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 28
Tibs waited among the Omegas. He could tell who had been on runs from the new arrivals by how they were already clustered in groups of five instead of nervously looking around, waiting for what came next.
He'd cautiously walked to the stalls to see what they sold, ready to back away the moment Sto spoke to him or he overheard the dungeon's commentary on the team inside, but neither happened. Sto would be focused on them, and he had to 'speak' to Tibs for him to hear Sto's voice.
The offerings were better than what the guild handed to the Omegas, but nothing of the quality the merchants in town sold. They were also cheaper. A handful of copper would get someone a piece of armor that could last them until they could reliably reach the first-floor boss room.
It was that handful that was proving to be a problem for the merchants. Split between five people, the first floor gave little in the way of coins. And from what Tibs had observed, the team members didn't trust each other enough to pool their coins for one of them to afford the armor.
They also died too easily for those merchants to accept the armor be paid off from future runs.
Tibs waited for the team to come out. It was Fedora's first run with her element, and he wanted to hear about how it had gone, what realizations she'd made that her teacher hadn't even mentioned.
He wanted to share in her excitement.
The team exited, and dread built in Tibs. Only three of them, one being carried. The fighter and team leader and the sorcerer. Tibs couldn't make out who was carried until the cleric healed them and the team's second fighter could stand.
No.
She had her element. She couldn't.... He looked at the door again. Wishing for her to have been delayed. He thought about stepping forward, within Sto's range, and asking what had happened.
But Sto would tell him. Sto loved regaling Tibs with other team's misadventures, and while he no longer talked about who and how they died, if Tibs asked...
No.
He watched them step down and head to the guild's table, noting what they carried. Cheap armor they dropped on the table. The fighter walked away, and the defeat in his eyes as he saw Tibs sent Tibs running.
No. Not again!
He shoved through the crowd, fighting the tears.
Why? Why had he done this again? He knew Omegas didn't live. So why had he helped her, gotten to know her? Hadn't he learned his lesson?
He couldn't get attached to anyone outside his team because any of them could die. Geoff was proof of that. It had been a warning of what awaited him with Fedora. No, the rogue he'd been training. He couldn't think of her as a person. He couldn't think of them beyond being Omegas.
It hurt too much.
The pained cry escaped his lips as his leg locked up. He was eating dirt, not caring until he noticed the laughter.
He looked up as it spread, wondering who would laugh at him. Who would laugh at anyone for tripping, for being in pain?
It was Don.
Of course, it was him.
He was bent over with laughter, and so was his team. And with the four of them, Radkliff was absent, Tibs noted, laughing along, it was enough to get the crowd going.
"Look at him," the sorcerer said as he tried to catch his breath. "The great savior of the dungeon can't even stand on his feet. He's crying because he fell!" He was laughing again.