Dungeon Sniper

I would rather skip the boring part, but here is the summary of what followed the Fall of Castle Deltaris:

The Council of Deltaris, minus one, spoke before everyone about a certain evil Elf's scheme to betray and exploit Humans. They conveniently left out their parts in collaborating with Oren, but the important thing was they admitted they were assholes for the last two years.

Two very long and painful years of deception and lies.

The ordinary Elves, being a much calmer race than the Humans, were shocked at first, but they quickly admitted their wrongful deeds. It helped that not all of them enjoyed having Humans dressed in rags and chained in public places. It still baffled me that not one of them even suspected that things were too convenient for their comfort. But again, the Elves were amazingly unimaginative race. I was just glad to have avoided a large-scale, race-against-race war at Deltaris. The only part of this beautiful city that needed to be gone was the needlessly swanky artificial island. Oh, and the city remained as one Deltaris and did not end up going back to two separate cities like before. This time, there would be a real, fair cooperation between the two races. Granted, the alliance would not be permanent, let alone binding, and there would come times where conflicts arose and a few battles had to be fought. But at least the Humans would have a chance to fight back, despite their inherent weakness, and be able to struggle and resist as much as they could, and they would.

The Runnels, led by the endeavoring new leader Kevlon, helped everywhere they could to reconstruct the Deltaris reborn. The entire administrative apparatus was lost with the destruction of Deltaris Complex. As a result, the Elves returned to the former government building in North Delta while the Humans went back to its counterpart in South Delta. The city would operate as two separate districts but in concert with each other. They agreed that they would not build a new unified government building anywhere inside the city. The Elves and Humans, despite the similarities, were two different races requiring different laws and regulations. They also agreed to leave the ruined Deltaris Complex as was, to serve as a reminder of what would happen to the rest of the city if one side attempted to take over the other. A small group of nine individuals pulled off that in just overnight. They could only imagine (and for the Elves, with difficulty) what a full-scale civil war would look like.

Kevlon wanted me to look after the Humans in their reconstruction of South Delta. He assigned Elysia, Worra, and Baraka to work with me, all of whom bailed the moment they were given the order by their incapable new leader. Needless to say, Kevlon still had a long way to go. Seriously, Worra and Baraka? I would not even be able to stop them if I wanted to.

As for Elysia, I let Elysia ghost on me on purpose. I figured she needed some time to herself, which was a really m.a.t.u.r.e decision by me. So, kudos for me as well.

I really did not feel like cleaning up a mess, but this mess was partially, if not mostly, on me. The first thing I did was to find the remaining members of the Reflux, the underground revolutionaries led by Mosez.

And I found them, along with Mosez, bruised and bloodied, and still alive.

She was missing an entire arm and not just the index finger, but she was alive.

Mosez was lying on the bed at one of the hospitals located in South Delta. She seemed weak, and smaller due to the absence of one of her bulky arms, but her eyes were still fiery and lively just like the last time I had seen her.

"You have my gratitude, Beta. And I'm sorry about the Elf," said Mosez, looking sincere.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know him that well myself."

"No matter how much I showed my dislike toward him, he never even once returned the sentiment. Not that it matters anymore, but he was probably the Elf I disliked the least."

"Alstair would've been thrilled to hear that."

I could literally see Alstair grinning like a dork, somewhere, inside me, whatever.

"So, are you staying here for long? I'm told you're to help us rebuild 'our' part of Deltaris." said Mosez.

"Yeah, no. I'm only good at blowing up things. Not so great at building stuff." Hated Legos as a kid, Minecraft as an a.d.u.l.t.

Mosez was not one to cling, thankfully.

"I can't expect you to do more than what you've already done for us."

"I'm sure you have your own, much more thoughtful plans to rebuild Human society than I do. So get well soon and go get your hands dirty, girl!"

Mosez blinked, and I realized my mistake.

"Shit. I mean, you're a strong woman, and I bet your one hand can do what others with two hands can—you know what, just get well and break a leg."

"My legs are already broken at the moment," said Mosez, pointing to her braced legs underneath the blanket.

Again, a shitty expression.

"Where I come from, it means 'good luck.' Everything I said meant 'good luck.'"

"I got the gist, thanks," smiled Mosez, and that was the first time I saw her smile.

"I just wish Gart was available, that way I could order him while I recuperate here at the hospital."

"Oh no, Gart died?"

"No, he drank too much potion from one of your Elf friends and is sleeping like a log next room."

"That's a relief, in a way," I laughed in relief.

"No, it's not. What good is a husband when he's not there for a wife to order him around?"

"Wait. You guys are married?"

"Why? You sad you lost your chance with me?" asked Mosez jokingly.

"Oh, I'm devestated," I joked along, realizing a second or two too late that Mosez had just made a joke.

"Hey, I thought you didn't like jokes."

"I don't. But I like you. And I owe you. We all do."

"Wow. Thanks. And to think I have to lose you to some bald dude. Now if only Gart never woke up—"

"All right, that's enough joking," Mosez wiped the smile off her face.

"Yup, that was too much, sorry."

Mosez looked as if she thought of something, or someone, as she looked around the room.

"She didn't come with you?"

"Who?"

"The Elf girl, the so-called lover of that traitor Ramsis," said Mosez, with a flash of fury.

"She's busy somewhere."

"You know, I might have missed my own distant cousin's betrayal, but I knew that relationship wouldn't last very long."

"Yeah, well, Elves and Humans, like oil and water."

"Are you joking? It's old now, but the 'fad' keeps coming around every decade."

"The fad? What fad?"

"What fad? The legend of Velonis and—"

At that moment, the door opened and entered the Human doctor, looking uncomfortable wearing his old, crumpled doctor's suit instead of the slave clothes of the past two years.

"You're not here to give her one of those green potions, are you? Because I've got enough patients suffering from the poison here," the skinny, scarred, and tanned doctor shot me a sharp, irritated look.

"I—"

"Doesn't matter. Get out. The patient needs to rest," the doctor pointed to the door, shifting uncomfortably under his white, undersized suit, probably from the extra muscle he had gained while manually slaving for the Elves.

"Well, I'll have to seduce you another time, Mosez."

"The one time I let you joke, and I'm going to regret for life," Mosez shook her head, but not entirely displeased.

"You'll finish the story tomorrow? Another Velonis legend? I guess she's really popular here, right?"

"Out," demanded the doctor.

As I went out the door, Mosez called out on my back.

"I saw how you looked at the Elf girl, Beta. If I were you, the timing is right now."

"Let's talk tomorrow, Mosez. Make that an appointment, two o'clock with my date doctor," I laughed and closed the door behind me.

.

.

.

Mosez and I did not talk the next day. She died from an overlooked internal bleeding. Gart woke up only to find his wife dead. I attended the simple funeral.

I had not met Elysia for two days now.

.

.

.

I was looking down the Divis River, right over the spot where Ramsis had fallen, leaning against the ledge just as Elysia had done two nights ago. They day was young and bright, and no one bothered me to help them anymore. I had that bored, apathetic look on my face that used to drive away people living as a professional gamer at Brooklyn. The only occasions I saw myself making that face were when the dark screen on the monitor reflected the face back to me. I hated it, and it was a good thing the Divis River was so far below and had fast currents to reflect my face right now.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Baraka.

"What is it?"

It was not that I hated the Orc, who was probably the most civil and gentle Orc in this world according to others. I simply did not care about anything or anyone at the moment.

I was burned out, so to speak.

Baraka did not mind my pointy attitude. He did not seem to mind a lot of things, and Human, emotional behaviors were one.

Instead, he took out a familiar-looking dagger. It was a dagger in his large hand. It was a dagger-sword in my average-sized hand.

Mataki's Blade, back in my hand.

My mood lightened up a bit. Quite a bit.

"Where did you get this?" I grabbed the Orcish dagger-sword, and instantly I was greeted by Matakis' voice.

[Long time no talk, young hero.]

"Fully charged too! What happened?"

"The Elves, they went through Oren's possessions and came across this dagger. They thought that I was the owner, being the only Orc in the vicinity, which was a fair guess on their part."

"You didn't think of finding the actual owner? I don't know, B, that sounds like something crooks would do."

"Orcs are no crooks. But we do value good weapons and steal them if chances allow."

"You just described the definition of crooks."

"Orcs are no crooks."

"... That's just how you normally look, right? You're not threatening to kill me with your fists or anything right now. Right?"

"Orcs like to use their fists, for killing and others."

"You don't have to show me your clenched fists—okay, that's enough, I get it. I'm sorry I called you a crook."

Baraka flashed his teeth, which I presumed to be a grin of some sort, and continued from where had left off.

"So I went out hunting for Goblins, tested the dagger, and suddenly the dagger talks. What I mean to say is, he keeps talking. It was as if Alstair came back, but with a Goblin voice."

[We barely exchanged greetings.]

"Well, thanks for returning it to me," I said to Baraka, ignoring Mataki's protest.

"This Goblin talking inside the sword, he claims that he was a Goblin hero once," Baraka pointed to the dagger-sword.

"So he says," I shrugged.

"There is only one Goblin hero, a heroine, and her name is Olothi."

[Do not speak that name!]

Mataki shrieked so sharply that I almost dropped the blade.

"What gives, Mataki?"

"Mataki, yes, the name does sound familiar. I never care for names, but perhaps he was the Goblin that lost his legs in a fight against the Orcs?"

"Oh yeah, Ram—," I paused, "someone mentioned that you saw the fight."

"Saw? I was going to join, but the fight ended early. A true pity."

[Ah. I recognize him too. He was waiting in the line. The Orcs are a curious race. So barbaric, yet so orderly.]

"I see that you two are acquaintances. Too bad there's no Starbucks around here to chat about old times."

"What kind of buck is that? Does it run fast? A challenging game?" asked Baraka eagerly.

[I believe you are referring to a deer with star-shaped patterns. I saw one twenty years ago, only to have it slip right through my fingers.]

I could use some coffee right now, with all the headache from this nonsensical, but comical, conversation.

And to my surprise, I found myself enjoying this meaningless conversation. Mainly because the ones I was talking with were not the most complicated beings around here.

I had been a loner, a brooder all my life, but hiding behind computers and surfing the web all day and night, I just did not see myself as one, nor admitted to being one.

I wanted to keep the conversation going, with or without coffee. Or was this a side-effect from absorbing Alstair's talkative personality? I really hoped not.

"Hey, Baraka, what do you think about Goblins?" I asked.

"Orcs do not think. We kill."

"The Goblins, you mean."

"Orcs kill a lot things."

"Of course. And you, Mataki, what's your deal with the Orcs?"

[Orcs treat us as if we are vermin. So we treat them as green, smelly boars. We eat them only if we have to.]

"So you don't like each other?"

"No."

[No.]

"I don't konw, guys, Orcs and Goblins seem like they could get along pretty well. You both hunt, kill, have impressive teeth."

"Thanks."

[Thank you, young hero.]

Did I know which part of that was a compliment? No, I did not.

"So why the hate?"

"Orcs do not hate Goblins. We despise them."

"Wow. Thanks for the clarification, Baraka. Why do you despise them?"

"Because they are despicable."

"Mataki? What do you say to that?"

[I was thinking of a better term than 'despise.' And I have got it. We, the Goblins, execrate the Orcs.]

"What does the Goblin say?" asked Baraka.

"That they 'excrete' you? Like shit on you?"

[Not 'excrete.' Execrate.]

"You do know you have accents? Both of you?"

"Shit on us. That is the worst dishonor I have ever received. I feel like I want to break the dagger right now," fumed Baraka.

"Well, it worked. Good job, Mataki."

"Give me the dagger!"

"Calm down, Baraka."

"To hear it from a race that populates as c.o.c.kroaches!"

[Tell him to take that back!]

"Really? C.o.c.kroaches?"

I certainly did not remember seeing a single female Goblin in the Dungeon. Not that I wanted to picture how the Goblins reproduced—and sure enough, the Alstair encyclopedia inside me provided me with the information, complete with visual images.

"There's a queen that lays eggs? Gross."

"Just like c.o.c.kroaches," nodded Baraka.

[We prefer to be likened to ants, thank you very much.]

Fascinated and disgusted at the same time, another thought came along.

"Sounds like once the queen is out of the picture, the Goblins would face extinction. Where is this queen?"

"No one knows, not even the Goblins themselves," answered Baraka.

[The Orc is correct. The titular queen never shows herself to the world. That is the price of the 'Exchange.']

A word flashed across my mind. A name, really.

"That's Olothi?"

Mataki remained silent unlike the last time, and it was Baraka who answered instead.

"The last Goblin female that ever lived and still lives. The forgotten goddess and mother of all Goblins. The c.o.c.kroach queen that never stops to lay eggs wherever she is crawling right now," Baraka spat onto the ground in disgust.

[Not all Goblins are born from eggs. I had both parents once. A father and a mother.]

Mataki sounded somber, nostalgic even.

Meanwhile, I was being given a brief history lesson by Alstair's memory inside my head.

"That was before Olothi turned herself into... the Queen, right?"

One day, Olothi the Goblin heroine got herself a certain power that would make her race stronger and more populated.

She Critical Siphoned a giant ant queen and stole her power.

[I sense someone else inside you, young hero... the Elf who chased you in the mountain, is it?]

"Yeah, it's a long story."

It was then Baraka grunted to gain my attention.

"Orcs do not like long stories. In fact, I have stayed here far longer than I intended... and I even got an insult from a dead Goblin trapped inside a dagger. I will be off. See you soon, Beta."

Baraka left with another grunt, leaving me alone on the destroyed bridge with a somber, discouraged talking sword.

[I knew Olothi before she turned herself into a monster.]

To me, all Goblins were monsters, but I did not stop Mataki's monologue for now.

[I call myself a hero, but Olothi, she was the true heroine. She had the power to absorb abilities from others... like you, young hero.]

"Yeah, I've heard that's kind of the 'thing' for heroes around here."

[I was going to tell you about the shared power between you and Olothi in time, but now you seem to know everything.]

"Well, not completely. The Elf inside that tells me stuff from time to time, I feel like he's hiding something from me every time, as if he's urging me to find the truth by myself."

[Such as?]

I blinked, remembering the halted conversation with Mosez two days ago.

"Such as a story about Velonis the Elf heroine."

[I am afraid I do not know much about her.]

"Yeah, well, I could care less, but the person who was supposed to tell me this story, she's not around anymore, so."

[Was this absent female the only one who knew the story you want to hear?]

"You know what? Forget it. I'm just not in the mood."

I was about to put the dagger-sword away when I heard Mataki mumbling musingly.

[Velonis... Velonis...]

"I told you to let it go, Mataki."

[The only thing I remember about the Elf heroine is her tragic relationship with a Human.]

"Thanks, but you really don't have to... All right, you got my attention there. What Human? What relationship?"

[A relationship that is lost in Goblins today, but something that we definitely had in the past.]

"You mean like, a romantic relationship?"

[Ah, the word does sound sweet. Romance.]

"So Velonis had a Human lover."

[Yes. It is rather quite a popular story.]

The popular story that Alstair's memory had blocked me from accessing all this time.

Why?

"And who was this Human?"

[Unfortunately, the story starts and stops there. It serves as an example of how difficult interracial relationsh.i.p.s are.]

"That's it? Seriously?"

[As far as I know, yes. But I am certain there are others more knowledgeable—]

I sheathed Mataki's Blade and ran towards North Deltan district. I was looking for someone who had to know everything about Velonis, good or bad, small or big.

I found Worra standing high on the rooftop, overseeing the remodeling of the old North Deltan City Hall. I found the entrance to the building and ran up the stairs.

Worra heard my footsteps and turned around to face me with a curious look. The rooftop was not high, but the view overlooking the river and the destroyed Deltaris Complex was not too bad.

But I was not here to enjoy the view.

"Are you busy?" I walked over to Worra near the edge of the roof.

"Kevlon says just standing here wearing a gray uniform sends a message to the Elves. I didn't care enough to ask what message I was sending down there."

"I'm guessing 'terrifying?'"

"Why are you here, Beta?"

"Just to talk."

"I don't have time to 'just' talk," snapped Worra.

"It's about Velonis."

"... I may have a minute or two. What is it?" asked the Velonis fangirl.

"I'm told that she had a lover. A Human lover."

Worra frowned suspiciously.

"It's a myth. A mere speculation. A fairy tale," Worra clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"But popular enough so that everyone except me knows about it?"

It was then Worra scoffed, even suppressing a smile, it seemed.

"All right, just because Velonis might or might not have been romantically involved with a Human doesn't mean there's any chance something like that's going to happen between you and me."

I blinked.

"What are you talking about? Who said anything about you and me?"

Worra blinked.

"Hn?"

"Wait, so you thought the question was just a cover for me to hit on you—"

"Velonis supposedly had a Human 'hero' as a lover. End of story, I'm busy, get lost."

"You're blushing, Worra."

And she looked cute.

"I never blush. Now leave, before I shoot you. I mean it."

And she did not look cute anymore.

I turned to leave, only to be caught up by a word that did not make sense to me.

"You said a Human 'hero,'" I said to Worra, puzzled.

"I did,' answered Worra warily, a hint of embarrassment still on her face.

"I was told Humans don't have a hero of their own. That's why they—we are so weak."

"Now do you see why I call it a myth?"

"So the Humans had a hero once?"

"Supposedly."

"And he dated your heroine-goddess?"

"Less supposedly," Worra rolled her eyes.

"What happened?"

"Simple. Your hero bailed on you. He deserted you to 'Transcend' to the next level, without leaving any means of protection and support for the ones left here."

"Why?"

"Who knows?" shrugged Worra, looking calm now that she saw I was really here to ask some questions. Or did I sense some disappointment in her voice?

Meanwhile, Alstair's memory was not giving me any flash of history lessons that I was, for once, dying to know. Very uncharacteristic of him, if not maddening.

"Anything else?" sighed Worra. If I were not so preoccupied, I would have sworn she looked a little hopeful, and for what, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking of Alstair's reason for not sharing his knowledge. I was thinking of the deserted, helpless Humans. I was thinking of Elysia.

I was thinking of this irresponsible hero.

"Does he have a name, the hero that bailed?"

Worra seemed disappointed for sure this time, but for what I had no clue.

"He was called 'Alpha,'" answered Worra dryly.