She looks at Monty and me and says, “Now it makes sense—you two are new to all this. Let me give you some advice. If you see or hear people, make sure it’s not a trap. Some groups set them up just to kill you and take your gear. If you ever come across one of these groups and they haven’t seen you yet, just kill them. Don’t try to negotiate. They only want your gear.”

  I listen to her, but it’s something I expected. Still, I thank her anyway.

  Before she leaves, she gives us one last piece of advice. “Try and find a good spot for your base as soon as possible. Being a vagabond might sound cool, but when you need a place to rest, you can’t count on the dungeon to help you. If you find a decent place, take it—the more secure, the better.”

  With that, she and the girl leave the second-hand store.

  I turn to Monty and say, “We should leave as well. I doubt this place has much use.”

  He stands, puts on his backpack, and replies, “Yeah, the only good thing I found were some instructional books.” He takes one out and hands it to me.

  "First Aid for Beginners."

  “There were also some on general maintenance and cooking,” he adds.

  I put the book in the robber’s backpack and thank him.

  We leave the store. The woman and kid have already disappeared into some corridor, and I take the left path. As we move forward, the corridors become more dangerous, forcing Monty to really put his scouting abilities to use. We come across many monsters—large hordes of goblins, groups of those lizardmen, orcs, and... boars?

  What are wild boars doing in the dungeon? What do they even eat down here?

  We let the wild animals move along, and I use my scavenger’s intuition to guide us to the next summoned building. We arrive at a veterinary clinic, but this one is different from the previous buildings. It has makeshift barricades and wooden tribal decorations.

  We watch as the orcs who occupy the clinic stand guard at the entrance. Every so often, the left orc guard leaves to check the surrounding corridors for enemies. He finds nothing.

  I turn to Monty. “When he comes near, I’ll grab him and keep his mouth shut while you stab him.”

  Monty nods, and we prepare for when the orc rounds the corner.

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  The orc moves from corridor to corridor, searching for anything unusual. As he peers into a hallway he expects to be empty, he finds two humans waiting. The taller one punches him in the face, and he feels his jaw break—the strike must have been enhanced by a skill. Before he can cry out, the two humans drag him into the corridor.

  He crashes onto his stomach and feels one of them climb onto his back, wrapping their arms around his neck, squeezing—cutting off his air. He can’t call for help. But the human made a mistake, thinking he could pin an orc to the ground. The orc slowly stands, his head turning red as he struggles to breathe. He tries to shake the human off his back.

  In his growing panic, he forgets about the second human—until he feels a knife sink into his lung. Then again. And again.

  The orc collapses. Even as he takes his final breath, the one on his back doesn’t let go.

  I finally release my grip as I feel his heart stop beating. I turn to Monty. “Fuck, that thing was strong. It nearly threw me off there.”

  Monty snickers. “Well, it did look fun—kind of like a rodeo, except instead of a bull, it was a green bodybuilder.”

  I smirk, pick up my bow from where we stashed our stuff to keep it from getting damaged in the fight, and nock an arrow. I take aim at the second guard orc, who is now looking around for his missing partner. As he turns his back to me, I release. The arrow hits him in the back of the head. He thrashes for a moment but dies quietly.

  We move to the entrance of the veterinary clinic. Monty readies his rifle. While we’ll try to stay quiet as long as possible, we know it’ll end in us gunning down the orcs. As we move through the waiting room, I put an arrow through the heart of an orc standing behind the reception desk.

  We head down the hall to the surgery room, where we find two orcs butchering a hog. Monty uses his stealth skill to approach the closest orc and stabs it between the ribs. The other orc notices—but not soon enough. An arrow buries itself above his eye.

  We look at the meat on the table. It’s good meat. They knew how to butcher it well. Before we leave, we decide to cook some.

  We head to the kennels, where animals used to be kept. Inside, we find a huge orc. This one is different from the others. It carries a sledgehammer and a Russian ballistic shield.

  I tell Monty, “Try not to shoot the shield too much. It’ll just waste ammo. Go for the legs and arms. If you get a shot, kill it. I’ll try to make an opening.”

  I grip my crowbar in one hand and my pistol in the other. I move closer to the orc, who finally rises from its scrap-wood throne. The shield covers most of its body except for the legs.

  I approach, trying to provoke a swing, but instead, it bashes me with the shield. I stumble back, and the orc takes a swing with its sledgehammer. Bad move.

  The attack leaves its shield just low enough for Monty to get a clean shot.

  I watch the orc collapse, a fresh hole in its head. I turn to Monty, touching where the orc slammed the shield into my face. Most of the impact hit was kevlar, but I think he clipped me with the metal near the handle—I can feel the bruise forming.

  I ask, “You think this’ll leave a mark?” as the area around my eye starts turning purple.

  Monty grimaces, but before he can answer, a notification interrupts us.