Dungeon 237 (Doors of the Dreamer, Chapter 7)
Pragmatism
Author’s note: For the month of July I am challenging myself to write and post one chapter a day every two days with minimal planning and outlining. You can read the first chapter of Doors of the Dreamer here.
They traveled deeper into the city. Lance insisted they wear full gear around-the-clock. David didn’t mind this so much as his cleric robes were light and easy to move in, but he wondered how Lance tolerated wearing full armor all the time. They were moving slower now, always dodging between buildings and waiting for monsters to pass. Twice that day they were forced into combat. The first time was when they almost ran into an ogre after turning a corner. The ogre seemed just as surprised as they were, and Lance quickly dispatched it. The second time, Lance wanted to clear a gas station.
“They might have maps I need.”
“Well, you could ask the cashier,” David quipped.
A seemingly empty suit of armor was standing guard behind the cash register.
“There’s one in the corner, too,” Lance said.
Two sets of living armor. As implied by the name, the suits were capable of movement and even combat. However, they were not truly alive but animated by a curse placed on them. The curse was bound by a seal somewhere on the inside of the armor. In Doors of the Dreamer, players would hack the armor apart until they separated the seal from the rest, rendering it immobile. David was not surprised to hear Lance had a more intellectual strategy.
“We always want to use the element of surprise to our advantage. In this case, the best way to handle living armor is to cut it in half, then remove the limbs from the still-moving half.”
“I don’t have a skill capable of that, so how about I just smite it?”
“That’s—Right. Okay.”
They slipped inside. Lance counted them down, and they launched their attacks simultaneously. Smite atomized the helmet of the “cashier” and the armor fell forward into the counter. David shot a glance over to the corner. Lance’s strategy, in action, looked awfully similar to the usual “slice it until it stops moving” approach. He heard movement and turned his attention back to the other armor. His decapitated opponent stood and vaulted the counter in one smooth motion.
“Smite.”
The living armor fell again, a smoldering hole replacing the top half of its chestplate. Its sword arm had fallen off. It shuddered and began to rise again. David smiled. He still had a few good smites in him.
“Wind cutter.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Lance swing his sword in an arc. There was a distortion in the air, and the armor was sliced apart at the groin. Finally, it was still.
“I had that under control,” David said.
“You need to be careful how you spend your mana.”
David shrugged. Lance found and stashed some maps and they moved on.
There were a lot of the so-called zombies wandering about. At first, David would watch them for any signs of life, but he soon realized this was a pointless effort and started ignoring them like Lance did.
“What does a dungeon look like in this world?” he asked at one point.
“The entrance is a door. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“More doors, huh?”
He had noticed the occasional freestanding door—down an alleyway, in the middle of the road, on a roof. David could more-or-less tell by looking at them that these were the same type as the one from the previous day.
That evening, Lance pointed to an apartment complex across the street and said, “Let’s make that our base of operations.”
“Why there?”
“This area seems quiet, and we need a place big enough to hide in that provides multiple escape routes.”
David thought about it. “Couldn’t we get trapped inside an apartment, though?”
“Not if we pick one with a balcony.”
“Our escape route is jumping off a balcony?”
“Only if necessary.” Lance looked at him. “Your gear’s defensive bonuses will protect you if you fall from that height. Just bend your knees when you land.”
“Right.”
They cleared one wing of the second story. Lance chose an apartment at the end of a hallway, near a fire exit, and barricaded the door. David went out to the balcony. Looking out at the city, he was reminded that this was his hometown, or at least an imitation of it. It was somehow hostile and alien, and he thought he understood what Lance had meant by this world being a shadow of theirs.
After dinner, Lance produced a map of the city and explained his plan. In the morning, they would move block by block and hunt for dungeon entrances, marking down any they found. If it was a lower level dungeon, depending on the timing, they could enter and clear it immediately. Otherwise, they would return to it later. He drew a circle on the map centered on their new headquarters.
“Ideally, we can find everything within this radius. If not…” He drew a larger circle. “Anything past this is a no-go.”
“Why?”
“It would take at least half a day just for travel, and we want to leave ourselves plenty of time in the dungeons.”
David nodded, taking his word for it. “We need mounts. Are there horses or tameable dragons or something?”
“I have seen no evidence that such a thing exists.”
Now that he thought about it, David realized Doors of the Dreamer didn’t have or need mounts—that’s what cars and bikes were for.
“I assume camping out in the dungeon is not an option.”
“Only in emergencies.”
David studied the map. “How do we identify a dungeon’s level?”
“Similar to how it was in Doors of the Dreamer. If you’re near the entrance, you can see details in the app. Types of monsters, loot, that sort of thing. Make sure to charge your phone and power banks tonight. I’ll take first watch.”
“Wait. If I’m waking up at 2 AM every night, I’m going to need coffee.”
Lance looked at him.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have coffee.”
“I don’t have coffee.”
David sighed. “Okay, tea?”
Lance shook his head.
“Energy drinks? Pop?”
“I don’t consume caffeine, so I don’t have any.”
David opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.
“We can probably find some tomorrow,” Lance said.
“Right. Let’s do that.”
David left for his bedroom. Something about Lance had always rubbed him the wrong way, and now he understood. Lance was the straightest straight man—dry, dull, a pure pragmatist. It made him wonder if three years in this place would leave him the same way.
They set out on their first dungeon hunt the following morning. David found his hands were shaking a little in anticipation—or maybe that was just his body reacting to his lack of sleep. Lance explained that dungeon entrances often appeared near recognizable landmarks like parks, churches, and historical sites.
“Like in the game,” David said.
“Yes.”
As luck would have it, they found a low-level dungeon almost immediately. Like Lance said, it was a door—two doors, technically. It was big, at least eight feet tall, and unmistakably medieval in appearance with no windows and large ring pull handles. It was posted in front of a hotel only two blocks away from their base.
“Level 17, two floors. Fiends, living armor, huntsmen, skeletons, wraiths. Cursed castle theme, so the boss could be a manticore or a wyvern.”
“How’s the loot?”
“Bad, but that’s not why we’re here.” Lance made a mark on the map. “We should have more than enough time to beat this then explore a bit before we head back.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Equip chimera greatsword.” He rested the blade on his shoulder. “David, all I need you to do is maintain your buffs, heal me if I take damage, and occasionally smite something. Always stay behind me and be conservative with your mana. If you catch aggro, call it out and I will use a taunt skill when I get an opening. If you need to run, always run back to rooms we’ve cleared.”
“Okay.” David yawned.
“You’ll get the same experience drop even if you don’t kill any monsters.”
“I know. I have run a dungeon before.”
“Not like this, you haven’t.”
Lance pulled open the doors. It took a few seconds for David’s eyes to adjust to the dimness. He was looking down a stone corridor lined with flickering torches. It looked like something right out of the game. He stepped inside, half-expecting to get hit with a musty, dank smell, but just like the outside world, it smelled like nothing and was unnaturally quiet. The doors creaked shut behind them.
Lance silently lead the way. David followed, staying close but not too close. The corridor was uncomfortably long, and David thought it might have been narrowing. At last they reached an opening, but just before he entered the next room, Lance stopped and held up a hand. He was looking at something on the ceiling, and motioned for David to do the same. David leaned in and squinted. The room was square, about twenty feet across, and seemingly empty. However, looking up, he could make out three—no, four motionless shapes. The cleric and the knight backed up a few steps into the corridor.
“What are those?” David asked.
“Huntsmen.”
“On the ceiling? That’s new.”
Giant arachnid monsters were a common trope in video games, and Doors of the Dreamer was no stranger to tropes. Huntsmen were a familiar sight in dungeons. Unlike the typical fuzzy giant spiders inspired by tarantulas, they had spindly legs and a bulbous body the color of tar, similar to a black widow.
“They have terrible eyesight, but they can detect prey through vibrations in their webbing.” He pointed at the floor.
“What’s the play?”
“Like I said, you focus on buffs and heals. Whenever you’re ready.”
David took a deep breath and cast blessing of strength and blessing of fortitude on Lance.
“Wind cutter.”
Without missing a beat, Lance stepped into the spider’s den.
“Wind cutter.”
Two corpses hit the ground. The third and fourth huntsman hissed and scurried down the far wall with alarming speed.
“Blood rush.”
Before they could reach the ground, Lance launched forward and skewered one. However, his sword was now buried in the wall, and the other spider was already on him. David opened his mouth, about to cast smite. He didn’t get the chance.
Lance turned and slammed an armored fist into the monster’s head, which exploded into chunks.
David blinked. “What level are you, again?”
“100,” Lance said casually as he pulled his sword from the wall.