Dungeon Sniper

Fifty years ago, every race had a hero of its own: Velonis the Elf archer, Rafaqa the Orc warrior, Laikaan the Reptil prince, Olothi the Goblin queen... and Alpha, the Human tactician. They fought against each other and sometimes along with each other.

"With each other? Against whom?"

"Against what. This was when the dragons still roamed here in Level One, Beta."

"That sounds cool."

"More like, 'cruel.' They were not nice beings, the dragons."

"You talk as if you were alive back then."

"I was. I was a toddler, but I was an especially precocious child."

"I'm sure you were, Al."

The dragons were the reason the heroes decided to Transcend and leave their peoples at Level One. They wanted to drive the dragons away from the citizens of Level One, to take the fight somewhere else, somewhere beyond.

Before the heroes left, they all left Gifts or Exchanges for the benefit and protection of their respective races...

"Except Alpha."

Alstair nodded sadly.

"He simply vanished. And the record has it that Alpha was the fairest and most compassionate of the heroes. He was the mitigator amongst them."

"I know from experience assholes can appear to be nice, until their covers are blown."

"Maybe. But I've always suspected Alpha had his reasons."

"Like tough love? Learn to survive on our own?"

"Alpha, like all Humans, was a versatile fighter, and with his Critical Siphon, he was probably the most skilled combatant in the world at the time. But his forte always lay in his mind. He was a tactician, and as such, I can't help but feel that he had a grander scheme in order."

"Why are you so protective of him? You knew him personally or something?"

I asked jokingly, but to my surprise Alstair nodded and smiled nostalgically.

"Once, when I was young. Did I tell you that Alpha helped found the Runnels?"

"Even if you did, I don't think I would've paid attention."

"It's really a wonderful story."

"I see it now. All this time you've been trying to help the Humans, you did it because you met a Human hero once."

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, I see it's complicated. Just don't tell me you had a crush on him. I mean, I wouldn't be totally surprised if you were gay, your looks and how much you love to talk—"

"I'm not gay, Beta."

"Good. Because since I kind of absorbed you and as much as I respect others' preferences, I like girls and—"

It was then that I realized something felt off.

"... This is a dream."

I looked around me. No furniture, no nothing. Just me and Alstair, standing in a foggy void.

Alstair smiled the same, familiar smile of sadness and encouragement.

"Dream or not, it was a p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e talking with you again."

"Likewise. So, wait, is this going to be a routine now, or is it one of the rare cut-scene-like occasions that happen once in a while?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you what cut-scenes are next time."

"Why?"

"Because Elysia is about to slap you to wake you up from sleep."

"... Why?"

Alstair shrugged, and that was when my Premonition activated and I opened my eyes, tilted my head back quickly, and narrowly avoided Elysia's flowery yet feisty hand from slapping me across the face.

"Good. You're awake."

"Was slapping really necessary?"

"I shook you like a hundred times. You didn't even stir."

"What are you doing here, Elysia?"

I was lying on my bed in the small but clean room by a Human family who just got their old inn business back. This was the first time anyone had been in my room.

This was also the first time in three days that I was facing Elysia and talking with her.

"Where have you been?" I asked, feeling awkward and elated to see her again.

Elysia, however, was not in the mood for greetings or small talk.

"There's been a problem. Kevlon called for you."

"I'm fine, thanks. Good to see you too, Ellie."

"Get dressed and meet me downstairs," said Elysia coldly as she left the room.

I sat on the bed, numb and still somewhat drowsy, while trying to remember the dream that ended abruptly. I vaguely remembered Alstair, how beautiful and perfect he still looked, his long, silky blonde hair sparkling along with impeccable smile... and something about homos.e.x.u.a.lity—

I gasped and checked under the blanket. Good, at least it was not a wet dream, I thought as I sighed in relief.

.

.

.

Elysia led me across the bridges and up to the old North Deltan City Hall. During the half-hour, late morning stroll across the city, she only talked back with a handful of words, most of them 'be quiet, Beta,' and 'not now.'

"I just wanted to know that you were okay," I said to Elysia's lean, apathetic back.

Elysia stopped, turned, and faced me for the first time just before we entered the City Hall building.

"I'm fine," said Elysia.

"Really? Because you don't look fine."

Elysia exhaled deeply, and I knew something was coming in my way.

"Beta, I know what you're thinking, but it's not happening," said Elysia, sternly but looking faintly apologetic at the same time.

"Yeah? What am I thinking?"

"Look. There's no chance that I'm going to be involved with another Human man."

And she dropped the bomb.

"That's not what I was thinking at all."

"Beta."

"I was thinking how you beautiful you looked today, and how much I missed you in the past few days."

"Beta, stop."

"You're right. I should stop thinking. And you should too. I hardly think anyway, so let's go with our guts."

Elysia did not even scoff or frown at me this time. She stared at me stoically, blinking slowly, like a fine marble statue incapable of thinking, or feeling.

"No."

And she turned and entered the building, leaving me alone at the entrance.

Of course. What did Mosez know about dating or timing? She married a bald pushover simply to boss him around, and she did not even time her death correctly—

Seriously, some thoughts I had from time to time... I really felt like an asshole then.

.

.

.

I entered the room, and stood frozen for a second.

It was a weird sight ahead. There were some familiar faces, like the Runnels and, to my guilt, the widower Gart, and there were some seriously surprising individuals seated at the large round table inside the meeting room: the Goblins, the Dwarves, the Orcs, and the Reptils, all in pairs, with red, bearded, green, and gold-colored faces of varying shapes and sizes staring at me with mild interest.

"What the f—"

I had already drawn Mataki's Blade out when Baraka came from the side and stopped me.

"Calm down, Beta."

"An Orc invasion!" I croaked like a chicken upon seeing a green-skinned face up close.

"It is I, Baraka, and if we wanted to invade this ruined city, we would have done it on horsebacks, not on wood chairs that are about to break under the Elders' weight."

"Aye, Baraka. These chairs are too fragile. I can literally hear them screaming in agony," said one of the seated Orcs, both of whom were as bulky and muscular as Baraka and their wrinkles looking like scars on their formidable faces.

"Woods do not scream, Orcs," spat the smaller of the two Goblins. The other was as big as Mataki, but with both legs.

"When I hold a wooden club and pummel you to death, then you will hear screams, small ones," retorted the Orc with a snickering growl.

"The red midgets are right, though, aren't they? That would be them screaming, not the woods," said a giant, gold-scaled lizard with a comically high-pitched tone unfitting its—his—bestial, crocodilian appearance.

"No one asked for your help, so keep your large mouth shut, lizard," hissed the smaller Goblin. Unlike his companion, this one was not trying to hide his hostility against everyone in the room.

"Actually, calling someone 'large-mouthed' is a compliment in our culture, so, thank you for the kind words. Your speckled, hemorrhoid of red skin is quite exotic as well, little friend," said the other Reptil, with an equally-high-pitched, falsetto voice. I almost cracked up there.

"The only occasion we secrete blood out of anus is when we are done chewing your mud-flavored scales."

"That sounds painful," the Reptil narrowed his eyes. I figured that was their way of frowning.

"Do not even try, Goblin, the Reptils are incapable of taking offense, as thick as their feces-colored scale armors."

"You poop in gold? Impressive, Orc," exclaimed the falsetto voice.

"Can we stop with the poop talk, please?" pleaded Kevlon.

Meanwhile, the Dwarves had been seriously whispering with each other and finally came to a conclusion of their own.

"We don't know much about woods, but we know that rocks scream. Deafening, no ear-splitting in the mines, I tell you."

"What? I can't hear you, Dominiq! Get it? Because of screaming rocks!"

Then the Dwarves guffawed heartily. I saw Worra marching out of the room, muttering "I can't stand this." I agreed completely and wanted to follow her outside as well.

I realized I was still holding onto Mataki's Blade, and I was somewhat expecting Mataki to let out exclamations upon recognizing his kin, or anything in general about the abnormal scene before us.

Instead, Mataki was uncharacteristically quiet. Not only that, but his silence felt anticipant, excited.

"What's going on?"I finally asked, sheathing the dagger-sword anxiously even though it did not seem as if a fight would break out any time soon.

"Take a seat, Beta," said Kevlon nervously. He was the only Runnel seated. Next to him was an unassuming Elf Councilor, who seemed neither thrilled nor bored to be in the room.

I took the only vacant seat by the table, next to Gart. Gart nodded to me curtly. The widower was still grieving, I could tell from his red, bloodshot eyes. I felt even worse for the thought I had before coming in here.

Twelve individuals, two from each race, sat around the table, eyeing each other with mixed, inscrutable emotions and thoughts.

Eventually, everyone turned to Kevlon, who seemed more nervous and fidgety today. He cleared his throat, looked around the fellow Runnels (minus Worra, of course) for any moral support they could give (they gave none, by the looks of it), and began with a fatigued sigh.

"Some believe we are caught in a never-ending war against each other. The Gifts and Exchanges our heroes have left us did not help us understand and appreciate each other—"

And the tense, uneasy atmosphere of the room erupted with Kevlon's tedious, timid voice.

"Cut to the chase, Elf, we haven't got all day!"

"Seriously, what is it with Elves and never knowing when to shut up?"

"Oh, and guys? By rocks, we meant ore veins. I know they all look the same to you, it was just me being courteous."

"Screw your rocks, Dwarves!"

"You can't screw them. That's not how pickaxes work."

"Silly Goblins. All they do is digging caves and sleeping on dirt. Have you seen the ores just lying on the ground under their lairs? I mean, at least use them as pillows, right?"

Everyone except the Elf and Human parties began to talk at once. My head was beginning to hurt.

Someone had to maintain the order. Someone charismatic. Someone who knew what the hell was going on in this room. Someone who could shut everyone up instantly, effectively, and authoritatively.

I knocked at the metal door. And I had just met him this morning, vaguely and hopefully not e.r.o.t.i.cally.

"Order, everyone!" I bellowed, but they were not my words. I also made sure Reflect Voice was on, so that my voice echoed around the room for a long time, as if I were using a microphone.

Almost everyone covered their ears, except for the Reptils whose hands were too short to reach for their holes of ears. Besides, if they were anything like the reptiles I knew, their auditory sense would be limited, but they would still be able to feel the vibrations in the air—and they did, by the surprised, uncomfortable looks on their scaly faces.

I began to speak fast before anyone could complain. Well, technically, Alstair did, of course.

"I asked, what's going on here? Why are we here today? And I have the answer too: to keep the tradition afloat, alive, and a-strong."

Some of the Runnels realized what was happening, and they had that disgruntled face upon finding themselves for yet another Alstair's story time.

I was smiling, but I really was not. I was talking, but I really was just listening, with dread.

"Sure, the war is still going on. Everyone knows and agrees that one's own race is the best and the fittest. Only a few of us know that each race has its own strengths, as well as weaknesses, and the six races are actually quite compatible with each other, that peace is actually quite achievable. Can peace be attained and prolonged permanently? I hope so, but realistically, no. So what is our alternative? The most utilitarian method to keep the peace, albeit precarious and ephemeral?"

What are you saying, Alstair? My left hand was frantically moving with heated, optimistic gestures, while the other palmed the face.

"What in the Dungeon are you saying, Human?" shrieked the particularly unpleasant Goblin.

"Has the Human gone mad?" asked an Orc Elder worriedly.

"Yeah, he does sound crazy, doesn't he?" squeaked a Reptil musingly.

"I don't like his eyes. They're disturbing," noted a Dwarf.

"As for the blessing of having the distinguished representatives from each race here today... was it you, Baraka? It was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Alst— Beta," answered Baraka meekly.

"I knew it! No combination is as deadly as tradition and Orcs, am I right?"

I paused and looked around, taking a small break to take in breaths. Everyone was staring at me. Even Gart was looking at me if I had gone mad. I was about to apologize, but Alstair's verbosity took over once again.

"But you're all here because deep down, you also want this. You don't necessarily want peace, but you want the fun, the glory, the honor."

"Look, Human, we all know why we're here," said the bigger Goblin who had been silent the whole time.

Well, good for him, and everyone else, but I did not. I did not know what the heck I was doing here, let alone what I was blabbering about.

"We're just want to talk over the schedule and go over the list of the participants," said a Reptil.

I was confused even more. And Alstair's grandiose speech was not helping.

"I still believe there should be a formal declaration. A revival of the tradition, a continuation of the systematic, confederate means of keeping peace," I beamed and g.r.o.a.n.e.d at the same time.

Nope. Still not helping.

"You do realize you're the chief reason the 'event' has been halted for so long?" asked the lighter-scaled Reptil with a look of disbelief.

"I disagree. The Elves deserve an equal, if not the greater, blame for the discontinuation. It was not the Humans' will to be subjugated, was it?" said an Orc Elder.

"Fair," shrugged the Reptil.

"And the Dwarves, aggravating the matter. Helping the Elves prolong the slavery, were you not?" admonished the Orc.

"Sorry, but easy gold meant easy booze. Besides, we never liked to participate in the 'bouts' because we kept losing," protested one of the Dwarves.

"Not a single win. The game's rigged, I'm telling you," added the other Dwarf.

"If you spent more time practicing with your superb weapons rather than simply crafting them, then you would have more chance."

"Fat chance. That cuts into our drinking time," the Dwarf shook his head.

"Might as well just forfeit, hairy, jelly-bellied buddies," cackled the falsetto voice.

"Personally, I would, but we also like to drink while watching the matches."

"Wouldn't miss that for anything," agreed the disoriented Dwarf duo.

The 'representatives' began to talk amongst themselves again. I had given up already. I would never figure out what the meeting was about, at least until this mess of a delegation disbanded and a sensible, and preferably pretty individual filled me in. Namely, Elysia.

I turned to Elysia, whom I caught staring at me and started as our eyes met. I tried to grin, as un-awkwardly as I could, but I was certain I looked like a fool just then.

Kevlon was also talking with the Elf next to him. I turned to Gart, who blinked back at me suspiciously.

"What a day, huh?" I shrugged meaninglessly.

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked Gart, worried and serious.

"You want to know what I'm sure about? I'm sure I know absolutely nothing about what I'm supposed to be sure of wanting to do of this something."

"But you said—"

"That wasn't me. Don't ask. It's complicated."

Gart did not ask, not because he respected my request but he, too, feared I had gone mad. I could not blame him, given how I was talking just a few minutes ago.

Gart was not the most sensible, beautiful individual in the room, but I guessed he would do.

"What's this all about anyway? Explain like I'm five."

"Five...?"

"Five years old. Explain as if I know nothing about this world, like at all."

"Why?"

Because I really did not know anything about this world.

"I guess I could use a fresh perspective."

Gart was not a complex man. He nodded, still looking a little confused and dazed, but opened his chapped, brutish mouth.

"First, I want you to know that I speak on behalf of all of the Humans in the Delta Region and that we are forever grateful for 'what you're about to do.'"

I had caught the 'grateful' part and was already waving Gart off before he finished his sentence.

"I've heard enough thanks to last a lifetime, Gart, you can all stop now."

Then the last few words hit me.

"What do you mean 'what I'm about to do?'"

"This."

"Okay, I know I'm sounding like a fool right now, and I'm not trying to mock you by deliberately appearing stupid and you'd know when I'm being sarcastic, trust me... but what's this?"

Gart, the poor man, was caught between respect for the savior of Human race and suspicion that the said savior could be a madman, or worse, an idiot.

"This. The 'Colosseum Ultimatum,'" said Gart slowly.

The moment I heard the words, I was picturing gladiators and chariots. More importantly, I was hearing an ominous ring to the name.

I was sensing another twisted, unwanted turn of events that I would have no choice but to be a part of.

"I'm participating in this colosseum stuff, aren't I?" I sighed in dismay.

"Yes, as our champion," grinned Gart, probably for the first time since the funeral.

My head hurt.