Dungeon Sniper

I splashed my face with the cold water stream. I had washed myself clean from all the filth and blood from the last battle and even recovered the ragged clothes to put on like a decent Human being. With the torn, bloody Leather Jacket and crumpled Ragged Pants, I still looked like shit though.

The morning had arrived and I had set up a camp near the stream. I hunted a few rabbits and ate them raw. I did not have time to cook because there was a pressing matter at hand. Literally, it was in my hand.

When I felt sure that I had rested enough and refreshed my mind, I went to the spot where I had chucked Mataki's Blade. It was lying on the grass just the way I had thrown it earlier this morning. I held Mataki's Blade, exhaled deeply, and opened my mouth.

"Please don't talk to me."

[Good morning, young hero.]

"Damn it!"

[It is time for us to talk. And do not hurl me onto the ground like the last time. I was quite hurt.]

"You mean, like, physically?" I asked hopefully.

[No, but emotionally I was.]

"That's a letdown. Wait, why am I talking to a sword like everything's perfectly normal?"

[No, do not—]

I flung the dagger-sword again.

I ended up retrieving it again, holding it up in my face at eye level, wary and annoyed.

[You know, we Goblins have feelings too.]

"Yeah, I find that hard to believe. All right, how is this possible? How are you talking to me? I killed you, Mataki, shot right in the heart."

I had recognized the voice from the sword right away. Yes, all Goblins sounded almost the same to my ears, but Chief Mataki and Nasty were exceptions. They had more personality—Goblinality?—in their voices.

[After I lost my legs, I divided my soul and put it into my prized sword.]

"Okay, now you're telling me Goblins have feelings 'and' souls?" I scoffed, but Mataki, or rather the dagger-sword, ignored me and continued.

[To awaken a sleeping soul, you must tribute another soul. Specifically, another Goblin soul.]

"So what you're saying is that when I killed Nasty, his soul sort of 'recharged' you and now you're all talking and creeping me out."

[I have heard you refer to Karuchi in such an odd name—]

"When?"

[—In my sleep. And yes, Karuchi's soul was consumed in exchange for my chance to interact with you again.]

"Right. And I turn you off by how? How do I make you go back to sleep?"

[In time, young hero, in time.]

"Or right now. How about now?"

[A stolen soul depletes with time. Look, I could have chosen to stay quiet and observed your journey silently, but I have chosen to speak with you because I have a favor to ask.]

"You talk as if I should be flattered to hear you out."

[You have a superb weapon in your hand, and within it a grand knowledge and wisdom of a Goblin hero. If you do not covet that, just leave the sword as is and go on with your turbulent journey.]

"That's it? All I have to do is drop the sword and walk away? Deal."

I could hear Mataki sigh. Yes, a dagger-sword could actually sigh in exasperation.

[One minute. That is all I ask.]

Well, he/it did sound kind of desperate, so I shrugged and sat down with the dagger-sword still raised in front of my face.

"Do I have to keep holding it like this or—"

[Yes, and please be quiet while I speak. I do not have much time. Karuchi's soul was already dying when the sword absorbed it.]

Mataki's voice snapped uncharacteristically.

"You know, I'm really tempted to just let you sink into the bottom of the stream and walk."

But my empty threat did not work, and Mataki began to unravel his story.

[The reason I even let you kill me in the first place was because I needed legs. Capable, trustworthy legs. My legs ended up the way you found me from a brutal battle against the Orcs two years ago. Ever since then, I had lived only as a shell of myself. Hence, I sealed my soul into this sword, hoping for another hero to carry it and fulfill my wish.]

"What wish?"

[In a moment.]

This time, the dagger-sword clicked its tongue. At this rate, I would not be surprised to hear it fart sometime in the future.

"And that hero is me?"

[I hoped and waited for a long time to see that one of my kin was up for the job, but when I sensed that my last days coincided with a peculiar Human wreaking havoc in my own lair, I knew the bearer of my soul had finally arrived.]

"Okay, first of many, many questions. How did you put your soul into a sword again?"

[It is hard to explain. So I shall explain it at another time. I keep informing you that I only have so much time, young hero.]

"Fair. Second, what do you want? Cut to the chase and be done already. My arm's starting to hurt."

[In essence, I want you to carry me to the next level, Level Two, of this world we call the 'Dungeon.']

"Why? What's in there?"

[I was born there. I wish to return home, young hero.]

"That's it? I thought you were going to ask me to avenge the Orcs for your legs or something like that. A 'flat no' for that, by the way."

[The battle I lost my legs was the fairest fight I had fought in my life. I do not have any regret, except that I could never go back home, walk home, independently.]

"Yeah, yeah, sad story, I'm almost tearing up, are you done?"

[Do you accept my request, young hero?]

I stared at the faintly glowing Mataki's Blade.

"I mean, it 'is' one hell of a sword," I clicked my tongue indecisively.

[And it is yours, completely, once you reach my birthplace. My soul will depart accordingly and I will no longer talk to you or bother you.]

I looked around, alone in the vast wilderness, in a foreign world full of hostile enemies currently at war against each other. Despite my overt dislike of holding a talking sword—not to mention it had a Goblin soul in it—I thought I could use some company. Besides, letting go of such a fine sword as this would be a waste. And like what Mataki said, his knowledge of the area could prove to be useful.

Was I completely fine with carrying the soul of a Human-eating monster? No, but I was only making a rational choice.

"I was heading to further Levels myself anyway. I guess I could carry you along," I said as I sheathed Mataki's Blade back to its place, but not before I caught a sincere, gratified 'Thank you' from the dead Goblin hero's soul at the last second.

.

.

.

Despite the absence of the sun—and the moon—the amount of daylight in the Dungeon varied and behaved similarly to the day-night cycle of the world in which I had lived. So when the day seemed the brightest, I called it 'noon,' and when the sky darkened and turned indigo, that was the dusk, or the 'nightbreak' as I coined myself.

It was slightly past noon that I headed north in search of the three settlements by the river that Nasty had described before he died. Nasty said there was another Goblin Lair, a Dwarven mine, and an Elven... colony? My Vivid Memory did not fail to bring up Nasty's last words verbatim. I knew what 'colony' meant. I just did not like the sound of it.

I hesitated a little before taking out Mataki's Blade and spoke to it.

"What do you know of the settlements north of the forest?"

[Are you referring to the Delta Region by the Divis River?]

"I'm not sure. Three settlements? Goblin, Dwarf, Elf?"

[The Delta Region. Always in conflict. There used to be four settlements, but yes, three indeed in the past few years now.]

"How did that happen?"

[War happened. In the end, one of the settlements was colonized by the Elves. The original settlers have been enslaved and serving the Elves as their masters. I have heard that some wish to be eaten by our kind rather than toil as slaves all their lives under the supercilious Elven race. The Elves are a terrible race. Obnoxious, conceited, but strong enough to be so.]

"Yeah, well, they should've won the war then. Who are these pathetic slaves anyway?"

If a sword, or a soul, could blink, it would have done that just now.

[It is your kind that is enslaved, young hero. Humans.]

"Oh."

[And I advise you to bypass the Delta Region.]

"Why's that?"

[Any Human roaming on his own in the region is considered a runaway slave. The other races cooperate due to the handsome prize money the Elves give out to those who catch the escapees.]

"That's... messed up."

[No, young hero, that is power at work. The Elves rule the Delta Region, and the others serve them just as the Human slaves do, only without chains and brands on their bodies.]

"Now I see why Nasty—that's Karuchi to you—goaded me to go up there."

[Yes, he would have certainly wanted you to be enslaved, tortured, and dead.]

"I don't blame him, honestly."

[If you have anything more to ask, ask now, for I fear I do not have much time left.]

"Nope, that's all. Thanks for the heads up."

[If you wish to speak with me, remember: a soul for a soul.]

"You know I'll have to kill one of your kind to do that, right? You really okay with that?"

[It is how the Cycle works, young hero. Now, if you wish to learn the Way of the Cycle, you need only ask. In fact, we may spend my last minutes productively by teaching you a little about the Cycle. Where do I begin? Yes, the Origin of the Cycle, it was when—]

"Shut up, good night, and see you at next Goblin murder," I sheathed the dagger-sword in haste. I could not help it. It sounded soooo boring.

I walked alone, in silence, for the entire afternoon when I reached a hill overlooking the entire Delta Region in one scene. A huge river—Divis River, as Mataki had informed me—was running across a town, no a city, that seemed affluent even in the dim light of the approaching nightbreak. I could make out the lights from lamps and candles lined up the narrow, busy streets.

I had yet to find a Dwarven minetown and a Goblin lair. My initial plan was to attack the Goblin Lair and eradicate its inhabitants as I did to their southern brothers, but things had changed within the last few hours.

In my solitary, peaceful walk northward, I had a lot of time to think and look back. The past few days had been hectic. I was poisoned to death. I had the fishiest job interview. I got the job. I hunted rabbits and an owl. I killed Goblins. I was knocked out and captured. Then I killed more Goblins. I buried dead women. I killed one more Goblin, talked to a sword, and now I was here.

If the future were only a repetition of the past, it seemed as if I would be hunting down Goblins for the rest of my life. And I would grow sick of eating just rabbit meat anytime soon.

A change was needed. More importantly, I needed a direction. A mission, an objective, a purpose.

Sure, I had a job. I was a beta tester. I was supposed to play through and find flaws in this developing project of a world. But did that mean I had freedom? If yes, then how much? I acted on half-impulse, half-rage when I wiped out a Goblin tribe. So far, no penalty for the action. Was I condoned, or was such a behavior expected as a beta tester?

What did I want, really? Did I want to do a good job, or just freedom to do my job? The job that I had no choice but to take and start right away without proper training. Did I even want my job?

But there was one thing that I was slightly inclined to become. It was more like a passing thought at this point, but the word sounded... 'right' in my head. And saving those captive women down at the Goblin Lair, albeit belatedly, did not feel too bad either. There was a demand for the particular job, identity, at least according to what Ms. GOD had told me earlier.

The Humans were losing the war because a hero was absent. And that hero could be me, or not.

To be perfectly frank, I could not care less about the Humans. For all I knew, they were born weaker than the other races for a reason. Maybe they were not just weak, but stupid. The only conversation I had with another Human being in this world lasted less than thirty seconds. The dying woman sounded normal, for a dying person. She was also hallucinating at the moment. But what if she was not hallucinating and that was how all Humans in this world talked and behaved? With due respect to the dead, the only impressions I had gotten so far from my fellow race members were pity and incredulity. The women at the Goblin Lair were piteous, and the fact that a village full of Humans were hunted down by the Goblins made me... disappointed.

As I buried the dead, and as I fought against a tough opponent in Nasty, hearing him talk about the ease and p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e with which he preyed on the Humans, my stance on the Human race shifted towards disillusionment more than sympathy.

Was it worth to save the Humankind from extinction? What if they were meant to be extinct? What did they deserve more: a natural, fair exit from the competition or someone who might or might not be a hero at all? Which was the better beta testing: let everything be or intervene to make changes based on whims?

One good thing about gaming for living was that you rarely needed to think. A random enemy popping up at your six? Let reflexes take care of him. How to take down enemies firing from the rooftop of a building? Play just like the practice. Follow the manual. There was always the most effective tactics available for every update, patch, and discovery. You needed to memorize and familiarize, not think. Even if I were thinking consciously in the nanosecond between moving sideways or reloading ammunition, I would never know that I even so much thought in passing, not with a new, totally different match to prepare myself for within the next few minutes. No time for reflection, just let the muscles and instincts soak up the experience. When not playing the game, there was even less thinking involved. Shutting off the computer meant I was going to sleep. Waking up meant turning on the computer again. I did not even have time to think about the menu for lunch. The menu was whatever was in the fridge. My past, present, and future were inside the world of gaming.

Now a decade of not thinking properly had come flooding back. I was thinking too much. I was confused. I was lost. I was clinging to the only ways of life I was used to, as if I were still playing some computer game.

The world darkened, and I was still lost in my thoughts as I walked downhill towards the bright lights of the city ahead. The city by the river looked pretty from afar, with lamps and torches glowing up the place like some warm dome-like aura. I was already surrounded by the dark, but I did not bother to turn on the Night Eye.

This was my first mistake.

The road leading to the beautiful city was maintained well. The travel-weary me stood for a second, admiring the cleanliness and flatness of the path instead of moving out of the way and hide in the woods. I had completely forgotten Mataki's warning that any Human outside the city alone was regarded as a runaway. In my head, I had tried too hard to be this objective, dutiful beta tester, and in the process disassociating myself with the Humans in this world. I had already come up with a distorted image of dumb, primitive Humans to separate myself from pitying on and relating with them too much.

Moreover, the answers to my earlier questions were coming back—at the worst timing, but I did not know that yet. I did not want to bury another helpless Human with my hands. I did not want the responsibility to save a weak race from extinction. I did not want to be a hero. I did not what I wanted. Now I was back to square one, asking myself what I really wanted, let alone what I wanted to become.

A much needed moment of self-reflection and self-discovery in a leisurely night stroll. Except it never was.

I had already made my second mistake.

Something flew in the dark and landed at my feet. My third mistake was not to roll out of the spot, or kick the it out of the way. But even if I did, the first two mistakes were too costly, and there would have been fourth and fifth mistakes that got me in the end.

An open pouch was at my feet. I frowned and hesitated whether I should pick it up or step back. Too late. The silvery fine powder had moved up in the air and entered the nostrils. I had already breathed in a noseful of the suspicious substance and coughed lightly when a voice broke from the dark woods.

"Oh, boy, this one escaped far from Deltaris, didn't he?"

"Look at the poor lad, dressed in rags. He must've been running for a good long time."

Two Dwarves, followed by two more, came out of the woods.

Mataki's words came to life. Elven influence, slaves, sold for gold. There was no time to think. I reached for the Mataki's Blade—only that I could not.

The round, avuncular faces stared at me expectantly.

F.u.c.k me. I knew what was about to happen, from 'experience.'

I crumbled, my entire feeling numb. The only good news was that I did not blackout, nor did I lose consciousness. I was awake, but I was sitting on my knees, looking peacefully dumb while cursing and panicking on the inside.

The Dwarves did not even come to pick me up for another full minute or so.

"I say we go directly to them. It's about time we stopped paying the damn broker those damn commissions. Bigger share for us, more beer at the end of the day."

"Just so y'all don't forget, it was my Powder that I used there. I deserve an extra cut, for expenses and stuff."

"Look. He's even carrying a bow with himself. How cute."

"Maybe his masters make him perform tricks with the thing."

"Or maybe that's harp!"

"Yeah, you're probably right."

After a prolonged, meaningless discussion, the four Dwarves picked me up and lifted me over their shoulders as if I were some misshaped lumber.

"Back to your master, lad. Show me where you live."

"He can't move, idiot. Tell us where you live, boy."

"He can't speak, you idiots. We'll just have to strip him and find the brand of which household he ran from."

"The Catcher Powder cost me a lot of money, mates. If you don't pay up, I'll be super pissed, I'm telling you."

What did I want? I had an answer now.

I wanted to kill these stupid, careless Dwarves. Stupid because of their stupid conversation, and careless because they dropped me not once but four times on the road.

But only after I killed the stupid, careless me first.