NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: The Beginning Conspiracy
In the dimly lit, lavishly decorated private quarters of the underground colosseum, a motley group of adventurers and soldiers find solace in each other's company, their weary bodies seeking respite after an exhilarating display. The game is over. The air, heavy with the mingling scents of dirt and sweat, fills their nostrils as they breathe in deeply, taking stock of the surroundings of the quarters; scraggly pillows with loose threads beckon to them, their uninspiring beige hues deeply comforting after the many fires, spells, and explosions that they had all just suffered at one another’s hands.
Team Water, content with their victory, embraces the satisfaction of victory. Their eyes twinkle with triumph as they lightheartedly share stories of bold actions and clever tactics executed on the battlefield. Modest cups brimming with sweet mead are held in firm grasps as they are lifted to dry lips, celebrating their hard-fought success.
While the first challenge of the arena had only awarded significant points to the three main victors, this new game had given half of the competitors a significant four points. This has resulted in what can essentially be called a ‘splurge’, as many of them run to the skeleton shopkeeper to spend their money. Most of them buy items for comfort. A few frugal minded individuals try to save their winnings in order to get out of their imprisonment that much sooner. However, it is difficult to resist the social pressure, and so they also relent, going in to buy a little thing here for one or maybe two of their total points after all.
Only a few, particularly stoic individuals such as a barbarian either spend their points on advantages for future competitions or do not spend any at all.
Team Fire, who had fought a good fight, must contend themselves with having only earned one point each. This is still enough for a few smaller things, especially if a point was saved from the day before, however, their mood is less pleasant. Given their team’s randomly chosen make-up, they were simply at a significant disadvantage to Team Water’s many casters and ranged combatants, who always managed to keep them away with some manner of trap or barrier.
Marjus sighs, flopping down onto a cushion with his legs and arms spread out at his sides as he lays there.
Someone has to start getting food ready too, even after the games. There’s the option to buy a ready-made meal from the shop, but that costs one point. If they make it themselves at the cauldron, like the priestess had done yesterday, it’s free — if not far more mundane and simple.
“Rough day?” asks a voice next to him. He groans, turning his head and looking at the archer, the elf with whom he had gotten into a knife-fight with more than once. “You look like someone stabbed you,” she remarks.
“I definitely feel like someone did,” replies Marjus, looking up at her.
“Here,” says the elf, sitting down next to him and handing him a bottle of sweet-wine from the shop. “Have some.”
He blinks, sitting upright. “You sure?” asks the spearman. An hour ago, he shoved a knife through her kidney. Then again, she slit his throat once too, so…
She shakes her head, letting him take the already open bottle. “Do you think it’s watching us?” she asks, ignoring his question.
“Huh?” replies Marjus.
“I think it is. The dungeon-core,” she replies, her narrowed eyes looking up toward the ceiling. “I think it’s watching us day and night,” explains the elf, sounding perhaps a little paranoid. Although, to be fair, she may be right to be. “It’s sick. Voyeuristic.”
All around the chambers, similar scenes begin to play out. Marjus looks around, watching as the people, split into two teams, easily begin to reconnect. If anything, their older differences from before their rebirths still separate them more than these new offenses against one another. There doesn’t seem to be a sour mood. If anything, the victors seem to be going out of their way to be nice to the losing team.
He shrugs, taking another swig and handing her back the bottle. “It might be,” he replies. “But what choice do we have except to play along?”
She looks his way. “I got a level-up when we fought,” she notes. “I’m level eleven now.”
“Yeah,” replies Marjus. “We’re still getting experience-points,” he explains.
Experience-points are a tally of sorts — a number of points that a person needs to acquire in order to level-up. Experience-points are earned through killing things, such as monsters, traditionally. When a specific amount has been earned, an adventurer’s level will rise by one, granting them access to new abilities and skills, depending on their particular chosen profession and some other life circumstances.
The higher an adventurer’s level, the stronger they are. The system starts at level zero for newborns and reaches up to level one-hundred for the greatest of champions.
The two of them look at one another as she drinks from their shared bottle, and he understands the situation and why the now dissolved Team Water is being so generous to the losers. It’s because there is no Team Water or Team Fire. It’s Team Them against the dungeon-core.
“I have a plan,” says the elf, handing him the bottle back.
This was fun.
The slender human man sits by himself, looking at the knife he had bought from the skeleton merchant. His greasy hair is tied behind his head in a bundle so it stays out of his way.
He became a soldier to kill people. Just, honestly, that’s what he wanted. He wasn’t in it for the salary, for the stable work, or for noble ambitions for country and glory. Straight to the point, he loves murder.
Specifically, that which involves people. Monsters aren’t the same. They’re just… not as good.
This strongly limited his career options. So he became a soldier and followed that passion, which led him to his grave on the battlefield above this place. But now…
— He plays with the knife.
He hopes the next game starts very soon.
His creepy smile goes wide, and the people next to him slowly shuffle away to the side.
They all did so well! What fun!
Munera buzzes around, shadowy tendrils repairing the arena that has taken substantial damage at the hands of the adventurers. They really delved deeply into the fighting spirit. It really enjoyed the spectacle they offered.
This plan is going great!
Zombies groan as they shuffle around the seating area, helping clean up the mess before they shamble back to their graves to rest up for the next fight. Munera wonders what the next challenge should be? Maybe something optional for a change?
That would let it filter out some specific personalities to observe. Everyone will fight if ordered to, but only a few are going to volunteer for the sport itself. A game? No, ah!
Duels.
A one against one tournament league.
Sure, everyone here is still a bit… mundane compared to things like legendary warriors, but they’re doing their best.
That could be just the thing for next time!
“Excuse me?” asks a voice from somewhere within the dungeon. Munera looks around in confusion, feeling itself be addressed. How unusual. It zaps around to the location with its presence until it looks at a familiar fairy. She is the healer fairy, who is free from participating in the challenges because of her services as a healer for the wounded in the arena.
Munera looks at her, watching her look around the space in confusion. She’s trying to talk to it, but she doesn’t really know where to look to begin with. “Can anyone hear me?” she asks, knocking on a wall.
“What?” asks Munera, the bricks that she touched shifting to form something resembling an eye. This isn’t necessary, but it gives her something to look at during the talk. She yelps, pulling her hand back in fear.
“I- I was wondering if I could spend my points to send a letter?” she asks timidly, backing away a bit from the stone eye. “I’d really like to send something to my family, to let them know I’m okay,” explains the fairy healer.
It’s silent.
Munera observes her, the mechanisms of its thoughts turning.
…A letter…
A letter?
It looks around its dungeon as it thinks.
A letter to the outside world?
A letter with information about a contestant, about the colosseum, to… her family?
The stone eye goes wide. It’s perfect.
Munera looks back at her as it comes to a blindingly obvious realization, that being that it has everything that it needs right here already to bring some outside attention to its arena. It wants more champions; it wants great heroes from across the world to wander here; cruel villains and wayward seekers of fame and treasure — it wants them all to come here.
But maybe the way to start that is to bring some friends and family here first to spread the word to every city, far and wide.
Munera smiles, as far as such a thing is possible.
“You may have your letter,” it replies. “- For free.”
“Really?!” she asks excitedly, her wings buzzing hopefully. “Thank you!”
What Munera does not tell her is that, while she is free to write her letter to her family and anyone else — as is anyone else in the dungeon — is that each letter will also contain a personal invitation to all of the mothers, brothers, sisters, and uncles of every champion. It will invite them to come, to watch, and, if they wish, to join.
News of the dead being returned to life will draw many, many eyes this way. The humans and their society cannot resist an offering like this! This is the idea it was missing, no? The spark to light the fuse!
Munera summons a legion of skeletons, thousands of rattling bones rising from the soil of the arena as it moves its focus back elsewhere. They all rise out of the granular dirt, loose sand, and crumbling rocks falling off of their colorful yellow messenger caps and brown leather bags strapped around their bony bodies. Dozens of quiet, shrill screams fill the air as the skeletons lift their gaze, awaiting their orders.
A little while later, as many letters have been penned by the hopeful survivor of the dungeon to let their loved ones know that they remain on this mortal plane, two dozen skeletons clad as messengers run out of the dungeon, streaking through the night in all manner of directions as they leave to deliver very personal mail in a very timely manner.
The humans outside of the dungeon are going to be so excited when they hear about this!
The humans outside of the dungeon are extremely excited.
In fact, they can barely contain themselves because of their excitement.
The skeleton wanders openly through the streets, crying and calling out. The humans, in turn, cry and call out, but in a different way, when they see it. They scream and run in terror. It makes it very hard to pass on the good word to them. This is made even more troublesome because the children will not remain silent. They make its offerings of games and fantastic prizes very hard to hear for those not yet aware of this new opportunity!
“You must be silent,” says the skeleton, looking behind itself at the squirming, large sack that it is dragging through the streets, stuffed full of new viewers for the seats of the colosseum. “Precious children,” it starts in a whispering voice, pressing its face against the sack’s exterior. A bony hand runs over the fabric as if it were petting an animal’s squirming body. “Do you not wish…” it begins in a raspy voice. “- To enjoy the fun games?” asks the skeleton in a wheezing tone.
— The children continue to scream.
They can hardly contain their excitement, it seems.
Whistles and metal fill the night as several groups of city guards and knights appear, chasing after it.
The skeleton giddily hoists the sack up over its shoulder and begins to run away back toward the dungeon with them in tow, shrieking and skipping with a full sack bouncing on its back, having done exactly what was asked of it — in a manner of speaking.