Chapter 163 - Headhydra IV

The town that had grown outside Farenlight’s Den was a tiny village officially designated as the Seventy Second Royal Outpost. Its name was used only on official documents; the locals never spoke it, and those that filed the papers were the sole individuals aware of the moniker to begin with. The tiny settlement was not even labeled on any maps; cartographers would simply draw a few structures in the den’s vicinity to imply its presence. Most would simply refer to it with whatever term happened to come to mind at the time, with ‘the town’ being the most common among its citizens.

Though strange, the phenomenon was one that could be easily explained. There was no sense of identity. The tiny outpost had only about a hundred permanent residents, more than half of whom were born within its confines. The other four or five hundred people that hung around its vicinity were merchants, monster hunters, adventurers, and their associates. And for good reason. It took a certain type of fool to settle down outside a dungeon, especially one whose entrance was left unsealed and unguarded. There was no telling when a swarm of monsters would suddenly erupt from its depths and erase everything that the outpost’s settlers had worked to create.

There was no denying that most of the locals were lacking when it came to the ability to reason, but it was not as if their choice of real estate was entirely unjustified. Farenlight’s Den certainly did have a track record of leaking its creatures out into the wild, but that was over thirty years prior, before its lower floors were sealed. With the installation of the security feature came an era of tranquility. The den’s monsters began keeping to themselves, attacking only the spelunkers that ventured within its depths. A trend that many a gold-obsessed merchant took for granted.

Most had simply started businesses in the area, but the more ambitious among them took advantage of every one of the lucrative opportunities available by planting their roots and ingraining them in the soil. And at a glance, it appeared as if their choice, their investment, was correct. The tiny ramshackle tents they set up upon their arrival quickly transformed into reputable inns and hotels. The hospitality they offered drew more visitors and opportunities in turn. Some had made their fortunes atop the lands where the monsters lay. And the village’s unofficial head of state, the only merchant tolerant enough to deal with all the extra government paperwork, was exactly one such individual.

Scratching his beard with the tip of his still-inky pen, Kar’nessen looked up to his blackboard and double checked his math. The first thought that echoed through his mind, as he scanned the numbers, was that he wanted nothing to do with any of the paperwork, that it was time for him to pack up and leave the outpost behind him. Objectively, he knew that it was the right choice for his personal growth, but his sense of responsibility kept him anchored.

If he was to vacate, then the abhorrent cheats that were the outpost’s other merchants would attempt to con Her Majesty out of the taxes she was owed. And that was a sin he simply could not overlook. As evidenced by the anchor-shaped tattoo on his shoulder, the tax collector was a former marine, one of the many men that had served under the Vel’khanese monarch that had sat atop the throne for the past few decades.

His service years were far in the past; he lacked the talent required to thrive in combat and quickly retired from active duty. And just as he stayed a talentless hack, his loyalties remained as they were. Even without the checkered sealskin hat that was his uniform, he would continue to act in the interest of the crown. Or at least that was his intention. As well as the only reason he took on the work he did.

Tax collection was not the only administrative duty for which the merchant was responsible. He was also tasked with supervising the dungeon and tracking the conditions within. Any notable changes were to be reported immediately. And it was precisely one such alteration that had prompted him to send a letter to the capital city of Vel’khagan some three weeks prior. Within it was a list of concerns, with the first and foremost stemming from an increase in the proportion of variants. It was small, only about one extra head on the dozen, but such a change was drastic for an underground labyrinth that had remained perfectly static for the better part of three decades.

And surely enough, the queen’s administrators, his former colleagues in arms, thought the same. The bureau of spelunking and dungeon-related affairs immediately deployed a group of veteran adventurers. They weren’t the most powerful, with their racial levels hovering in the range of 300, but they were more than decent enough a squad to investigate the bizarre circumstances. And it turned out, they arrived just in time.

The day the plague god’s disciples descended into the labyrinth was the day everything suddenly took a turn for the worse. The first report came in around noon. Several groups of divers had returned to the surface in a panic, their numbers reduced to less than half. The monsters had suddenly started traveling in larger packs, and encounters were more frequent. A number of variants had started popping out of the woodwork, with some requiring special tools and techniques to kill. Even the first floor, whose monsters were all supposed to be around level 40, saw individuals as high as 100.

Though most of the spelunkers had returned with corpses in tow, Kar’nessen quickly made an executive decision and informed them that there was no time to mourn. He commissioned every fighter in town to participate in setting up an emergency fortification, a series of walls around the well that would keep any rogue monsters at bay. And it wasn’t just the adventurers that were offered the deal. The townsfolk were more often than not part time dungeon divers in their own right, and any that were competent were also employed in the defense. It was a hasty, poorly planned emergency measure, but it served its purpose nonetheless; the lucrative offers he made kept the line secure.

Only a select few had stayed firm on their decision to flee when he flashed his wealth. A complication he had already accounted for. To those groups, he entrusted more letters, requests to the country for additional reinforcements.

Every day, the monsters that leapt from the well grew stronger and more numerous. Casualties began appearing amongst the defenders, but the merchant was confident that they would be able to hold until the queen’s knights arrived on the scene.

Day five, however, brought an immediate end to his fantasy. Because a monster from beyond the tenth floor finally made its way up to the surface. The misshapen freak show that was the klimgor exploder panicked upon seeing the various seasoned veterans positioned around the well and cut its tail loose, as it often would, whenever it stumbled upon a threat.

According to one of the reports on his desk, none of the citizens, merchants, or other non-combatants were caught in the ensuing blast. But the city’s temporary defenders were not as lucky. Over half of them were fried by the first wave of flames—enough to provide the monster with a level. It repeated the destructive action the next time it rose to the surface and knocked another group out of commission with its freshly regenerated tail.

And that was only one of the many catastrophic reports he had seen. According to the document he had in hand, another exploder had been sighted in the streets around noon.

No one had even the slightest clue as to how it managed to worm its way through their defenses, but whatever the case, the result was the same. The lizard was in position to strike where they were most vulnerable. The townsfolk were in grave danger. And that was precisely why the middle-aged kelpfin was doing the town’s taxes. The task was made up of nothing but simple math. It was a relaxing activity he had chosen to relieve his stress. To deal with the reality that he found himself trapped within. He had already done everything he could; an evacuation had long been ordered and enforced, but not everyone had other places to go. Most of the outpost’s non-combatants had been born within its walls and some had never left them. Rather than choosing to retreat to another town, a place they knew nothing about, they chose instead to hole themselves up in the city’s sole religious facility, a tiny church dedicated to the god of death and ascension.

Made of enchanted brick and mortar, Xekkur’s temple was more durable than most of the wooden structures spread throughout the village, but not durable enough to endure a detonation. The results could be disastrous, if the monster was startled in the wrong place.

Sighing, Kar’nessen got up from his desk, walked through the temple’s common area, and looked out through one of the many stained glass windows. And when he did, what he found was not the haunting empty street he expected, but a patch of green with a thin black ellipse right at its centre.

The towering oculus was still at first, but its focus soon changed, its rotation directing it to none other than the retired kelpfin warrior. The creature wasn’t the only one sizing up another. He too was locked in place, his eyes wide open as he took in its mighty, awe-inspiring frame. It wasn’t just fear that he felt, but a sort of satisfaction and elation that he struggled to describe as anything but a sense of beauty.

Its body was sleek and elegant, covered from head to tail in a series of sparkling scales. Its tail was tipped with a fan made of a thousand rainbow coloured threads, and its head was adorned with three beautiful gems, horns made out of an iridescent blue crystal. Even its face was pleasant to observe. The vibrant lashes that grew from its eyes and the pearly white fangs that lined its jaw reminded him of a female lizardman in full dress.

It was a creature he had never before seen in person. Everything he knew about it, he had heard from the town’s veterans and information brokers. But there was one thing he immediately understood. It was an even bigger threat than the klimgor exploder.

Because the lizard standing outside the chapel was a unique monster above level 400.

It was Farenlight. The apex predator after which the dungeon was named.

___

A small frown on her face, Claire stepped through the dungeon’s depths with both arms crossed and her weapons holstered. She had only allowed the expression to cross her face after intentionally falling behind and slowly detaching herself from the rest of the group. The lyrkress needed a break, a bit of time to herself to catch her breath and do away with her less-than-effortless mask. She had worn it too often as of late, all because the elf’s camp was not too far from their own.

Both groups had anchored down in an attempt to wait out the boss’ respawn timer, but in the end, it refused to show no matter how many hours they waited. Claire eventually decided that there was no point in loitering any longer and suggested a return to the surface. The proposal had been directed to Lia and Lia alone, but the dwarf, who had happened to be nearby, noted that they were also due for a journey back to town.

With her persona already established, the noble lady had no choice but to rely on another to shoot down the decision, but the stupid cat had agreed before she had the chance to inform her of her reluctance. Sylvia was not officially considered a person and didn’t have a say, which meant that only Nymphetel could have spoken out against the decision. But he didn’t. Even though it was in his own best interest.

It was not as if the lyrkress was incapable of understanding the dwarf’s perspective. There was safety in numbers; having more hands on deck meant that they would be able to dispatch any inbound threats more quickly. But because they never spoke or otherwise interacted directly, she had failed to anticipate that he would be mindless enough to suggest that “it would be best for the lady to travel with her knight.” Truly, a proposal idiotic enough for the eternal records.

She managed to drift roughly two hallways away before someone finally noticed that she was missing. Lia, who had been flipping through the usual book, suddenly perked up and started looking for her, a fact made clear by her ability to see the catgirl through the dungeon’s walls.

“Claire!? Where did you go!? Are you okay!?” She found it mildly entertaining to watch as the panicked Paunsean spun around in place and shouted her name. A part of her wanted the status quo to persist, but she soon picked up the pace and rejoined the group. She had gotten the two minutes she needed, and it was unlikely that anything but a long rest would help.

“I’m terribly sorry, everyone!” She giggled in a way that got on her own nerves as she sped up and jogged back over to the group. “One of the klimgors happened to possess a remarkably interesting scale pattern and I couldn’t help but stare.”

Put off by the bubbly, almost dimwitted remark, Lia smiled awkwardly and replied with a hesitant nod. “R-right. Let us know next time, so you don’t get separated.”

“Of course.”

The catgirl slowed her pace to match the lyrkress’ and got just close enough for the half-moose to feel uncomfortable. “Do you really have to keep acting like that?”

Lia had been somewhat confused by the sudden switch at first. She had, for a period, even suspected that the more refined countenance was Claire’s true face, and that she only acted the way she did to protect herself from any would be ne'er do wells. When she tried to confirm the theory, however, she quickly realised the error of her ways, largely in part because she found herself faced by the sort of stare given only to those that asked stupid questions.

After quickly glancing at the other party, and confirming that no one was looking, Claire placed a hand on the catgirl’s forehead and shoved her away. “Stop getting so close. I can hear you just fine,” she said. “And, yes, I do. It’s a matter of dignity.”

“What the heck is the point of dignity supposed to be anyway?” asked the lyrkress’ fox-shaped hat. “It’s not like anyone that’s not a kid is actually gonna respect you any more ‘cause you act funny.”

“Maybe not. But some people won’t respect you when you don’t.”

“Yeah, but why do you need them to respect you in the first place? Didn’t you already say that you’re not a real lady anymore?”

The fox’s question was met with a brief pause. Claire stopped where she was and put a finger on her chin. “I don’t know. I just feel like it.”

“Even though it tires you out?” asked the fox.

“Even though it tires me out,” parroted the snake.

“I think your energy might be better spent elsewhere.” Lia spoke with a strained smile as she jabbed her rapier into a wall and revealed a dead chameleon. The monster was of a species that was only supposed to have appeared beyond the barrier on the tenth floor, but oddly enough, they were present in droves on the third.

“No thanks. I’d rather conserve my energy,” said Claire. “And those things aren’t worth killing. They barely give any experience.”

“Culling them might help the dungeon get back to normal a little bit faster,” said the cat.

Claire tilted her head. “Is that how that works?”

“I’m not really sure.” The cat was given a fed up glare “B-but I’ve heard that killing everything that’s out of place is a fairly reliable way to get everything reset.”

“Sylvia?” Given the cat’s less-than-well-sourced intel, the lyrkress turned to the closest thing to a dungeon expert she had on hand.

“Uhmmmm… I dunno. Lly-” She pressed both paws to her mouth and stopped herself short. “The dungeon I used to live in didn’t have anything like rules like that, at least, but it might be different from place to place. Al was kinda weird, so I dunno if his dungeon really even followed any of the normal rules.”

For a moment, Claire was tempted to write off the answer as an unknowable, but soon recalled that not everyone present was new to the den.

“Boris?”

The misshapen broadsword shook its head. Apparently, it had no idea how anything around its own home worked.

“Stupid lizard.”

The less-than-intelligent reptile strapped to her back waved its legs in protest, but she ignored it and plodded along.

The group moved in relative silence until they were about halfway through the first and final floor. Claire grabbed Lia right before they rounded a corner and halted her advance.

“Something’s wrong,” said the lyrkress.

Raising her ears overhead and focusing on the screams and clashes, coming from above, Claire began to filter out the details. The smashing of bone and metal, the teary squeals of women and children, and the victorious battlecries of monster over man. Something was happening on the surface.

Something that was causing many a seasoned warrior to scream in terror.

And if they continued forward, it was unlikely they would have any choice but to face it head on.