Chapter 25

When Michael reached the bottom of the long, winding stairs leading down the tree, he found that it was day. The roaring fire of last night was now a bed of coals and timid embers, and most of the unruly mob of forest folk was asleep and snoring. Sensing something, a few of them opened their eyes with a wince, hungover from the festivities of last night. Some of them had drowned their disappointment at not being able to see Michael maimed and tortured with alcohol, while others were simply heavy drinkers by nature.

“…the king?”

“…he is back?”

“…where is the prisoner?”

Slowly but surely, most of the creatures were roused from their sleep. The first few were already eyeing Michael with distrust and hostility, but none were making moves to attack him. Some of them eyed him with reverence, respect and a hint of fear.

“You!” finally the goblin, who was the most talkative of the many monsters assembled around the remains of the fire, spoke. “What did you do to the king?”

“He smells like the king.” An orc said.

“Treason. I shall put him to the axe!” another orc bellowed.

But before he could even take a step towards his axe, which was discarded on the ground, he was stopped in his tracks by a pressure he very much recognized. Turning around, eyes wide and slimy skin even wetter with perspiration, he stared at Michael with wide eyes. Yet, there was anger and rage in his gaze, other than just fear.

“You slew the king!” the goblin cried out, “and have taken his authority… how?”

“I have,” Michael said, rehearsed words not coming out quite right now that he was being stared at by so many strange folk, “and I shall be your new king. Unless someone dares to oppose me?”

The orc who had been trying to get to his axe grunted. He managed to shake off the pressure, probably because I allowed him to, by asking who dares oppose me. With a cry, he wrenched the axe from the ground and turned to Michael, charging. He impacted a [[Distortion Field], and mere moments later a flaming fist was jutting out from his back. His gut was wrenched open by the immense force of Michael’s fist, reinforced by his body enhancement, and the skin was charring and flaking.

Then Michael removed his hand, gore and dark blood sticking to it until the fire devoured it greedily, and the orc collapsed. Dead.

“I have been hiding my strength, you see.” Michael said, “I am not a weakling. You will obey me!”

With that, the mob fell to their knees, heads held low. Only once he released his command, and the pressure lessened, did the goblin speak again.

“I, commander Drullkrin, respect you. We respect you, oh new king, for you had the strength to claim the glyph for yourself, proof of your power. Foolish Groll thought you were faking it, and he died for his insolence. We shall follow you, king.” He said. To think he’s the one who slapped me hard enough to give me brain damage. What a turncoat.

“You have been most clever,” the goblin continued, following Michael as he went to retrieve his fallen coins from earlier, bringing the total to 343. “You fooled us, pretending to be weak, only to strike at the king when opportunity presented itself. We respect strength, and if the old king was lacking, then it is a good thing that someone with proper might took over.”

Disgusting. But still, it’s their culture.

“I must question you,” he said as regally as he could, flexing the lingering power of the glyph, much like the forest king had done. He had returned to the firepit, where the mob was much larger now, most of the forest creatures having come to see the new king. “Speak, goblin Drullkrin. Tell me the state of our camp. We must fortify, train and grow powerful, for I intend to challenge the other glyph-bearers and take all seven shards for myself. The Unity shall be whole once more.”

They looked at him quizzically, much like the king had back when Michael was being questioned. Dungeon spawned, created just to populate this place. I see.

“What do you mean, my liege? Do you perhaps wish to move against the lurid dwellers of the swamp, kill those nasty Fae who don’t respect the ways of the true Fae?”

“Indeed, I do,” and there were cheers. When they died down, he continued, “but I won’t stop at that. We will kill their leader, and I will take his power for myself. Their troops will join our ranks, and then we will move against the others. The fiery volcano, the ice-tipped mountain, the stone forest, the dunes of the desert, and finally… the castle. All shall be ours. The power of their leaders, mine. The power of their army, ours.”

The crowd exploded in cheer, fueled by Michael’s glyph. “We shall aid you, my liege. Finally, a leader who understands our desires, and our need for battle.”

“Now tell me, goblin. What happens when one of you dies?”

“The body vanishes, of course, its magic going back to the land. The soul moves on, free from this life to whatever afterlife there might be. I hope it’s one of battle.”

“I see. Your numbers dwindle, then.”

“They do, sad as it is. In the good old days, we could breed, and it would bring us much joy. But now we cannot anymore, and the joy is gone. Some, like myself, fear that one day even the joy of battle will be taken from us. Then there will only be despair. That’s why we must fight!”

“Worry not. I will lead you to glorious battle, soon.” He said, even though he was slightly worried he might be about to bite more than he could chew.

Still, if I can keep this mob from stampeding through the whole forest long enough to train my skills, I am confident I can win. I just need to figure out the right order to challenge the other bosses, see how the difficulty increases. This goblin gave me a hint, mentioning the swamp. I don’t know if I was supposed to take over the camp and have an army, or go in solo, but I sure as hell won’t say no to some free cannon fodder.

There was the ethical problem: these creatures were intelligent, perhaps sentient. But they were puppets of the dungeon, and Michael had no idea what would happen to them once he left the floor, if they would even be here when he came back. And if they were still here, then what about when he beat the challenge? What of their fake backstories?

In the end, it was easy to think of them as monsters. And given that they wanted to kill and maim him, the ethical dilemma was not as heavy as it could have been on his mind. He still feared he would have to take some pills to sleep that night, but perhaps he could be spared the nightmares.

With that out of the way, he turned to the goblin Drullkrin. “I shall go now, gather more strength for battle. While I am away, train the troops, prepare for war.”

“When will you return, my king?” he asked, eager.

“No later than a few days,” he said, and saw the disappointment in the goblin’s eyes. “And when I do, we shall go to war.”

The goblin grinned at that, all disappointment gone from his face. Truly like an NPC.

“Very well, my king. I shall whip the troops into shape. We will be ready when you return!”

For his return point, Michael chose a secluded location far enough away from the camp that in the case the dungeon decided to reset the scenario, he wouldn’t have problems with the monsters. The glyph activated, spending half of his remaining power to fuel the transportation, and suddenly Michael found himself in a stone room, a single door letting sunshine filter in from the outside.

Then he was out.

There were strange things moving around in the air surrounding the entrance to the dungeon, visible only when viewed through Michael’s mana sense. They were ethereal, intangible, but much more presence than the mere shadows he had seen last time he had been here.

They look like strange creatures, and I can only see them where the mana is concentrated enough. For now, this meant that they only existed within a few yards of the dungeon. They were also still ethereal and incorporeal, impossible to touch and likewise unable to affect the world. Or so I hope, at least. But with the speed the mana is spreading… he looked around, sensing the halo of mana. It grew weaker with distance, but it was spreading.

I can see faint wisps of mana up to a mile away, while only a few days ago it barely extended up to fifty yards. Granted, my skill with mana was far lower, but I think it’s expanding quickly.

***

There was an extra karate lesson the next day, even though it was Saturday. Michael had not slept very well that night, the nightmares plaguing him despite his earlier hopes that he would be spared from the worst. Instead of dreaming about slaughtering innocent creatures, however, his nightmares were about pain, and death, constantly forced to live through the mad, desperate fight against the forest king. Each iteration showed him just what could have gone wrong, hammering home just how tiny the path to success had been. So many times he could have died, things gone wrong, all hope lost.

Still, there was stuff to do. His rising paranoia, lingering from the bad dreams, had him hide a few of his mana coins in a few places around his house, in his truck and eventually at key locations all the way to the Trail and the dungeon. You never know when you might need them.

He was still feeling like trash afterwards, though. This morning’s karate lesson might help me clear my head. Just shut my brain off, do the techniques, no thoughts.

It was easier said than done. Lawyer-guy was there, eager to vent some stress after a long week, as well as most of the others. Sensei Stephan seemed to catch on Michael’s state of mind, though, and kept the two mostly separate with a knowing look. They did their katas, their spars, and their stretches, and as the time passed Michael felt his mind unwind, some of the stress melting away.

He realized just how tense he had been, and tried his best to let his body, not just his mind, relax and go with the flow. The sensei praised him, saying that their style was not just about the hardness, but also one of softness, and while the praise drew snickers from the others, Michael was able to ignore them. They are nothing compared to a huge, angry orc threatening to maim me while I dance in the fire.

In fact, Michael found himself smiling as Phillip taunted him, calling him names when the sensei couldn’t hear. He imagined slapping the lawyer with one of his flaming fists, body enhancement making his slap like the impact of a truck, and he realized that the man in front of him was worth nothing compared to him. He was a tiny man, a hurt man who tried to hurt others so that his own pain would hurt less.

Soon, Michael’s mind turned to other, more important matters. Old Dave had come forward saying that Carmela had found someone to heal, and Michael was eager to do some good in the world. Sure, soon he would be doing it for money, but his heals would cure ailments that medicine could not treat. And with how expensive healthcare is in America, I can basically charge whatever I want.

It was an exaggeration, but Carmela had ensured that all the clients she would find could afford to pay the price, sending Michael a winking smiley face in response to his worried text. Old Dave, on the contrary, had called him a naïve fool, but Michael liked to think that there was fondness in his tone of voice, although he was just reading a text.