Rohan stood before the dungeon, wincing. The worst-case scenario was in front of him as a dungeon break was imminent. Not unless he took the dungeon straight on and conquered it. But he wasn’t readied. He was alone with the cleric left at Brightfort. Not to mention, he forgot to stash a chain mail and other necessary essentials which he knew was a stupid rookie mistake. He should have been prepared better, knowing that danger lurked at every corner.

“Should I? Or should I go back for reinforcement?” Rohan fell into a dilemma. Unknowingly, he started biting his nail, brainstorming a solution on the spot. But the distance between this dungeon and Brightfort was too far away, and this place was far too remote to reach by horse. It would be too late for any sort of assistance.

He started cursing in his mind as he couldn’t fathom what would happen if the monsters in this dungeon went loose. “Fuck!” he shouted, grasping his hair by the scalp.

“Hey, is everything fine?” Vhaerla asked. Coming closer with wary steps. She had never seen this side of Rohan before as the young man was usually all lame jokes and flirts.

Rohan turned and stared at Vhaerla and her wyvern. Yet he shook his head. ‘No, I can’t get her involved with this.' But looking at the wyvern made it tempting. With that kind of beast on their side, fighting through the dungeon might not be a big deal after all. And perhaps having air supremacy might be the easiest solution in tackling this dungeon.

‘On second thought, can I use the Mark of Thraldom on monsters?’ it just crossed his mind and the feeling of stupidity crept on him. ‘I’m an idiot, aren’t I.’ He glanced back at the swampland and weighed in whether he could survive in that kind of environment.

‘For one and a half star dungeon, it wouldn’t have any crocodile type monster, would it?’ he felt a shudder just from imagining those crocodiles lurking beneath the tranquil swamp. Rohan gulped a mouthful. He knew he couldn’t survive in there alone. ‘Sorry, but I don’t want to die,’ he made up his mind.

“Vhaerla,” he drew closer to the woman still hiding under the hood.

“What?” she asked. Her eyes pried to the inside of the tower as she too couldn’t hide her surprise over what she saw. It seemed the young lord wasn’t bluffing. “So there are monsters inside?” she pointed.

“I need your help,” he ignored the obvious. Gazing straight at Vhaerla’s eyes with his stalwart expression.

Catching his drift, Vhaerla responded. “You want me to go inside there, innit?”

Rohan nodded.

Hand on her hips, she looked at him. “Do you really think I’m going inside there, after what you told me about your close-to-death experiences? I’m not stupid, Rohan. It’s suicide.”

“Name your gol,” Rohan said. Not backing away from the lass’ rejection.

“Ten thousand,” she said casually. An amount that even Lord Dunmer would have trouble pulling out from the treasury.

“Deal,” Rohan replied.

“Good, now you know I won’t do something so reck— wait, what? Did you really just agree to that?” Vhaerla could not believe her ears. Did she just snag ten thousand gol that easily?

“I’ll be paying by installment,” he said.

“What’s an installment?”

“The deal is good then. So let’s go,” Rohan turned and approached the dungeon gate, ignoring that last bit of question from Vhaerla, and she wasn’t happy. She shouted and complained, demanding to know what installment meant.

Rohan pulled out his estoc from his inventory as he took a few practice swings with it. Getting a feel for it, he steeled himself for this reckless challenge. “You ready?” he turned and asked.

“Wait, where did you get that rapier from?” her questions piled up. She was as confused as a child in a new world.

“Ten thousand,” he reminded her. “I’ll be waiting for you and Mcvey on the other side.” Before Vhaerla could say a word, the young man vanished into the scenic view of the swampland.

“He’s gone,” Vhaerla said. The concerned look turned into a frown as she pulled her glance to her partner in crime. A glance was enough and the wyvern rose on its feet. The winged lizard trudged towards Vhaerla and the young lady leaped onto his back. The wings flapped, and the wyvern soared into the giant gate.

* * *

A splash came from underneath. Frowning, Rohan looked at his submerged boots, trapped within the jaws of the sticky mud. He cussed in his mumbles as he knew this would happen. With the strength he had, he set loose his boots, bringing it back on the mushy ground, minding not to put too much pressure unless he wanted to get stuck again.

“I really hate this,” he said. They were three things he hated the most when involving the outdoor and swampland was one of them. The smell of rot and decay made his nose wrinkle. It was unpleasant. Yet he could do nothing about it.

His eyes panned his surrounding. Just like his previous dungeon venture, the coast was clear with not a sight of any creature. The mist hung low to the ground and the limit of his sight clouded by the heavy mist on the horizon. It was odd. Really odd.

He trudged on his own, slowly. Taking his time, venturing further with his eyes peeled. Muddy water splashed with each step he took, betraying his attempt in moving stealthily. Yet he readied himself. No matter what happened, the end of his estoc would find its mark.

Rohan stopped. It was sudden, but the hair on his back rose as if his spider senses were tingling. He held his breath and silence reigned. In that instant, the sound of a droplet of water fell, echoing from his back. He turned. And by a stroke of luck, he lunged his estoc forward.

Metals clashed. Screeching through the air as Rohan witnessed his estoc tangling with the three-pointed end of a trident. It was rusty, and wet, with moss growing at some part of its shaft. Yet what baffled him was the creature that held that trident.

‘What in the hell are you?’ the creature before him stood on its two webbed feet. It was more or less the size of a goblin, yet a bit taller on average than those stinking little grinches. But its appearance was nothing like those ugly goblins. Its face was a blend of a fish and a frog with a little bit of hint of human in the mix. And the combination was far from being pleasant to look at.

The thick slimy lips of the creature parted. Yet it barely let out a sound. The popping noises were like coming from a goldfish underwater. It then wrestled the trident in its hand, trying to break free from entangling with Rohan’s estoc.

The young lord fought back. Pushing and pulling as he bent his body at a certain point, dodging the pointy edge of the trident.

“Rohan!” the voice of Vhaerla rang along with the growl of a wyvern. The tension in his estoc faded and Rohan found his chance. He pulled his estoc back and pierced it through the fear-stricken amphibian creature.

A clean stab went through its temple and pierced to the other side.

[You have gained 3 Exp.]

The creature slipped through the blade of the estoc and slumped on the ground lifeless. Then it dawned on him. “Ah, shit. I’m supposed to try the Mark on the monsters,” he grunted. Nonetheless, he dodged that ambush by a hairbreadth.

‘Is it because of the new points in perception?’ he asked himself.

[Rohan Prynne][Lv.5]

[Race: Human]

[Class: Slavemancer]

[HP: 76/76]

[EP: 13/16]

[MP: 20/20]

[Strength: 18]

[Endurance: 8]

[Defense: 6]

[Dexterity: 5]

[Arcane: 10]

[Willpower: 4]

[Perception: 8]

[Charisma: 17]

[Points available: 0]

His senses got keener even with the additional three points. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he should invest more in it, considering it might save him in a clutch in the near future.

Makvreiss soared closer and landed with a loud splash. The muddy water rose and drenched Rohan from the top. It wasn’t much but it did splatter against his face. He knew it was intentional and the humiliation he felt was making him more than annoyed. One of these days, he ought to show that flying reptile that he was the boss of him. Well, that was if his level was high enough.

“Hey, what’s with these words floating in my sight? Is this normal?” the usual occurrence of a new dungeon diver. Rohan simply explained the necessary thing about it, and in the end, the lady that rode wyvern chose her job.

The bow in her hand was the definitive answer of what class she had chosen. Even before this, Vhaerla was an excellent marksman. The archer class would surely enhance that quality of hers.

“What is that?” she peered from the back of the wyvern, setting her sight at the dead amphibian humanoid. “Rather than a monster, it’s more like a child gone wrong.”

“I think it's a merfolk,” Rohan said. It wasn’t like Rohan was a walking bestiary, but playing his fair share of games, the closest thing that resembled this amphibian humanoid was those merfolks, creatures beneath the waves. Yet in this case, perhaps it was the lesser swamp variant.

“Is that it?” she asked. Her eyes looked around as the effect of her passive skill, Eagle Eye bloomed, her vision got clearer and magnified. “Rohan . . . Something strange is happening here.”

“What? What do you see?” Rohan kept his eyes alert to his surrounding as he took her words as a warning. “Are there enemies?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s . . .” She explained to him the clarity of her vision, and Rohan sighed in relief. The young lord then explained to her that it might be an effect of her skill. He taught her a few things and after learning of her two new skills, he was rather impressed by them. One, a passive skill like the one she experienced and the other was kinda like an active skill judging by its name, Focus Shot.

The introduction was settled and Rohan continued the journey under the back of Makvreiss. He couldn’t hide his joy, smirking as there was no need to feel the squishy sensation underneath his boots. The wyvern soared slowly two floors above ground. It was high enough to avoid potential ambush and low enough for both of them to see without visual problems.

“I don’t see anything,” she said. Her arrow perfectly nocked on the bow, readied to bring down any enemy on sight.

Rohan scanned the swampland, and true to what Vhaerla said, there was not a monster on sight. He wondered whether the wyvern scared them. Considering the merfolk he fought, it immediately let its guard down after seeing Makvreiss.

“Bring us high,” Rohan said.

Vhaerla pat Makvreiss by the side of its neck and the wyvern took altitude. The horizon stretched far, a swampland with no end like the whole continent was made out of bog and quagmire. Time went on and it felt like ages in contrast to the high pace of the previous dungeon.

“So much for death,” Vhaerla said. Smirking at Rohan for all those close to death experiences he told her.

“Just be glad you have Mcvey,” Rohan retorted.

“Is that a sign that you want to get off?” she teased. “Because I think Makvreiss will be glad seeing a man attempting to fly.”

Rohan gave a hidden glare at that cheeky gal in front of him. Even if she had the nicest ass rubbing against his crotch, he had other priorities at the moment, and taking insults wasn’t it. Smirking, something came up. His hand touched the scale underneath the saddle, and he whispered those magic words. “Mark of Thraldom…”

But rather than a smile he frowned.

[Target is not a humanoid]

His petty revenge was thrown out into the trash, but now he knew the requirement of bearing his mark. It seemed his ‘employee’ wasn’t only limited to humans.

“I see something,” Vhaerla urged. Pointing at a settlement down below. Rohan followed her and saw some sort of primitive village with badly made fences of deadfalls. He narrowed his sight at the center of the village as he spotted something strange on it. ‘Is that a throne?’

Instantly his eyes went wide as his hands grabbed tight on the saddle and Vhaerla’s waist.

“Hold on!” Vhaerla shouted. As it seemed Rohan wasn’t the only one who saw it.

“Dive, dive, dive!” the continuous shouts of Vhaerla rang loud and Makvreiss folded its wing. The winged creature dove with speed, and by a stroke of luck, something whipped through the air, passing right beside the path of the wyvern’s dive.

In that split second, Rohan saw what it was.

‘It’s a fucking trident!’