Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 101: Net worth

With a heavy step the man from the witch’s sect presses forward, the ice of the golem’s arm cracking as he leverages the sword to the side, sending wet crystal splinters flying off in all directions. The golem roars in an agonized fury, as its arm breaks off entirely just a second later. The massive hunk of ice shatters as it crashes down to their side, the blade of the bone-sword slashes through the air as it swings free from its constraints.

Fresh crawls back as far as she can, pressing her back fearfully against the glass sign as she stares at the explosion of crystalline ice before her. It all glistens. It all shimmers. All at once, as the heavy sword cuts through the air. The sword. The ice. The dark, nightfall colored armor of the man who is coated in a midnight dew, all of it together glistens as the single violent movement unfolds, as a strange light seems to shine from above, as if the dark, moonless sky were somehow shining with a light brighter than the cumulative glow of all of the many looming stars.

He breathes. His breastplate seems to press forward as the single swing of his weapon finally comes to an end, as that single second finally comes to an end. In an instant, the giant man from the witch’s sect barrels forward, his free hand shooting up to catch the second fist of the golem that smashes down his way. His open palm, not even half of the size of its, catches the fist. Fresh feels a rush of air and wet fly past her face as a violent impact emerges. A shattering crack runs down the golem’s remaining arm as it roars, the giant monstrosity pressing its face against his.

All the man from the sect does is continue his frantic, heavy breathing, unable to contain his excitement as he presses his face towards its.

He twists his wrist, his fingers digging into the ice that is growing around his free hand in an attempt to swallow him, his manipulation bending the golem’s arm and shifting its elbow to the side. Before Fresh can follow what’s happening, the bone-sword swings up through the air and another hunk of ice falls to the ground.

Flailing in agony, the raging golem falls backwards as it loses its only remaining arm. The man pulls his hand free from the dead limb, sending fresh ice flying in all directions. Fresh is roused from her daze as the frigid wet splashes against her face, as something loud and heavy falls down, clambering at her feet. Her eyes wander down to the broken bone-sword laying there.

Without saying anything, the cobalt-armored titan turns and walks past her, into the rubble of the store. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” says his booming voice, as she hears his heavy steps thudding back outside a few seconds later, a large, two-handed bone-axe dragging along the ground behind him, as he marches towards the golem that is trying to get back up onto its feet. The heavy thing is however unable to keep its balance without its arms that are still in the process of regenerating.

Fresh wants to say something clever as the giant walks back towards the golem. Something like ‘it’s on the house,’ but she can only let out a pained squeal as her shattered elbow pieces itself back together rather abruptly, the purple light of the lantern shining over her. The girl wiggles her fingers, watching her left hand move, relieved that she is able to do so again. She stares at the lantern, unable to decipher what it is that is bugging her. Why is it so bright out here?

It isn’t the light of the lantern that’s bugging her. There is something else. Something else that makes the moonless night unusually bright, but she can’t figure out what it is.

A loud rumble comes from the side, from the main street that everyone is running down as several carts barrel down towards them, pulled by just as many anqas. It’s odd, but she smiles as she sees some of their own magical lanterns hanging off the front of the carts, illuminating the carriages with a pale, blue light. The large wooden constructions covered in metal plates screech to a stop in an in-orderly fashion all next to each other. The insides are filled with movement and then as the the wooden doors of the carriages slide open, heavily armored people all wearing the same gray and white uniform spring out of the carriages, some jumping off from the top of the carriages, their metal boots clanking loudly as they hit the ground. The swarm of soldiers runs around the carts, unloading them as fast as they can.

Is this the town guard? She’s never seen any of them before. They’re all as heavily armored as the man from the sect, all of them rip off giant tower shields that are attached to the exteriors of the cart off the sides of the wagons and they rush forward as Fresh watches them excitedly.

None of them step past the entrance to the plaza.

Metal loudly strikes against the stones as they line up in a tight formation, their faces obscured by the night and by their raised hoods. The heavy tower shields all strike against the rock at the same time, as they make a wall. As they block off the entire street, sealing the plaza entirely for anyone who hasn’t managed to escape just yet.

Fresh’s legs wobble as she tries to pull herself up, slowly rising back to her weak feet as she watches the horror unfold around her. The man from the sect and the golem are still fighting, the two monsters letting loose all the havoc they have in their bodies. The vampires lash and flail around, their regenerating forms ripping and flailing as they continue to eat each other and anything else that they can catch. Screams fill the air as people still run. As fists strike against the heavy tower shields that block the way, the people holding them not moving an inch as they trap everyone inside.

Disposable. Everyone here is disposable. They don’t care if they die. Nobody cares if she dies. If Jubilee dies. If the man from the sect dies. If any of them die. Anyone who lives here or was still here. They’re disposable.

A vampire, unaffected by her spell, lashes out towards the man from the sect, its long neck squeezing past the golem as its barred razor teeth press towards his body. With a surprisingly quick movement, he pulls himself to the side, his free hand wrapping around the creature’s throat and pulling its head into the way, just as the golem’s regenerated fist strikes against his. Black blood splashes all around in all directions, droplets of it flying down at her feet as the creature’s skull is crushed in an instant between the two of them.

White robes flutter atop the carts of the guardsmen, as a group of priests climb up and look over the chaos. All of them wear red scarves that flutter in the cool night-breeze, all of them wear red, large, flat-brimmed hats. Again, Fresh can’t help but notice how seemingly spotless their tight-fitting white robes are. Maybe they’ve been using her cleaning mixture? Are these the exorcists?

Seeing the vampires, the group of priests standing atop the carts begin channeling magic into their hands, the fabric of their tight robes shifting from the forces coalescing around their fingers. Fresh smiles, if they kill the vampires, then the golem will be no problem at all. This might all be over in just a moment.

A voice rings out, saying something that she can’t discern over the sounds of ice and bones cracking just next to her from the violent onslaught.

The glow dies down. The priests all lower their arms at once.

“Huh? Why are they…” Fresh finally stands upright, feeling her legs finally offer a firm hold to her body again. She thinks she can walk, if she has to. But she needs a minute longer to fully heal. The magic of the lantern is incredibly strong if it can keep her alive like this, but the effect is unpleasant and long-lasting to say the least. She supposes it comes with the territory and looks at the mutilated angel with a deep regret in her eyes. It will never be the same again. Her fingers clench down, pressing firmly against the soft leather glove in her hands as she watches the man from the sect crash into the golem again  and again, as the two of them have at each other, both entirely lost in their frenzy.

“You’re joking… right?” mutters Fresh to herself as she realizes. They’re not going to help them. They’re going to let everything that they view as a problem solve itself.

Perhaps smelling the blood of the mangled vampire at the giant man’s feet, the raging swarm of long-necked monstrosities shifts away from the red dungeon portal and starts heading their way.

Hundreds of long, dagger-like teeth shimmer in the blood-bathing glow of the red portal together with the cool, lifeless shine of the magical lanterns hanging off of the front of the carts, as the mass of undead comes to consume them, as nobody comes to help.

Not one person.