Vincent pulled his sword from the last monster's corpse. It came out easily, though accompanied by a spurt of black blood. He had leveled up again, very quickly. Another two points to spend. That was the danger of dungeons and Quests in general. One could only see their own stats. There was no way to know for sure the danger you faced, how much it outleveled you. They must have been strong opponents, and they certainly fought like it. Hence the sudden level-up. Same as in the forest.

  Or maybe the system was more generous with him. He was a blacksmith. After all, he wasn't supposed to be doing this. His victories, looking at it that way, considering he had no strictly combat-oriented skills, were more significant than those of a knight prepared for anything that came his way. Vincent shook his head and also his sword, cleaning the blood off the blade. He didn't know. He couldn't know. Just keep going. That was the best way.

  And he put the two stat points into Constitution this time. Strength was important. The faster he killed things, the shorter his fights lasted, the better. And he had good armor. But he was afraid that someday, maybe soon… it wouldn't be enough. So, for now, he decided to focus on his Constitution until it reached a more respectable level. Although he couldn't be entirely sure when that would be enough.

  Vincent thought about asking Ayame and Tara about their levels and stats. Tara probably wouldn't tell him, but Ayame surely wouldn't bat an eye. But maybe it was better not to know. Maybe it was better to ignore just how below average being level ten with his stats was. He was an impostor. He already knew that. There was no need to emphasize the difference.

  "Are you okay?" Ayame asked.

  "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

  "No reason. Never mind. But don't hesitate to tell me if something's wrong."

  Vincent nodded, wishing he could be completely honest with her. He wished he could risk it. But he couldn't.

  Level-ups always gave two stat points. So why were all his stats almost in double digits? You gained considerably more per level to start, when you were young and stupid and not entirely sure what to spend it on. Which meant nine out of ten people ended up regretting how they had started. But it was also possible to raise stats without investing stat points. It was much harder. Much slower, but possible.

  For example, if you trained hard for months, your strength and constitution would surely increase, even if only by one point.

  Therefore, stat points were primarily a shortcut.

  "What did you think was wrong with him?" Tara asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

  "Nothing special," Ayame said. "Forget it."

  "As you wish."

  By the way, no, she wasn't that crazy. She reloaded her arrows automatically. Meaning, forming them with her own magical energy and a skill. They didn't have to fear her running out of arrows and ending up useless in the middle of the dungeon. One less problem.

  With the torch in hand, it was obvious where Ayame was pointing.

  "Are you sure?" Vincent asked. He didn't much like the idea of crawling through another narrow passage, now lying on the ground. He wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but still, he could think of few worse ways to die than getting trapped. Unable to move forward or backward. Only able to wait for the oxygen to run out or for something to come finish him off. Or at least, hoping for a swift end. And with the only hope that the dungeon configuration would change before death reached him. Yes, you didn't need to be claustrophobic to find that idea terrifying. But the only other path was backward. And they didn't have the necessary power to open a hole in the wall to the other side or anything like that. So, through the gap.

  Vincent took a deep breath. If it was there, it was possible for them to pass. He was overthinking it. He waited for Ayame to go first. However…

  "You first," she said.

  "Me?"

  "Vincent, I'm wearing a skirt."

  "Oh, right. Yes, of course. I hadn't thought of that."

  Vincent sheathed his sword, slung his shield behind his back, and got down on the ground, crawling into the hole. He just had to calm down and move forward slowly. Before he knew it, he would be on the other side. In fact, he could already see the light.

  Just as he was about to emerge, someone lent him a hand to speed up the process. Many hands pulling him outward. Dead, putrid hands followed by tentacles dripping with something that looked like black blood. More of those damned monsters. Those zombies full of hands and tentacles.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Vincent got up. He tried to draw his sword with his other hand, but they grabbed that wrist too. And it slammed him against the wall. Right above the hole.

  "Hold on!" Ayame said. "I'm almost there."

  Easy for her to say. But well, what else could she say? Vincent headbutted the creature, which, of course, didn't work. Quite the opposite. With each second, it squeezed tighter. The tentacles coiled around his wrists, squeezing and pulling as if to tear his fucking arms off. Even through the armor. I did well to increase my constitution, he thought. No doubt about it.

  Ayame got him out of the tight spot, finally reaching him. My God, it had felt like forever. And punching the thing in the chest. Her fist went clean through the creature. It broke its ribs—which was the first he knew these things had ribs—and burst its heart. One more dead in a single blow. The hands loosened. The tentacles too. Ayame tossed it aside as easily as one would handle a garbage bag.

  Tara had been choked almost immediately upon entering the dungeon, but he hadn't escaped either in the end. Damn it. He coughed several times, trying to regain his composure. Vincent drew his sword and readied his shield with trembling hands.

  "Maybe those assholes have melted brains," Vincent said. "But this son of a bitch just ambushed me. Are dungeon monsters usually this smart?"

  "Yes," Tara said. "Well, it depends on the dungeon. And the type of monster. It could also have been a coincidence."

  "How so?"

  "It seems like an ambush to you, but maybe it was really just hanging around. Staggering. And we arrived just in time."

  "Well, that makes sense. Never mind. Let's go."

  Ayame patted him on the shoulder.

  "I'm fine," Vincent insisted. "Don't you worry."

  "I'm your partner. My mission is to worry about you. About us."

  "I feel so included," Tara said.

  Vincent suppressed the urge to laugh.

  Shortly after, they encountered another group of those zombies and dispatched them with relative ease and unquestionable efficiency. They made a good team after all. He wouldn't mind if this alliance continued, even after clearing the dungeon.

  His improved constitution had been useful. Every time a blow managed to hit him, it wasn't like he didn't still feel pain, but it had diminished and was easier to ignore. Which was good, very good, because maybe the two of them were, but Vincent wasn't used to pain; the pain of occasional cuts, touching something too hot by mistake, falling or scraping, falling and scraping his knee, things like that. Anyone experienced that, but not the pain of hard training, the pain of wounds inflicted by someone or something whose goal was to kill you. He wasn't used to that at all, if it was even possible to get used to, and he needed all the help he could get.

  Vincent wiped his forehead with his shield hand.

  "Hey, it's my first time in a dungeon, obviously, but it's not normal for only these monsters to have appeared, right? Always repeating."

  "What do you want me to say? It's our first time too," Tara said.

  "It's not normal, but it's not that out of the ordinary either," Ayame replied, crossing her arms. "Dungeons adapt, reconfigure, and sometimes things just happen. They don't have to make sense, at least not to us."

  "Things happen, huh? Alright," Vincent said.

  Tara arched an eyebrow.

  "Have you been in another dungeon?" she asked.

  "No, but I've read a lot," Ayame replied.

  "Okay, anyway, it doesn't matter, better if it stays like this, right? We know perfectly well how to handle these things," Tara said.

  Now that's tempting fate, Vincent thought.

  "Yeah, looking at it that way, it's better," he said instead.

  About ten steps later, there was trouble, but what changed wasn't the enemies, but the terrain.

  "What the hell," Vincent muttered. Very simple: the ground beneath their feet trembled and suddenly collapsed. A ramp leading into the depths of unknown darkness at great speed.

  In any case, he should worry more about what would happen when he reached the bottom, when he landed. He couldn't know what awaited them when they finished falling, and at least for him, the stones scraping his armor and exposed skin were most irritating. Not the worst pain he had experienced so far, but perhaps the hardest to bear: fucking small stones digging in everywhere. If they managed to land well, nothing guaranteed they weren't heading towards death. Maybe a spike trap, maybe they could simply die from the terrible fall. Maybe there would be some giant monster with its mouth open waiting to devour them. And he was rambling, his imagination working overtime.

  Vincent wasn't just complaining about the pain; he also tried to slow the fall, though nothing helped much. The first thing he tried, of course, was to stab his sword into the ground of the ramp, deeply, create his own anchor point. But the blade simply tore through. It slowed the fall for maybe two or three seconds. Afterward, even with the sword in the wall, he fell at the same speed. Meaning, he was a bit behind Ayame and Tara.

  Ayame would land fine, he was sure of that. It was obvious, she could transform into a bat, into mist, avoid whatever horrible fate lay at the bottom. He and Tara had it harder. Tara was just an archer, and he was just a damned blacksmith. However, there had to be something. He kept his eyes wide open, waiting for his chance. There had to be something, dammit.

  It appeared, cutting off their path. It wasn't covered in wild roses, full of thorns, or anything like that. It was a vine of bones. Grotesque and looking quite sharp. Coming at this speed, the vine could cut right through them. And they couldn't just stop the fall either. Not indefinitely. So, what the hell would they do?

  As if answering his thoughts…

  "Leave this to me," Tara said.

  Vincent heard her drawing an arrow, pulling back the bowstring. She reloaded arrows by magic, yes, but that didn't mean she didn't have to prepare them one by one. He couldn't imagine what she intended to do with that, but he left it in her hands. And Ayame's, naturally. Vincent had no idea. Maybe he could have thought of something, but his mind was blank. He wished. Not broken glass.

  Vincent did everything he could think of: curling up and putting the shield in front, maximizing his chances of surviving the impact. If it happened, he hoped it wouldn't. The last thing he needed was the bone of something clearly not human, impaled through his stomach and sticking out the other fucking side.

  Ayame suddenly threw herself on top of him, wrapping him with her arms and legs, pressing the shield harder against his chest in the process, too, of course.

  "What are you doing?"

  "The shield isn't the only thing that can cushion the impact."

  "What about you?"

  "I'm a vampire, Vincent," she replied as if that explained everything.

  He supposed it did. Still, she was fucking crazy.