26
There were, according to Master Garmstooth’s lectures, three possible spawn points in the Scaled Worm Dungeon. Entering the dungeon would teleport you at random to one of them.
Neither was more advantageous than the other, but the worst by general agreement was a platform just above the Kobold Nursery.
As Milo, on hands and knees after throwing up from the sudden wrenching of his body from one place to another, stared down at the eggs and scurrying kobolds and groaned.
“Just our luck,” he muttered, wiping the rancid vomit off his chin. He winced at the smell. “Right in the bloody nursery.”
Tania squatted down next to him, unmoved by the transition from world to world. She squeezed his shoulder and started counting kobolds.
“It ain’t so bad,” she said with a grin. “There’s only fifty. Fifty-three. No, fifty-four.”
“I was hoping to avoid the nursery altogether.” He sighed. “All we have to do to finish this is kill the Broodmother. This just makes it harder.”
“What? Are you insinuating that I can’t handle a buncha little runts like that? What kinda 11-B do you think I am?” Tania shot him a scowl. “I ain’t your personal coochie, ya know. I’m a real deal buzzsaw.”
“I wasn’t doubting your abilities,” he said. “Just that it’s a lot of kobolds.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes and threw up her camouflage. “Take a powder, Milo. You didn’t build me just to flash my panties. Did you?”
He decided not to answer that as she launched herself off the platform and dove straight down like a meteor.
“Tania!” He hissed, scrambling to the edge and looking down. He was worried she’d smash apart as she hit the ground far below. They were supposed to creep down using the narrow path down the side of the cliff. “Blast it!”
He didn’t hear her land, but saw a dull puff of dust as she hit.
He shrugged off his rifle and flipped the cover off the scope to peer down at where he thought she was. He saw the slight shimmer of air as she darted towards the nearest cluster of eggs.
She’d watched the same lectures, so knew she couldn’t leave the eggs alone.
But smashing them would drive the kobolds into a frenzy.
Their agreed plan was to avoid smashing them. The most recommended tactic was to take the west side and move slowly from cluster to cluster, quietly dealing with each mob of kobolds.
Milo’s eyes widened in horror as one of the eggs exploded.
Then Tania’s camouflage rippled as she threw it off.
“Alright, ya buncha wormsuckers! Howza bout ya show a lady a good time?”
“What are you doing?” Milo moaned as the kobolds let out a reptilian hiss and charged at her from every corner of the nursery.
Fifty kobolds. Fifty-four if she’d counted correctly.
With a giggle, she dropped into a crouch and flicked her wrists. A blade shot out through her palm on either side. She lifted her head in his direction.
Blew him a kiss.
Then went to work.
That’s the only way he could think of it. He watched in shock and awe as the golem he’d created with his own hands waded into fifty-something kobolds and obliterated them. There was no other word for what he was seeing.
He’d felt horror when a dwarven saw had dropped from the ceiling and tried to cut him in half.
He saw that horror on the faces of dozens of kobolds as she tore through them like they were paper dolls. Cutting chunks off their bodies. Leaving limbs twitching in her wake.
Blood.
So much blood. Green blood.
And every time a few started to scatter, she’d kick an egg.
Drive them back towards her in a frenzy.
Giggling.
She was a machine, he reminded himself. A machine built to deliver death.
This was what he’d built her for.
The screams of kobolds shook the nursery, growing more and more pitiful until there was only the sound of Tania giggling softly as blood dripped down her robes.
She turned full-circle.
“Is that it?” She kicked another egg, covering her leg in yolk. “Well, that’s just peachy. Milo! Milo, did I do good?”
He blinked down at her through the scope.
She was grinning widely at him. Green Kobold blood was running in streams down her cheeks.
“Yeah,” he rasped, still shaken. “You did real good.”
Rising slowly, he turned and began the long trek down while Tania busied herself with the secondary opportunity the dungeon provided.
Looting.
By the time he’d managed to reach the Nursery’s killing ground, he was numb to the bloodshed he’d just seen. He kept reminding himself that dungeons were brutal places. That they were meant to train mages to deal with threats the Republic could only resolve with unflinching violence.
Only through war could a warrior truly be trained.
Still, he wasn’t sure if being a warrior was what he wanted.
He was a clocker.
Not a killer.
The rifle felt heavy in his hand. He hadn’t needed to use it. Tania didn’t need his help. But it still weighed like a burden.
Could he do it?
Could he really kill a living thing?
“Look at this, Milo!” Tania skipped up to him, green blood still flicking off her robes. It riddled down her bare legs. She held out her hand to show a bright gem. “I think it’s a dungeon stone! Is this a dungeon stone?”
A dungeon stone was something only mobs would drop in dungeons. He could use them outside to trade. Mostly for gold. The stones themselves were then used to create mana lights or other small magical devices the mages had developed over the centuries.
He nodded, taking it from her. “I think so.”
“I found three,” she said, handing him the other two. “Not a bad haul.”
He tucked them into his satchel and looked around.
He was torn between horror and a growing sense of pride.
She noticed his expression and pursed her lips. “You ain’t disappointed, are ya, Milo?”
“Why would I be?”
“Well, I took off without you, didn’t I?”
“I think it’s what I made you for.”
“Yeah, but we sorta had a plan. And I didn’t really follow it very well.”
“I guess not,” he said. Then squinted at her. “Is everything okay? Nothing out of place?”
Tania stretched all her limbs, arching her back.
Gave a twirl which flashed white.
Smirked as his eyes flicked south.
Then shook her head. “Everything’s just swell,” she said. “I’m in the pink and full of beans.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
Giggling, she pulled out a scrap of rag. He didn’t want to know where she’d gotten it. And began wiping down the long blades before retracting them.
Then she looked down at her legs and sighed.
“I’m covered in yuck, though.” She skipped away, heading towards the exit, before glancing back to show a bright smile. “Maybe you can help clean me later?”
He choked on a laugh despite the situation.
Even here, surrounded by the bodies of dozens of kobolds she’d just slaughtered, she was still capable of flirting outrageously.
“Wow! I can’t believe I got a smile,” she called, activating her camouflage and disappearing so she could scout ahead. “Was it because ya got feelings for me, or you just thinking about coochie?”
His face flushed.
“Just get on with it,” he said, trying to regain a sense of leadership even though he suspected he had no real control here. “The next room is the Den of Drakes.”
He chased after her, his rifle in both hands.
Mistress Vizzingbelle’s lessons had been the most helpful for him despite the cruelty of her physical demands. One of which was students were to keep their rifle with them at all times.
He’d carried it while running.
Carried it while climbing.
Carried it above his head while wading through neck-deep water.
It’d become second nature to hold it in a way that protected it from harm and kept it clean.
Up ahead, Tania whipped into a corridor.
He heard a strangled groan.
Reaching the corridor himself, he saw three more dead kobolds. These were larger than the ones in the nursery. They were the guards. Tougher and more eager to fight.
But they’d died just as easy.
“We gotta hurry,” she said suddenly, tossing him another dungeon stone.
He caught it, dropped it into his pack. “Why?”
“We just gotta,” she darted away again, her camouflage rippling.
She mowed through a few more mobs of guards, earning another dungeon stone. Then she paused at the mouth of a large tunnel which opened into a cavernous room lit by braziers down all sides.
In the centre, five drakes were curled up together.
Resting.
The males who served the Broodmother.
The best strategy was to leave them. But if you really wanted to test your skills, there was an art to picking them off one by one. It involved using long range spells.
The drakes were short-sighted and if they were unable to pinpoint the source of the attack, they’d mill about frantically but you’d be safe from their fiery breath.
The problem was most mages would take a few shots to kill a single drake.
Their scales were tough to penetrate, even for arcanomancers who worked with raw mana.
Milo’s rifle might do it, but he didn’t have enough shots.
He’d also need to hit them in the eye. The power of the sniper rifle wasn’t strong enough to do damage any other way. It’d never punch through a drake’s scale.
So, a direct hit to the eye was the only way he’d hurt them.
He pursed his lips, wondering if they should just skip it.
When one of the drakes let out an agonized howl. Milo looked left. Looked right.
Then back at the drakes and gulped as Tania appeared directly among them.
She was astride one of them, just behind its head. Legs wrapped around its neck. Grinning crazily as she thrust her blade deep between the bone between skull and neck.
“Blast,” he muttered, wondering if any of the strategies he’d worked on were going to be of any use at all.
The drake dropped.
“Tania!” Milo roared as he saw the other drakes twitch. “They’re gonna-”
Flame blew over the drake’s body as all four remaining exhaled at the same time. Their fire seared their fallen brother’s scales.
“Hey!” She squealed in outrage as the smoke cleared. Her robe had been vaporised. Turned to ash. Naked and unharmed, she scowled at the blinking creatures. “I was wearing those!”
Then she leapt onto the next creature, which started to scream.
While Milo stood at the entrance. Rifle hanging low in his hand.
“This…” He nodded as another wave of flame failed to harm her Golemskin. “This isn’t so bad.”