Chương 69: Chapter 044 The Severed Head Said Run

The swordsman with the large blade strode towards Jack's mother, who was hiding amongst the twisted roots of a fallen tree while shielding Zia with her arms. Her eyes, wide with terror, shifted between the brute and her son. The man's seven-foot, rust-encrusted sword was being dragged through the soil with a sound like bone grating on stone. His gaze was fixed on Jack's mom.

"Hand over the ear, and I'll let the girl live." His voice was low and guttural, like rocks grinding in his throat. Jack opened his mouth to scream for his mother to run, but no sound escaped his lips. His lungs were filled with stone. He tried to reach for his bow, but his limbs refused to move. Paralysed, he watched on in helpless terror, trapped in a body that would not obey, while the cruel nightmare unfolded like a cursed play. The swordsman was in no rush.

He hacked through the tree roots, each strike of the rusty blade sending splinters and blood-red sap flying. The roots writhed like snakes, bleeding ink, whispering nonsense in Jack's ears, words in ancient Elven he couldn't comprehend but still understood. Failure… Liar… Murderer… Useless… Behind him, Polly's voice rang out from somewhere unseen.

"Don't worry, Mom. Big, brave Jack the goblin slayer will save you. Yes. Won't you, Jack? No?" Her voice was sing-song, lilting with mockery, but it was distorted, as if she were speaking underwater or through cracked glass. Jack tried to turn towards his sister, but couldn't move. He could feel her presence looming over him, yet her body cast no shadow.

"I want her cast-iron skillet… the good one," said Kyle, the rat-faced rogue, who crouched by the fallen tree. He wore a valet uniform several sizes too small, the ridiculous hat drooping over one bloodshot eye. His throat was slashed wide open, yet he was very much alive, grinning as blood gushed out in a fountain that sprayed the wildflowers in brilliant, impossible colours… vivid blue, searing orange, a shade of red that seemed to grin.

Giant bees collected the blood like nectar, all the while humming a discordant tune. The rat-faced rogue drew Jack's own white oak bow and nocked an arrow that resembled a sharpened quill before aiming at his mother. A large mechanical dragonfly landed on the tip of the rogue's drawn bow. Its wings vibrated in sync with the rogue's count.

"One… Two… Three…" he chanted in a childlike voice. No! Jack screamed inside his head. It's me you want! Me! Please! Kyle turned, grinning wider than any man's face should allow.

"Four… Five… Six." He laughed and released the arrow. The arrow sang through the air like a harmonious choir while morphing into a flaming snake. The arrow struck Jack's mother in the gut with a sickening thud and a burst of blue flames. She crumpled to her knees, gasping, her fingers splayed against the bloody, pulsing wound. Her eyes found Jack's and pleaded for help. But Jack remained paralysed. I have to save her. I have to.

He tried to run to her, but his feet had melted into the ground like a candle on a hot stove. I have to save her. I… He looked down and found his legs were roots, twisted and buried, blood-red sap oozing from scarred bark that used to be skin. Little Zia had vanished, erased like a chalk drawing wiped clean as if she had never existed at all, as if she had never been part of the family. The swordsman stepped closer and raised his flaming sword high.

"Was it Viscount Daelrath who sent you?" he rumbled, lowering his face to Jack's mother. His breath turned the air black.

"Speak while you still can!" he demanded. Then, with a swing almost too fast to follow, he brought the burning blade down. The sword whistled, then bit. Jack's mother's head fell to the earth with a soft thud and rolled to his feet. Her eyes blinked three times. The large swordsman laughed so loud the floor vibrated.

"You'll be fine. Most of the pain is in your head."

"Run, Jack," his mom's severed head screamed as thousands of spiders crawled from her mouth.

"Run!" The spiders merged into two humanoid forms that disappeared behind him in jerky movements. Something grabbed his arms and lifted him into the air. Jack still couldn't move or scream, and even his mind refused to form full thoughts. Mo… Wha… Ple… Mo… Two copies of the male inquisitor were holding him aloft.

"Confess your sins before the Gods, boy." The two male inquisitors said in perfect synchrony.

"Hmm… multiple classes. Town Fool and Blood Mage." Another identical male inquisitor stepped in front of Jack; his eyes glowed a golden hue.

"Guilty!" The inquisitor's skin glowed with golden runes. The other inquisitors echoed the judgement.

"Guilty." A thousand identical voices echoed in his mind.

"Guilty!" The words turned into runes that morphed into burning fire that coated every inch of his body. Jack still couldn't form coherent thoughts. In an instant, every nerve screamed in agony as he felt his body turn to ash and flake apart before being blown into the void of nothingness. The last thing to remain were his eyes, which rolled on the floor before an inquisitor stepped on them! Jack woke with a violent jolt, drenched in sweat and clutching his bedding as though the world would end if he let go.

"Not again," he breathed, his voice cracking as he checked he had a face with his hands.

"Not again." His chest heaved as he buried his face in the bedding, stifling the sobs so he wouldn't wake his family.

"It's not real… just a dream. Everyone's safe," he muttered, though the images still burned behind his eyes. After a few minutes, he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and washed the sweat from his body. He stared at his exhausted reflection in the mirror.

"Will I ever get over my soldier's heart?" Hermes' smirking face glinted in the light. Jack groaned as he crawled back into bed, hoping for a few hours of peace before morning. A few hours later, Jack woke at six again. He yawned and stretched as he thought back to the nightmare and hectic week he'd had.

"I'm taking the day off. I really need a rest." He smiled at the thought of spending the day with his mom. Less than an hour later, he was in the kitchen with his mom and dad eating breakfast.

"…taking it easy for the day," Jack said as he finished his breakfast.

"Thought I'd rest for a couple of days, so I'm fresh for the weekend." His dad nodded as he prepared to leave for work.

"You do look tired, Jack," his mom said.

"A day or two's rest will do you good." A couple of hours passed as Jack relaxed in the kitchen while reading a book on time magic. His mom was preparing food for a local restaurant with Zia's assistance. Polly had already left to meet up with friends. Jack looked at the time. Almost nine. He scratched the back of his neck in thought.

"I'm heading out for a walk, Mom." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Anna frowned.

"Don't overdo it. You said you were going to rest."

"It's just a walk." He chuckled.

"Thought I'd spend a few hours wandering the city. It's been ages since I just walked for no reason." She nodded.

"That's true. You aren't much of a walker." Jack considered retorting, but sighed as he took his book back to his room.

Jack had been aimlessly wandering around Lundun for almost an hour. He was dressed in his hooded cloak, mask, and, of course, carried his bow and dagger. He found himself near one of the smaller dungeons where new adventurers would train their skills killing relatively weak monsters. The dungeon entrance was no longer the grassy hillock on the city's outskirts it once was centuries earlier; Lundun's relentless expansion had long since swallowed it.

Now it sat at the heart of a cramped, cobbled square, its ancient stone archway wedged between a towering tenement and a sprawling aether-pumped foundry. The arch itself was a relic of a forgotten age, its lintel carved with worn runes that the city's best scholars had deciphered to read: Blood for Blood. Iron grilles had been set into the sides of the entrance, their bars worn smooth by decades of adventurers using them as handholds.

Above the arch, a wooden sign proclaimed: Dungeon Threat Level 1 - Suitable for Novices. Around the entrance, a small, chaotic market had sprung up, as inevitable as moss on a damp stone. Canvas-and-brass stalls hawked everything a budding adventurer could need: cheap leather armour, mismatched boots, dented helms, and racks of half-rusted shortswords.

A gnome with a mechanical monocle was selling 'guaranteed' healing potions from a bubbling cauldron, while a burly dwarf haggled loudly over the price of a dented shield. The air was thick with the mingled scents of fried street food, oiled metal, spent aether-steam, and—faint but unmistakable—the copper-tang of old blood wafting up from the dungeon's depths.

A small crowd of would-be adventurers milled about the entrance, some checking their gear, others nervously eyeing the darkness within, while a pair of Guild clerks sat at a folding table, collecting entry fees. Jack paused, letting the familiar chaos wash over him. He'd passed this place many times in his past life, but he'd never had a reason to venture inside. Now, with his bow on his back and a few days of training under his belt, the option felt tempting.

He was about to turn and continue his walk when a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

"… and I'm telling you, we don't need anyone else! We're strong enough on our own!" Ben's voice carried that particular note of arrogant confidence that made Jack's eye twitch. Jack slowed his pace, curiosity getting the better of him. Through the gaps in the crowd, he spotted the four young adventurers he'd met in the forest, Mary, Ben, Carol, and Arthur. They were with a fifth figure he recognised from the Guild a few days earlier.

He was a large warrior with a shield who he'd seen speaking with Mary and the others. The group of young adventurers were standing in a loose circle near the dungeon entrance, deep in discussion.

"We need a ranged specialist," Mary was saying, her voice patient but firm.

"The blood spiders can leap, and we don't have anyone who can pick them off before they get close."

"We've got me." Ben gestured with his chipped sword.

"I'll cut 'em down. No problem."

"You got bitten three times by a rabbit last week," Arthur said. The spearman's tone was calm, but the words landed like a slap.

"And that rabbit was already in a snare." Ben's face reddened.

"That was different. It got me by surprise; I wasn't ready." Carol, the healer, shook her head.

"It really wasn't."

"I still say we need an archer," Mary insisted.

"Or at least someone who can throw a damn knife with some accuracy. This is our first dungeon run. I don't want to end up carried out on a stretcher because we got overconfident." She glanced at Ben. The large warrior with the shield rubbed his chin.

"Mary's right. You've been trying to find a ranged fighter for weeks. No one's interested in joining a party with a Novice Mage who can barely cast [Ember Flicker] without burning herself." Mary's cheeks flushed.

"Barney! I'm getting better."

"You singed your eyebrows last week," Carol pointed out.

"One time." She sighed. Jack stood at the edge of the crowd, listening to the bickering with a growing smile beneath his mask. They haven't changed a bit. He remembered the goblin hunt he'd been invited to, but instead practised alone in the forest, only to be attacked by a goblin. The irony was almost too perfect. He started to walk away, not wanting to get involved. He had enough problems without adding a dungeon run with a reckless swordsman to the list. Then Ben spotted him.

"Hey! You there! The one with the bow!" Jack froze mid-step. Oh, for the love of… Not again. Ben was already striding towards him, the others trailing behind with expressions ranging from hopeful to mortified.

"You're an archer, right? A good one? You've got that look about you… The look of a man who knows his way around a bow." Jack turned, keeping his hood low and his mask firmly in place.

"I… erm…"

"See? I knew it." Ben clapped him on the shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off balance.

"We're heading into the dungeon. First run. We need an archer. You're perfect." Jack laughed; he couldn't help it. This is exactly what happened in the forest.

"You do realise you know nothing about me? I could be a terrible archer. I could be a wanted criminal. I could be…"

"Don't care." Ben waved his hand dismissively.

"You've got a bow, you can shoot stuff, you're coming with us." Mary finally caught up and grabbed Ben by the arm.

"Ben, for the love of all the Gods, stop accosting random strangers." She turned to Jack, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry. He's… he means well. He's just a complete moron." Jack chuckled again.

"Yeah, I know." Mary blinked.

"Wait. How do you…" Jack reached up and pulled his mask down, revealing his face.

"Hey, Mary." She stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened with recognition.

"Jack! The… the archer from the forest." A grin spread across her face. Ben looked between them, confused.

"Wait, you know each other?"

"We met a few days ago. You were there, you idiot." Mary sighed.

"Don't you remember? He was just starting archery training. We gave him directions to the practice clearing." She turned back to Jack as Ben shrugged.

"How's the training going?"

"Not too bad," Jack admitted. He glanced around to make sure Sam and Linda weren't nearby.

"Actually, I've been using the Guild's training rooms. They're a lot safer than the forest." He paused.

"Speaking of which… you lot been back there?" Ben groaned.

"We spent three hours hiking through the forest and didn't see a single goblin. Not one. It was a complete waste of a day." Mary sighed.

"The forest has been hunted clean. That's why we're here now." She gestured at the dungeon entrance.

"The Guild confirmed this dungeon is safe for Novices. Mostly blood rats, blood spiders, and the occasional goblin. We're just… nervous about going in without ranged support." Jack looked at the group. Mary's hopeful expression. Carol's nervous smile. Arthur's quiet, appraising gaze. Barney's patient waiting. And Ben. Ben was practically vibrating with excitement like an overeager puppy about to chase a stick. This is a terrible idea, Jack thought. I should say no. I should walk away.

I've got enough problems without…

"We could really use your help," Mary said.

"Please. We've thoroughly researched the dungeon, and it's as safe as a dungeon gets." Jack felt his resolve crumbling.

"I've only been training for a few days, you know. I'm hardly an expert."

"Better than nothing," Ben declared.

"Don't worry, I'll protect us all. It'll be an easy run. I promise." Jack ignored him and accessed his [Perfect Recall] skill, pulling up everything he'd read about the dungeon. His mental file was thin, having little interest in dungeons in his past life. Most of the information came from a brief entry in one of the Guild's reference books. The dungeon was old, a dilapidated castle of some kind, built in a style that predated the Kingdom of Mercia's founding.

It had been overrun decades ago by fast-spawning nests of blood rats and blood spiders that had multiplied unchecked until the Guild started sending adventurers in to cull them. Blood rats and blood spiders, Jack thought. D og-sized rats and spiders the size of rabbits. They b ite for blood. The s piders have a weak paralytic venom. Would take a dozen bites to incapacitate a grown man. Goblins spawn occasionally, but the other monsters usually kill them first because they're territorial.

It was, by dungeon standards, remarkably safe. The real challenge wasn't the monsters; it was navigating the crumbling castle without falling through a rotten floorboard.

"I know a bit about this dungeon. It's tempting… It would help me level faster," Jack said.

"It's old. Predates the Kingdom. The architecture is supposed to be a bit dicey in places… you'll want to watch where you step. Most of the monsters are weak enough that a coordinated party should handle them without much trouble."

"You're in, John." Ben slapped his back again.

"Perfect. We leave in ten minutes."

"Ben! His name's Jack. Try to keep up." Mary gave Jack a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Jack. We really appreciate this." Jack sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

"Just don't blame me if I end up shooting Ben in the backside by accident." His smile turned into a grin. Or deliberately. The others laughed; even Ben chuckled.