“A trap? What do you mean, you triggered a trap?”

Milenna’s tone was angry as she turned to look first at Shiraz and then at Red. She clearly did not appreciate the interruption. Ben, on the other hand, used the arrival of his other two companions to try and calm his breathing and think straight. Was he just about to kiss Milenna? His fast-beating heart said that indeed he was. However now that the sorceress didn’t stand so close he found it hard to believe that there was any way in the world that he could get intimate with such a woman. She had the bearing of a queen! Why would she even consider hooking up with a street urchin such as he? A small voice inside his mind reminded him that he was facing an avatar - who knew what this woman looked like in real life - but it was a weak voice and lacking any conviction and Ben promptly forgot about it. Besides, Red was speaking again. Ben was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he missed some of it, but the mercenary’s next words snatched him back to reality.

“ - at least I think it was. What else would you call a floor that suddenly dropped under your feet? I would have fallen into the chasm that appeared but I managed to jump away in time.”

Ben’s cloudy mind completely cleared by then. He turned to look at the dark-skinned warrior. “A chasm?” It still hurt to speak but his mind was racing with possibilities and he ignored the annoying pain. “How deep is it? Is it a round room with an elliptic drop that goes all the way to the center? Are there any carvings on the tiles around the pit?”

Red narrowed his eyes. “It sounds like you’ve been there yourself.”

Ben shook his head. “I haven’t. But I think I know of what you speak. It’s not a trap, it’s the way to the second level of the dungeon!”

“How do you - “ Red started asking but then stopped and snorted. “A scholar. I remember.” The mercenary frowned. “Still, I don’t see how this pit could be a way into anywhere. I took a peek down there and guess what - there are spikes waiting for anyone stupid enough to try the jump. Heck, if I was any lower on dexterity you might have found me impaled down there myself!”

Ben only half listened. His new memories sprang to life in his mind and demanded his attention. “I have to see for myself,” he mumbled and started to walk toward the staircase.

“Don’t you want to check the chest we almost died to find?” Milenna’s voice was snappy - she was still clearly irritated.

Ben stopped, realizing she was right. “Yes. First the chest, then we go up.” As he turned back his right arm brushed against the wall and pain shot through his injured hand. Ben cried out. He wanted to cradle his hand but was afraid to touch it - a large piece of his skin was torn and burned, exposing the flesh underneath in a grotesque manner. Tears of pain filled his eyes. Now that he focused on the pain, it seemed to only worsen as he once again felt the terrible sensation of burning both from inside and out. An alarming prompt appeared and he realized he wasn’t imagining:

You failed to resist the ongoing damage from necrotic fire damage and lose 1 HP. If this isn’t taken care of you will lose 1 more point of health every minute. Do something about it!

Ben heard Milenna cursing and turned his watery gaze to her. She was grimacing in pain and he could only guess that the sorceress was reading the same prompt and that she also failed her virtual saving throw. “I’m sorry - “ he started but shut his mouth as suddenly the carved fist at the tip of the sorceress’s staff glowed azure. The bluish light enveloped her for a moment and when it was gone, Ben saw that her injuries were completely gone - the skin on her face and hands was whole again and, by her peaceful look, it seemed the inner necrotic damage was cured as well.

The sorceress saw him looking and smiled, though this time it was a cold smile; her expression was once again aloof and so was her voice when she spoke: “Before you ask, the cooldown for this spell - the only one I have to heal necrotic damage - is ten minutes. I do hope you can wait.”

Ben could, but just barely. He had 14 HP remaining, which meant that by the time Milenna could heal him he would be rolling on the floor and screaming in agony. “I would rather not,” he said and hated the panicked tone in his voice. “Maybe there’s something else?”

A stupid question, so he guessed he deserved the snort of derision coming from the sorceress. What he didn’t expect was Shiraz, who approached and handed him a small vial with bluish liquid inside. When he identified it his eyes widened:

Small enhanced health potion. Cures 8 HP. Negates necrotic effects (regular restrictions apply)

“I found a couple of these on the dead adventurer,” said the shadow mage. She wasn’t smiling but her eyes were glinting shrewdly. Ben was positive that there was some message the redhead woman was trying to communicate with her gaze but, if there was, its meaning eluded him. “Dead adventurer?” he asked, clenching his teeth against the pain. His eyes were glued to the potion of life.

“Yup. Remember the skeleton by the entrance? It was the remains of someone who once tried to cross this chamber and failed. I guess she knew about the danger of necrotic damage and brought these potions along. Not that it helped her. Are you going to drink it or what?”

Ben didn’t need any more prompting. He took the vial with his uninjured hand and gulped down its content. The relief was immediate - the burning pain evaporated and the skin on his hand and face was quickly restored. The sensation was amazing and rejuvenating, putting any real-life pain-killers to shame. Ben took a deep breath and smiled gratefully at Shiraz. “Thanks,” he said. Then he remembered something she said and furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know she was an adventurer? Or that she was a she to begin with? Wasn’t it just a skeleton?” By this time both Milenna and Red drew close enough to hear their conversation and the mercenary added a question of his own: “and what other loot did she have?”

Shiraz chose to answer only Ben’s question, completely ignoring the other man. She produced a crumpled paper from a pocket and straightened it. They could all see that there were words written there and, of course, they seemed to be written in blood: which was only appropriate when discovering a crumpled note on a dead adventurer in an ancient forgotten dungeon. Shiraz read aloud:

“Are you seeking the secrets of the DDD? I was too! I just didn’t have enough blood… GO TO HELL RAXLON. I loved that character!

See you in another life,

Priestess Melissa of Sonadin.”

The others stood silently as Shiraz crumpled the note again and continued to speak. “DDD is obvious enough,” she said matter of factly. “It’s the Dungeon of Dwarven Despair. Poor Melissa probably found our DM’s challenges too much for her and perished before she had a chance to get out. As for that part about not having enough blood…” She shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to figure that out.”

Ben started to say something but Shiraz raised a hand. “Now, what about that chest you mentioned? And the spiders? And how the hell did you two manage to get hit by necrotic fire?”

Ben had to hand it to her - she knew how to divert their attention from the things that she didn’t want discussed. It was obvious to him - and probably to the others - that there was more to “Priestess Melissa of Sonadin” than just a note and a few potions but, as Ben was already learning, there were unwritten rules in this game. Shiraz would share the rest of her findings when - and if - she saw fit. He decided to help her, feeling that he owed her at least that much. “The chest’s over there,” he pointed and started walking.

As they walked, he quickly shared his and Milenna’s brief story of the fight with the spiders - a tale that elicited a hearty laugh from Red when he finished. “You blew yourself up just to kill some tiny spiders! That’s brilliant, bro. Raxlon’s probably seeing it in reruns.”

Ben suddenly had a terrifying thought. He accessed his character sheet - and sighed in relief. There wasn’t any “Suicide Bomber” in his title screen or any other attempt of weak humor by his DM. Thank the Engill for small miracles, he mused.

When they reached the cobwebs that covered the chest, Ben had to explain once more about the special effect of his wand - which was emitting its happy purple glow again. Then the scout used his Passive Focus, taking the time to check for traps. As before, he could now clearly see the small wooden chest that was hidden beneath the thick webs. It looked old - ancient, even - and there was a big metal lock to it, just like in the old pirates movies. Ben focused harder, but nothing else called out to him and he eventually stopped his search - either there weren’t any traps around the chest, or his perception power wasn’t strong enough to detect it.

Ben took a deep breath. Then he drew his dagger and carefully cleared a path through the cobwebs. When the gap was large enough he used the dagger to drag the sticky material away until the chest was standing almost completely exposed.

Ben straightened and looked at the others. “I don’t suppose any of you found a key?” He looked pointedly at Shiraz and the woman shook her head slightly. Was that a smile dancing across her lips? Ben moved his gaze to Red. “How about some brute force, then?”

The big warrior looked at him disgustedly. “First you use my sword as a mirror and now you think I would use it as a fucking crowbar?” He shook his head. “No way Jose. Think again. And who are you calling a brute, anyway?”

Ben decided it was time to use a bit of flattery. He sheathed his common dagger and instead took out his crude dagger - the very first weapon he had found in the game. He handed the basic blade to Red, hilt first. “I wasn’t talking about the sword, I know how much it means to you. I was just thinking about that incredible strength stat of yours.”

Red probably knew he was being manipulated, but the challenge was too tempting to pass by. The warrior humphed and grabbed the dagger. “Move,” he barked and Ben complied with a small smile. Then the Red Mercenary focused his attention on the lock, assessing it. He steadied his arm and his aim - and struck. There was the loud clinging of metal on metal and sparks flew into the air. Red struck again, and again, and a fourth time and then all of them heard the lock snap under the pressure.

When Red handed the dagger back to Ben, it was with a smug smile. The dagger itself lost whatever edge it had before and a large crack appeared along its length. Ben decided to keep it anyway; who knew when it could come in handy again. Then, finally, the scout kneeled by the chest and opened it, fervently hoping that there were indeed no traps waiting to be sprung.

The lid whined and creaked as he lifted it but otherwise nothing exploded or poisoned him, so Ben sighed in relief. All four of them leaned in to see what kind of treasure awaited them. They were not disappointed; the small chest was brimming with gold and silver coins. Among the coins several potions lay scattered, as well as two rings, massive golden bracelets, and a rolled parchment. As the others oohed over the treasure, Ben quickly identified the loot:

Small health potion. Cures 8 HP. Times 8. Small enhanced stamina potion. Restores 8 Stamina. Grants the Hasted status for 30 seconds. Times 4. Small enhanced mana potion. Restores 8 Mana. Grants +2 damage to offensive magic spells. Times 2. Heavy Bracers of Dwarven Strength. Grants +2 to strength and + 2 to defence. Ring of vigor. Grants +2 to constitution. Times 2. Map Fragment.

“Not bad!” Ben said. Shiraz nodded along and so was Milenna - which meant that either the two of them had some kind of identification skills of their own, or that they had other means that helped them figure out the properties of items. The only one who didn’t smile was Red. The mercenary looked at all of them in anticipation, though. “Well? Do tell. These bracers seem to call my name for some reason. Am I right?”

So the man couldn’t identify magic items very well. Ben tucked that information for later use, but for now decided to share. He told Red what each of the items was and was not surprised when the warrior immediately reached for the golden bracers. “This is mine. You can take the other stuff.” Red shot a glance at Ben as he spoke and this time the scout - who half expected it - felt something push against his mind. He immediately felt his will crumple and was nodding before he even realized it. Only after, when Red was replacing his old iron bracers with the new golden ones, did Ben register what had happened. The sonofabitch did it again! He glanced at Shiraz, remembering what she had told him about the mercenary’s special RLP power, but the shadow mage was still examining the loot - she was rummaging through the coins - and didn’t look back. Ben cursed inwardly and for a moment thought to confront the warrior. Then he took a long look at his dark-skinned companion and thought better of it. After all, the bracers did seem to be the perfect choice for the handsome warrior. He could imagine the mercenary charging at their enemies and he knew right then and there that with Red by his side, nothing in this dungeon would prove their match.

Satisfied that all was well, Ben turned his attention back to the rest of the loot. After a brief discussion the four of them decided to divide the health and stamina potions equally among them. Milenna took both of the mana potions to herself, and Shiraz and Ben each took one of the vigor rings. They counted the coins - there were 176 gold coins and 340 silver ones - and then equally divided them as well; there were a few empty pouches in the chest - a nice and unexpected perk from their DM - so it was easy enough to fill the pouches with the coins and tie them to each of the companions’ belts. Next time drop in some backpacks, too, Ben mused. His belt was already heavy with all the coins and the weapons; a backpack or even a simple bag would really come in handy now.

Finally there was only the rolled parchment. It was old and wrinkled, but fortunately it wasn’t crumbling to the touch. Ben slowly unrolled it as the others watched, their faces glowing white by the illumination of Milenna’s hovering light ball. After a few seconds, Red gave his customary snort. “Why would anyone give us only half a map?”

It was, indeed, only half a map. It was crude, definitely not drawn by anyone with a modicum of talent, but it was clear enough that it was meant to show a way that led somewhere inside the dungeon: it showed a rectangular room with multiple exits and there were arrows pointing toward a specific corridor. Only problem was, the map was unfinished. The drawing was incomplete and the arrows led nowhere. To Ben, it was obvious what they had to do. As it was to Shiraz, it seemed, because the woman completed Ben after he started to speak.

“We have to find - “ said Ben.

“Its other half,” said Shiraz and smiled at the scout. Ben smiled back. “Exactly. Which is -”

“Probably somewhere deeper in the dungeon,” the shadow mage completed. Ben grinned. “Yes. So - “

“So let’s stop playing around and get to it.” This time it was Milenna who answered - snapped, really - and completely ruined the moment. The sorceress didn’t wait for a response and started walking toward the staircase. “Let’s go. We lingered here too long as it is.”

Shiraz was smiling to herself as she followed the sorceress. Ben exchanged a look with Red - the mercenary just shrugged, as if to say one could never truly understand women, and followed as well. Ben brought up the rear.

When they reached the large balcony, Red led them across a floor strewn with debris until they reached an opening to another chamber. Here the mercenary stopped and turned to look at them. “It’s not a pretty sight,” he warned them, looking dead serious.

Ben braced himself as he slowly entered the new room. Anything that made the Red Mercenary ill at ease was not to be taken lightly. After the first step in, he understood why.

The room wasn’t very big, about ten yards in length and less so in width, and it had a clear narrow passageway that crossed all the way to the other side - where there was another opening and what looked like a deep chasm. However, it was what lay to either side of the narrow pathway that caused all of them to gasp and Milenna to cover her mouth in horror. They were standing amidst a mass grave.

Dozens of bodies in different stages of rot lay in a pile in two shallow depressions in the stone. The races of the dead were varied: Ben recognized humans and dwarves, but he was pretty sure some of the bodies belonged to races he had yet to meet - elves, gnomes, goblins, kobolds and orcs. He could count at least thirty bodies. All of them seemed to die savagely - he could see bashed heads, throats that were cut nearly in half, missing limbs and other signs that told the story of a mass slaughter that occurred here. Two thoughts pushed their way to the front of his mind: why wasn’t he smelling anything? The stench should have been terrible. And: how come he was seeing rotting bodies and not skeletons? No flesh should have remained after the hundreds of years that passed since the Duergar’s realm was populated.

Both his questions were answered when Ben noticed what he should have noticed in the first place: there was an almost transparent purple shimmer hovering above both piles of bodies. It was the magic of the undead, he knew, and it served both to preserve the bodies and to keep anyone from reaching them. As the scout saw it he felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull. A memory came to him unbidden:

The man sliced through his enemies like they were no more than lumbering piles of meat. His glowing blades danced and sparkled, blocking dozens of attempts to harm him as he ducked, spun, jumped and rolled. Trails of blood were left wherever he was, painting the very air of the great balcony red. One by one, and sometimes two by two, each of the foes facing him fell to his blades. Some were screaming, others were more fortunate and died even before they hit the floor.

Around the balcony, at a safe distance, stood three score of the Duergar Guardians, solemnly watching the fight - which soon became a massacre. None of them spoke, none moved. The only exception was when one orc was trying to run away from the fight - then a Duergar Guardian raised his ax and the orc had to choose - death by ax, or death by the vortex of blades that was the man in the midst of the fight. With a desperate roar he chose the latter. He died a few seconds later.

When it was over, the man was left alone among the dead. He was covered in blood from head to toe. His breath was ragged, his gaze fierce and predatory. He scanned the gathering of dark dwarves around him and finally settled his hateful gaze on the Duergar wizard. Thronderfeen stood next to an opening to another room. When he saw the look on the man’s face, the dwarven mage nodded gravely. “You have passed our trial. From now on, you shall be known as Gladiator of the Depths.” The robed Duergar bowed slightly to show his respect to the human.

The man’s hateful glare did not diminish. He advanced toward the wizard, his bloody blades still held tightly in his hands. Seeing the murder in his eyes, some of the Guardians stepped foward, raising their axes. Thronderfeen raised his hand. “You have proven your worth and your determination, Gladiator. But the might of our slaves is not the might of our guardians. Be warned.”

The man kept advancing and now Thronderfeen started to show signs of nervousness. “Spill our blood, and your quest shall fail!”

This time the man stopped, only a few feet away from the wizard. He was surrounded by sharp blades, but his eyes were only for the magician. When he spoke his voice was as cold as the storms that raged across the lands after the Day of Reckoning. “I fulfilled your vile ritual, Duergar, but I do so swear - the world would know of the evil I participated in today. Now, take me to the object of my desire.”

Thronderfeen nodded and licked his lips, unable to hide his relief. He signaled the Guardians to step away and then motioned for the man to follow him into a room that had two shallow depressions and a narrow pathway that crossed between then. “I will honor the bargain you have made with King Ghol, of course. First, though, there is another task I must complete before the bodies get cold…”

The man said nothing. There was nothing to be said. He was trapped in this foul business and even as he cursed himself for accepting the Duergar’s challenge, he couldn’t suppress the eagerness he felt at the reward that was waiting for him. For now, though, all he could do was watch as the dark dwarves piled the freshly killed bodies in the room, and as Thronderfeen began casting an ancient spell of necromancy. Soft purple light began to emanate from the tip of the wizard’s obsidian wand and the man’s eyes widened slightly as blood began to gather...

“Ben! What the hell are you - “

“Fuck, grab him! He’s gonna fall - “

A strong hand caught Ben by his arm and pulled him back toward the narrow pathway, and he realized he nearly fell on top of the rotting bodies. Ben’s eyes were wide as saucers and he held onto Red for a moment as if afraid to let go.

Red released himself from the scout’s deathly grip and took a step backward, looking quizzically at their leader. “What the hell just happened? You seemed to zoom out for a moment.”

Ben’s mind was still reeling from the vision. Just like last time, it took him several moments to orient himself - and to remind himself who he really was. The memory was so intense that for a moment he was sure that he was actually the man - the vortex of death - that appeared in the vision. But no, that couldn’t be. He was the Scout of Sonadin, a third level adventurer who was here to complete a quest. No, that wasn’t true either... he was Ben, a 19 years old man who was lying in his bed connected to a VD set. Wasn’t he?

Ben closed his eyes. A true sense of fright nearly overwhelmed him and for a moment all he wanted was to wake up and forget any of this ever happened. It was a fleeting moment of panic, though. Ben remembered Raxlon’s warning, but he also remembered his own words to the DM: “I will take the risks, whatever they are. I’m game.” Indeed, he was.

“Ben are you alright?” Shiraz’s voice sounded genuinely worried. “We can go back to the balcony for a moment if that’s too much - “

Ben opened his eyes and the woman stopped talking, her own eyes widening slightly as she saw the scout’s steely and hard glare. “I’m fine,” said Ben quietly. And he was, really. Somehow he felt surer of himself, as if a hidden riddle had been answered in him. When he looked at his three companions he felt for the first time that they weren’t better than him in any way. A confident smile slowly grew on his face. The others exchanged glances when they saw that unexpected transformation, but Ben didn’t notice. The scout drew out his wand - Thronderfeen’s wand - and pointed at the pile of corpses.

“I know what these bodies are here for,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he prepared to use the wand’s third effect, now known to him. “We need their blood.”