Chapter 357: The Impossible Dungeon
"That’s impossible!" A player barked as he crawled out of the Fountain of Revival, which is what they had come to call the pool of blood that players respawned in.
The player in question was a dwarf, which were not small and stubby bearded men. Instead they were massive, hulking behemoths that looked like bears with how much hair covered their bodies.
Many people had been disappointed when they had found out the truth of Dwarven stature, whilst others had loved it more. Those who were much more into exploring the Lore of Dawd eventually found that the Dwarves themselves were fully aware of the reputation the Graceless had of them, and it was even a reputation that preceded them in this world.
It was a reputation that had been generated centuries ago, after humans met Giants, who Dwarves often shared their mountainous homes with. The fact that Giant’s were the ones calling them short, and the reality of what that really meant, had not really crossed the minds of the first humans and they hadn’t met enough Dwarves to dispel the rumours.
Even now, it persisted, as Dwarves either lived in their secluded cities, or those that lived alongside the other species were often mistaken for another race such as Wild-Bloods or even Giant’s themselves.
This colossal dwarven player flicked his blood soaked hair out of his face and rung out his beard in annoyance as he was once again in the starting rags, as was the rest of his party that were crawling out of the pool behind him.
"Boss," One of his subordinates muttered nervously, "Do you think this means that someone else will get the first clear before us? We got the deepest, but there were some other really good teams going for that dungeon."
The Dwarven player glanced at his resurrected party before scoffing,
"No, We’ll be fine. No one is going to be clearing that thing any time soon. It’s utterly unfair. I mean why would anything think a hell dungeon would turn cold like that? And you remember that gold demon? Just getting to him is a challenge, nevermind beating that thing.
It’s like they designed it to be an actual hell to torment us. But Don’t you worry, Forge Heart will definitely be the first guild to beat that awful dungeon."
***
A Yeti staggered backwards, it’s ferocious roar turning into little more than a feeble gurgle thanks to the axe blade that was embedded in its torso, cleaving through its shoulder and into its chest, nearly cutting the entire top of its body off.
As it slammed down onto the floor, finishing its fearsome death gurgle, its friend let out a bellowing roar of anger in his stead. It’s massive, skull crushing hands clenched into fists as it threw devastating punches towards the one responsible for its brothers death.
Lilith weaved between the punches, taking a few lessons from Belladonna’s play book, before thrusting her head forwards in a headbutt to meet the next blow. She had heard the term ’Face Tank’ being thrown around by her man, and she took it as a direct challenge.
Fist met Head which let out a sickening crack as, unfortunately for the white haired monster, fist lost.
The Yeti stumbled back, roaring in pain as it clutched its broken hand, blood seeping into its perfect white fur. Lilith quickly closed the gap.
Wrapping her leg around the Yeti’s leg, she grabbed it by the back of the head and swept its leg out. With a heavy shove, she drove its head down, right into the other blade of her double bladed axe, reuniting the furry friends in death.
Standing tall, Lilith let out a bloodthirsty and feral roar of her own, spreading her Aura outwards as it fed off of the bloodshed, and letting it bring her more enemies as they fell for her taunt. The next Yeti that attacked her didn’t even get the privilege of punching her in the face, as she simply slipped around it, wrapped her hands around its waist and lifted it off the ground into a neck snapping suplex.
Not far from her, A Yeti was roaring in mindless rage as it slammed its hands down into the ground over and over. Its eyes were bloodshot as it repeatedly smashed the ground, each blow shattering the ice encrusted stone and trembling the earth, as it tried to crush the horde of little people that were pestering it like insects.
But no matter how many it smashed, the grey haired women wouldn’t die. They didn’t splatter, they just faded into smoke when it smashed them.
It heaved up both of its hands, leaping over to the next little woman and bringing both fists down to crush her puny body. But just before it could, the little woman exploded into smoke, and a thick serpent lunged from the smoke at the Yeti.
Its eyes widened in horror as it stumbled back, but the serpent quickly coiled around its body. It smashed its own fists into its body, desperately trying to crush the snake, but it kept moving.
When the serpent moved its head up until it was looking into the Yeti’s eyes and hissed, the Yeti roared back and swung his fist up as hard as he could. It tore through the snake, which was little more than smoke, and slammed into its own face.
The Yeti’s eyes rolled back and it stumbled drunkenly, before falling to its knees as its vision blurred.
When it finally cleared its vision and lifted its head, it found itself staring at the tip of a wand, which immediately engulfed its vision, and its body, in roaring flames.
Vestra lifted her head from the smouldering corpse that she had created and cast her eyes lazily across the half a dozen other Yeti’s she had ensnared in her various illusions.
Although she regretted being seduced, for lack of a better word, by the Succubus, it had opened her eyes. The lack of restraint she had shown, especially from burrowing into her own trauma. It was like under her control the subconscious thing that had been holding her back had simply been flipped off, opening up the range of her abilities.
Even still, she was nothing compared to others. As a mage she was falling behind even Belladonna, and against anything that wasn’t convinced by her illusions, she was seriously hindered.
However, only by being aware of her weaknesses, could she address them.
She glanced at Figg, who had taken the form of a strange extinct animal that Vestra had never heard of before, but Figg had insisted he had seen in a museum.
It was a massive beast that had flesh ripping claws that could easily contend with the Yeti’s and when it stood to its full height even towered over the white furred beasts. Although Figg’s version of the beast was made of wood, it seemed right at home in this environment and was horribly efficient at culling anything that came close to it.
It made her glad that these ’Polar Bears’ didn’t exist in real life.