Rebirth: Crawler

Left. Right. Right. Left. Sway. Duck. Ayn lost herself to the dance until she had no focus left to attack. The plague of rats had become one beast with a multitude of mouths. She couldn't dodge them all. It flowed around her, ripping at her ankles, biting at her sides. Blood ran down from the wounds, another touch of realism from The System.

Fire

See how it writhes

A clear tenor rang out. Ayn’s steps faltered at Bren’s unexpected song. Three rats clamped onto her legs, their claws easily piercing through her cloth pants as they headed toward her face.

HEALTH AT FIFTY PERCENT

Aisha’s notification rattled in Ayn’s head. Not good. Breaking down the door had hurt her more than she thought.

Fire

See how it shines

How it blinds

A flash of light and heat bloomed to her left. The smell of burning fur grew thick. The plague of rats squeaked and broke apart, returning to a chaos of tiny bodies.

Ayn dropped her swords, hands darting to the rat about to claw her face. It thrashed as she gripped it and sunk its teeth into her hand. She yelled and threw it—right into Kayara’s chest.

The green clad ranger shrieked louder than the rats. She swatted the rat to the floor, where it hit with a thunk. She closed the rest of the distance between her and Ayn while muttering a curse, grabbed the two rats still digging into Ayn’s side, and tossed them against the nearest wall.

The surviving rats reorganized, shifting around the newcomer with hate in their eyes. Kayara freed two small daggers and went to work. Ayn stared. She’d thought her own fighting style to be graceful, yet the acrobat-turned-ranger showed her the error of her ways. Kayara flowed across the room as easily as the plague of rats and looked far nicer doing it.

Another verse about fire, and the remaining rats turned into a handful of remnants. Ayn shook her head and grabbed her swords. She wasn’t about to let Kayara and Bren take all the kills.

When the last rat fell, Sheyric finally stepped into the room, walked over to the skeleton in the center, and kicked it with his boot.

“Thanks for the help,” Kayara grumbled.

“Healers don’t get many attack skills,” Bren said. “Plus, his mana is better spent on healing.”

“Yes. Thank you, O Wise One. I meant healing. Look at Ayn. She looks like a rat’s chew toy.”

Ayn grimaced. She didn’t need more things to feel bad about. “No, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re the closest thing we have to a tank, which Choir Boy here should agree needs to be kept healthy.”

“Choir Boy?” Bren’s voice rose an octave. “I’ll have you know my musical talent imbues extra strength into my spells.”

“No, it doesn’t. You, like most wealthy Rebirths, just like the attention. Cast quietly, like a normal mage.”

“Here.” Sheyric pointed to the ground, where he’d shuffled the bones away from a roughed-up pair of leather gloves.

Kayara stepped in front of Ayn before she could pick the armor up. “Don’t move until Sheyric does his job.”

Ayn scratched the back of her neck. “I’m sure Sheyric was just about to heal me. Right, Sheyric?”

She peered around Kayara at the healer with pleading eyes. Sheyric stared at her, or at least in her direction. It was hard to tell with that hood of his.

“Fine,” he said.

He muttered under his breath and waved a hand at her. The pain from the rat bites dulled but didn’t disappear.

HEALTH AT SIXTY PERCENT

With that, Sheyric turned on his heel and left the room.

“Hey!” Kayara called after him. “You barely did anything!”

“It’s fine,” Ayn said.

Ayn moved past her and grabbed the gloves. A small overlay appeared above the equipment, the gray words denoting a common item.

Cracked Leather Gloves

+1 Armor

Contains hand bones

Ayn grimaced and shook them. Small bones clattered to the floor.

“That’s gross,” Kayara said. “Bones or no, those things won’t help much. Just…if you’re getting hurt, say something. I have a feeling Sheyric is going to need a bit of reminding. And keep those potions handy.”

Bren scowled at her. “Almost as if I was right?”

“Don’t worry, Choir Boy. Ayn and I will keep the mobs from interrupting your singing.”

Bren glared at Kayara’s back as they made their way back to the entrance. The entrance’s south exit had another wooden door. This one, fortunately for Ayn’s shoulder, was unlocked.

Wall sconces cast tepid light across a stone corridor leading deeper into the dungeon. The party continued on, ignoring a left turn. That way led to a fight with three super-sized rats, and without a fetch quest requesting rat parts, there was zero need to try their luck.

A couple of twists later, and the party stepped into a room twice as large as the one with the rats. Its walls and floor stood bare and clean.

Miit appeared in the center of the room, hovering at head height. Kayara squealed, then muttered a string of curses.

“He’s trying to help.” Ayn said.

“We all know there’s a hidden chest here. If that thing let me get closer to it, I’d be able to see it. A Ranger’s perception is pretty high.”

“But their trap skills are not,” Bren said, gaining a glare from Kayara. “At least not at your level.”

Ayn butted in before the two could launch into another argument. “We spent all our money on health and mana potions, remember? No antidotes.” She turned to the flying cat, who hovered patiently. “Could you please unlock the chest for us, Miit? It’s got a poison needle trap on it.”

Miit let out a gravelly mew, making Kayara jump.

“Right,” Ayn said. “You know what’s down here, too. Sorry.”

Miit meowed and dove for the far corner of the room, where an iron-padlocked treasure chest twice as big as him shimmered into existence. While a familiar’s primary job was to channel and store mana and essence for their summoners, their secondary jobs usually mirrored Rebirth combat classes. Miit was a rogue, through and through.

He landed on top of the treasure chest, leaned over the front, and reached out a paw. His toes elongated into fingers. A small lock pick shaped light formed between them, which he carefully inserted into the lock. The chest emitted a low whine as the pressure behind the trap released. A second later, and the lid popped open.

Miit launched back into the air with a triumphant meow, then disappeared.

Ayn stared at the spot he’d vacated. It was weird. He’d usually stay with her once he appeared, either draped around her neck, or hovering nearby. Then again, this was the first time she’d been in the Dungeon with him. Maybe it was safer if he stayed away. She glanced at Kayara, who eyed the spot he’d vacated with disgust. Or perhaps he’d left out of respect for the party’s animal hating Ranger.

TWENTY-FIVE SILVER RECIEVED

Aisha announced her share of the chest’s coin. Bren had wasted no time in rushing forward to collect the chest’s contents. He stared into the distance for a second, no doubt navigating his inventory. His white suit turned into brown robes. The color blended with his skin, making his blue hair stand out all the more.

He forced a grin. “It has bonuses to spell-casting speed.”

“Oh, good,” Kayara said. “Less singing.”

“As a performer, I’d figure you’d appreciate a good tune.”

“Acrobats usually perform to drum, not caterwauling, Choir Boy. You going to start banging drums?”

Bren cocked his head and stayed silent, causing Kayara to narrow her eyes. Ayn knew what she was thinking, because she was thinking it, too. He’d seemed to take her jab as a suggestion.

A thwip sounded behind Ayn, followed by a grunt. She turned in time to see Sheyric go down in a puff of robes. Thick white threads wrapped around his torso and led past an archway in the south part of the room. Sheyric slid, somehow still quiet in the middle of his abduction, as something reeled the thread in like a fisherman’s line. The next room’s occupant had grown tired of waiting for them.

Ayn launched at the thread, unsheathing one sword in mid-air, and missed. The blade hit the floor hard enough to send vibrations up her arm. Sheyric disappeared into the archway. Ayn cursed and chased him into the beast’s lair with Bren and Kayara on her heels. Spider webs filled the room. Some were outlined in thick dust, while others sparkled with new threads ranging in size from barely visible to as thick as Ayn’s wrist, all of them criss-crossing one another until the air itself felt like it was closing in.

Sheyric’s prone form cut a trail through the webs, the thread wrapped around him leading to the largest occupant in the room—a dire spider the size of a horse. Dust kicked up in Sheyric’s wake, flooding Ayn’s eyes and mouth with grit and blurring her view of the giant spider. She stayed on target. She could see well enough.

With a yell, she jumped, sailing over Sheyric with her swords held high. The blades sank into the dire spider’s abdomen. Ayn hissed. She’d been aiming for its head. It answered her hiss with its own, its whole body shuddering as it writhed beneath her.

Her footing slipped.

Hot green ichor washed over her. She hit the floor and rolled, a scythe-like leg slamming into the spot she’d vacated. The smell of sulfur burned her nose. Ayn swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. It did little to clear the slime covering her face. The room had turned into a wash of sickly green. Shrieks from the spider and cursing from Kayara danced in front of her.

Water of life

Brilliant in its sheen

Bren’s tenor again. Ayn spun toward the sound, her thoughts ricocheting as she tried, and failed, to get her bearings.

Come to us now,

and make us clean

Ayn jumped as liquid splashed at her feet. Her back brushed against something soft. It chittered. She jerked back, her foot slipping in the liquid and sending her back to the floor.

“Water!” Bren yelled. “There’s water next to you. Use it to wash your face!”

Ayn dropped her swords and sank her hands into the water, splashing it across her face and rubbing as hard as she could. The chittering got closer while the green faded from her vision. A small, very dirty puddle of water sat a few inches from her nose. A thrill tickled up her spine. Fights were always better with a bit of danger.

A quick spin and slice, and the softball-sized spider closing in on her met its end.

More baby dire spiders skittered across the webs toward her, their white bodies glistening in the low light. A quick stanza, and Bren sent a fireball into the webs. The room lit up. Fire devoured the old webs and little spiders alike, spreading in the blink of an eye and casting the smell of char into the air. Heat and flame surrounded them all, but only the spiders caught fire. There was no friendly fire within the Dungeon.

Swords leading, Ayn dove back into the fray alongside Kayara, who had resumed her dance of death. Yet in a room full of highly flammable things, the fireball ended up doing most of the work, and all that was left of the room was a blackened husk.

*****

The next two rooms went similarly, with Bren singing spells, Kayara attacking next to Ayn, and Sheyric standing to the side and watching. He’d yet to cast another healing spell, or do anything at all, but lucky for Ayn, her other two companions seemed perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. She’d only taken a couple of hits herself. They were doing well.

Kayara fiddled with the Robin Hood-esque cap she’d picked up in the last room, moving the hat back and forth on her head. “This thing is ugly,” she said. “Do I really need to wear it?”

“We need all the stat boosts we can get,” Bren said. “Didn’t you say something to that effect earlier?”

“It was a rhetorical question. It’s still hideous.”

Ayn didn’t see the issue. True, the bright green cloth topped with a somehow brighter red feather looked capable of glowing in the dark, and the hat reminded her of paper boats she made when she was younger, but the style wasn’t far off from the rainbow of colors Kayara already had. Maybe that was the problem. Not enough colors. Then again, maybe she was trying to distract herself. The way the ranger flicked at the feather as she stared at Miit told Ayn in was probably the latter.

They currently stood in an impressively long, narrow corridor. It ran up the center of the floor, dividing the easiest of the intro fights from the hardest.

Miit crouched on one side. He sniffed along the edge of the corridor, slinking forward inch by inch. He took another step, then stopped. His hands pushed against a brick, no different from the rest by Ayn’s definition, and it gave way, revealing a knot of rope hidden in the wall.

Ayn looked up at the large net stretched across the ceiling not far in front of Miit. The knot connected to the net, a trap made more dangerous by the fact it would alert all remaining non-boss mobs in the area to their presence. Great for parties who really wanted to test their cohesion. More of a death sentence for a party whose healer barely moved.

Miit’s skill made quick work of disarming the trap’s trigger. The knot came undone, the net stayed, and with a short purr, Miit vanished once more. Ayn resolved to buy him one of his favorite fish the second she could afford to.

Beyond the net, the corridor came to a dead end. Ayn moved over to it and waited for Kayara. Kayara stayed where she was.

“Could you come look, please?” Ayn asked.

“Not sure. Is that thing going to pop out again?”

“No, Miit isn’t. He’s just here to help with the stuff we can’t do.”

Without him, they wouldn’t have got nearly as many coins, or the gear. Ayn kept the thought to herself. Kayara was scared of Miit for some reason, and she didn’t want to be the jerk attacking her over it.

Kayara frowned at Ayn for a moment before muttering under her breath and moving closer. She stared at a seemingly random part of the dead end.

A small wooden door, just big enough for them to squeeze through single file, appeared among the bricks. A secret door. It had to be found to complete the floor and required a high starting perception that only rogues and ranger classes had. Like the stuck doors and large mob groups, the Dungeon’s first floor tested a party’s composition. Try to run all tanks, or all healers, and you’d get stonewalled fast.

“We should—”

Sheyric pushed by, cutting Ayn off as he opened and slipped through the door with more speed than Ayn had seen him use the entire floor.

MIDBOSS FIGHT COMMENCING IN THIRTY SECONDS