Dungeon Sniper

"Good. I was worried you guys were going to dress me up as a slave going into the city."

The Runnels had brought me to one of their camps near the eastern end of the Divis River. They had given me one of their uniforms—a gray set of light armor complete with the scowl—which was a total upgrade from the torn Leather Jacket and pants I was wearing.

"He doesn't need a disguise. He looks perfect right now. Filthy, crass, he even has the matching smell."

Elysia looked unhappy with Alstair's decision to give me the Runnel look instead of dragging me around Deltaris with a chain around my neck. I was just about to agree to the idea under one condition: Elysia had to hold the collar.

"All I heard was 'he looks perfect.' And may I say, so do you, Ellie."

"Don't, call me that, ever," Elysia raised her finger at me.

"Are you all going to stay here while I change? Ellie can stay, of course."

Elysia stormed out of the tent right away.

"We'll be outside," said Alstair as he left with Ramsis as well.

Gear:

Gray Body Armor

Gray Gloves

Gray Boots

Gray Shoulder Cloak

Gray Scowl with Mask

Bowie the Hunting Bow

Quiver - refilled to twenty arrows

Mataki's Blade

Kitty the Kitchen Knife

I got out of the tent, looking fresh and ninja-like. In other words, I loved it.

"Not looking like a freak anymore, right, Elysia?"

I flaunted my fresh set of attire at Elysia, who probably had the s.e.xiest frown in both of the worlds.

"You're still a freak," said Elysia with her arms crossed disapprovingly.

"Come on, we pretty much look like a couple now, see?" I said as I lifted up the mask, winking at the grumpy beauty.

"More like quadruplets," interrupted Alstair cheerily.

"Don't ruin the moment, Al."

"Should we go? It's better to enter the city during the day than after dark," said Ramsis, watching the sky that still had a few hours of light until it turned all dark.

"Let's wait for Illisiv. I want him to be aware of the plan in case something happens," said Alstair.

"Hold up. Who's Illisiv, and what do you mean 'in case something happens?'" I asked.

"We never planned to enter the city with two free Humans in our company. We have yet to inform the rest of the members of the plan."

"Because someone needed extra convincing to take up on a good cause," scoffed Elysia.

"It was Alstair's idea. I never wanted this either," I protested.

"And Illisiv, he's one of us, and he should be checking in about... now. There he is."

The three Runnels all looked towards the south where the forest ended and a grassy plain leading up to the river began. It was the same direction I had come from originally, where the raided Human settlement and an exterminated Goblin Lair lay.

"I'm not seeing anything," I frowned.

"Not with your Human eyes, you don't," scoffed Elysia.

"Your boyfriend's a Human."

"Ramsis knows his place. Unlike you."

"That sounds like something slave owners would say."

Elysia turned to me with a shocked face, both cute and satisfactory to watch.

The gray speck in the distance came close fast, and I soon realized it was another Runnel dressed in the gray-colored uniform riding on a gray horse.

"Gray's the new black, I guess," I said to Alstair.

"No, gray is gray," smiled Alstair, blinking uncomprehendingly.

The newly arrived Runnel, presumably Illisiv, arrived by the camp and got off the horse adroitly. Illisiv lifted his mask off and revealed a youthful, grinning face that looked uncomfortably too perfect, if that made any sense.

"Greetings. My name is Illisiv. So we finally meet, Goblinsbane," said the young Elf as he approached and extended his hand to me.

"The what?" I asked back, holding the gloved hand back reflexively.

"The Goblinsbane. That's the name we came up with, for you," smiled Illisiv, his boyish charm rubbing on my face much to my dislike.

"Actually, you came up with that, alone. And none of us liked it," said Elysia.

"I think it's a worthy title for someone who destroyed a Goblin Lair all by himself."

"They're Goblins, not dragons," Elysia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Illisiv blinked at Elysia and looked around at everyone.

"Did I miss something? What's with the bad vibe?" asked Illisiv.

"Trust me, you didn't miss anything," it was Ramsis who spoke with a straight face.

"Goblinsbane is too much. I go by Beta," I said, shaking the hand awkwardly and finally letting it go.

"Beta! Simple, yet mysterious. I like the name," beamed Illisiv.

I turned to Ramsis, half-laughing, half-irritated.

"Are all Elves always this annoyingly cheerful? First Alstair, now this guy..."

And then I glanced at Elysia, who stared back at me with a morbid grimace.

"Correction: all 'male' Elves."

"Alstair and Illisiv are some of the kindest Elves I have met," paused Ramsis, "The ones at Deltaris, on the other hand..." and clicked his tongue wistfully.

Alstair seized the moment and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"That brings us to our topic. Illisiv, we need you to gather the rest of the team by the city entrance. Get to the Western Camp and wait for us outside the gate," said Alstair urgently.

"What are you planning?" asked Illisiv, getting ready to get on the horse and leave without delay.

"Last minute reconnaissance."

"So it finally begins. Beta, thank you for joining our cause to right the wrong, the cleanse the disgrace of not just our race but the entire Level," said Illisiv earnestly.

"Actually, I haven't decided yet—"

"We are counting on you. Oh, I almost forgot. I passed by one of your battle sites and picked this up. I believe this belongs to you?"

Illisiv reached for his inner pocket and took out a familiar object—a damnable, abominable weapon I hoped I would never see again in my life.

"That's not mine," I shook my head at the metal slingshot that once belonged to one nasty Goblin.

"Are you sure? It was right by the Goblin corpses that you chopped off and littered all over the place."

"What's wrong with you?" frowned Elysia, but I ignored her this time.

"It's not mine. It belonged to one of the Goblin scouts."

"I see... Would you mind if I asked you whether I could keep it? It is your loot by right, after all," asked Illisiv, with the eyes of a genuinely delighted child who found a new toy.

"I would prefer that you throw it away—you know what, be my guest. Keep it, and never show it to me, if you can."

"Thank you, Beta. One more question. What does it fire exactly? Pebbles, or some special ammunition?" asked Illisiv as he pocketed the metal slingshot delicately as if it were some kind of treasure.

"Bad memories," I said tacitly, grasping my shoulder that still ached at some nights.

.

.

.

"Act normal. Keep your mask on, and no one will suspect a thing."

Alstair whispered to me as we reached the entrance to Deltaris, the affluent Elven city sitting along Divis River—and on top of thousands of oppressed, enslaved Humans.

.

.

.

A flashback to the miserable history lesson by Alstair on our way to the Eastern Camp:

Deltaris was actually two cities, North Delta and South Delta, separated by the mile-width Divis River running through in between. North Delta was occupied by the Elves, and South Delta Humans. Elves and Humans got along well for the first few hundred years of their existence.

"Hundred years?" I asked in shock.

"What's the matter, Beta?"

"But this is a Dungeon."

"That's the name of the world we live in, yes," Alstair said with the ever-so-charming smile.

"And this is only Level One."

"Obviously," Elysia scoffed in the distance.

"First, there's nothing obvious about it. The name 'Dungeon' is completely misleading in this context. If it was so 'obvious' as you said, we would be crawling inside dark, muddy caves with skeletons and zombies springing out at every corner."

"I think he's describing his home," Elysia had that deviant, seductive smirk on her face.

"Brooklyn, the home of skeletons and zombies. How charming!" Alstair exclaimed as if savoring the words in his mouth.

"No, Brooklyn is not—well, some of them do actually look—that's not the point. The point is, how long is the history of Dungeon? How long has it been around?"

Alstair blinked at me if I had asked the stupidest question.

"Well, since forever."

"That doesn't help, at all."

"Let us focus on the recent events for now. Perhaps, when we have time, we can discuss the obscure yet mesmerizing study of our roots, the creation of the Dungeon. But just to give you a taste, the legend has it there was once a—"

"Recent events. Let's stick to the Delta Region like you said," I cut off Alstair's words with a shudder of relief at having dodged a bullet there.

In summary, the Elves of North Delta proposed a fake treaty that would bind the two settlements in an eternal alliance. The infamous Delta Peace Accord. The Humans of South Delta gladly signed the pact, and stationed their standing army further south to aid the small settlement that had been besieged by Goblins led by a generational hero of their kind named Mataki the Sorrowful.

But before the Humans could face Mataki and the Goblins, the Elves had taken the civilians left at South Delta hostages. The South Deltan Army returned as fast as they could, but they could not fight with their loved ones under hostile custody, let alone climb the city wall and make their homes a battlefield. The Humans yielded, and the War of Deltas ended as quickly as it had begun. South Delta was no more, and neither was the small Human settlement by the south. The Goblins took their time to eradicate the isolated village, until a mysterious Human hero wiped them out and brought peace to the tormented souls that were neglected and abandoned just as the South Deltans were betrayed and deceived.

"I don't know who this mysterious Human hero who killed all the Goblins, but it sounds like he's awesome. Stop rolling your eyes, Elysia, you only look s.e.xier when you do that."

"And here we are, the same Human hero to write a new history, not just for Humans but for all of us."

"Yeah, hold that thought. Just to get the timeline correct, this was all before he lost his legs, right?"

"Who?" Alstair smiled quizzically.

"Mataki. The Sorrowful? What kind of title is that, by the way?"

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot. You killed him at the Goblin Lair. I assume he didn't look so sprightly?"

"He talked a lot."

And a lot more afterward. After death, in the form of a soul trapped inside a sword. But I decided not to tell the Runnels about Mataki's Blade. Alstair would go nuts and talk for hours about some boring history of ego swords. Then I would have no choice to swing the sword and kill Alstair, finally and for good.

Jokes aside, it just felt safer to keep Mataki's Blade as low-key as possible.

"Well, the Goblin chief was quite formidable in his days, when he had both of his legs, and a lot younger."

I had subconsciously reached for the hilt of Mataki's Blade, its fuel of Goblin soul depleted and had remained silent for the past few days. Was he listening to this as well, in his sleep? I did not know about the Goblins, but eavesdropping on others talking about me had always made me feel awkward. Whether they were talking good or bad things about me. Mostly bad, but people were evil by nature. I never blamed them.

"How did he lose his legs?" I asked, letting go of the hilt and pretending as if I did not possess a talking sword that contained the very same soul of the conversation's topic.

"I'm not sure, but I was told it was a battle against a group of Orcs. It was only two years ago, but it wasn't much of a large-scale fight to begin with."

"Didn't you say he was a generational hero? Are you telling me he lost not one but both of his legs to some unnamed Orcish gang?"

Oh, Mataki the Sorrowful, or Sorry-Full-of-Lies? Hmm? The way he described the battle, I imagined an epic war of a decade, but it turned out he fought in some local brawl against some random Orcs? Talk about a major letdown.

"To be fair, Mataki had lived long past his prime. He was an old Goblin, and Goblins almost never live up to their full ages."

"Why?"

"Because they're reckless, and stupid."

"Right on," I could not agree more.

At that moment, Ramsis walked up from the back and joined in the conversation, a rare occasion for a normally prudent, reserved man.

"I think I heard Baraka, the Orc Runnel we talked about, was involved in the battle where Mataki the Goblin lost his legs."

"Yeah? Could it be that this Baraka dude cut the legs himself?"

"No, he told me he passed by the fight. He was a spectator."

"I thought Orcs were like this belligerent race that would do anything but watch a fight going on."

"Oh, he was going to join the fight all right. He was simply waiting for his turn at the line."

Weird, just like almost everything else in this world.

"I also remember him saying that it was a very lopsided battle. One Orc for every five Goblins."

"And that's lopsided on whose side?"

"The Orcs took turns who was going to fight first. Before they ran out of Goblins to kill."

"Nice."

It finally made some sense that the Orcs were waiting at the line for their turn to smash some Goblin heads. It sill felt weird, but who was I to judge?

"It would take at least ten Goblins to take on an average Orc. So long as the fight takes place on the even ground, arena-style. The Goblins could be tricky though, when they hide their small bodies and ambush out of nowhere... but you know this already."

"Tell me about it, man. And, hey, not trying to brag or anything," I was trying to brag, actually, "but did I tell you that it was twenty-something against one for me when—"

"We know, Beta. We know," Ramsis cut me off and patted my shoulder awkwardly as he retreated back to walk alongside Elysia again.

"Cool. Yeah, well. Them Goblins, huh? A bunch of miserable sons of bitches, right?"

And Ramsis's face suddenly turned grim at my gawky, meaningless statement.

"And those sons of bitches toy with us Humans as if we were some field games, so who's miserable now?"

I closed my mouth. Ramsis was this meek, generally friendly guy, but when it came to anything related to the Humans around the area, he turned into this sore, emotional hysteric that was no fun to watch or talk with.

Who was the miserable race of all? Easy. It was us. Humans. Betrayed, enslaved, and toyed by even the dumb, barbaric Goblins. But I did not say that out loud. I might as well have told the already depressed Ramsis to go jump off a bridge or something.

.

.

.

I caught a glimpse of a giant bridge through the open gate to the city. The Delta Cross, the one bridge that used to connect North Delta and South Delta and was not just a landmark for one Deltaris, owned by Elves.

"Sure. Act normal. Keep mask on. Should I hold hands with Elysia so we look like a couple out on a date, you know, just to be more convincing? You can never be too careful."

"How can he act normal when he's clearly 'not' normal," said Elysia, swatting my hand away.

"Okay. With that look, we can do 'lovers who have just fought over nothing and will make up for it wildly in bed tonight' role-play."

"Alstair, I can't take it anymore."

"Not now, Elysia," hissed Alstair uncharacteristically harshly as we passed by a bored-looking Elven guard overseeing the small inflow of visitors entering the city. And when I said he was looking bored, he looked fantastic while doing so. It was so unfair.

I saw Alstair nod familiarly to the guard, who nodded back lazily.

"That your friend?" I asked.

"I wish we were, but the Runnels are not so welcome at Deltaris."

"Should I be worried? I'm a Human 'and' dressed as the city's least favorite rangers."

"The city council and we had some run-ins recently, but we are fine."

"Uh, define 'fine?'"

"We're too respectable. The Runnels were here before there was Deltaris."

"Impressive. You didn't mention that in your crash history course of the Delta Region."

"Do you want one now?"

"On a second thought, you did cover that."

"No, I didn't."

... Shit.

"You're not going to let that one go, are you?" I asked warily.

"The history of the Runnels is only my second favorite subject to discuss. Of course I will make time to let you properly learn about our proud history!"

I did not dare ask what his most favorite subject for conversation.

We had passed the gate and were now officially inside the city of Deltaris.

"Damn the Elves," I muttered under the mask.

"Damn us indeed," said Alstair, not without a hint of shame and regret.

The city was magnificent. There was some time before the nightbreak, but the lights were already lit everywhere. Or did they never go out? Why was the city so clean? Why were buildings so tall and pretty? Who filled the fuel, maintained the pristine streets, and made sure that these Elf pedestrians looked regal and happy basking in the glory of this spectacular city.

I had a guess.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alstair sighed wistfully.

"Better than Brookyln for sure."

Alstair turned and stared me with thoughtful, sad eyes. I glanced at Ramsis, whose mask was not enough to cover the anger and helplessness shown through his eyes.

"Now, let's go see the real Deltaris," said Alstair, nodding to a dark, narrow alley that looked almost invisible amidst the bright, dazzling lights of the main street.

"Look, just because one part of the city is better than the other doesn't mean this isn't real."

I tried to be reasonable. Perhaps I was scared what I would find next, beyond the dark, creepy alley that lurked silently, repulsively.

"You're correct, Beta. Forget I said the 'real' Deltaris," inhaled Alstair as if he were physically hurting.

"We face the reality, then."