, but with something that looked closer to irritation. “Henry’s dead?”

“Quite thoroughly, I’m afraid. Something had caved in his skull. Likely a kobold or something similar, given I found a rather large group of them relatively close by.”

“Damn it,” the shorter man muttered. “That idiot. We told him not to go down alone.”

“Told him,” the taller one agreed, shaking his head. “Multiple times.”

Tanya observed their reactions. There was sadness, certainly, but it was muted and overshadowed by something else. Frustration, perhaps, or disappointment.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, her rapier swaying at her hip. “Well, that complicates things. Henry’s gear was worth a decent amount. The Guild would have given us the rights to it if we found him, but now you’ve gone and claimed it.”

“I wasn’t aware that the dead retained property rights in Orario,” Tanya said. “My understanding was that salvage was subject to a finder’s claim.”

“Salvage?” The woman laughed, though it carried no humor. “That’s a generous term for looting a corpse.”

“Perhaps, but I prefer to think of it as efficient resource allocation,” Tanya replied. “The previous owner had no further use for it, and I had immediate need.”

The shorter man scowled, his hand drifting toward his shortsword. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, kid. That armor is Soma Familia property. You’re walking around wearing gear that one of our own bled in.”

“And I am grateful for its protection,” Tanya said, her voice still calm. “Should you wish to negotiate its return, I am open to discussing fair compensation for the service it has rendered me. However, I would remind you that I am under no legal obligation to surrender it if I find your offer distasteful.”

The woman’s smile turned sharp. “You really got a mouth on you, kid. A lot of things happen in these tunnels that the Guild never hears about. Maybe you start rethinking what you’re doing before it lands you in a heap of trouble.”

Tanya’s eyes narrowed at the threat. She could fight them. Her knife was still drawn, and she had enough mana for perhaps two more of her spells before exhaustion set in. Three against one was poor odds, but she had faced worse.

However, before she could move further upon that train of thought, the shadows in the corridor began to shift.

Tanya heard it first—the skittering of claws against stone and the guttural chittering of goblinkind, and she sighed.

“You might want to postpone this conversation,” Tanya said, her grip tightening on her knife as she caught sight of shadows moving behind the group. “We have company.”

The woman turned, her rapier clearing its sheath in a single fluid motion. The two men followed suit, their weapons raised as the first goblins emerged from the darkness behind them.

There were more than Tanya had anticipated. A dozen at least, their beady eyes gleaming with hunger as they poured into the corridor.

But they weren’t the only threat to be faced. Tanya turned as she heard a noise behind her—almost drowned out by the goblins’ cacophonous cries—and cursed.

The creatures were taller than goblins, their bodies lean and sinewy beneath armor-like plating. Their arms ended in wicked claws that gleamed like polished steel, and their faces were devoid of any feature except for hollow, empty eyes. They moved with an eerie silence, their forms blurring at the edges as they drifted forward.

War Shadows.

“Shit,” the taller man hissed. “War Shadows this high up? That’s not normal.”

“Neither are this many goblins,” the woman said, her voice tight. “They must have migrated up from the lower levels.”

The goblins surged forward, and the Soma Familia members moved to meet them. The woman’s rapier flashed in the dim light as she cut down the first one as it leapt toward her. The two men followed her lead, the spearman thrusting his weapon to keep them at bay while the shorter one’s shortsword carved bloody arcs through the many who slipped through.

Tanya backed away, positioning herself against the wall as she assessed the battlefield. The goblins were manageable in small groups, but a horde of this size required coordination that she simply didn’t have with the present group. The War Shadows, however, were a different matter.

One of the creatures drifted toward her, its claws extended. It moved with an unsettling grace, its form seeming to phase between solid and ethereal. Tanya had read about them in the library. War Shadows were known for their speed and their razor-sharp claws, which could cut through armor as if it were paper.

The Soma Familia members were already engaged with the goblin horde, their attention fully occupied by the swarming creatures. The second War Shadow was circling around the flank, preparing to strike at the woman’s exposed back.

“Behind you!” Tanya called out.

The woman spun just in time to parry the War Shadow’s claws, her rapier catching the blow with a screech of metal. But the creature was fast, and its second strike caught the spearman across his arm. He howled in pain, his weapon clattering to the ground as blood sprayed across the stone.

Realizing that this may be too much for the group—and not fancying her chances alone if they were to die—Tanya pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the injured War Shadow, her knife held low. The creature turned at her approach, its hollow eyes fixing on her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. It raised its claws, preparing to strike, and Tanya slid beneath its guard, her knife carving a line across its midsection.

The War Shadow shrieked, a sound like grinding metal, and stumbled back. The wound wasn’t deep enough to kill, but it was enough to draw its attention away from the spearman. Tanya rolled to her feet, putting distance between herself and the creature as it recovered.

“Focus on the goblins!” she shouted to the Soma Familia members. “I’ll handle the War Shadows!”

The woman hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes meeting Tanya’s. Then she nodded, turning back to the horde with her rapier raised. “Let her distract those two! We’ll deal with this lot!”

Tanya didn’t wait for acknowledgment. She was already moving, her mind racing as the first War Shadow recovered and lunged toward her.

It came at her with claws extended, its lanky body shivering with anticipation. Tanya ducked beneath the first swipe, feeling the displaced air ruffle her hair as the claws passed inches above her head.

She countered with an upward slash, but it jerked its body out of the way just in time, leaving her knife to scrape a shallow wound instead of the gash she intended. The creature barely seemed to notice the cut, its hollow eyes fixed on her as it reared back for another strike.

Tanya twisted away, her boots skidding on the stone as she put distance between herself and the monster. It screeched at her, a cry clearly meant to intimidate and make her pause. Unfortunately, it gave her just enough time to formulate a magical equation in her mind.

The air around her knife shimmered as she poured the energy into the blade, extending its edge with a ghostly green glow. The War Shadow lunged, and Tanya swiped her hand through the air like she was conducting a full orchestral score.

Her enhanced blade caught the creature’s claws mid-swing, slicing all three of them off in one fell swoop. The monster shrieked, abandoning its charge in favor of nursing its wound, and as it stumbled off-balance, Tanya lunged forward and drove the blade into its chest.

The War Shadow shrieked and clawed at her. Tanya wrenched her knife free and dove to the side, feeling the tips of its claws rake across her cuirass. The metal held, but she could feel the impact in her ribs. If she hadn’t been wearing it, she would have been shredded.

She rolled to her feet and pressed the attack before the creature could recover. Two quick strikes to the same wound she had already opened, each one carving deeper into its chest. The War Shadow staggered, its movements becoming sluggish as dark ichor seeped from the gashes, and Tanya twisted, lashing out with her blade.

The monster’s head detached from its shoulders in spectacular fashion, rolling across the floor a ways down the corridor.

The body dissolved into ash before it hit the ground, leaving behind only a a magic stone that clattered against the stone floor. Tanya scooped it up without breaking stride, already turning toward the second War Shadow.

It was circling the Soma Familia members, looking for an opening in their formation. The goblins had been thinned out significantly, but there were still enough to keep the group occupied. The taller man, the spearman, was clutching his wounded arm and trying to stay out of the fray.

The second War Shadow saw her coming and abandoned its circling. It surged toward her, faster than its companion had been. Tanya barely had time to raise her knife before it was on her, claws flashing in the dim light.

She deflected the first strike. The second caught her across the thigh, slicing through her flight suit and into the flesh beneath. Pain flared, and she hissed through her teeth as she stumbled backward.

The creature pressed its advantage. Another swipe, this one aimed at her throat. Tanya threw herself to the side, her shoulder hitting the stone wall hard. Her knife hand came up on instinct, catching the War Shadow’s claws on her blade.

It was a testament to imperial craftsmanship that the blade didn’t shatter immediately, but the impact still sent a jolt through her arm that made her fingers spasm. Her knife nearly slipped from her grip.

“Please just die,” she snarled, pouring more mana into the blade.

The green glow intensified, and with a surge of effort, she pushed the War Shadow back. It stumbled, and Tanya seized the opening. She lunged forward, driving her knife into the creature’s “throat” and carving downward in a brutal slash that opened it from neck to navel.

The War Shadow collapsed in a heap. Tanya stood over it, breathing hard, her knife dripping with ichor that slowly evaporated into wisps of dark smoke.

The spell flickered and died and the fatigue set in immediately. Her limbs felt a bit heavier than usual and a dull ache was setting in behind her eyes. She had pushed her magic further than she had intended, and the cost was making itself known.

But there was no time to rest. The goblin horde had been reduced to a handful of stragglers, and the Soma Familia members were mopping them up. All except for the spearman, who was still clutching his wounded arm and looking pale.

A goblin broke free from the melee, its beady eyes fixing on the injured man. It raised its club, preparing to bring it down on his skull—

Tanya’s knife took it in the back.

The goblin shrieked and crumpled, dissolving into ash before it hit the ground. The spearman stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Those who remain still in an active melee are usually the first to die,” Tanya said, retrieving her knife from the dissipating corpse. “Do remember that for next time.”

The last of the goblins fell to the leader’s rapier, and silence descended over the corridor. Tanya took a moment to catch her breath, her hand pressing against the wound on her thigh. It wasn’t deep, but it stung. She’d check it more thoroughly once she was safe above.

She moved to collect the magic stones from the War Shadows she had felled, dropping them into her pouch with the others. The stones were larger than the goblin stones and pulsed with a faint inner light. Worth significantly more, if her research was accurate.

“I’ll be taking these,” she said, holding up the stones. “You can have the others.”

“Like hell you are.”

Azalea stepped forward, her rapier still drawn. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set in a stubborn line. “You’re wearing gear that belongs to our Familia, and now you’re claiming stones from monsters that attacked us?”

“Monsters that I killed,” Tanya corrected, her voice flat. “Your party was occupied with the goblins. I can’t imagine you would have fared better fighting on two fronts.”

“Azalea, come on.” The shorter man sheathed his shortsword, his expression weary. “She saved Darris’s life. And she took down two War Shadows by herself. That’s not nothing.”

“We would have taken them too,” Azalea snapped. “We killed the lot; those stones should belong to us.”

“The stones belong to whoever killed the monsters,” Tanya said, her grip on her knife tightening. “That is Guild law. If you wish to dispute it, you are welcome to file a formal complaint with the administration. I’m certain they will be fascinated to hear how you attempted to extort a solo adventurer in the Dungeon.”

Azalea’s face twisted with anger, and for a moment Tanya thought she might actually attack. The woman’s rapier was still in her hand, and her stance had shifted to something more aggressive.

“Azalea.” The shorter man’s voice was wary. “She used some kind of skill to kill those War Shadows. Did you see it? That green glow? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“A skill doesn’t change the fact that she’s—”

“It changes the fact that she could probably kill us if she wanted to,” the man interrupted. “She took down two War Shadows by herself. While we were struggling with goblins. Think about that for a second.”

Azalea hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Tanya’s knife, still drawn and still faintly stained with monster blood.

Finally, she let out a sharp breath and sheathed her rapier. “Fine. Keep the stones. But this isn’t over, girl. You’re walking around in gear that belongs to the Soma Familia, and sooner or later, someone’s going to collect on that debt.”

“You can get in line behind everyone else,” Tanya said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have wounds to attend to.”

She turned and walked away, not allowing herself to limp until she was certain she was out of sight.

~~~

The trek to the surface proceeded without anything eventful occurring. One or two more monsters slain and Tanya was once again at the gates of Babel, her pockets much heavier than before.

Taking her haul to the Guild, she walked away seven thousand Valis richer after the fees were processed. A good haul, thanks mostly due to the War Shadows’ much more valuable monster stones.

One day of hunting had yielded nearly ten percent of her total debt. If she could maintain that pace, she would be debt-free in a fortnight.

Unlikely, of course. The War Shadows had been an unexpected boon, and their stones had inflated her earnings significantly. She couldn’t count on such luck every day, but it was progress.

And progress, Tanya reflected as she climbed the stairs to her room at the Hostess of Fertility, was all she could ask for.

She closed the door behind her and began to disrobe. The wound on her thigh throbbed, but it had already begun to clot. She would clean it and bandage it, preferably in the bath. A nice soak and a hot meal would do wonders for her haggard state before she went to bed.

Tomorrow, she would do it again. And the day after that. And the day after that. One hundred thousand Valis. One month.

Tanya glanced at the nearby wall where a painting hung, the picture of a beautiful woman painted upon the canvas. A thin smile spread across her face.

“Perhaps not quite as daunting as you imagined, is it, Being X?”

The painting remained silent, and Tanya scoffed stripping off her cuirass and moving to the suit underneath.

As she turned away, the eyes of the painted woman narrowed with malicious intent.