A Dungeon’s Survival

Flur

I was tempted to call a retreat after that last fight. It wasn't that I thought it was too close or even that the monsters that we fought were too strong. Instead, my deliberations were based on two things.

The first was the condition of my team. From a physical standpoint, we were all fine, and any of the more serious injuries were handled by our makeshift healer. For as much of a klutz as Lawrence could be, I couldn't deny that he was versatile. No, our problem was our continued ability to fight at our fullest. For as insignificant of a thing as a plunge into water should have been, the results had been disastrous.

Lance and Dan both used fairly solid, though not full, armor. Having ended up being submerged while in it, the insides of their protective layers were soaked. That might not have been a huge problem for the slower spear and shield user, but for our swordsman, it was downright debilitating. He didn't rely on speed anywhere near as much as I did, but he still needed his movements to be swift in order to fight effectively. All of that water was inhibiting his mobility.

As bad as that was, he still got off lightly compared to the rest of us. Autumn's arrows were soaked. That messed with the fletching, causing the feathers to clump and stick in places. Their ability to fly straight was hampered by that, making her shots inaccurate. That was a problem. I certainly didn't want to get hit by a stray arrow in the middle of a fight.

Our other ranged combatant possibly had it the worst out of all of us. He was a caster in only the most generous sense of the word. In reality, he had no spells that helped in combat. He wasn't even a combat class. He got by with his staff enchanted with healing magic, consumable potions, and reagents that he could use to mimic spells. Those reagents were soaked.

Fireballs? Unusable. Magic force dust? Unstable at best. Over half of his combat potential? Gone. Effectively, the only things he could reliably do were heal us and chuck potions.

Then, there was me. My eyes were crucial to delving the Dungeon. Unlike anyone else in our group, the darkness was no obstacle to me. I could see perfectly fine in it. That allowed me to spot things coming long before the faint light our lanterns produced reached our potential threats. My current problem was that I had plunged straight into muddy water. The reason why that was such a problem for me in a way that it wasn't for the others was the same reason as why my vision so much better: I was an insectinoid of the Moth Tribe.

My physiology was significantly different from that of humans and beastkin. Just as I had four arms and antennae where they didn't, they had things I lacked, namely eyelids. I couldn't just close my eyes as I went under, nor could I simply blink to clear the grime that had accumulated in my vision. I needed to go out of my way to clean them. That was a problem when literally everything any of us had on our persons was coated in the same filth that was in my eyes.

That should have been enough of a reason to decide our course to turn back, but it wasn't. If we were to leave and return later, we would have to fight our way back to the point we had reached, and we would have to do so while collecting samples of everything again. Old man Gyle was adamant about us collecting everything the Dungeon had to offer in a single go. If we left, it would give the Dungeon time and the opportunity to change in subtle ways, and he demanded a benchmark. According to him, without one, he wouldn't be able to properly track the Dungeon's growth.

Then, there was the fact that most of our problems could be solved on the spot with some time. Wet armor could be removed and put back on. Fletching could be dried. Lawrence's alchemical supplies, unfortunately, were unsalvageable in our current situation, but even I could attempt to clean my eyes somewhat with the drinking water we had brought with us. All of that being the case made advancing feasible, but it wasn't so simple.

I had a second reason to be hesitant: static monsters. We already knew about the two-headed snake, and I highly suspected that strange Trenti would make a reappearance at some point. As they were the last time I had seen them, I felt confident that we could take them on, but at the same time, the last time I had seen the common monsters here, most of them hadn't even given me experience. As for this trip, I had yet to kill something that the System didn't award me for. I was level twenty. That should not have been the case.

More concerning, the experience gains I had been getting on this trip hadn't been bad. A Trenti gave twenty-one points. A Plated Gator, infuratingly enough, only awarded thirty. A pathetic Horned Draco got me two hundred seventy for some reason, and the third room's Shadow Vipers had netted me three hundred fifty points per kill. In what world did that make sense? The monsters in the Dungeon were far more powerful than anything at level one had a right to be, and they were just that: level ones.

That two-headed snake from before had been leaps and bounds stronger than the rest of the monsters here the last time I had seen it, and it wasn't a mere level one. It was a static monster that already had levels. Those got stronger, not weaker, and with how strong everything else had gotten since then, I wasn't confident we could handle it anymore. That should have been enough for me to make the call to turn back for the time being, but as much as I hated to admit it, that sparked something deep within me. My heart raced at the thought of fighting a stronger version of the monster I had faced and struggled against so many times already.

Argh, this is why I'm not suited to lead. What would Randy have done?

The answer was painfully obvious. He would have called for a retreat and told me to stop being so reckless. That was the clear answer. I couldn't risk the others' lives just because I wanted to fight something so clearly beyond us, but still …

I stood from where I sat against the wall at the water's edge and spoke, “We'll push a little farther. We can decided whether or not to engage with anything we come across on a case by case basis. We probably won't be clearing the Dungeon today, but we can still gather more intel.”

I was overthinking things. We were adventurers. Danger was at the core of our profession. What would have even been the point of delving this place if we were to turn back at the first sign of danger? We'd need to be extra cautious, but the job was still doable.

From there, we readied ourselves and set off into the unpleasant waters once more. As we trudged forward, I found myself thankful for the fact we were in a Dungeon, and the only things we had to worry about were traps and monsters. I didn't want to think about the leeches and other dangers we'd be certain to encounter in an actual swamp.

That was the thing, though. We were in a Dungeon, and though the cavern that housed the bog was sizable, it was no enormous expanse. It didn't take us long to cross it and come face to face with what appeared to be ruins of some sort. It had been partially obscured by some trees rising from the waters, but once we passed that point, it was an intimidating sight. Run down, covered in plant growth, and carved from materials not native to the area, it was a jarring spectacle for sure, but it was what the remnants of the temple represented that caused my stomach to tighten rather than the view itself.

“That's a staircase, isn't it?” Lance observed, pointing out the same thing I had noticed.

“Sure is,” I said through a false smile.

“It's strangely pretty,” Autumn stated.

I nodded. It was an absolutely gorgeous death trap, but it was still a death trap, and it also looked like the kind of place that might house bodies. I supposed that could be a plus if we were to get killed down there. Most adventurers that died in places like this didn't get burials, so we'd be lucky in a way.

I pushed those morbid thoughts aside, and rather than appreciating the beauty of the structure, I took it in, assessing it for dangers. The path leading down was narrow. We wouldn't be able to maneuver well in it. Then, there was all of the structural damage. That didn't matter much on its own. We were in a Dungeon, so everything was magically reinforced. A collapse was impossible. That was unless there were traps hidden in the damage that could come crashing down on our heads, something I considered a real possibility.

“I'm leading the way. Dan, you're behind me. Back me up with your spear if needed. Lance, protect the rear. Lizard-Bait, heal us if necessary. Autumn, you're an extra pair of eyes. Don't try to use your bow down there unless it opens up. You're more likely to shoot one of us than you are to hit your target.”

I took a deep breath. Then, I stepped through the massive door frame of the structure. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I pushed it out of mind as I began the decent.

Step by step I made my way down the passage, observing every last vine and piece of stone as I went. Close quarters like these were the worst places to get ambushed or to set off traps in. They were also the easiest places to accidentally trigger the latter.

To my shock, we soon reached the bottom unscathed. There, the plant growth encroaching on the stone interior seemed to intensify. Roots spread across the ground, and vines dangled from above. As I saw the familiar sight, I didn't hesitate to throw a blade at the enemy. It connected, plunged into it, and severed the vine cleanly. I stared as the disconnected portion of it fell limply to the ground without the slightest reaction from the rest of the plant.

“Huh, I guess it really was just a vine. False alarm everyone!”

It had looked too much like a Bloodthorn Vine. The danger those monsters presented was enough that the risk of a single look-alike plant being the real thing was too much for me to ignore. Going forward, I resolved myself to treating each one as a threat, even if it only resulted in me wasting my time and effort. It was a necessary precaution. With a sigh at my added, likely pointless, workload, I took a few more steps forward before freezing once more on the spot.

My eyes had fixed on something. Up ahead, only a handful of steps forward, just on the other side of what appeared to be a large tree root that had obscured it from view up until the exact point down the hall I had reached, there was a break in the wall. On the other side of it, a plant, dark in color, gently swayed back and forth in a breeze I was confident didn't exist. The sight didn't fill me with concern, fear, or even apprehension. All I felt was recognition and frustration.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I grumbled, “These? Here of all places? What's my luck?”

I glared daggers at the familiar sight from my homeland I could never fail to recognize: a Crystal Puffer.

“I hate these pests,” I spat out.