The World's First Dungeon Vs Zane

The bush came alive under moonlight.

Silvery beams threaded through the gum trees, casting long, dancing shadows across the undergrowth. Dry leaves crackled beneath their boots, and every sudden snap of twig made both men freeze, ears twitching like wary hounds.

Zane adjusted the straps of his leather chest piece, machete slung across his back, eyes constantly scanning the darkness. Beside him, Tarni walked with a slow swagger, his new favourite weapon resting on his shoulder — a dented old aluminium baseball bat with peeling black tape on the handle. He'd pulled it out of Zane's shed earlier that afternoon with a triumphant shout and declared it "perfect for goblin-whackin'."

"You sure you don't want something sharper?" Zane had asked.

"Mate," Tarni had grinned, "I'm not trying to kill 'em. Just stun the slimy bastards. Bell's gotta get her shots in, remember?"

Now, in the pale light, the bat looked almost clean. Tarni had wiped it down with some WD-40 and elbow grease, but the dents along the barrel said it had seen action — probably cricketed a few tennis balls in its time before graduating to goblin skulls.

They moved in silence, deeper into the scrub.

Eventually, Tarni paused and pointed at the ground. "Tracks."

Zane crouched beside them — small, three-toed impressions in the mud. Goblin.

"And fresh," Zane murmured.

The two men exchanged a glance. Then, quietly, they started their approach, one looking for a good angle, the other tightening his grip on the bat.

The goblin was crouched near a fallen log, its wiry back turned to them, clawed hands digging into the bark for grubs or beetles or whatever passed for dinner. It muttered to itself in that awful wet growl of a language, unaware of the two humans slowly stalking closer through the bush.

Zane signalled with two fingers — a silent countdown.

Three… Two… One—

Tarni burst forward with a roar, bat raised high like a gladiator about to drop the hammer.

The goblin shrieked and spun — just in time for the bat to come down way too hard. There was a loud THWACK and the creature's head snapped sideways like a melon hit with a mallet. It collapsed in a heap, twitching once before going completely still.

Tarni stood over it, panting. "Well… shit."

Zane jogged up behind him, eyes wide. "You were meant to stun it, not pulverise it!"

"I did stun it!" Tarni protested, poking the goblin with the bat. It didn't move. "Just… permanently."

Zane sighed and crouched down, watching as the goblin's body began to bubble and melt away like all the others. "There goes that one."

Tarni scratched the back of his head. "Okay, maybe the bat's a bit too effective."

"You think?"

"Could've been the swing," Tarni muttered. "Might've got carried away. Adrenaline's a bitch."

Zane looked at him flatly. "You full-on home-run-smashed its skull. We're supposed to be catching them alive."

"Well next time, you do the stunning and I'll wrangle the cable ties."

"Deal."

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They stood there for a moment, watching the goo soak into the forest floor. The silence was broken by a distant kookaburra cackling like it was mocking them.

Zane adjusted his machete. "Let's keep going. Maybe we'll find one that's dumber and slower."

"Or one wearing a helmet," Tarni muttered.

They moved quieter this time.

After the first goblin-shaped disaster, Zane had reminded Tarni — multiple times — that they weren't out here to rack up XP. They were out here to give Bell more chances to level. That meant capturing, not killing. Tarni, still sheepish from accidentally braining the last one, had reluctantly agreed to let Zane take the lead this round.

Zane's hands were full with what could generously be called a weapon: a fishing net duct-taped to an old broom handle. They'd found both in the garden shed back at the house, along with a roll of black cable ties and an ancient tool belt that now held their improvised restraints.

"It looks like the world's dodgiest butterfly net," Tarni muttered, eyeing it with a smirk.

"Worked better than your bat last time," Zane whispered back, crouching low behind a wall of bracken. The cricket bat, now wrapped in strips of bike tyre for extra padding, was slung across Tarni's back.

They'd spotted the goblins ten minutes earlier — five of them, huddled around a half-eaten kangaroo carcass. The smell hit hard, even from the tree line. Goblins tore and gnawed at the meat, growling and shrieking like feral dogs. One had a chunk of femur and was swinging it at another like a club.

"Bloody charming," Tarni muttered. "Should've brought a dead chook for bait."

Zane didn't answer. He was already creeping into position.

The plan was simple: net one, distract the others, tie it down, repeat. It had a 30% chance of working and a 90% chance of going sideways, but they were out of options.

Zane signaled. Tarni nodded.

Then — snap. A twig under Zane's boot.

One goblin's head shot up. Eyes locked. Snarled.

"Now!" Zane hissed.

It exploded into chaos.

Zane launched himself forward and swung the net, catching one of the goblins straight across the chest. It shrieked, claws lashing, but the net tangled it good. Zane twisted the handle, dropping his weight to yank it off its feet.

Tarni charged, bat in hand, going for the legs this time. He cracked one across the shin and it crumpled, howling. Another lunged at him and got a bat to the ribs for its trouble.

Two goblins broke and ran into the bush — too fast, too wild to chase. The last one came at Zane, shrieking murder.

Zane caught it with a kick, knocking it back, but not out.

Tarni moved in fast, dodged a wild swipe, then tackled the goblin, driving it into the dirt. "I've got this one!"

"Legs first!" Zane shouted, wrestling his own into position. The net did most of the work, but the goblin was squirmy. He finally got a cable tie looped around its wrists, then yanked its ankles together.

Zip! Tight.

Tarni grunted as he cinched the second one up. "This one's out cold. Not dead."

Zane glanced around the clearing. Two goblins tied. Two gone. One unconscious, maybe breathing. The bush had gone still around them, heavy and thick with the stink of rot and goblin sweat.

He didn't relax. Neither of them did.

Tarni stayed crouched, eyes scanning the shadows. "You think there's more?"

Zane adjusted the grip on the net pole. "Probably. But not here. Let's move fast."

After one last sweep of the clearing, Tarni moved to the last unconscious goblin they hadn't zip-tied. He brought his bat down hard on its small green skull, which burst like a grapefruit. Its body began to dissolve into the ground.

Standing back up straight, Tarni said, "Well that's a good sign. Means we're out of combat."

Just as he finished speaking —

Bing!

Tarni levelled up.

"Awesome! I levelled up. I'm catching up to you," Tarni exclaimed. "What do you think I should spend my 3 points on?"

Zane thought for a moment before asking, "What are your stats now?"

"Well, including my bonus from my title, they are:

"Strength at a awesome 11, Dex at dextress 12, good old Constitution is 9, Intelligence is 12, Wisdom is a whopping 6 now, and my charming Charisma is at 10."

With a bit of a laugh, Zane replied, "Wow, your Wisdom is at a whopping 6 now? That'd explain why your ideas aren't as horrible as they used to be."

"Laugh it up, mister Intelligence at 7 even after three level-ups," Tarni said, crossing his arms.

"Okay mate, fair point. Now about those 3 points — I think we're gonna be fighting bigger and smarter opponents soon, so I don't think you could ever have too much HP."

Unfolding his arms and tapping his chin in thought, Tarni decided.

"Good call. I'm gonna put 2 into Constitution and 1 into Wisdom."

With that, Tarni used his finger to tap the interface.

"That's bettera. Let's head back."

Zane rolled his eyes. "Still not a word, mate."

"Bettera than your vocab," Tarni shot back.

They double-checked the ties — wrists, ankles, teeth away from skin — then started dragging the goblins back toward the house. The moon hung high over the treetops, casting shadows like ink across the trail.

Tarni puffed as he hauled one by its legs. "You reckon Bell's up for this?"

Zane didn't answer right away. He just glanced over at the squirming bundle behind him and nodded once.

"She will be."