Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 102: The end of days

It’s ridiculous thinks Fresh, as she leans back against the broken wall behind herself. As she feels the sum total of all of her efforts crumbling beneath her backwards facing palms that press against the broken wood. This city. These people…

These ‘people’.

They’re ridiculous. She can’t help but wonder, is there a beating heart in any of their chests? Is there anything in their eyes or their spirits that could give credence to their humanity? Or were they just dolls. Just avatars possessed by the spirits of greed and self righteousness? The memory of Basil’s frantic, twisted face returns to her mind’s eye as she relives the priestess’ heartfelt confession about her true feelings of this place, of this city that they had been attempting to call home.

The man’s midnight armor glistens as a massive fist smashes into his gut, pressing him up into the air, sending him flying back a step, a chunk of his metal armor bending inwards and jutting into his gut, as evidenced by a red trickle that sprays outward as he lurches. A cheer erupts from the line behind the guardsman, as the only person defending the plaza takes a heavy blow. His heavy boots smash into the stones. He barely keeps his balance, the half-shattered bone-axe arching back as he moves forward for another push against the giant monster. As he charges straight towards the golem and the horde of gnashing teeth making their way to him, to her, by the second.

Fearless. All that the man shows is a glimmer in his eye and a thrashing of his chest as his heart beats with a force that Fresh is sure that she can feel even here, even here where she stands. He’s not afraid of it, of any of it. Her own legs are trembling. She’s long since been physically able to move, but she finds herself still locked firmly in place. Bound by her fear.

Ice and broken fragments of bone fly all over the place as the man and the golem seem locked in their fight. For every piece that he hacks away, another regenerates not moments later and Fresh doesn’t understand why. It’s ridiculous. It never seems to die. Is this normal for a golem? To heal itself constantly like this? Or is it because of her? Because of the moonwater of the broken cauldron of resurrection? Is her own magic the thing keeping the golem alive? Is her own magic the thing that’s going to get them all killed? She watches in a combined dread and awe as the swarm approaches them. How can he keep moving? How can he keep fighting? For what? For this place? For these people? Is any of it even worth the effort?

It’s not.

Not in her eyes. Not anymore. The pure, naive image that she has had of the city is now  tainted. Befouled.

But she still has to do something. She can’t just stand here idly.

Fresh turns around, running as fast as she can back into the wreckage and she grabs a long, bony handle that juts out of the rock. A large, two-handed bone-sword. The heavy thing lurches as she strains herself to pull it free, but is barely able to. She pulls again, feeling a painful pop in her lower back that causes her teeth to clench and tears to shoot out of her eyes. But she pulls again and the bone greatsword comes free. She isn’t able to lift it, but she can drag it. With a free hand, Fresh haphazardly rips out a bundle of her hairs, pressing them against the hilt of the monstrous sword.

[Curse Item] {Hair of the dog}

[Bone-Greatsword](High){Curse of the Midnight Toll}{Curse of the Parting Breath}

A massive great-sword. The horrifying weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it.

8 DMG

20 DARK

12.0kg

Quality Effect: Wounds caused by this weapon can not be healed by HOLY

Curse - Midnight Toll: This sword does an additional 2x damage as DARK from an hour before, until an hour after midnight. Damage is halved when in sunlight.

Curse - Parting Breath: As long as the wielder breathes, this sword can not be broken. This sword must steal the air from a living being’s lungs once a day, or it will instead steal your own.

Stepping back, putting everything she has into it, Fresh pulls on the sword, pulling it towards the door.

But she’s not going to make it in time. Looking back in fear, she sees the vampires arrive, their lashing necks swiping towards the man from the sect who is about to be overrun. None of their razor teeth pierce his armor, but there are too many of them and he is about to be entirely swallowed by their combined weight. To the side, she sees the priests atop the carts getting their magic ready again, only waiting for the man to die before they get rid of the threat of the vampires.

Ridiculous.

She should have moved faster. She shouldn’t have been afraid for so long. She acted too late to save him. Fresh watches in horror as the man from the sect, surrounded by writhing meat and teeth, vanishes beneath the mound piling on top of him.

She hates it here too. She isn’t sure, but she thinks she hates it here more than she hated her old life. At least now.

“Get back to work, GOO-BRAIN!” yells a voice from behind the golem and the world erupts into a crystal flurry. A single snap resonates, echoing around the plaza as seconds later, a giant glass pillar blasts up into the air, shooting up high towards the middle of the dungeon gate. A large, dark-cobalt armored hand clutches onto the tower, as it pulls him free from the mass of vampires that hiss in a seething rage down below.

A small figure bounds over the golem’s heavy back, jumping as another jagged glass pillar bursts out of the stones, upheaving the paving. Fresh watches as Jubilee latches on to the tower, snapping their fingers again to create a platform for themselves and for the giant from the sect to drop down onto.

“Jubileeeee~!” calls Fresh at the sight of her friend.

“Get out of here!” yells Jubilee across the plaza to her and snaps their fingers. A wall of glass spears bursts out before her, separating her from her friend.

A series of jeers and boos erupts from the line of guardsmen and priests, as the sounds of an intense fight make themselves heard from the other side of the glass wall. Fresh narrows her eyes. This won’t do. She’s not going anywhere. She’s not going to run away and hide while her friend is out here, while someone needs her help.

The girl steps back again, walking towards the wall of jagged glass that separates her from the vampires. With straining, tedious steps, she marches forward, dragging the heavy sword behind her with both hands, the bone weapon scraping against the rock of the plaza. She’s going to get this to him. She’s going to do it. Even if she dies trying, she’s going to do it. Because it’s the right thing to do.

Suddenly, something surrounds her. A warmth. A soft light that is alien from the glow of the lantern at her side.

+ [Lower Blessing of Strength: Raises Strength by 4 for one hour]

Fresh clenches her hands, looking down at them, as the warm aura encapsulates her shaking body. It feels like sitting in the sun on a warm summer day, like having a hot tea during a spring shower. It radiates a deep heat. She remembers this feeling. Looking over her shoulder, Fresh looks back at the crowd, trying to discern a familiar silhouette. But she doesn’t manage. She feels a lot less alone now, however, knowing that both of her friends are here now with her.

Smiling, lifting the sword much easier than before, Fresh runs towards the glass wall. “Thanks Basil,” whispers the girl under her breath as she makes her way forward with the heavy sword held in both of her hands. With determined eyes, the girl stares up at the wall of glass, staring at the reflection looking back at her, it’s eyeless face smiling a wide smile that seems entirely out of place. The girl in the mirror winks and the glass wall breaks apart, shattering into thousands of pieces as they fall down to the torn up ground below, shimmering like so many falling stars as they descend.

Jubilee probably won’t forgive her for this, but that’s okay, thinks Fresh as she runs forward through the storm. Glass falls down onto her black robe, onto her shoulders, onto her hair as she runs with her eyes closed through the mess, not breathing a single breathe as she lumbers forward with the greatsword in her grasp.

Something hisses and she feels something wet splash against her face, the girl keeps running as a massive hand suddenly grabs her shoulder and pulls her back. With a fearful yelp, Fresh spins around to look at the giant man from the sect who yanks her back just in time, pulling her away from a striking vampire that he smashes his free fist against and sends flying. His shining eye, filled with a haunting obsession, looks down to the girl who gazes back with the same intensity, lifting the handle of the sword up to him with her free hand.

“Kill monsters,” says Fresh, nodding to him.

A heavy breath escapes his bleeding chest as his only response and she feels it blow over her like a midnight wind. A giant hand, covered in black blood grasps the hilt of the sword as the man lurches forward without saying a single word, charging into the swarm that surrounds them on all sides. Glass shatters left and right, filling the air as if it were coated in flocks of falling snow.

“I told you to get out of here, IDIOT!” Glass erupts all around her, a skin coated undead head falls down next to her.

“Jubilee!” cries Fresh, looking over to her friend who lands down beside her, jumping off of a glass spire. “I’m not going anywhere!” says Fresh, pulling out Jubilee’s glove and handing it back to them. “He-“

Fresh looks at Jubilee’s hand that is red from top to bottom as if covered entirely in fresh blood. “Jubilee!” Jubilee snatches the glove from her and turns around, slipping it back on. “I told you, glass is dangerous.” Jubilee snaps their fingers, skewering another vampire on a long spear. The creature lifts up into the air as the glass blasts through its long throat. Suddenly, the world rumbles, the ground shakes. The glass spear cracks in half as the golem charges through the obstruction as if it were nothing. “LOOK OU-!” calls Jubilee, lifting a hand back towards her just as Fresh sees the giant fist flying straight towards her head.

She sees her reflection just before herself again, just like a few seconds ago. But this time, it doesn’t shatter, as she looks at the girl in the mirror. The reflection isn’t in glass this time, but rather in ice. She stares at the confused visage who doesn’t wink back at her a second time.

Nothing happens.

Fresh looks down, looking at the blade of the sword pressing through the golem’s back, pressing through the round core at its center.

The world cracks, the stones shattering as the golem lifts up off of the ground. As the man from the witch’s sect stands behind it, grunting like a wild animal as he leverages the sword, as he lifts the golem up off of its feet. As he screams a loud, primal cry, his deep, bassy voice echoing out over the plaza together with the scream of the golem, as it flips over the man, who smashes the entire creature down behind him into the broken rock of the plaza.

The ice of its body shatters apart, flying in all directions. Glass flies out left and right, skewering the last vampires that still make their onslaught, lifting the many creatures up into the air, but never killing any of them, as they lash and flail about so far off of the ground, their mutilated, mangled visages whipping wildly in all directions.

The world goes quiet as Fresh watches the end of the fight. As she realizes again, as just before, how unusually bright it is outside.

There is a loud crunch, as the man from the witch’s sect stomps onto the golem-core, crushing it beneath his heavy boot. The sound rings out around the plaza, echoing as all of the jeers and the cries from the crowd to the side suddenly go quiet. Echoing, as the heavy clouds that cover the sky finally begin to part half-way, as if ushered away by the loud, cracking noise. As if the death of the golem had set them all into motion.

The world erupts into a half-light, as all of their eyes move towards the sudden appearance of the moon. It hasn’t been a moonless night at all. A full, looming moon hangs over the world, as it has done the entire night. The right half of it is still obscured by dark clouds that seem to come together in a strange, odd formation which seems almost unnatural in its construction. Murmurs begin to erupt from the crowd. Uneasy cries and shouts. They all bustle and move, the priests getting ready to cast their spell now, as several people point towards the odd moon that carries with it a strange, soft, purple tinge.

“Yes…” hisses the man from the sect as he stares with possessed eyes at the strange moon. The core crunches beneath his boot as he grinds it into dust.

[Got 70/117] Experience! (Shared combat) 

“Yes!” he shouts again, lifting a hand and grabbing the lashing neck of a vampire, snapping it in half. The clouds shift, the light of the moon growing brighter and brighter as more if its left half comes into clear sight. The clouds all move towards the right.

[Got 80/117] Experience! (Shared combat)

Jubilee turns towards her in an instant. “Go inside! GO!” The man lifts the giant sword, slashing it through the air one final time in a wide arc, severing a full half-dozen heads all at once, just as Fresh takes a single step back and away.

“YES!” hollers the giant, as the clouds all move to the right, obscuring half of the moon. As the prophecy of the witch’s sect comes to be fulfilled.

[Got 90/117] Experience! (Shared combat)

[Got 100/117] Experience! (Shared combat)

[Got 110/117] Experience! (Shared combat)

[Got 117/117] Experience! (Shared combat)

[Level up! You are now LEVEL 8 ! ] {No-class}{Cooking 3}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 2}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5}

~*+- PROFILE -+*~ HP: 9/9+1 "FRESH" SOUL: $%§ / §**+'#   LEVEL: 8

STATUS: ???

CLASS: [WITCH]

- of the Black-Fountain

OBOLS: 18507

SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN]

RACE: HUMAN

STR: 06 WIS: 04 LUK: 04 +1   DEX: 05  INT: 04 LOV: 04 +1

[Got 03/175] Experience! (Shared combat)

[Got 13/175] Experience! (Shared combat)

The clouds finish their movements. Their overlaying of the moonlight gives the moon the appearance of a visage. The appearance of a crooked face that stares down at them all, that stares down at the entire world expectantly. The clouds form around it, covering the right side in an entirely impossible manner, as if pressed into place by a cosmic sculptor, to give the celestial body the appearance of having a long, crooked nose and jagged teeth that smile down to them all with a hungry smile. The witch’s moon shines bright. But all eyes have left it and its haunting presence now.

All eyes, including those of the witch’s moon, stare down at one thing. At the single menu, that floats in the middle of the plaza, the dark, glassy screen hovering just next to the girl.