Having pitted Timathor against Kaz, Vance returned to his seat on one of the sarcophagi. He chose this location because it was close to both the battleground and the chamber’s single entrance. From this position, he could not only give instructions to help Timathor but also ensure that no one interrupted the fight. They’re both double-wielding; they both have access to healing; and they’re both almost the same level. Vance watched as Kaz approached Timathor. They don’t have any Skills or Perks, because they’re still below level 25, so the outcome of this fight depends on decision-making—on how responsive Timathor will be.

“Die, you worthless gob!” Kaz shouted. He raised his battle-ax, advanced three steps, and slashed at Timathor’s neck.

Vance saw the attack in the light of Kaz’s shiny belt. Before the ax could make contact with the green skin, he said, “Parry!” And Timathor responded to this command with great promptness. It adjusted its stance so that one foot was slightly ahead of the other. Then it raised the steel dagger to the level of its head and intercepted the ax. The steel blade struck the sharp bit of the ax, deflecting the attack to the left and preventing an early end to the fight.

Kaz, however, smirked at the predictable move. He knew that the goblin’s other weapon—the short spear—couldn’t be used for defense, and having forced Timathor to block once with the dagger, he now had a clear advantage and a chance to strike with his sword. He lunged into an aggressive attack. His footwork was perfect, and he towered over Timathor like a Goliath. With his right hand, he pulled his blade back and then thrust it forward with incredible strength, aiming at Timathor’s chest.

“Evade!” Vance ordered.

Timathor sidestepped the powerful thrust. Then it bent down to all fours and avoided another. Kaz began to slash with his sword, but Timathor didn’t falter or cower in fear. It knew that its level was much higher than it was a couple of days ago, and it trusted the absolute command that Vance had issued. With the nimbleness of a small monster and the slipperiness of a slime, it continued to avoid one slash after the other. It jumped, hopped, ducked, and backflipped until its opponent began to sweat and pant. Then there came a chance for a counter-attack—a moment of incaution on Kaz’s behalf.

“Attack!” Vance ordered.

Timathor took a step back to avoid a slash, jumped past the enemy sword, and thrust its spear into Kaz’s thigh. The tip disappeared into the flesh, and Kaz’s pants became soaked in blood. But Timathor didn’t stop here. It pulled the spear out quickly, avoided the battle-ax, and slithered behind Kaz. Once there, it dragged its dagger across the back of his knee and cut his hamstring, leaving him lame in one leg.

“Why won’t this fucking thing die?” Kaz shouted, as he tried to suppress the pain. “What have you been feeding this fiend?” Feeling for the first time that he might lose the fight, he turned around and waved his battle-ax at random. His movements were motivated by a burst of uncontrollable emotion, and they were almost impossible to predict. Eventually, he managed to hit Timathor’s helmet. The strike didn’t cause serious harm, but it left a noticeable dent in the steel and made the little goblin’s pupils dance as if in a white ballroom.

“Retreat!” Vance ordered.

Although it was still impacted by the hit, Timathor put its weapons in its mouth and ran away on all fours into the dark, where none of Kaz’s frenzied attacks could reach it. It stayed there for a while, trying to recover its balance and its control over its body. Once it could see clearly again, with the dizziness gone, it executed the rest of the retreat command: it hurried back to Vance and asked for a healing potion to drink.

“Here you go,” Vance said, putting a bottle in its tiny green hands.

“You’re fucking kidding me … You’re healing it too?” Kaz lost his balance and fell to the ground. He couldn’t move his right leg, so he abandoned his ax and tried to use his free arm to get up. His efforts, however, were pointless, and he couldn’t stand up again, no matter how he arranged his limbs. In the end, he shifted his attention to his dwindling HP. He took his healing potions out and started drinking them as if they had been water. “Goblins can’t single-handedly defeat adventurers!” He gulped a potion. “When a goblin faces a human, there’s no fight!” He gulped another. “You tricked me!” He bellowed at Vance with indignation. “This isn’t a goblin! You cheated me!”

“It’s a goblin,” Vance said. “And it’s beating you—fair and square.”

“You’re lying!” Kaz screamed with tearful eyes. “A goblin can’t fight like that! A goblin’s job is to die and give me EXP!”

“And who decided that?”

“It’s common sense! That’s how the world works!”

“Last time I checked, the world wasn’t this convenient,” Vance smiled.

“You’re mad!” Kaz said, worming his way toward the chamber’s eastern wall. “Amirani, Bestower of the Holy Gifts, save me from the Agents of Chaos! Save me from this lunatic! I may have sinned when I humiliated Mark Weiss and stole his healing potions, but I don’t deserve to die! I don’t deserve this cruel punishment!”

“Punishment?” Vance laughed. “This isn’t any punishment. This is just how the world works. An adventurer’s job is to die and give us EXP.” Vance patted Timathor on the head and whispered, “Go for the kill, little buddy. Charge!”

“Ow-ushga-Vance!” Timathor said, with a confident grin. Then it turned to face Kaz and charged at him with its two weapons. “Baikahj! Baikahj!”

When Kaz heard the goblin in the dark, he began to panic. He had already reached the chamber’s wall, so he grabbed the glass pipes and tried to pull his body up. His arms weren’t very muscular, but they had just enough power to accomplish his goal. He stood up straight again after the long demeaning crawl. With his back to the wall and with only a few seconds until Timathor attacked, it might have been wise to ready his defenses. Kaz, however, had a different idea in mind. He raised his sword and hit the glass pipes that ran along the wall.

The pipes were filled with a high concentration of Mana, and Kaz wanted to release it into the air. He wasn’t a mage, so he couldn’t use this Mana to attack. Nevertheless, he was convinced that it could serve another purpose. With a poor understanding of how magic worked, he thought that highly concentrated Mana could heal his torn hamstring. When the glass pipe shattered, however, the utter foolishness of his assumptions became apparent. The Mana erupted and formed a cloud around him, but his leg remained incapacitated.

“Fuck! Why isn’t it healing me?” Kaz pushed his back against the wall and tightened his grip on his sword. “Fuck! I won’t lose to a freakin’ goblin!”

At that moment, Timathor jumped out of the Mana cloud and thrust its spear forward with a twist of the wrist. Kaz waved his sword in panic and deflected the well-aimed attack. Timathor slashed with his dagger. Kaz blocked again. The consecutive goblin attacks were applying a lot of pressure, but he stood fast and struggled almost as admirably as a real hero.

“Ha ha! You won’t get the best of the Ten-slime Hero! You little gob!”

His panicked expression slowly changed into a smile of confidence. But it was this confidence—or rather, overconfidence—that proved to be his worst failing: he perceived a chance to stab, and he rushed to grab it without consideration, forgetting that he was fighting no ordinary goblin.

“Disarm!” Vance ordered.

Timathor sidestepped out of harm’s way. Then it thrust its short spear and punctured Kaz’s pride. The spear gored the helpless adventurer’s forearm and forced him to drop the sword—his last means of resistance.

It was time for the final command, and Vance said, “Kill!”

Timathor threw its spear aside. Then it jumped on Kaz’s injured thigh and climbed toward his head.

“No! Leave me alone!” Kaz screamed. “You win! Please spare my life!”

But Timathor didn’t understand these pleas. It pulled Kaz’s short brown hair and tilted his round head to the side. Below his jawline was where the steel dagger pierced. The carotid arteries burst open. Timathor jumped away, and the strength began to leave Kaz’s body. He dropped to his knees and died with his back still against the wall, surrounded by glass fragments and a dissipating cloud of Mana.

“Hinjaoor!”

Battle Result

You have gained a boosted 2325 EXP.

Visit one of the shrines of Thurvik to level up.

“Good job, little buddy,” Vance said. He jumped off the sarcophagus, got out his monstroscope, and looked closely at Timathor. It finally made it to level 16. He smiled like a proud parent. Slow and steady … Or maybe it’s me who’s leveling up too fast. He watched Timathor dance in celebration. Yeah, it’s probably me. The experience boost I get is still crazy. He threw Timathor a piece of cooked beef, a treat that kept it from eating the corpses. I’ve already reached my target—level 27. He watched Timathor as it savored the beef. So I guess I won’t draw a dagger for the rest of the day. Yeah, Timathor can now handle everything on its own.

Having fed his voracious goblin, Vance walked over to the corpse of the latest victim. Kaz’s brown eyes were open, and they had an empty look as if they had been searching the horizon. Blood was still spilling out of his arched nose and from between his pale lips. The arms were flaccid, and the legs were bent in a way that no human would find comfortable. His piteous appearance, no doubt, inspired sympathy, but Vance laughed; he laughed because the blood hadn’t covered the childish tattoo on Kaz’s left cheek. It was a comical drawing of ten slimes—nine small and one large—all with x’s for eyes and o’s for mouths.

He really loved that whole Ten-slime Hero thing.

Vance removed Kaz’s shining belt and tore it into pieces. Then he bent down to his knees and lifted the corpse on his shoulder. He wanted to add it to the hidden pile of cadavers—the victims that he was stashing away in the spaces between the sarcophagi. Eventually, he would set them ablaze to make their faces unrecognizable and their cause of death indeterminable, but for now, they lay like butchered cattle at a slaughterhouse—born of human love, nursed to have ambitions, fed dreams to corpulence, and consigned to the blade of reality. Their individuality had been erased, and they had been reduced to plain meat. Contrary to their lifelong expectations, the future was ash.

Cremation is how the dwarves respect their dead. Vance paused halfway to the macabre pile and rebalanced Kaz’s corpse on his shoulder. So maybe they’ll end up in dwarven heaven. What was it called again? Oh, yeah, High Forge.

With a bit of a smile on his face, he was about to resume walking, but then an odd feeling—an insidious shiver—snaked through his back. He assumed that his exposure to the cloud of Mana had caused this unpleasant sensation, and he chose to ignore it with little care or concern. But then, suddenly, the ground started shaking under his feet. He felt an ominous tremor that seemed to have been foretold by his own shiver. Haunted by ill premonitions, with a niggling sense of foreboding, he turned around and noticed that the floor was moving. It was opening like a stone mouth, and a stairway appeared where there had been nothing before.

What’s happening? Vance couldn’t see much more in the dark. The light that the glass pipes provided was no longer there to help him, and even Kaz’s torn belt had already lost its luster. I need to find a torch. He threw Kaz’s body on the ground and rushed to look among the other corpses for a source of light. As he searched in slight panic, however, the drawings on the chamber’s walls began to shine with peerless refulgence. There were sixteen depictions of the glorious midday sun, and they all beamed with brilliant incandescence, as if they had become genuine stars.

Vance stopped looking for a torch and walked toward the new opening in the ground. In the light of the mural suns, he saw a subterranean corridor—a dark, slime-infested passage into the unknown. But there was more than just slime. He could feel a different presence—much more powerful, much more alarming. And it wasn’t long before his sharp ears caught the recurrent sound of footsteps coming from deeper underground.

“Enami! Enami!” Timathor shouted and ran to stand beside Vance.

“Humans … you finally cut my last lifeline,” a voice echoed from inside the passageway. “But it’s too late. I’ve harvested enough Mana for my return.”

Without a moment of delay, Vance and Timathor began to back away.

“Where is Amirani? Where is the traitor king?” the voice continued gruffly. “Does he still stand among you? Did he come to push a rusty blade into the old wound on my back? Or did he only send his pawns?”

“Come on, Timathor,” Vance said, grabbing the little goblin’s hand. “Come on, little buddy, we’re leaving.”

They turned around and ran between the parallel rows of sarcophagi. Before they could make it to the exit, however, two columns of water erupted from the cracks in the ground. The water hurled the stone coffins into the air. Then they came crashing down and blocked the way to safety. Vance tried to move the heavy obstacles, but they refused to budge. In the end, he grabbed Timathor’s hand again and rushed back to the center of the burial chamber. In the light of the sixteen suns, he paused to search whether there were any other exits, but there were none in sight.

We have to fight. Vance reached this inescapable conclusion and equipped his spectral dagger. But what are we fighting exactly? He swallowed nervously. What did we awaken by mistake?

At that chilling moment, from the opening in the ground, a mummified solar elf emerged. His face was gaunt, with sunken cheeks and a pointy chin. His tapering ears were twice the length of their human equivalent, and his yellow eyes, once as beautiful as the morning sun, were now fogged up. He had almost the same height as Vance, but he was as cadaverous as a victim of starvation. His body was wrapped in yellowish linen, and where there were no wrappings, his skin appeared with a milky color and a chalky texture. Out of his back, two large prods protruded like spears. These prods were connected to torn rubber hoses, which dangled on each side of his body like the branches of a willow tree.

I can’t see his Intelligence, so he’s probably higher than me in level. By how much is the real question, though.

“Are you the only one Amirani sent?” the elf said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vance replied, with as much calm and composure as possible. “The Church didn’t send me here.”

“What Church?” the elf said. “I’m asking about your king, human.”

“There is no king. There’s the Council of the Ten Princes, but I have nothing to do with it either. I came here to train as an adventurer. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, and you won’t see me here again if you let me leave.”

“Leave?” The elf’s right arm broke off his body and fell on the ground, where it turned into lifeless dust. “Yes, you can leave. After you give me your young, healthy body, you can leave this world for good.”

The solar elf opened his parched mouth and let out a stentorian roar. This clamorous shout continued to get louder and louder until it sent shockwaves through the air. So powerful were these waves that the elf’s jaw broke into tiny pieces. The intense recoil made his ancient body crumble into sandy dust, but his spirit simultaneously emerged from inside its withering vessel. It was a mistful entity with the elf’s face appearing on its surface—oversized and aglow with a blue light—and it traveled along the shockwaves toward Vance, just as a fish travels along the rapid currents of a surging river.

Immediately, Vance realized the grave danger that he was in. I’ll get possessed if I let that thing touch me. He didn’t turn around and run, however, because he knew that the elven spirit would ride the shockwaves and catch him. I need to be patient. I need to wait for the right moment. And this moment came when there was only an arm’s length between him and the spirit. He jumped out of the way, and it passed by him like an arrow that had missed its mark. That was close. He breathed in relief. Now I need to keep my distance.

“There is no escape, human. Your body suits me well, and it will be mine.”

The elven spirit turned around and closed in on his back, but he didn’t give it a chance to corner him. After five quick steps, he dove under a ceremonial altar, and it passed above his head like a speeding wagon. The danger was gone again, but he knew that he couldn’t continue running away like this forever. I need to do something quick. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his thoughts. I have no weapon that can fend off a rageful spirit. I can’t exorcise it, and I can’t pacify it. But there must be something else I can do.

Carefully and cautiously, he raised his head and scanned the chamber. The elven spirit was circling in the air and turning toward him. Before it could dive at him, however, his eyes had fallen on the one thing that could save him. That’s it! Why haven’t I thought of that earlier? I still have a chance. He rushed out from under the altar and ran, as fast as his feet could carry him, toward the center of the chamber. He strained his heart; he strained his lungs; he squeezed every bit of energy out of his body cells. He needed to outrun the elven spirit only once. If he could do it, he might live.

“Ow-ushga-Vance!” Timathor shouted, running alongside him.

“No! You stay away, or you’ll die!” Vance shouted back. “Escape!”

Timathor heard the command and ran for safety.

Don’t worry about me, little buddy. This tribe won’t lose its leader today.

With the visage of death in pursuit of him, gambling for his life and placing a tough bet, Vance dove toward Kaz’s corpse and lay on top of it. The elven spirit plunged down to possess him, but he wrapped his arms around the corpse and rolled sideways as fast as he could. As a result of this quick roll, the elven spirit ended up crashing into Kaz’s corpse instead, and Vance kicked the convulsing body aside. Did it work? He backed away and watched the corpse twitch and jolt. If that spirit comes out again, I’ll be a goner. He held his breath with growing apprehension. Please … Please stay inside.

The corpse twitched near the chest.

Come on …

A violent jolt followed in the same area.

Come on, please. Just settle inside the damn corpse!

“Insolent short-ear! Inferior creature!” Kaz’s eyes suddenly opened wide. His blood, which had been scattered all over the chamber, returned inside his pale body through his wounds. Then these wounds healed as if they had never been there. “Do you have the slightest idea what you’ve done to me? You made me possess a corpse! A corpse!”

His Intelligence is now just 35. Vance breathed a sigh of relief.

“A corpse!” the elf inside Kaz’s body repeated.

“It doesn’t sound that bad to me,” Vance said, as he stood up. “All I can say is welcome back, Kaz.”

“You ignorant plebeian!” the elf erupted, almost explosively. “I can’t transfer my powers to an inanimate body. I lost everything! Everything! I was a level 900 Hydromancer, but now I’m forced to be whatever this weakling is … A level 18 human Warrior—aargh!” He punched the ground in utter frustration. Then he stood up and walked to the altar. He grabbed it with both hands and started hitting his head against it. “A level 18 Warrior! Mercy, Mighty Helios! A level 18 Warrior!” He flipped the bronze altar. Then his shouts turned into mournful mutters, and he whimpered, “I spent all these millenia collecting Mana from a poor environment, only to return as a level 18 human Warrior … This is nothing but divine comedy.”

“Now now,” Vance said, “you’re the almighty Ten-slime Hero. That’s at least one rank better than a pile of dust.”

“I will murder you! I will gut you and feed you to the slimes!”

Raging again like a stormy sea, the elf turned around to attack Vance, but he found the spectral dagger at his throat. The weapon forced him to stop and back a fearful step.

“Come again?” Vance smirked.

“I will … I will …”

“You will help me move the sarcophagi blocking the way out, won’t you?”

The elf raised his arms in submission, but he said, “I … I can’t.”

“Don’t be shy, Kaz. You’re the one who trapped us here, remember?”

“I had to use my magic to do it, and I don’t have any left.”

“In that case … Is there any other way out of the chamber?”

The elf averted his eyes.

“Speak.”

“The underground Harvestorium, where my elven body was stored. It leads to the rest of the labyrinth and to the other exits.”

“Thank you very much,” Vance said, preparing to finish off the elf.

“What are you doing? No! You can’t! Wait! Wait!” The elf avoided the spectral dagger, but then his knees failed him. “Keep that thing away from me! I can’t die! I can’t die after all those years!” He dropped to the cold ground and crawled until his back was against the flipped altar. “Don’t do it! Don’t kill me!” His face turned bloodless as Vance approached, and his eyes flicked as if to search for a rescuer. “You need me with you; you won’t survive without me!”

Vance stopped with only a hair separating the dagger from its target.

“You will spend weeks going around in circles,” the elf continued, prickling with goosebumps and gabbling in panic. “Even if you escape from the slimes and traps, you will starve or die of thirst. You need me. You need a guide who knows the place. I built it. I know every nook and cranny. I can get you out in a matter of hours. Hours instead of weeks!”

Vance took a moment to consider the offer. Judging by the very presence of this solar elf, it seemed that the tombs had more secrets than the archaeologists advertised. He hadn’t prepared for a long crawl through the dungeon, since he had planned to limit his activities to Kogelstein’s chamber, and he knew that arrogance and unpreparedness would be lethal in these cobwebbed warrens. Accordingly, while part of him still believed that he should kill the elf to avoid any future trouble, he concluded that it would be better to keep him alive and use him until his value expired.

“You need me with you,” the elf repeated, with even more desperation.

Vance smiled and said, “Well, then you’ll lead the way, Kaz.”