Rebirth: Crawler

HEALTH AT 103

The floor came up to meet Ayn.

The warmth of healing enveloped her before she hit. Ayn tucked and rolled as her health rushed back to full. Seemed Sheyric had decided. She came up on her feet just in time for rocks the size of her head to rain down on her. A hard-hitting spell, but one with a small area of effect. Another quick roll, and Ayn was clear.

The Skeleton Mage’s hands dropped to its sides. The gems had gone dull. Four spells. It had reached the end of its attack pattern. Now, it had depleted too much of its stored mana and had come to a halt. The stun would last ten seconds before it recharged and went back on the offensive. Plenty of time.

Ayn finally got within striking distance as the boss stood stiff and unmoving. Her blades wouldn’t do much to straight bone, no matter how brittle, but she didn’t need to hit bone. She flipped her sabers around, hilts out, and hammered them against the gem embedded in the mage’s wrist. A few hits, and it shattered. Without a magic source to keep it in place, the entire hand crumbled. The mage needed both hands to cast lightning. It wouldn’t hit her with it again.

After a few strikes to the gem in its hip bone, the pillars around the room flared. The light spun, funneling into each remaining gem in the boss’s body. It creaked to life once more. Ayn blinked the blur from her eyes, dodging away in anticipation of another attack. Instead, the mage raised its remaining hand and snapped. Once, twice, three times. Ayn stuttered to a stop as a crowd of skeleton archers and warriors popped into existence.

Each summon spell created eight minions. Ayn did some quick mental math. Twenty-four. Her eyes darted between the clattering minions and the boss, who managed to look smug despite not having flesh. She’d developed a lot of faith in Kayara’s fighting already, but that seemed like a lot of targets to deal with for anyone. Disengaging meant letting the Skeleton Mage target whoever it wanted for its last spell. Plus, she might be too tied up to attack when it went dormant.

An arrow whizzed past. Sheyric yelled. Ayn pivoted toward the sound and carved a path through the bony crowd. The minions weren’t difficult, even with the handicap of slashing damage against bone, but there sure were a lot. By the time she reached Sheyric, the healer had collapsed on the ground and gone quiet, a skeleton warrior raising a great sword to land a killing blow.

The warrior’s sword came down. She caught it on the blade of one of her own and deflected the strike to the side, the weapons screeching as they slid across on another. Ayn clenched her teeth against the noise and swung her other saber. It cut through the warrior’s spine. The skeleton’s top and bottom split, falling to the ground in different directions. A quick stomp to its skull ended it.

Ayn crouched next to Sheyric, dropped her swords to the ground, and pulled her last healing potion from her belt. Her hand was almost to his hood, ready to pull it down and dump the potion down his throat, when he jerked up into a sitting position and yanked the potion from her grip.

Bren called for help from a different corner of the room. Ayn needed to get back in the fight, but they would be in serious trouble without a healer.

Ayn grabbed Sheyric’s shoulders as he finished drinking the potion and shook him. “You need to heal. Heal yourself first, then us. Now.”

He pulled out of her grasp and scrambled back. “No. Too many.”

A clattering behind Ayn seemed to prove his point.

“Then I’ll protect you. Just heal.”

Without waiting for a response, Ayn turned, catching another skeleton warrior in mid-strike. An archer stood behind it, nocking an arrow. She had a few seconds to deal with the warrior before she, or Sheyric, got an arrow between the eyes. No problem.

Ayn danced a semi-circle, the hilt of one saber smashing into the warrior’s jawbone. Its head twisted sideways, its body following as it tried to regain balance. She looped around the wobbling skeleton. The flat of her blade smacked into the back of its head. The skull came free and rolled away, leaving its still alive body to flail in confusion.

The archer drew its bow. Ayn cut the arrow in two. The mob cocked its head, then lost it in a similar fashion to its comrade. A couple of well-place kicks, and both skeletons puffed into glitter, leaving a couple of leg bones in their wake.

Ayn tightened her grip on her weapons and scanned for her next target. The crowd had dwindled in a flash. Only a handful of minions remained, attempting, and failing, to close in on Bren as Kayara whirled between them, and boulders materialized above them. The fourth spell.

It seemed she’d underestimated Kayara’s ability to clear a room, but she had a good idea of the ranger’s ability to dodge. Ayn turned back to the boss.

The Skeleton Mage went dark once more, its back pressed up against the far wall as if trying to hide. Ayn closed the distance in seconds and fractured the gem in the mage’s other hand. Without either hand, all the mage could do was put up shields and throw rocks.

Easy.

Kayara and Bren, with nothing else to hit, joined in. To Ayn’s surprise, even Sheyric edged closer, his hands working as he healed.

Their victory was a given, and when the Skeleton Mage crumbled to dust, Ayn cheered.

Bren jumped at the sudden noise, tripped over his robe, and fell on his backside. Kayara laughed at him.

SKELETON MAGE DEFEATED

A pile of various bones appeared where the boss had stood a second ago, adding to the singles scattered around the room. More than enough to complete their quest.

DUNGEON FLOOR ONE CLEARED

PARTY WILL BE TELEPORTED FROM THE DUNGEON IN TWO MINUTES

*****

Ayn flicked open her character screen, her eyes moving quickly across each stat. She had no interest in Essence, Mana, or Focus. While magic swordsmen were pretty fun looking, she’d heard they suffered from the large stat spread they required. As the party’s chosen tank, she needed to stick with the physical. Four points in Agility. Easy. Four points in Strength. She couldn’t wear heavy armors, so killing quicker was a better way to tank. Next…. Ayn stalled over the Health stat. Tanks needed health, but—

“Ayn!”

She jumped at the command in Bren’s voice, her character screen stuttering out as her focus shifted.

He glanced at her, indignation clear in his face. “I’d appreciate it if you, like the rest of us, refrain from doing that out here.”

“Right…. Sorry.”

Messing around with the character screen outside of the Crawler’s Guild, or your home, was rude. Ayn had still done it many times, her excitement overruling other’s discomfort.

Kayara slapped Ayn across the back a little harder than necessary.

“We’re all eager to wrap this up,” Kayara said. “So why don’t we head back to the guild?”

“I have things to attend to,” Bren said. He turned on his heels, gold eyes narrowed, and stormed off.

Kayara watch him go and shook her head. “Look at Mister High and Mighty. No worries. We’ll just meet up tomorrow morning, yeah? I think everybody needs a rest.” She turned toward Sheyric, who, in typical fashion, had found the darkest shadow to hide in. “Hey, you got a place to go to?”

Sheyric didn’t respond.

“I’ll look after our gloomy friend,” Kayara said with a sigh. “See you tomorrow, all right?”

Ayn stared, jaw clenched, as the rest of her party disappeared into the surrounding thatch and log buildings of Cristak. They’d nominated her leader, but it was clear that was in name only. Not that she deserved anything else. A leader was charismatic, drawing her party together and keeping them strong. She was only good at driving people away.

Her dark thoughts followed her away from the Dungeon entrance, through the market, hawkers still yelling their wares at customers even at dusk, into the quiet clusters of residential homes, all the way to a house nestled on a hill at the very edge of town.

The hill put distance between the house and the neighbors on all but the back side. There, Cristak’s perimeter wall towered over it, casting a long shadow over its tiled roof. Like its neighbors, the house was small, containing only four rooms. A pen flanked the house’s left side, the light sound of clucking coming from the pen’s occupants as they settled down for bed. Near the right wall, dark green shoots rose from a field. Soon, it would be time to harvest. Normally, Ayn would dread such a thing, but right now, it sounded a lot better than Crawling.

Ayn stopped by the front door and ran her hand along the wall. The surface, alternating rough and smooth under her fingers, scraped her hand. This character’s mother and father, who had quickly become as much family as her original mother and father over the ten years it took for a newborn Rebirth to mature, had built the house with money they’d got from Crawling, and they’d made enough to make one of the few brick and tile houses in Cristak outside of the Crafter’s district. Not that it made the home any more popular.

Ayn sighed and pushed the door open, bracing herself against the onslaught on its way. Her mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen before she’d even closed the door.

“Welcome back, Ayn! I just put dinner on the table, so come eat and tell me how your first day with your new party went.”

How it went. Thoughts warred inside Ayn’s head. What parts did she want to talk about? It had started how she’d expected. No one in Cristak wanted to be part of her group, except Bren, apparently. Then the actual Crawling…. Well, she wasn’t sure anyone would show up in the morning.

Ayn’s throat constricted as she plastered on a fake grin and marched into the kitchen. Dwelling only made things worse. Best to jump into the fray and deal with it.

Her mother stood at one end of the dining table, her orange hair only a few shades lighter than Ayn’s, and pulled up into a ponytail of almost identical length. Ayn had inherited her mother’s hair and delicate facial structure, yet the red eyes and athletic build from her father. Although some disliked the fact they couldn’t customize newborn Rebirth characters, Ayn quite enjoyed looking like a mix of the people who’d raised her current character.

Various stains, no doubt remnants of the dinner she’d made, spattered her mother’s economically gray cotton slacks and shirt. Miit lay curled up in Ayn’s chair at the other end of the table. A flash of annoyance ran through Ayn. She could have used his company on the way back, yet he’d apparently decided a nap was better. He noticed her entrance and perked up, letting out a squeaky mew. Ayn’s annoyance shriveled up in an instant.

“I made veggie stew with eggs over rice,” her mother said. “Seasoned just the way you like it.”

“Thanks.”

When Ayn got close to her seat, Miit blinked out, only to reappear on her lap the second she sat down, his whole body shaking as he purred. Ayn ran a hand down his back and stared at her dinner. Corn, potatoes and carrots floated in a thin broth in one bowl, casting a sweet-earthy smell into the air which complimented the savory smell of eggs in rice in the other bowl. Part of the ingredients they’d harvested from their own land, while other ingredients were things they’d traded for in town. All of it would taste fresh and complex. The System made sure of that. Her stomach growled at the idea, yet her mouth felt dry.

Her mother got up without a word. She returned a moment later with a glass of milk. Ayn glanced at the drink. Milk cost too many of their crops to get very often. If her mother was giving it to her, it could only mean one thing.

“What happened?” her mother asked.

Ayn sighed. She was truly terrible at hiding things. Of course her mother had figured out something went wrong. “What didn’t? We all argued, the healer wouldn’t heal, I’m pretty sure they all hate me, and after everything that happened, I don’t think the mage is coming back. It’s a good thing I never wanted to leave Cristak, because after this, no one in the world will want to have me in their party.”

Her mother leaned over and squeezed her tightly. She smelled of chickens and dirt, reminding Ayn she hadn’t been around to help with chores. Ayn bowed her head and slipped her hand under Miit’s chin to give it a scratch. He rumbled louder. Now that she was really looking, she noticed the dirt on his usually pristine skin. He hadn’t come to meet her because he’d been helping with chores, as he always did, and without another set of hands, it probably took forever.

“I’m sorry,” Ayn said. “I left you two to do everything so I could Crawl, but I couldn’t even do that properly.”

Her mother straightened up and shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no proper way to Crawl. Each run, each party, is different. That’s the charm.”

“I’m pretty sure the rest of my party disagrees. Especially when we kept nearly dying.”

“And if someone did? They’d Rebirth and have another go. If you died, I’d wait for you, just like for your father.”

Her mother smiled, radiating an assurance Ayn wished she still felt. She’d spent the last six years being told her father’s death in the Dungeon didn’t matter. That his Rebirth into a new character wouldn’t change who he was or his love for the family he had, and he’d seek them out after his character hit adulthood in four more years. Ayn had latched onto the idea after Miit refused to fade away. After all, why would the familiar stay after the summoner’s death unless it thought the summoner would return?