The Cabin Is Always Hungry (A Dungeon Core Horror Slasher)

LAST RESORT

Part 6

The old, beaten-up F-250 Ford truck stopped about thirty feet from us. Three men climbed out of the vehicle and approached, three pairs of eyes studying us carefully like wolves assessing their prey. Once their gaze landed on me, they couldn’t look away. Their fixation turned into a deep bow: heads down, knees bent, paying their respects to their new master. They didn’t get up until I told them to.

I presumed they were all brothers since the three men looked almost identical: tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed, brawny arms and chests. They wore flannel shirts, dark jeans, and leather boots, although the youngest of the three was the only one wearing a tank top underneath his unbuttoned flannel shirt.

Contrary to the creations of all my archetypes, I didn’t know everything about them from the start, especially their names or where they came from. I wasn’t privy to how the System “collected” them and bound them to my service as a dungeon monster.

I had to ask. “Who are you?” I already knew they could answer me since I had given them [ Speech ].

The oldest of the three spoke. “My name is Alan, my lord. Alan Sawyer,” he said. When he called me, I noticed my lord was still strange in his tongue. “And these are my brothers: Garth and Luke.” He pointed to the man wearing a Chicago Cubs baseball cap next to him, who was an inch or two taller, and then to the man with the tank top, who sported a cheeky grin. Once my gaze landed on the two of them, the youngest, Luke, dropped the grin. Perhaps he thought he shouldn’t risk offending me.

The Sawyers. “It’s good to meet you all,” I said. “Where are you from?”

It took Alan a moment to answer. “We are from nowhere, but from what I know, this is where we shit now.”

I blinked. That’s colorful. “With how you all are dressed, you must be from around here. Earth.”

“Jackson,” Alan said.

“Idaho?”

Alan nodded.

“And you drove all the way from there?”

It was Luke who answered this time, shaking his head. “A glowing portal thingy opened, like in the Marvel movies, you know? Doctor Strange? Only this one didn’t have that golden sparkly ring. It’s more black or a really dark purple. Anyway, my brother just drove through it. He said that’s where the scroll thing needs us to go. Hey, we didn’t get killed, so that’s a plus.”

“Scroll?”

Alan gestured at his brother to speak less. “The System,” he said simply.

“Ah. Well, welcome to North Cedar Lake, gents. Make yourselves at home,” I said, ignoring the questions about the System swarming in my head. Scrolls, huh?

“What can they do?” Demon asked. “Although I can already guess…” she trailed off.

Alan raised his eyebrow at me as if he was asking for permission.

I smiled. “Go ahead.”

Luke cracked his knuckles, preparing himself. Unlike his brothers, he was the one who was most excited.

Suddenly, their backs arched violently, and the muscles in their chests and arms swelled, tearing through the fabric of their shirts. Flesh stretched to its limits, each inch of their skin pulling painfully tight as if something beastial inside was trying to escape. A deep, primal snarl began to rise, gnawing at the insides as their mouths foamed with saliva.

Their breaths became more ragged, and they buckled over, pressed their palms to the earth, fingers digging into the dirt, desperately trying to keep themselves balanced as their eyes changed into the bright golden hue of an animal. Black mangly hairs grew all over their bodies, muscle and bone lengthening, making them taller, more robust, bigger, stronger. Hungrier. Their fingernails were knocked off by sharp claws. Their clothes now lay in tatters on the ground. Facial bones cracked, snapped, and then rearranged, making way for the snout and rows of sharp teeth.

Oh, grandmother, what sharp teeth you have…

The others slowly backed away from the monstrosities that now towered before them.

Huffing.

Puffing.

The Big, big bad—

“Werewolves?” Demon took a curious step toward them.

“Yep,” I said. Werewolves.”