The air was thick with the scent of mildew and ancient stone. A dampness that clung to Lethanda''s skin like a second cloak. Shadows writhed along the walls of the ancient castle with the flickering torchlight. Casting eerie shifting patterns that played tricks on the eyes.
She could taste the musty age of the place with each breath. A mix of dust and decay that lingered at the back of her throat.
Ahead. Flames erupted from Arcanis''s fingertips. Scorching tendrils that illuminated the vast chamber. The roar of fire mingled with the guttural snarls of the snapping werewolves. Their eyes gleaming with feral hunger.
The heat washed over her. A stark contrast to the chill that seeped from the stones beneath her feet.
Delsadar stood at the heart of the chaos. Towering and unyielding. His arm muscles rippled beneath armour adorned with trophies of past conquests. With a mighty roar that seemed to shake the very foundations he drew the attention of the largest werewolf — a hulking beast with matted fur and fangs like daggers.
They clashed. In a storm of steel and claw, the Barbarian’s huge twin axes biting into flesh deeply. Each strike sending sparks and droplets of blood into the air.
Ceri moved like a wraith around Delsadar. Her daggers flashing silver in the dim light. She darted out from behind him. Slicing tendons and throats with lethal precision. Before disappearing back into his shadow. The scent of blood was sharp in the air. Metallic and warm mingling with the earthy aroma of damp stone.
Arcanis''s flames swirled around them. A vortex of heat that licked at their foes but left allies untouched. The fire seemed almost alive. Curving gracefully to avoid Delsadar and Ceri but enveloping the werewolves in searing embrace. The mage stood with eyes alight. The power coursing through him evident in the crackle of energy that danced along his runed robes.
Firestorm, Lethanda mused. Her fingers releasing arrow after arrow in a fluid unending motion. The string of her bow thrummed with each release. A steady rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. Arcanis had truly mastered the class ability - channelling devastation without harming his companions. Individually the flames might not fell a beast. But collectively they wore down the horde with relentless fury.
A sudden howl of pain tore through the cacophony. Lethanda''s gaze snapped to Delsadar just as a werewolf''s claw raked across his chest tearing through armour and flesh alike. Blood flowed freely. Dark and glistening.
He bellowed. Not in anguish but in defiance. Raising his axes to the vaulted ceiling.
The animation of his battle cry was breathtaking – Lethanda admitted to herself - axes crossed above his head. Muscles straining - a primal scream that resonated deep within her.
The surrounding werewolves recoiled momentarily. Stunned by the display. Seizing the advantage Delsadar charged the massive beast. Slamming into it with such force that the creature was driven into the stone wall. The impact sent a tremor through the floor. Dust raining from the cracks above.
From the corner of her eye Lethanda saw Piopei step forward. His clerical robes shimmering with ethereal light. Intricate runes pulsed along the fabric as he raised his staff high.
A soft glow enveloped Delsadar. The grievous wound on his chest knitting together as if time itself had reversed. The scent of healing—a mix of lavender and something indefinably pure — cut through the stench of battle.
The smell was a source of much online debate. Lethanda swore it smelled of vanilla and cherries. Ceri had said it was like walking into a bakers. The smell of fresh bread and dough. Her suspicion was that it was different for everyone. A joke in the code from the Dev’s.
She couldn''t help but admire Piopei''s skill. His timing was impeccable. His dedication to the role unwavering. A valuable addition to their Guild. Despite the uncertainties that lingered.
Guild. The thought tugged at her momentarily. Pulling her from the immediacy of combat. They had debated many names before settling on ‘Fellowship of Aletra.’ She hadn''t been keen on forming a guild initially; the game mechanics hadn''t supported it meaningfully anyway until the recent patch. Now with shared currencies, guild-specific loot and instanced housing it made sense. Still the shift in dynamics was something she grappled with.
A feral snarl snapped her back to reality. A werewolf lunged at her. Jaws wide and eyes burning with malice. She sidestepped smoothly. The movement almost a dance. Feeling the air whip past as its claws missed her by inches.
The adrenaline sharpened her senses—the coarse texture of the stone underfoot. The faint vibration of Arcanis''s spells. The coppery tang of blood.
Drawing a deep breath she summoned her most potent ability. Shadows coalesced around her. A cloak of darkness that seemed to absorb the light. Above her, a spectral archer materialized mirroring her stance. The figure was wreathed in tendrils of night. Eyes glowing with an otherworldly fire.
Together they loosed their arrows. Hers was tangible the feathered shaft slicing through the air with lethal intent. The spectral arrow followed. A streak of darkness that left a trail of shimmering void. They struck the colossal werewolf simultaneously—the physical arrow piercing its eye, the spectral one plunging into its heart.
The beast''s roar died in its throat. It staggered. Disbelief etched across its savage features before collapsing in a heap. Silence descended, punctuated only by the crackle of fading flames and the ragged breaths of the party.
Lethanda lowered her bow. Her fingers tingling from the release. If this was reality exhaustion would hit her now she knew—a weight that would settle in her limbs accompanied by the slowing of her heartbeat. Instead she felt a surge of vigour as the boss died.
Ceri approached wiping her daggers clean on a torn piece of cloth. "Nicely done," she said with a grin. Her eyes sparkling with the thrill of victory.
"Couldn''t have done it without all of you," Lethanda replied, a weary smile. Physical exhaustion might not affect her avatar. But she’d been online for ten hours now.
Arcanis joined them, his robes singed but his expression triumphant. "Found these," he announced holding up a pair of gloves that seemed oddly untouched by the surrounding carnage. They shimmered with a soft light intricate patterns etched into the material.
"Well-earned," Piopei said, his voice gentle.
He began to tend to the minor wounds of the group. A soothing warmth emanating from his hands. Injuries started to quickly disappear. Lethanda watched him carefully. The earlier doubts resurfacing.
They had debated Piopei''s place in their guild. His skill was undeniable but there was something off—a hesitation in his responses. A formality that felt out of place the occasional mis-understanding to simple interactions.
Was he using a translation mod? Struggling with a language barrier?
Or worse. Using a banned AI RP chat mod? The idea unsettled her. She cherished genuine interaction. The nuances of personality that made each encounter unique.
But now wasn''t the time to dwell on such thoughts.
The air began to stir. A chill wind whispering through the corridors. The castle seemed to groan with the ancient stones shifting as if alive. Lethanda''s skin prickled, with the fine hairs on her arms standing on end.
"Onward?" Delsadar''s voice was steady. But there was an edge to it — a recognition that greater challenges lay ahead.
"Yes" she agreed adjusting the strap of her quiver. "The next adversary won''t wait."
Literally, she thought. It was on a five minute enrage timer as soon as this boss fell. The group needed to push on quickly or risk a wipe. A mere annoyance on a Gates of Baraadon PvE server. Deadly on their hardcore RP realm.
They moved as one through the labyrinthine passages. The torches here were fewer. With the darkness more oppressive. The scent changed—less of decay more of something cold and unnatural. Whispers seemed to echo from unseen corners. Words just beyond comprehension.
As they ascended a spiral staircase Lethanda ran her fingers along the wall. The stone was impossibly smooth. Almost slick to the touch. An odd detail, she noted—a break from the rough-hewn textures elsewhere. It pulled her momentarily from the immersion. Real castles wouldn''t have such inconsistencies.
She pushed the thought aside. The atmosphere was too rich. Too intoxicating to spoil with over-analysis. Every sense was heightened—the echo of their footsteps. The faint metallic taste of impending danger. The subtle shift in air pressure as they neared the next chamber.
Her new neural link had allowed her to ramp the games sensation and bio-feedback settings to the very highest possible. The effect could be overwhelming at times - but absolutely worth it. Ceri had been in hysterics when she’d told her.
At the top of the stairs massive doors loomed before them. Carved with symbols that pulsed with a faint blue light. A cold draft seeped through the cracks. Carrying with it the distant sound of chanting.
"Ready yourselves," Piopei whispered, his grip tightening on his staff.
Lethanda exchanged a glance with Ceri. Both nodding in silent agreement. Arcanis''s eyes flickered with anticipation. The runes on his sleeves beginning to glow with burning flames.
Delsadar placed his hands on the doors - the muscles in his arms flexing. With a heave he pushed them open. The ancient hinges protesting with a low groan.
They stepped into the chamber beyond. The air was immediately different—thick with arcane energy and the cloying scent of incense. At the centre stood a figure draped in tattered robes surrounded by swirling mists. Vampiric eyes met theirs a predatory smile revealing elongated fangs.
"Welcome," the creature hissed. Its voice echoing unnaturally.
Lethanda felt a surge of adrenaline. Her senses sharpened—the coolness of the bow in her hand, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the distant thrum of her heartbeat all syncing with the tension in the room.
"Together," she whispered, drawing a silver-headed arrow.
*
The dungeon had been long, hard hours spent. But ahead the last of the undead guardians lumbered into view—mighty creatures of bone twisted into grotesque shapes. Razor-sharp claws extended from their fingers. Barbed teeth gnashed together in silent menace. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue light, casting an otherworldly hue over the chamber.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Let''s end this," Delsadar growled, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. His massive frame was tense. Muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The weight of his twin axes seemed negligible in his grasp.
Lethanda felt the smooth curve of her bow beneath her fingers. The wood cool and familiar. The fletching of an arrow brushed against her cheek as she drew it back. The slight resistance of the string a comforting tension.
She could taste the dampness of the air a mix of earth and something faintly sweet but rotten—like overripe fruit left for days on end. Even a ‘sensationalist’ like her was looking forward to being away from this putrid place.
Beside her Ceri laughed — a bright effervescent sound that cut through the gloom.
She moved like a shadow. Her leather armour whispering with each swift motion. With a flicker she vanished. Reappearing behind one of the skeletal monstrosities. Her daggers flashed in the dim light and plunged deep into brittle bone. The creature crumbled, and Ceri danced away re-emerging near Delsadar with a playful wink.
"Show-off," Lethanda murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.
They unleashed their attacks with abandon. Arcanis stood slightly apart. His robes swirling around him as he summoned flames from the ether. The heat rolled over Lethanda in waves. Carrying the scent of sulfur and singed air. Fireballs erupted from his fingertips exploding upon impact and showering the area with sparks.
Piopei lifted his staff. A soft glow emanating from the crystal at its tip. The warmth of his healing magic pulsed through them. Mending minor wounds and invigorating weary muscles. His chants were melodic. A gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the melee.
The last two bosses had fallen with ease—a testament to their groups synergy and overwhelming power. Ceri and Lethanda''s combined single target damage output was devastating to lone bosses like those. Their DPS was good. Very good. Meanwhile Piopei''s specialised buffs kept them at peak condition and added a further edge.
But the final boss awaited—a Necromancer. Lethanda had slain him many times before. Familiarity had bred caution; she knew his deadly mechanics demanded respect.
She pushed the thought aside. No point dwelling on game mechanics now.
The rain of blows continued against the undead. Ceri was in her element. Laughter bubbling forth as she weaved between enemies. Her new teleportation ability allowed her to slip behind foes. Daggers finding the gaps in their defences, before she vanished once more. The exhilaration she had for this newfound freedom of movement was palpable.
"This is almost too easy!" she called out, eyes gleaming.
"Don''t jinx it," Arcanis replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. Flames danced across his palms, reflecting in his eyes.
Lethanda drew another arrow. The feathers brushing her skin. She inhaled deeply. The scent of aged wood mingling with the damp air. Releasing the string she watched as the arrow flew true. Piercing the skull of an advancing skeleton. It collapsed in a heap of bones the blue glow fading from its eyes. She drew another. Then another. The metronome of the repetition reminding her of the gun range somewhat.
This dungeon’s doing a lot for us she mused. For Delsadar and Arcanis defeating the Necromancer would unlock a questline leading to the Escar Tundras—a windswept land of ice and snow. For Piopei this was a trial. Ceri as Guildmaster would decide if he was to join them permanently. The suspicion that he might be using a banned RP AI chatbot complicated things. But a decision couldn’t be put off any longer.
She didn''t want to think about that. Not now.
The fight raged on but victory was inevitable. Everyone was in sync. The unchained barbarian—Delsadar—was a force of nature. His battle cries echoing through the chamber. This was also a fight where Piopei would shine.
"Your moment Piopei!" Lethanda shouted.
He nodded. Eyes serene. Raising his staff he began to chant. A radiant light burst forth enveloping the remaining undead. The Turn Undead ability—a damaging class skill unaffected by his healing specialisation. The creatures recoiled. Their forms disintegrating under the holy onslaught.
"Bit overpowered," Lethanda muttered. Probably due for a nerf in the next patch.
She shook off the thought. Focus.
Ceri had proven to be the perfect Guildmaster. Her laughter and easy charm put people at ease. She''d insisted Lethanda take on the role of dungeon and raid leader. It made sense—her ranger abilities were tailored for guiding others through perilous paths.
Ceri led the people; Lethanda led the battles. Their synergy kept the guild strong - especially since they were online most of the time.
The battle intensified. The second phase had triggered.
From the surrounding graves more undead clawed their way to the surface—minions. Weak individually but overwhelming in numbers. The scent of freshly turned earth and decay assaulted her senses. The ground trembled beneath the sheer volume of their advance.
"Arcanis - we need crowd control!" Delsadar barked.
"On it!" the mage responded. Hands weaving intricate patterns. Flames erupted in a wide arc consuming the horde. The heat was searing. Lethanda felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple.
They all played their part. Ceri darted through the fray striking with lethal precision. Delsadar held the line his axes cleaving through enemies with brute strength. Piopei''s healing light bathed them warding off fatigue.
They''d needed ten signatures to form the guild. Their time spent aiding newcomers had paid off—their friends list was extensive. Good people they''d met on their journeys. Reaching out had been easy and soon they were a guild of nearly twenty.
A ‘carebear’ guild, Lethanda had thought with a smile. They weren''t rushing through game content; they savoured it.
The final event phase began. Bones scattered across the battlefield -levitated. Assembling themselves into a colossal form above them.
"Brace yourselves," Lethanda warned.
A mighty dragon composed entirely of bone loomed overhead. Its wings spanned the width of the chamber. Casting them in shadow. The developers had cleverly faded the ceiling into mist to accommodate its size. The air grew colder, the temperature dropping sharply. Frost formed on the stones beneath their feet.
"None of you shall live to challenge my master!" the dragon snarled, its voice a guttural echo that rattled in her chest.
Her heart raced. The chill seeped into her but she steadied herself. Drawing a special arrow tipped with obsidian she felt the smoothness of the shaft. The delicate balance. This was it.
Her arrow sliced through the air—a signal. Delsadar let out a fierce roar. Charging forward with reckless abandon.
"For glory!" he cried.
Arcanis began casting. Arcane symbols swirling around him. The air hummed with energy. Ceri vanished into the shadows. Reappearing atop the dragon''s spine.
Lethanda felt every fibre of her being focused. The sounds around her dulled—the clashing of weapons. The roars. The crackling of magic—all became a distant echo.
She nocked another arrow the string taut under her fingertips.
"Aim for the wing joints!" she shouted.
The dragon unleashed a torrent of necrotic energy. The miasma spreading across the battlefield. The stench of death intensified. A putrid odour that clawed at her throat.
"Watch out!" Piopei warned, his healing aura expanding to shield them.
They dodged and weaved. Each movement precise. A dance of knowing where to position themselves.
Lethanda''s arrows found their marks. Piercing the delicate structures that held the creature aloft. Arcanis''s spells bombarded it with flames, even a rare lightning bolt tearing through bone.
Ceri moved with lethal grace. Her daggers striking vital points. She laughed—a wild unrestrained sound—as she evaded the dragon''s thrashing.
"Keep it up!" Delsadar encouraged, his axes cleaving into the beast''s hind legs.
The dragon''s movements became sluggish. Cracks formed along its skeletal frame. Dark energy leaking out like blood. It let out a deafening roar - a final act of defiance.
Low health. Execute phase.
"Now! All together!" Lethanda commanded.
They unleashed their strongest attacks simultaneously. The impact was catastrophic. The dragon shuddered. Its form collapsing in on itself. Bones scattered - clattering to the ground in a cascade.
*
She logged off but her mind refused to wind down. The game lingered in her senses. Even more so since she’d maxed out the settings. The sights. The sounds. The thrill of victory.
Sleep was a distant prospect. It’d been taking her over an hour now after log off before rest was possible. She moved through her apartment with quiet efficiency. Each step smooth and deliberate. Muscles responded with ease now, making her movements almost graceful.
Unrolling her workout mat. She dropped into push-ups. One two three—each rep steady and precise. Transitioned to sit-ups. Plank. Feeling the controlled contraction of her core. The routine helped. Burning off excess energy and refocused her on the simple mundanities of reality. Breathing. The feel of her own muscles moving.
Despite all this. The thought of dialling back the neural link settings was unthinkable.
She grabbed a protein bar and chewed mechanically while squeezing a tennis ball rhythmically over and over in the other. Washed it down with bottled water and swallowed her vitamin tablets.
Terrance had her on max doses of Vitamin D - and others - after some recent blood work found major deficiencies. Weeks of this regimen had settled into a habit. But at 3:30 am it was still a grind.
After Delsadar and Arcanis logged off much earlier she and Ceri stayed behind guiding guildmates through quests in Aletra. Piopei joined for a while.
Ceri appreciated his attitude and added him to their gaming back-channel. From his availability Lucy guessed he was either a student or a shut-in otaku. Maybe both. He seemed to have nearly as much free gaming time as she and Ceri did.
She eyed the new chin-up bar installed over the foot of her bed. Freshly set up yesterday. Her power tools bought to install the barricade had had another brief outing. Gripping it. She pulled herself up. One two three four five. Her arms moved with an ease that surprised her. Dropping back down she noted the lack of strain. Progress. She gave it a few seconds before another set of reps.
The trauma bot''s advice had led her to mindfulness streams and vids. Her concrete apartment. Once bare. Now played soft music; bubbling brooks, forest sounds. She let it wash over her.
Despite her frugality, she''d bought a small noise-cancelling generator to drown out the city''s hum. A sleep lamp and incense candles too—vanilla and strawberries. Ceri had recommended them in a private chat.
Harsh overhead lights were replaced by muted earth tones from the nightlight. The scent filled the room as she sat cross-legged on a new cushion before a burning candle. Decluttering her mind.
Small changes, she mused. But better than nights spent swallowing vodka and crying herself to sleep.
A soft ping interrupted her thoughts. Broke the moment.
The neural link flashed a notification. Only one contact bypassed her ‘Do Not Disturb’ automatically. Aurum. A job.
She opened the message.
"Leth, I have an opportunity. Not a Transit. I need a Clean. My usual go-to is unavailable. I know you''ve never acted as a Clean and it''s a big move. But I thought I''d ask. Time-sensitive—I need an immediate answer. Immediate. The client is literally standing over the bounties right now and needs a Clean on the way.
Absolutely feel free to say no. You''re a Transit and you''ve never asked for more. I understand completely."
She paused processing. The term ‘Clean’ carried weight. Risk. Stakes.
She remembered Arcanis pointing out her past mistake—never agree without knowing the pay. She wouldn''t repeat it.
She typed back: "How much?"
Aurum responded instantly. "Standard bounty split on the street is 70% to the client for services. 15% to me for laundry, processing and repatriation. 15% to the Clean for claiming the bounties. For you. Since you''re an experienced bounty hunter. I''ll make it 18% to you 12% to me."
She did the math. Bodies meant significant dollars. But the risk wasn’t insubstantial. A sudden claim of multiple bounties could attract police scrutiny.
If caught, or hell, even if just strongly suspected, as working as a Clean and facilitating criminals to cash-in the citizen could expect a murder charge of their own. One for every claim the police suspected they’d made illegally.
The system was there for citizens to hunt killers, they’d always been the threat of abuses. Even with her track record questions would arise. Possible investigations. She might have to face cops. Explain herself.
She stood up. Weighing the risks against the payout. Made her decision.
The reflection in the dark window showed steady eyes. A calm demeanour.
"I''m in," she sent. "Send the details."