Chapter 3: I Don’t Wanna Die!
“Don’t come closer!” I took out the sword I got earlier and reoriented myself upon my feet, feeling light-headed. My trembling arms caused the sword to rattle in my hands.
At this rate, I would most definitely die… getting caught in a pickle. It is now or never, fight or die!
I threw my sword at him as well as leaped to the side to avoid the incoming arrow. My move was that of an amateur, but it did me good as the arrow missed me by a slight margin. Simultaneously, I hurled all the remaining stone bullets in my pockets at him, a few at a time, again and again, like a rain of bullets, until I ran out of them, and my hands were dead sore from the backlash.
But to my horror, the ranger was able to dodge almost every single stone bullet. His high agility made him nimble and fast to the point that you could barely call him human, and not only that, but he also appeared to be adept at predicting my movements. Those that hit him only grazed him, and only one lucky shot got him to bleed at his side.
“That fricking hurt! Fuck! You!” The ranger held his stomach and snapped, taking three arrows out and shooting them at me at once.
In a race against time, I quickly turned on my heel to dodge, but alas, before I was able to move much, those arrows grazed my arm and hip, and the last one even pierced my side. The pain was so horrible that I groaned so badly. This time I wasn’t so lucky as a taste of sweet liquid appeared in my mouth; the arrow must have hit a vital part.
Since the arrows were shot at full strength, the impact from them was enough to propel me to the immediate edge of the ravine. A deep, abyssal-like hole that seemed without end below.
Before I could move much, a hard object landed on my backpack and held me in place. “Ngh! Argh! S-Stop…”
“Idiot. Why carry such a heavy baggage when you could have lived longer without it.”
Nonsense! My backpack contained the most valuable thing to me — my entire life’s work. To toss it away was the same as tossing my life.
“So weak…” The ranger grabbed the sword I threw at him, then lifted me up without much effort. He placed the sword on my neck as if ready to skin me alive. “Keke. You would make a fine work of art in my hand.”
I trembled; this man was insane. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight!
On the spur of the moment, I mustered the last bit of strength within me and grabbed his arm that was holding the sword, upon which I bit and tore a chunk out like a beast, then spewed the blood in his face. When you felt the most confident, was when you showed a weakness.
“Aaargh! Son of a bitch! My arm!” He threw me into the air and let go of the sword at the same time.
However, the only thing behind me was the ravine. Falling to the unknown made my scalp tingle without end and numbed it. I flailed around to grab anything near me and managed to catch the vines at the cliff wall.
There was a sound of metal ricocheting against the wall of the cliff; the sword must have fallen as well. Yet, the worst thing of all, I couldn’t hear any sound of it reaching the bottom.
The worst came to the worst. The vines were loose, and I fell… My hands were out to reach the dimming light as I fell down into the abyssal depth.
***
The Assassination Leader’s Perspective
“Damn that brat!” The leader punched the tree beside him hard, leaving a large hole and even bending it until it was inclined to the back. He could even tumble a tree with his strength if he went all out. Truly a strength that befitted someone with his stature.
The plan had been constructed so well that little to no mistake could be made, yet this whole time, his leg had been stuck inside the mud, unable to be pulled out. It took all of his and his [Great Strength] Vocation to barely get out of the hole. What irony.
Who was he? Everyone called him “Sir Rowan.” Someone that stood in the middle echelon of the “Order.”
He calmed his anger and followed the trail left behind by the brat. He thought that the brat felt out of place — black hair, foreign face… and with a pretty unique Vocation at that. The pebbles he threw gave all sorts of different effects, just like magic. The closest thing he had in mind upon seeing it was a “steam gun” (a weapon that only the kingdom’s soldiers would possess).
As cautious as he was, he never expected it to drastically influence the environment. The Vocation he owned must be at least Rare grade or above.
In any case, he had to eliminate that brat. I can’t let anyone escape.
With a glint in his eyes, he kept walking. It took him a bit of time to reach the scene, and along the way, he wondered why the ranger, Erick, took so long to kill one brat.
The leader, Rowan, found Erick rolling near a cliff while writhing in pain. “Whatcha doin’? Where's the brat? Found traces of blood here and there and not a body. Missing your shot, eh? How rare.”
“Ngh… Shut your crap! Don’t you see I’m in pain?! As for the brat… he ‘jumped.’”
“You let ‘im escape?” Rowan raised a quizzical eyebrow and neared him and saw that he was injured on the hand. Did the brat jump to the other side of the ravine? Rowan wondered.
“Of course not! Urgh.” Erick muttered something, likely cursing, and quickly bandaged his hand with a cloth he tore from his clothes. “He… jumped below.”
Rowan felt that Erick was hiding something, but he didn’t care and commented, “Stupid, suicidal brat. Just to prolong his miserable life, he did something foolish.”
“Good as dead.” Erick was no longer writhing in pain and stood up. “Still, if I ever find his body, I’ll cut him to pieces and feed him to the dogs!”
“You think he won’t survive the fall?”
He bit his cheek, then chortled, a manic expression on his face, “Keke. Below… I sense a mana vein converging; perhaps it’s a dungeon. Besides… I’ve shot him twice, both at his vitals. He’d probably lose too much blood even if he does miraculously survive.”
Rowan raised no doubt over what he said since his [Ranger Sense] Vocation was sensitive to these things. With that in mind, he strode to the edge of the cliff to see below.
The dungeon in question was a small ravine, only having a gap that could be crossed with a big jump by Rowan and a width no longer than four times that. Despite its small size, however, Rowan couldn’t see the depth of the ravine. He tried tossing a stone down, but nothing echoed back to his ears.
“An opportunity. Y’know what other words stand for dungeons?”
“Well, well. A gold mine, of course.”
“Indeed.” Rowan grinned. The Core of a dungeon or Dungeon Core could give one a Vocation of Rare grade and above. He wouldn’t mind having another one, or best, sell it to the Order. Getting to a high position wouldn’t be a dream then.
“Let’s not count the chicken before it hatches,” Rowan said, “we need to gather more men. Can’t say whether this dungeon is dangerous or not. What do you say?”
“Keke… Agreeable. Wait… don’t we need to tell the boss?”
“No need. If this gets into his ear, we won’t get anything more than crumbs. Although I respect him, he never favors one over the others. Let’s just do this: The bodies back at the scene, you clean ‘em up while I go back to the base and recruit some newbies.”
“Fine. I’ll follow your say in this, Sir Rowan.”
Once they reached a consensus, they set out to do their jobs. Rowan didn’t worry in the slightest about the brat. After all, a wounded person entering a dungeon was tantamount to death. At least that was what the supposed “common sense” was.
***
Vincent’s Perspective
My body hurt everywhere; even breathing was painful. I wanted to scream in pain, but all I could do was groan like a man drowned in an ocean. Heck, I couldn’t move a single limb, not even an inch; it seemed like an impossible task to do.
Darkness encroached on me from all sides; my vision went blurry… Something must have cushioned my fall. Definitely something other than my backpack. Yet, it was all for naught given that it only gave me slow, painful suffering as the wounds from the arrows slowly bled me dry. A fate worse than death.
I hated this sense of powerlessness. I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to be helpless anymore. None of all that mattered anymore; my eyelids became heavier and heavier. This was the end… an end for my meaningless life.
My only regret was that I didn’t bite his neck, right at his vital spot…
As though announcing me dead, my thoughts gradually slowed down to a snail’s pace. Hotness filled my back and wounds. Even gasping for air was no longer possible. The concept of death was no longer scary in my head; on the contrary, it gave me a sense of relief, for it would end my suffering.
“To hell with THIS!!” I don’t wanna die! I won’t accept dying this easily! “Arggh!!” I bellowed, trying to gather the last bit of my strength to crawl up.
There was light.
Amidst the darkness around me, there was a gentle dot of light in front of me. I didn’t know what it was, but just like a moth, my body went to reach for the light. The last of my strength was deployed to go that way.
A miracle happened when the ball shined brighter and brighter: The pain in my body was no more as if I’d consumed a bottle of painkillers. Even while suffering severe blood loss, I was feeling better and better. Was this the strength of my last struggle? Would I die after this? I didn’t know, and I didn't care.
The closer I got to the thing, the more I realized that this wasn’t any ordinary object. It was a crystal ball the size of a basketball floating above a white pedestal, illuminating the darkness in every nook and cranny of the ravine cave I was in.
I felt a growing impulse to get closer; the urge was so unbearable that I crawled closer without thinking. It wasn’t much different than being hypnotized, only that I had never been hypnotized before.
Suddenly, the desire to plunge and reach for it exploded. I want to touch it! I want to protect it! I want to own it! These thoughts kept raging in my head back and forth. It was like the crystal ball was the most precious thing to me in this world.
“I am the loyal mi—” At that moment, as if a blitz zapped my mind, I regained some clarity and bit my bottom lip hard. What? What was I trying to say? And why?
Regardless of my effort to hold it down, a smile was creeping up on my face. A finger of my hand had even touched the crystal ball.
“…NO!! My name is Vincent Anderson! I am the master of my own consciousness!” I bit my lip even harder, in fact, so hard that blood started to ooze out until finally pain appeared from my numb lip and brought me some clarity of the situation.
What is this thing?!
Dungeon Core (mindless)
A mindless heart of a dungeon — controller of monsters and all kinds of magical beings.
“You want to control me?! A mindless thing of all things? Not a chance!”
With the fury of the world, I grabbed the crystal ball with both of my hands. This time I was the one trying to overwhelm it. It was like two kinds of forces were having a tug-of-war. It was either me or “it.” I knew that whoever lost would become the winner’s slave.
It was a hard-fought battle. Neither I nor “it” would give a sliver of concession. Yet, at the end of the day, I was but a human; it didn’t matter how fierce my determination was, I would get exhausted. The wounds that were formerly numb started to ache in greater pain.
“Arrrgh! Even if I have to die, I won’t become a mindless puppet!”
A desperate problem required a desperate measure, my [Programming] was able to affect an “inanimate” object. However, I didn’t know where the line separating the living and the dead was, which was why I activated it to help me in this struggle… And it worked!
Amplifying the amount of energy given by me many times over, it was finally suppressed. To put the last nail in the coffin, I deployed every last force I had— No, saying it like that would be an understatement.
Pain exceeding anything I’d ever known painted every part of my body as blood started leaking from my orifices. Even my skin cracked into countless pieces. Simultaneously, my entire being — my soul — began to crumble into fragments. But the effort did pay off since the crystal ball got overwhelmed in exchange.
“Heh-heh-heh… I… win…”
The crystal ball shined brightly and went under my control, meaning that a connection had been established. The wounds in my body finally took their toll on me, and I blacked out…
Chapter 3: I Don’t Wanna Die!
“Don’t come closer!” I took out the sword I got earlier and reoriented myself upon my feet, feeling light-headed. My trembling arms caused the sword to rattle in my hands.
At this rate, I would most definitely die… getting caught in a pickle. It is now or never, fight or die!
I threw my sword at him as well as leaped to the side to avoid the incoming arrow. My move was that of an amateur, but it did me good as the arrow missed me by a slight margin. Simultaneously, I hurled all the remaining stone bullets in my pockets at him, a few at a time, again and again, like a rain of bullets, until I ran out of them, and my hands were dead sore from the backlash.
But to my horror, the ranger was able to dodge almost every single stone bullet. His high agility made him nimble and fast to the point that you could barely call him human, and not only that, but he also appeared to be adept at predicting my movements. Those that hit him only grazed him, and only one lucky shot got him to bleed at his side.
“That fricking hurt! Fuck! You!” The ranger held his stomach and snapped, taking three arrows out and shooting them at me at once.
In a race against time, I quickly turned on my heel to dodge, but alas, before I was able to move much, those arrows grazed my arm and hip, and the last one even pierced my side. The pain was so horrible that I groaned so badly. This time I wasn’t so lucky as a taste of sweet liquid appeared in my mouth; the arrow must have hit a vital part.
Since the arrows were shot at full strength, the impact from them was enough to propel me to the immediate edge of the ravine. A deep, abyssal-like hole that seemed without end below.
Before I could move much, a hard object landed on my backpack and held me in place. “Ngh! Argh! S-Stop…”
“Idiot. Why carry such a heavy baggage when you could have lived longer without it.”
Nonsense! My backpack contained the most valuable thing to me — my entire life’s work. To toss it away was the same as tossing my life.
“So weak…” The ranger grabbed the sword I threw at him, then lifted me up without much effort. He placed the sword on my neck as if ready to skin me alive. “Keke. You would make a fine work of art in my hand.”
I trembled; this man was insane. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight!
On the spur of the moment, I mustered the last bit of strength within me and grabbed his arm that was holding the sword, upon which I bit and tore a chunk out like a beast, then spewed the blood in his face. When you felt the most confident, was when you showed a weakness.
“Aaargh! Son of a bitch! My arm!” He threw me into the air and let go of the sword at the same time.
However, the only thing behind me was the ravine. Falling to the unknown made my scalp tingle without end and numbed it. I flailed around to grab anything near me and managed to catch the vines at the cliff wall.
There was a sound of metal ricocheting against the wall of the cliff; the sword must have fallen as well. Yet, the worst thing of all, I couldn’t hear any sound of it reaching the bottom.
The worst came to the worst. The vines were loose, and I fell… My hands were out to reach the dimming light as I fell down into the abyssal depth.
***
The Assassination Leader’s Perspective
“Damn that brat!” The leader punched the tree beside him hard, leaving a large hole and even bending it until it was inclined to the back. He could even tumble a tree with his strength if he went all out. Truly a strength that befitted someone with his stature.
The plan had been constructed so well that little to no mistake could be made, yet this whole time, his leg had been stuck inside the mud, unable to be pulled out. It took all of his and his [Great Strength] Vocation to barely get out of the hole. What irony.
Who was he? Everyone called him “Sir Rowan.” Someone that stood in the middle echelon of the “Order.”
He calmed his anger and followed the trail left behind by the brat. He thought that the brat felt out of place — black hair, foreign face… and with a pretty unique Vocation at that. The pebbles he threw gave all sorts of different effects, just like magic. The closest thing he had in mind upon seeing it was a “steam gun” (a weapon that only the kingdom’s soldiers would possess).
As cautious as he was, he never expected it to drastically influence the environment. The Vocation he owned must be at least Rare grade or above.
In any case, he had to eliminate that brat. I can’t let anyone escape.
With a glint in his eyes, he kept walking. It took him a bit of time to reach the scene, and along the way, he wondered why the ranger, Erick, took so long to kill one brat.
The leader, Rowan, found Erick rolling near a cliff while writhing in pain. “Whatcha doin’? Where's the brat? Found traces of blood here and there and not a body. Missing your shot, eh? How rare.”
“Ngh… Shut your crap! Don’t you see I’m in pain?! As for the brat… he ‘jumped.’”
“You let ‘im escape?” Rowan raised a quizzical eyebrow and neared him and saw that he was injured on the hand. Did the brat jump to the other side of the ravine? Rowan wondered.
“Of course not! Urgh.” Erick muttered something, likely cursing, and quickly bandaged his hand with a cloth he tore from his clothes. “He… jumped below.”
Rowan felt that Erick was hiding something, but he didn’t care and commented, “Stupid, suicidal brat. Just to prolong his miserable life, he did something foolish.”
“Good as dead.” Erick was no longer writhing in pain and stood up. “Still, if I ever find his body, I’ll cut him to pieces and feed him to the dogs!”
“You think he won’t survive the fall?”
He bit his cheek, then chortled, a manic expression on his face, “Keke. Below… I sense a mana vein converging; perhaps it’s a dungeon. Besides… I’ve shot him twice, both at his vitals. He’d probably lose too much blood even if he does miraculously survive.”
Rowan raised no doubt over what he said since his [Ranger Sense] Vocation was sensitive to these things. With that in mind, he strode to the edge of the cliff to see below.
The dungeon in question was a small ravine, only having a gap that could be crossed with a big jump by Rowan and a width no longer than four times that. Despite its small size, however, Rowan couldn’t see the depth of the ravine. He tried tossing a stone down, but nothing echoed back to his ears.
“An opportunity. Y’know what other words stand for dungeons?”
“Well, well. A gold mine, of course.”
“Indeed.” Rowan grinned. The Core of a dungeon or Dungeon Core could give one a Vocation of Rare grade and above. He wouldn’t mind having another one, or best, sell it to the Order. Getting to a high position wouldn’t be a dream then.
“Let’s not count the chicken before it hatches,” Rowan said, “we need to gather more men. Can’t say whether this dungeon is dangerous or not. What do you say?”
“Keke… Agreeable. Wait… don’t we need to tell the boss?”
“No need. If this gets into his ear, we won’t get anything more than crumbs. Although I respect him, he never favors one over the others. Let’s just do this: The bodies back at the scene, you clean ‘em up while I go back to the base and recruit some newbies.”
“Fine. I’ll follow your say in this, Sir Rowan.”
Once they reached a consensus, they set out to do their jobs. Rowan didn’t worry in the slightest about the brat. After all, a wounded person entering a dungeon was tantamount to death. At least that was what the supposed “common sense” was.
***
Vincent’s Perspective
My body hurt everywhere; even breathing was painful. I wanted to scream in pain, but all I could do was groan like a man drowned in an ocean. Heck, I couldn’t move a single limb, not even an inch; it seemed like an impossible task to do.
Darkness encroached on me from all sides; my vision went blurry… Something must have cushioned my fall. Definitely something other than my backpack. Yet, it was all for naught given that it only gave me slow, painful suffering as the wounds from the arrows slowly bled me dry. A fate worse than death.
I hated this sense of powerlessness. I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to be helpless anymore. None of all that mattered anymore; my eyelids became heavier and heavier. This was the end… an end for my meaningless life.
My only regret was that I didn’t bite his neck, right at his vital spot…
As though announcing me dead, my thoughts gradually slowed down to a snail’s pace. Hotness filled my back and wounds. Even gasping for air was no longer possible. The concept of death was no longer scary in my head; on the contrary, it gave me a sense of relief, for it would end my suffering.
“To hell with THIS!!” I don’t wanna die! I won’t accept dying this easily! “Arggh!!” I bellowed, trying to gather the last bit of my strength to crawl up.
There was light.
Amidst the darkness around me, there was a gentle dot of light in front of me. I didn’t know what it was, but just like a moth, my body went to reach for the light. The last of my strength was deployed to go that way.
A miracle happened when the ball shined brighter and brighter: The pain in my body was no more as if I’d consumed a bottle of painkillers. Even while suffering severe blood loss, I was feeling better and better. Was this the strength of my last struggle? Would I die after this? I didn’t know, and I didn't care.
The closer I got to the thing, the more I realized that this wasn’t any ordinary object. It was a crystal ball the size of a basketball floating above a white pedestal, illuminating the darkness in every nook and cranny of the ravine cave I was in.
I felt a growing impulse to get closer; the urge was so unbearable that I crawled closer without thinking. It wasn’t much different than being hypnotized, only that I had never been hypnotized before.
Suddenly, the desire to plunge and reach for it exploded. I want to touch it! I want to protect it! I want to own it! These thoughts kept raging in my head back and forth. It was like the crystal ball was the most precious thing to me in this world.
“I am the loyal mi—” At that moment, as if a blitz zapped my mind, I regained some clarity and bit my bottom lip hard. What? What was I trying to say? And why?
Regardless of my effort to hold it down, a smile was creeping up on my face. A finger of my hand had even touched the crystal ball.
“…NO!! My name is Vincent Anderson! I am the master of my own consciousness!” I bit my lip even harder, in fact, so hard that blood started to ooze out until finally pain appeared from my numb lip and brought me some clarity of the situation.
What is this thing?!
Dungeon Core (mindless)
A mindless heart of a dungeon — controller of monsters and all kinds of magical beings.
“You want to control me?! A mindless thing of all things? Not a chance!”
With the fury of the world, I grabbed the crystal ball with both of my hands. This time I was the one trying to overwhelm it. It was like two kinds of forces were having a tug-of-war. It was either me or “it.” I knew that whoever lost would become the winner’s slave.
It was a hard-fought battle. Neither I nor “it” would give a sliver of concession. Yet, at the end of the day, I was but a human; it didn’t matter how fierce my determination was, I would get exhausted. The wounds that were formerly numb started to ache in greater pain.
“Arrrgh! Even if I have to die, I won’t become a mindless puppet!”
A desperate problem required a desperate measure, my [Programming] was able to affect an “inanimate” object. However, I didn’t know where the line separating the living and the dead was, which was why I activated it to help me in this struggle… And it worked!
Amplifying the amount of energy given by me many times over, it was finally suppressed. To put the last nail in the coffin, I deployed every last force I had— No, saying it like that would be an understatement.
Pain exceeding anything I’d ever known painted every part of my body as blood started leaking from my orifices. Even my skin cracked into countless pieces. Simultaneously, my entire being — my soul — began to crumble into fragments. But the effort did pay off since the crystal ball got overwhelmed in exchange.
“Heh-heh-heh… I… win…”
The crystal ball shined brightly and went under my control, meaning that a connection had been established. The wounds in my body finally took their toll on me, and I blacked out…
