Dungeon Sniper

I was feeling like punching the Orc officiator's face in front of me, even if it meant my death.

"I just don't see why I'm still not allowed to see my friends," I said to the impassive Orc.

"Tradition," the Orc said curtly.

"Are you f.u.c.k.i.n.g kidding me?"

"And precaution. In the past, a few champions tried to eliminate other champions watching the tournament idly by the spectator stands."

"I'm not asking you to get me into the stands. Just bring my friends here."

"In the past, one champion infiltrated the waiting rooms and tried to assassinate others before the match could begin. He was disguised as one of the supporters."

"I don't know, that sounds exciting to me. Why not make that a tradition as well?"

"Assassination is cheating, not to mention disgraceful, as are running away from the arena... and flying."

Okay, there was a definite disdain in the Orc's voice now. As much as I did not like him, he was not too hot for me either.

"What's your name, Mr. Officiator?"

"You do not need to know."

"I'm getting the vibe that you don't really like me."

"You are correct. I do not."

"If you're officiating the tournament, at least try to appear fair. You're the one who said Orcs are an impartial race."

"As a whole, we are. As an individual, I have the right to see a coward and call him so."

"That makes zero sense."

"Orcs sense differently from the inferior races, naturally."

Stubborn, arrogant, and inflexible. I now realized I was staring at a typical Orc, and Baraka had spoiled and misled me about my general impression of the Orcs the whole time.

"So I'm just going to sit here by myself and wait until I'm called up next like some slave gladiator?"

The Orc smirked and nodded, just as someone knocked on the door from the outside.

A smiling (or I assumed) male Reptil entered with what looked like a crystal orb in his crude, clawed hands.

"Here to set up the Orb for the Human champion," said the Reptil in the characteristic falsetto voice that never failed to crack me up.

"He does not need one. Get out," growled the Orc.

"No, I need one. I don't know what it is, but I need it. Don't listen to this green giant."

The Reptil exchanged glances between me and the Orc only to shrug casually and approached the simple table, placing the crystal orb the size of a volleyball on a cushion skillfully.

Whatever it was, the Orc officiator clearly did not want me to have one. I glanced at the Orc, and he avoided my gaze with a frustrated grimace.

So much for impartiality.

The crystal orb was slightly fogged and seemed familiar despite never owning one myself.

"Is there a fortune teller waiting behind the door?"

I could not help but grin at the most cliched object of a witch.

"Nah, they're too busy ripping off of the simpler races outside the colosseum," answered the Reptil cheerily, but not particularly condescendingly. Meanwhile, the Reptil was humming softly (and squeakily) as he ran his short crocodile arms over the gradually glowing orb.

"Simpler races?" I asked warily.

"You know, the Goblins, Humans, and Dwarves."

"No Orcs?"

"Orcs abhor witchery," scoffed the Orc officiator.

"And look where it's gotten them. They were a better race to talk to when they still had 'shamans' with them."

"Blasphemy, lizard!" barked the Orc, his hand on the hilt of a broadsword tied to his back.

The Reptil, however, did not flinch and calmly finished whatever he was doing on the crystal orb that now seemed to contain small, sparkling lightning clouds inside.

"Case in point. I'm done here, the signal will be alive in a minute, and then you'll get to watch the matches. No sound, though. It's not like we can't channel sound, but it's more work, you see. And there's the noise from the crowd that has to be filtered out—"

"Be gone, Reptil," the Orc pointed at the door.

"I'm just saying, if the Orcs were a bit more cooperative, we could've provided a better entertainment service," grumbled the Reptil as he went for the door.

"Thanks for the... thingy!" I called to the Reptils back, and I had never sounded more grateful, not even for the cable TV guys back in Brooklyn. Internet service providers, maybe.

"Oh, don't think we're doing this for free, champ," the Reptil turned and wagged his webbed finger confidently.

"You want a tip or something?"

"A gold would be nice, but I could get fired for receiving bribes, so no."

Huh. I was beginning to get really curious about the Reptilian society.

"Just tell the Humans how amazing the Orb was after the Colosseum is over. That is, if you're still alive by the end of it."

"That's why you're doing this? For 'advertis.e.m.e.nt?'"

"Call it an investment in case 'peace' actually comes by one day. The guys that run the Orb Network don't mess around. Sharp as snakes," the Reptil jabbed his finger at the temple, and I assumed calling someone a 'snake' was a compliment in their culture.

The Reptil left, leaving me, confused, alone with the Orc officiator... I did not know what he was thinking with that thick, apathetic face.

"I thought all races were at war to kill each other to become the only one standing at the end," I said, not expecting a response.

"We are," grunted, to my surprise, the Orc.

"But that's not what the Reptil said."

"Reptils are crazy, every single one of them. Fiddling with magic tends to do that. Melts the whole brain."

"It's certainly melted their Adam's apples," I stifled a laughter.

The Orc, of course, did not understand the reference and stared at me if I were... well he had been staring at me like that with disgust the whole time so nothing really changed.

"So you don't believe in peace, and I'm pretty sure you speak on behalf of your people."

"There is only one peace, and that will come once the Orcs prevail and become the true owners of the Dungeon."

"Yeah? You guys seemed to be enjoying the Colosseum yourselves."

"Orcs only love the fight aspect. Orcs do not like the politics involved in this fake peace."

"What politics? Sure, war is a form of politics, more of a byproduct than a means to represent and benefit the commonwealth. Peace, on the other hand, is both the goal and the reward for a utilitarian, if not ethical, political protocols—damn it, Alstair, not now!"

I placed a hand on my mouth, only to feel the Orc's gaze intensify in dislike... and horror. He then glanced the glowing Orb, still buzzing with static and no reception, and backed away slowly.

"I have always believed that just being in the vicinity of magic drives one mad—"

"Yeah, you better get out," I murmured through the closed lips.

The Orc obliged and bolted out of the room.

I watched the Orc close the door and finally let go of the hand, expecting Alstair's words to flow out of my mouth involuntarily.

"Quite a cozy place to lecture about 'Alpha's Will,' don't you think?"

Instead, Alstair's words came out of Alstair himself, sitting by the table with the Orb.

For a moment, I feared my brain had really melted and flowed out of the ears.

Coincidentally, the Orb began to broadcast the live footage of the arena.

.

.

.

It took Alstair five minutes to explain how he 'borrowed' the magical energy emanating from the Orb and transfer his soul energy to a visible, audible channel to interact with me.

"So, magic," I concluded with a headache.

"That's as simple as you can put it," smiled Alstair. It had been a long time since I saw his last smile in a vague, totally-not-sensual dream.

"Good. I like simple. I'm wondering, though, that basically anyone with this Orb thing can talk to the dead? That's how it works?"

"It's the Gate. It effuses so much magical energy, on top of it serving as a 'soul exchange portal.' A fascinating subject to discuss, by the way, such a nice opportunity to talk about the history of—"

"Oh, look, the fight is starting. How fun. Let's watch, silently."

I pointed to the Orb, which showed a Goblin and a Dwarf facing each other readily. The two champions were of a similar height and the build. The Dwarf had a full, shiny heavy armor on himself. Instead of appearing formidable, however, he looked c.u.mbersome. He held a battleaxe taller than he was, but at least he looked strong, albeit strikingly stout.

The Goblin looked somewhat familiar, and I realized that he was the same big, reserved Goblin at meeting inside the North Delta City Hall. He was dressed lightly—in garbs—and carried a crude spear that was, unlike the Dwarf's weapon, just the right size for him to wield. He stood confident and tall, reminding me of another Goblin I knew—and whose soul I carried with me.

I reached for Mataki's Blade, at the same time wondering why only Alstair showed himself... not that Mataki had the most presentable appearance in the world unlike the handsome, beautifully so, Elf sitting next to me.

Alstair noticed that I was holding Mataki's Blade. I had just opened my mouth to check in on the lesser Goblin hero when Alstair stopped me.

"Do not summon him now, Beta."

"Why? Wait, you know Mataki?"

I had never introduced the talking sword or the Goblin soul within it while Alstair was alive.

"We've talked, quite a lot actually."

"You've... talked? How? When?"

"It is the beauty of the Human subconsciousness. The Elves are too sentient to let things pass and take a dive. The other races, with due respect, have a rather direct, shallow minds fit for their means of survival. The only other races with an almost equal depth of subconsciousness as the Humans are the Dwarves, but then their minds are addled with alcohol most of the time and I suspect it damages the soul, both the hosts and the dependent—"

"I was glad to see you again, Alstair, but that was five minutes ago."

"I know you've missed me, Beta."

"Again, if you asked me five minutes ago... And what do you mean do not 'summon' him? I was just going to talk to him, ask him stuff."

"The moment you call out his name, and hence his lingering existence on this Level, you would bring him back here, instead of the place he's visiting at the moment."

"Where? What place?" I asked warily.

"Level Two."

I inhaled deeply. I was curious, but I was not ready for another bombardment of Alstair's erudite education.

A flash of movements occurred inside the Orb, and my attention turned to the fight again.

"Do you want me to explain how Mataki's soul was transferred through the Gate, yet unopened?"

"Boy, do I? No, maybe some other time. I do want to know whether Mataki's, you know, 'really' gone? 'Cuz we had a deal where I promised him I would send him back to his home at Level Two and it kind of looks like I already did that?"

Sure, holding a silent Mataki's Blade would feel awkward at first, but I had known Mataki would be gone sooner or later. And yet I had a feeling things were not going to be that easy. For me, nothing was easy. Never.

And right on cue was Alstair's polite, apologetic shake of the head.

"Sadly, no, the transfer is only temporary. Thus just 'transfer,' not the authentic Transcendence. He's merely visiting his home that he's longed to go back for half a century at the moment."

Bummer. At the same time, the Goblin champ knocked the Dwarf counterpart with a lightning-quick jab to the head. The sturdy-looking steel helmet did not break completely, but the Dwarf's neck was bent backward at a dangerous angle. He swayed precariously before losing his balance and falling on his back helpelessly.

"Yes, good talk, Al. I think we've got a winner."

I pointed to the Orb. The Dwarf was completely down, unmoving, and the Goblin, relatively unscathed, was approaching him with a drawn spear... with every intention to kill his opponent.

"No. Come on," I g.r.o.a.n.e.d. Alstair, too, looked grim as he was seeing what I was seeing, dreading what I was dreading.

The Goblin champion drove his spear into the Dwarf's c.h.e.s.t. The shiny c.h.e.s.t plate broke, and the Dwarf jolted and muttered inaudible words under the cracked helmet and with bloody teeth.

And that was that. The second match of round one had ended in the death of a champion.

The Orb did not produce any sound, but I could hear the loud roar of the crowd outside. The building shook and trembled, and I was certain my victory against the tranquilized Reptilina mage only sounded the tenth of what I was hearing now.

"The races with the most stakes adhere to the tradition, or the belief of it," said Alstair wistfully.

"Is it true? That only the last champion should be the living one to see the Gate opened?"

"I don't know myself, Beta."

"You're lying. You know everything."

Alstair shook his head apologetically.

"What I do know is that death leads to a discharge of a soul, and only souls can enter and exit the Gate, albeit with limitations and conditions."

"So you're saying—"

"The ones who believe they can open the Gate through killing as many champions, if not all, are not entirely wrong. What's wrong, however, is their blind obsession with the so-called Universal Transcendence, which I know for sure is not real."

"If you ask me, I can't tell real from unreal at this point. Heck, I'm talking to a ghost right now, and let me guess. I'm the only one who can hear you, and you're not really here."

"I'm just a projection of your subconsciousness, Beta, yes."

"Great. The Orc outside the door is sure to think I'm crazy now."

"But my knowledge and beliefs are real. That's what counts, right, Beta?"

"There's only one way to reality check this. I'll say something totally alien to you, and you'll ask me what it is with that beautifully dumb smile. Here goes: I feel like I'm trapped in a 'Christopher Nolan' film."

I waited for Alstair to smile with sparkling eyes and ask me who—or what—that was.

Instead, Alstair looked apologetic, sheepish.

"No, this can't be happening."

I was more shocked than when I found out that a female Reptil could be so pretty. Well, not quite, but close enough.

"I mean, I only saw your 'memories' of the 'films,' but they were really good. Inception, was it? Definitely my favorite," said Alstair with an awkward smile.

"You know 'films' and Inception? It's official. I'm going crazy."

"Come now, Beta, you're fine."

"That was my 'totem,' Al. And you destroyed my only reality check by corrupting the boundary!"

"Hey, I caught that. See? How enjoyable is it to share a reference like that?" beamed Alstair.

"You're killing me, Al," I g.r.o.a.n.e.d.

"Can you blame me though? I had lots of free time, and time runs slower in the subconsciousness."

I was about to scream in response when the door suddenly opened and entered the Orc officiator. His face was not light-green instead of the muddy green of before. Yes, the Orcs, the impenetrable, stony bastards, could go pale.

With the Orc's entrance, Alstair disappeared. The Orc looked around the room and fixed his eyes on the Orb, which had been showing the empty arena for the past few minutes.

"That is it. I am taking away the damned magic ball," said the Orc officiator shakily.

At that moment, the arena was occupied by two figures. One slender and graceful, and the other muscular and purposeful. I could make out Elysia right away. It had been so long since the last time we saw each other. I froze for a second, and the Orc officiator reached for the Orb with his giant, stubby hands.

"Touch it, and you'll get to hear the sounds I've been hearing the past half-hour. You know why the Orb is silent? The sound goes through your brain when you touch it, and imagine what damage it can do once it gets there."

The Orc retreated immediately, and in those few seconds the fight had already begun.

Elysia's opponent, the Orcina dressed in a lingerie-like armor showing off her athletic, voluptuous body and by the name of Moniqa, started off strong, swinging the giant greatsword with ease and elegance. Elysia, without a shield or any means to block the attack, was busy evading the attack, and just barely.

The Orc, too, realized that it was the match of his race's champion and stopped to stare at the Orb.

"Stare too long and you'll start to see stuff."

I could not help but tease the magic-phobe.

"Damn it, Human. Turn off the thing NOW!"

I smirked at the Orc who had turned his back from the Orb and shut his eyes tight adamantly. Meanwhile, he had his hand on the hilt of the bastard sword, ready to swing blindly at any moment. So I retreated safely to a corner where I would not get cut by the mindless panic swing by the Orc and turned to the Orb again—just to see Elysia get hit and roll across the floor.

My smile dropped. Elysia got up, her face pained, clutching onto her bloody shoulder.

"Did you turn it off? ... Answer me, Human!" bellowed the panicked Orc.

Elysia took out throwing knives from the pocket and threw them at Moniqa from the distance. Moniqa simply swung the greatsword and created a 'wind pressure' to make the knives fly off-course. Elysia threw another set of knives, but this time she ran toward Moniqa right after she threw them. Moniqa blew off the knives easily this time as well, but there was an opening left by the giant swing for Elysia to get closer and attack the undefended side of Moniqa.

I thought Elysia had won. But I was wrong.

Moniqa saw Elysia charging toward her, and instead of panicking, she turned her body three-sixty-degrees in the direction of the original swing, showing her back to Elysia who was not only ten feet away from the greatsword bearer.

Eylsia could not stop, and Moniqa never thought about stopping. Three feet within each other, Moniqa made a complete revolution and Elysia's dagger grazed Moniqa's c.h.e.s.t plate.

The blade of the greatsword was inches away from Elysia's neck.

"Answer me now, or I start breaking everything in this room, starting with your skull!" cried the Orc. I had been holding my breath for too long to even let a passing response.

Just before the blade could touch her, Elysia nimbly bent her knees and fell backward, sliding beneath the swing of the greatsword. It was a narrow miss, not to mention an incomplete evasion as another wind pressure caused by the swing s.u.c.k.e.d Elysia into the helical sphere of the min-tornado and made her fly for a few feet before falling on her back with an impact, still within Moniqa's giantsword's reach.

Moniqa raised her greatsword high over her head before striking down, but Elysia got up quickly and rolled sideways. Elysia was panting heavily. The fall on the back knocked the breath out of her. The cut on the shoulder was deeper than I thought, and the blood had not stopped since then.

The Orb focused on Moniqa's face for the first time. Baraka was not wrong. Moniqa was an attractive Orc, despite the green skin and the oversized bottom canine protruding from her stern lips like small, unimposing tusks. Her features were more handsome than feminine, which suited her chiseled, muscular physique well. The only effeminate part about her was the sensual, curvy lines on the ample b.r.e.a.s.ts and the wide h.i.p.s.

But what caught my eye was not her beauty: rather, it was the air of confidence around her, in the eyes, and at the tip of the mouth.

Moniaq moved her mouth. No sound came from the Orb. But I could make out the simple words.

'You will die today.'

It was a definitive statement, with so much power and conviction that no one watching the proud, potent Orcina warrior could believe the otherwise. I, too, blinked in agreement for a second, before waking up to the reality.

I looked at the back head of the cursing Orc, his hand tense on the hilt, eyes still shut tight, and then at the open door.

I caught the Orb without thinking and threw it onto the stone floor.

It shattered into pieces, with crystal shards tinkering and shrieking in thousand pitches.

The Orc jumped at the unexpected, unpleasant sound.

"What in Rafaqa's name—"

"The Orb exploded. The magic is everywhere. Try not to breathe too much."

The Orc gasped and obliged, clasping his mouth and holding in breaths. It was very comical, and I would have laughed in any other occasion but now.

Now was not the time.

"Stay here. I'll get help. You're in quarantine. You understand?"

I ran for the door, and the Orc, crouching in the corner, managed to speak through the clasped hands.

"The tradition—"

"F.u.c.k tradition!"

As I ran for the door and bolted out of the room, I could feel through the back of my head that the Orc officiator tried his best to overcome his fear and crawl his way out. I almost pitied him, felt bad form him, but again, now was not the time.

I ran through the empty corridor leading to the arena. No one was stopping me, as everyone was watching the match outside.

Spending two weeks in the forest and chasing animals helped increase the overall stamina too. I had the legs of a fanged rabbit, and I could leap like one, thanks to the lucky, positive Perks I had gotten in the very beginning. I remembered the awe and curiosity upon the discovery of Critical Siphon. I was relieved that I was not afflicted with negative Perks. I tried to be careful, got swayed by anger, acted dumb from time to time, began to use my Skills and Perks not just for myself, but others.

And I realized that all of those moments led to this: to save Elysia from dying.

F.u.c.k tradition. F.u.c.k beta testing. F.u.c.k GOD. My priority had been the same, ever since that rocky, hillside first meeting.

My heart cramped ominously as I reached the exit leading to the arena. Two Orcs were guarding the door, with their backs turned to me, watching the match.

When they heard my footsteps and turned around, I was already slipping past them, running across the arena and right toward the fight.

The crowd gasped and shouted at my abrupt appearance. The two females in the middle of the fight were both too immersed in the combat to notice that I was coming on their way.

Within the half-minute between the shattering of the Orb and my arrival, Elysia had gotten more cuts and was covered in blood from head to toe. She had avoided fatal hits, but at the cost of numerous cuts and broken bones on her limbs. She was barely standing, breathing shakily, and eyeing hopelessly at the next swing of the monstrously giant greatsword, which I could now see had gold, lion-shaped pommel and quillion.

What random things to notice at the moment, one would think, but I only caught them because my eyes were fixed on them, more precisely at the angle with which the giant blade was coming down onto the helpless Elysia.

The greatsword was still going up, raised high and steady, and ready for the final downthrust by the obstinate Orc beauty.

The crowd was clamoring now, screaming and shouting at my intervention.

There were still twenty feet between Elysia and me.

The greatsword reached its pinnacle and started to swing downward.

I did not think Elysia could move out of the way in time.

Elysia did not think she could do so either, as she turned her head reflexively and saw that I was running toward her, to save her.

Her eyes fluttered at the blood running down from the head. The half of her face was covered in blood, and the other half a faint, neglect smile.

Fifteen, no, ten feet away now—

I leaped forward, hands outstretched.