Chapter 10: The Key
The rats attacked him seconds after his feet found the dirt floor of the basement.
The heavy smoke in the air and the lack of preparation took their toll on him. Even though he stomped the beasts into a bloody ruin as always, they bit him several times before he managed to completely slaughter them. Once that was over he put on his boots and the armor in the dark, using his socks as makeshift bandages to deal with the bleeding as best he could.
“God damn, that hurts,” he swore, kicking a rat after he’d finished belting everything else on. This run obviously wasn’t starting off right, but at least he didn’t have to worry about infection, because the way things had been going he wasn’t likely to survive another hour.
The second floor was better. By now he was so used to the traps and the minor variations that he could probably walk through this floor in the dark if it weren’t for the bats. Not that he was willing to try of course.
That would be almost as frightening as the skeletons. The goblin cave on the other hand, was something he should honestly be trying to walk through in the dark, but the idea terrified him. Simon knew where to go now, but just thinking about that lone patrol and those awful teeth made him shiver.
He’d never feel comfortable on the third floor of this madhouse without a machine gun or a few spells up his sleeves. As he crept down the dark passage, trying to remember where he saw the lone goblin last time, his mind returned again and again to magic. He’d seen it twice now in the pit. The first time was in the eyes of the skeleton king or whatever that thing was, and the second was the goblin caster that had been outside his cabin.
It was definitely a real force - something that he should be able to use to beat this game eventually, but he didn’t have the slightest idea how he was supposed to learn it. Hesitantly Simon tried to repeat the word he’d heard the goblin utter when the fireworks started a few times, “Ger-vulmenen. Gerulever-min. Garvul-manin.” There was no storm of sparks or sudden fires as he tried to nail down the pronunciation of the unfamiliar word. Instead the only evidence that anything had happened at all was a bad taste in his mouth.
His brow furrowed at that. Why should saying a word make his mouth taste like sulfur? That train of thought was quickly derailed as - he heard a sudden scream of alarm. That damned goblin had found him again while he was distracted.
Simon made quick work of the little ball of rage when it charged him, along with the first one that came after him. Fighting goblins wasn’t the hard part. They were vicious, but not very strong. It was seeing the little bastards before they snuck up on him that was the hard part.