Dungeon Runner
The Tiger Writes
sciencefiction
sciencefiction
31K5
Tibs survived by picking pockets; until he's caught.
Instead of losing a hand, he's sent away and told he must now survive a dungeon.
How is a kid who knew nothing more than his ...Stepping Up, Chapter 77
"I hate this," Tibs grumbled as the crowd cheered.
"Come on," Jackal said, "enjoy the show." He joined in the cheering as the woman connected with the man's face hard enough that he staggered to the side.
"It isn't a show," Tibs complained. "It's two people needlessly hurting each other."
He hadn't known the town has a fighting circle. Considering Harry's rule against fighting, the guard leader didn't either. He studied how he felt, and yes, it was him, not Water that hated this. He'd have put a stop to it when it started if he'd found out. They had enough with Sto giving them something to fight, they didn't need to hit one another.
Once this exercise of Jackal's was done with, Tibs was bringing an end to this place.
"There's nothing needless about this, Tibs." Jackal sat and the fighters went at each other again. "That's why I brought you here. This might not be pretty, but it's needed for our town to survive. Especially if you want really violent crimes kept to a minimum."
"The dungeon already has them fight," Tibs complained.
"What do I do between runs Tibs?"
"You train."
"What did I do when the dungeon was healing?"
Tibs tried to work out what Jackal was getting to. "You went to MountainSea with Kroseph and his family." Was this about forcing him to think about something other than the now? It was easier, with Water being less of an influence on how he thought, but he didn't always enjoy that. There was a comfort in not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. In not worrying about what his actions caused.
"And?"
Tibs thought it over, and not liking what he was coming up with said, "you nearly got yourself killed in the arena."
"I didn't go in looking to die," Jackal replied in far too casual a tone. "And the Arena wasn't going to let me die. It looks bad for them when a fighter dies outside of a death match."
"The healer there didn't sound like he thought you'd live when I got there."
Jackal smiled. "But I wasn't dead, was I?"
"What's your point?" Tibs demanded angrily.
"I'm not like you, Tibs. A lot of us here aren't. I don't just accept that violence is something I have to do. I crave it. I rejoice in it. Sure, the dungeon gives me the best fights I've ever had, but how often do I get to fight it?"
"You've fought here?" Tibs asked in dismay.
Jackal chuckled. "Who do you think helps get this started?"
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Tibs stood as he yelled, and silence spread from him to the entire room as the people there turned to look at him. Even the fighters noticed the change and paused to watch him. His face burned in embarrassment, but his anger kept him from sitting down and wanting them to forget about his outburst.
"How can you do this to one another? Didn't Sebastian kill enough of us? Are you looking to finish what he started?"
"I've got this," Jackal said over the raising murmurs as expressions of confusion turned to anger. "No one needs to worry about a thing other than—" he winced "—not paying attention to their opponent." He placed a hand on Tibs's shoulder. "No one's killing anyone here, Tibs."
The grumbling continued as the others sat.
"What do you call that?" Tibs pointed to the result of the previous fight. Arruh was stretched on a bench, his face bloody and an arm at an unnatural angle. Tibs could sense the other injuries the man had.