Dungeon of Assassins [LitRPG Through the Eyes of the NPCs]

The headmaster's words still echoed through the courtyard like the toll of distant bells.

Four weeks. That was all the time the academy had before the start of a Great Hunt for a prey unknown, yet surely powerful.

After his announcement, Vaelcor Valtanis left without answering a single question. He simply turned and walked away, his robes sweeping through the stunned silence, leaving a thousand questions in his wake.

Moments later, the courtyard burst into noise. Students spilled out like a flood of speculation.

Inside the administration hall, Professor Kaelthorne was already pinning a notice to the blackboard: "Registration for hunting teams opens in one week. Mandatory group size: three to eight."

Clouds gathered high above, casting the academy in shifting patches of light and shadow. The stone courtyard before the cafeteria was packed shoulder to shoulder. Students huddled together, their voices rising in excited bursts. No one seemed to care about the ringing of the next class bell. Professors tried to corral them back indoors… but it was like trying to herd birds in a storm.

Weylan slipped through the throng, his thoughts still echoing with Malvorik's faint presence through the Verdant Hare conduit.

When he turned, Stitch was right behind him. Motionless, pale eyes scanning the crowd uncertain. After years of quiet inside Bookhalla, this was too much for her. The patchwork girl stood frozen while waves of students pushed past. A bulky combat mage collided with her shoulder and rebounded as if he'd hit a marble pillar. Stitch didn't move, didn't even flinch. Her attention was fixed on the hare in Weylan's arms. She leaned forward, touched its brow, and froze in concentration.

"Your pet," she murmured. "It holds a vast reservoir of life-force… mostly empty. Strange."

The green-furred creature sniffed her hand, obviously unsure if he liked the scent.

She seemed to sense something else too.

Weylan's pulse spiked. Could she notice the connection to Malvorik through the conduit?

He quickly drew the hare back and offered it to Faya. The priestess clutched it close, too distracted by the chaos to question his action. Stitch looked slightly confused by his action, but was quickly distracted by Alina and Ulmenglanz arriving.

All around them, the courtyard was fracturing into teams. Study partners, friends, full expeditions forming on the spot.

Rumors spread like wildfire.

"They say the goblins demanded the heart of a chimaera!"

"No, they surely need the eye of an elder land-octopus! Maybe the sire of the mutated monster the expedition defeated!"

"I heard the target is a woodland-dragon's blood!"

"Rubbish! It'll be a forest spirit's ectoplasmic saliva!"

Each tale grew more ridiculous. A group of students had even begun sketching imaginary beasts on the wall and taking bets on whose guess would prove true.

Darken emerged from the cafeteria with two sandwiches and eyes bright with excitement.

"You hear all that? Goblin patrols won't attack anyone wearing academy colors! We're going into the Northern Wildewood!"

Selvara, in her raven form, swooped down from an upper balcony and landed beside him, feathers slick with drizzle.

They slipped away from the crowd and found an empty bench beneath the stone arch. Students rushed past in every direction, too preoccupied to notice them.

Darken tore into his sandwich. "I'm not missing a sanctioned monster hunt. Think of it! Contribution points, experience, fame! Maybe even a recommendation from the headmaster himself. We just have to find the beast first."

Faya stroked the hare absently. "And what if it's not a bad monster? What if it's like that furry snake?"

Silence hung for a moment before Weylan said what they were all thinking.

"They'll still happily kill it. Even if it's something harmless. Even if it's a cuddly sheep-cat chimera."

Faya's eyes lit up. "Those exist?"

Weylan cursed himself inwardly but kept his face neutral. If tales of Fluffle had spread beyond the dungeon…

He offered a roguish grin. "I made that one up. Sorry."

The bell tower began to toll again, calling for the next class. Once, twice, thrice. Instead of restoring order, it only fueled the restless energy rippling through the courtyard. Students were already pulling out maps and Monster Compendiums, forming plans, sketching routes.

Faya looked at him. "We're not sitting this one out, are we?"

He hesitated. His mission was to keep the priestesses safe, yet still help them grow and level up.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"No," he said finally. "But we're not joining for glory. We're going because whatever they're chasing… it must not get into the wrong hands. Like revenants planning to make a run for it and sell it, whatever it is, to the highest bidder."

He remembered Darken was also a revenant and turned to apologize. Darken just grinned and waved him off. "No offense taken. That's exactly what most revenants would do."

A chill breeze swept the courtyard, scattering parchment and leaves. The clouds broke for a heartbeat, a single shaft of sunlight spilling across the towers. Bright, fleeting… and ominous.

Mirabelle pulled a thick notebook from her satchel and flipped to a bookmarked page. "I think I know what they need. There's a lot of possible potions, but the ingredients have a common theme of regeneration. I think they're after a powerful healing drought. Possibly the High Matron or one of her allies has suffered a near fatal wound or illness. Something ordinary healing can't cure. So, the missing piece would likely be… the bone marrow of a Ganderhydra." She paused for effect and the others recoiled as expected.

Darken was the first to speak. "Merciful Pallandur, that would be awful. Those things are Grandmaster-tier! All hydra-like monsters regenerate faster than you can hurt them. If they'd be standing still while you strike at them. Which they most certainly won't! We can't defeat something like that!"

Mirabelle nodded briskly, already flipping pages. "Exactly. We'd need something that cancels regeneration, that's right. And as it happens, we already have the perfect ingredient. The monster core from Weylan's mutated beast could, if my research on enchantments is correct, be forged into a Healer's Bane weapon. Perhaps a sword... or better yet, a ballista bolt. That would make short work of a Ganderhydra."

Faya's face drained of color, then flushed crimson as she shot to her feet. "Mirabelle! Have you lost your mind? We can't forge a Healer's Bane! We're priestesses of healing, not executioners. Those weapons are abominations before our goddess! Pure heresy!"

The words hit Mirabelle like a slap. Mirabelle froze, the excitement draining from her face as realization dawned. Shame flooded her expression. "I… I didn't mean it like that," she stammered, eyes wide. "I was only thinking about the strategy, not…" She shut her notebook, cheeks burning. "You're right, Faya. I wasn't thinking." She hesitated, then added in a small voice, "Thank you for stopping me before I crossed a line."

Faya's tone softened. "That's what we're here for. To remind each other who we are."

Darken cleared his throat. "Still, we'll need real equipment. If the goblins failed to catch it for so long, the target's either too elusive or too dangerous. Or both. We'll need tools that can incapacitate or trap anything… even Grandmaster-tier."

Ulmenglanz nodded. "Staves for the casters, healing and mana potions, scent-masking brews for stealth. Darken, can you handle the alchemy?"

The Master of the Dark Arts looked mildly offended, but nodded. "Of course."

Weylan added. "Can you also try to get or create some crazy powerful sleep or stun poison? In case it is a fluffy cuddly monster and we need to catch it alive."

Faya smiled faintly. "Good thinking."

Mirabelle, still subdued, offered to research every known creature in the Northern Wildewood. The others agreed at once.

Alina turned to Weylan. "You and I should train together. Someone has to defend the team."

He rested a hand on his short-sword's hilt. "Fine by me. Let's just hope no one accuses us of hoarding all the healers again."

Mirabelle brightened a little. "What should we call ourselves? Team Black? Maybe Team White, since we're mostly healers? Chosen of Lieselotte would have an even more impactful sound, but it's a bit of a mouthful."

Weylan saw the others look at him. He shrugged. "Team Black won last time. Might be a lucky name."

Darken grinned. "I like it. It heralds the presence of a Master of the Dark Arts."

Faya nodded. "Then Team Black it is."

Stitch cleared her throat. The flesh-golem had stood silent and forgotten at the edge of the discussion and now squirmed under the attention of the others. She gulped, then spoke. "Could I… could I join too?"

Weylan suppressed the urge to immediately confirm. He wasn't the team leader, since they hadn't even brought up that subject yet. He looked around to gauge the other's opinion, but Faya was less eager on a democratic decision process. She turned, hugged the startled flesh-golem, and declared, "Welcome to Team Black! You'll fit right in."

One by one, the others nodded.

Weylan smiled. "Told you it'd be good to leave the library for once. Wait… will your master even let you go?"

"Of course. If even students are allowed into the Wildewood, I'll be fine."

Darken pointedly eyed her slim frame. "You look a bit more fragile than most combat mages."

Stitch tilted her head. "Hit me."

He blinked. "What?"

"Hit me," she repeated.

"With what?"

Stitch shrugged again. "With whatever. Just do it."

Alina gripped the short combat staff she was carrying around for her evening training and took it in both hands. "Are you sure?"

Stitch rolled her eyes, getting more confident by the second. "Just get it over with."

Alina swung her staff with full force at Stitch's arm. A swing that could break bones. The staff hit the arm, pushed it a bit… and bounced off. The golem didn't even flinch.

Weylan gaped. "Are you invulnerable?"

"Not really," she said calmly. "But I'm saturated with life-energy. Hurting me drains that reserve. To actually kill me, you'd need a lot more effort than killing a human."

Mirabelle peered at her arm. "What about drowning? That's how they kill invincible warriors in the stories."

Stitch grinned. "I don't breathe."

Darken scratched his chin. "What about fire?"

"Hurts like hell. But it has to be extremely hot to do damage. And I regenerate fast. My master once cut off my toe… it grew back in about a minute."

Faya gasped. "He cut your toe off?"

Stitch flinched, then composed herself quickly. "It was my idea. I wanted to know my limits."

Everyone stared a bit at that.

Silence lingered until Weylan recovered fastest. "Makes sense. You'd want to know if you can regrow body parts under controlled circumstances. Instead of learning you can't, right after a monster bites your arm off."

Mirabelle scribbled a note. "So we don't have to protect you. Excellent. And I'll be hiding right behind you if there's trouble."

"Mirabelle!" Weylan protested.

Stitch chuckled. "It's fine. You can use me as a meat shield. I don't mind."

Darken was looking around the group. "So, it's settled? We're grouping up? Good. Do we need anyone else? A frontline fighter seems to be missing. No offense against the dryad or dear Alina, but someone a bit bulkier and in heavy armor would make me feel more secure."

Weylan shook his head. "Apart from Kane, no one comes to mind. And even our muscle mage doesn't wear heavy armor. Eric claims to be good with a fencing blade, but that's not much better than we can already manage. It's a mage academy. We'll have to do on our own."

Ulmenglanz agreed. "Kane will probably reform Team Grey together with the other revenants. So at least some of us will have to invest some time learning defensive magic. And we need spells, potions or artifacts to detect hidden beasts. The Wildewood is famous for monsters that use camouflage abilities."

Weylan sighed. "Stealth should be my specialty, since I'm the… shadow mage." He caught himself just in time.

Mirabelle snapped her notebook shut. "Then we all have our assignments. Let's move."

Weylan stopped her with a smirk. "You're forgetting something vital."

She blinked. "What?"

He nodded toward the cafeteria. "Lunch."