“FUCK!”

  The shout echoed through the dry halls as the man desperately swung his weapon at the horde of Skeletons surrounding him. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d finally made it off the first floor of the Dungeon, but now he was in an even worse place. Twisting corridors and dead ends greeted him at every turn, along with groups of the living dead. Skeletons, Zombies and Ghosts inhabited this floor, and he was wholly unprepared.

  “Get away from me, you fucking bastards!” he howled, sweeping his hand in a slashing motion, sending a blade of air crashing into the horde.

  Except, it barely fazed them, passing through their bones with barely a scratch. All the same, the man gave a small grin, the air blade continuing on and crashing into the small group of Zombies behind the Skeletons. The attack cut several of the Zombies heads off, the monsters collapsing to the ground and melting into a foul black substance as he swung his mace at the skull of one of the Skeletons, shattering it and sending its bones scattering across the floor.

  From what he had learned, Skeletons were fast, but brittle, and you had to destroy their skulls, otherwise they’d just piece themselves back together and come after you again. Zombies, on the other hand, were tough as all hell, but just as slow, only dying when their heads were either destroyed, or cut from their bodies. The worst, though, were the Ghosts. They were fast and tough, though their only attack was to pass through you, making you feel cold when they did so. Of course, Chris had no intentions of dying to frostbite in some gods forsaken maze in a stupid Dungeon.

  “Fucking hell!” he shouted as he finally killed the last Skeleton, throwing out another blade of wind to finish off the last two Zombies, “That took way too long. I need to be more careful with how scared I feel.”

  Another feature of the undead that he’d found out was that they were attracted to fear, like the smell of it was an aroma of delicious food they just couldn’t resist. The man’s stomach protested as he thought about food, making him scowl, already mostly used to the pain of hunger.

  “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, “It’s not my fault there’s no food on this stupid fucking floor! Blame the brain for thinking there would be!”

  Chris stalked forwards, absentmindedly emptying the contents of the various item chests around him into his Carry-All-Bag. It was mostly rusted or rotted armor, with the occasional low Rank weapon mixed in. Of course, none of it compared to his current gear, which was still pretty good, even compared to some of the higher Rank items he’d found. That was mostly because he’d been avoiding the stronger monsters in this labyrinthine crypt like the plague, not wanting to have to deal with the tougher creatures at the moment.

  “Just got to find the Floor Boss and beat it,” he grumbled, stuffing a half-rotted leather shirt into his bag, “I’m sure the next floor will have something I can eat.”

  The sound of shoes on stone made him pause, looking up to see a surprisingly well-dressed man approaching him. The man would have looked every part the fancy butler, if it hadn’t been for the fact that half his face was missing, showing off the white bone beneath, a glowing purple light in place of his missing eye.

  “Uhm…can I help you?” Chris croaked, surprised by how tired and raspy his voice sounded.

  “Ah, it would seem that you are the one destroying my Master’s minions,” the weird Zombie Butler said in a refined tone.

  “Oh, uhm…sorry?” Chris stuttered, not sure what to do, “So, like, did he send you to stop me or something?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” the Zombie Butler nodded, Chris tightening his grip on his mace as he prepared for a fight, “I am to invite and lead you to the Master’s chambers, post haste.”

  “Master’s…chambers?” Chris blinked, “Wait, is this master the Floor Boss?”

  “He is the master of this realm,” the Zombie Butler replied, “Now, if you would please follow me, the others shall not attack you as long as you remain close.”

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  “Oh…” Chris said as he continued to stare dumbly at the Zombie Butler, “Okay?”

  ------

  The room was impressive, with high vaulted ceilings and elegant furniture arranged around it. It would have looked positively inviting if it wasn’t for the thick layer of dust and grime that covered everything, the tables littered with strange looking objects and half dissected corpses. Chris found himself licking his lips as he looked at a partially rotted corpse, its flesh still wet, wondering if any of it was still edible, before he caught himself.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he muttered, looking towards the figure at the far end of the room, its large black cloak billowing as it moved in front of a table lined with various strange looking jars and bottles.

  “Ah,” the dry voice said as the creature turned to look at him, “You have arrived.”

  “Uhm…hello?” Jake said, trying to smile as he stared at the mummified corpse that was talking to him, “You’re a Lich?”

  “I am,” the Lich nodded, “You are quite well informed, it would seem. Not that that will matter shortly.”

  “Oh?” Chris blinked, the sickly-sweet smell of rotting flesh that pervaded the room making him start to feel a little nauseous, “Why?”

  “Because I shall be adding you to my collection,” the Lich laughed, turning to face him head on, Chris spotting the blood red broach that fixed its cloak over its shoulders, a cool feeling rushing through his head, “Not the best specimen, but considering the damage you did to my forces, I suppose your body will suffice as payment. Now, bow before me and-!”

  Chris gathered the air around his legs, launching himself forwards as the Lich continued to talk, catching the undead off guard as he snatched the broach, ripping it free of the fabric and throwing it to the ground.

  “What are you doing?!” the creature screamed as it raised its hands, magic starting to gather in its skeletal fingers as Chris lifted his mace.

  “I! Don’t! Have! Time! For! This!” he shouted, punctuating each word with a strike of his mace against the broach, each blow seeming to knock the Lich off balance, “I! Need! Food! Not! Another! Fight!”

  “Stop, you cretin!” the monster shrieked, trying to grab Chris’s arm as he swung it down again, the man just kicking the Boss away, “No! You’re going to break it!”

  “That’s the point!” Chris growled as he lifted his mace again, bringing it down on the broach, “Now just fucking die!”

  The next strike cracked the blood red stone, a wave of magical energy pulsing out of it, throwing Chris back as the Lich screamed in agony. Chris coughed as he sat up, watching the Lich writhe about, its body and clothes dissolving into ash.

  “You!” it screamed, “I shall kill you! I shall kill everyone dear to you! I shall-!”

  The Lich didn’t get to finish its sentence as its head finally dissolved, the dust floating down into a small pile on the floor.

  “Well, that was easy,” Chris groaned as he got up, looking around the room again, quickly spotting the door to the next floor, and the large gold banded chest just in front of it, “Guess I’d better check what’s in there, it would be a waste otherwise.”

  Chris quickly opened the chest, looking at the two items inside, a twisted black scepter and what appeared to be a short flute made of bone.

  “A Scepter of Undead Control, and a Death Call Whistle?” he muttered, ignoring the feeling of knowledge entering his mind, “So, a way to summon undead, and control them? Guess that might be useful.”

  He quickly stuffed the two items in his bag, walking over to the large door and touching it, the door swinging open silently to reveal the same pitch-black darkness it had before.

  ------

  “It has been eight weeks since the first of the ‘Dungeons’ was discovered and entered,” the news anchor said from the television, “And the government is once again urging the general populace not to enter them without proper permission or preparation. We still do not know the origin of these strange doors, but efforts are being made to locate and properly secure them, to prevent any further loss of life. Again, we urge all the general populace to not enter any unsecured Dungeon you find and instead report it to the proper authorities.”

  Elizabeth frowned as she watched the news, waiting for the list of people that had died in the Dungeons to begin scrolling up the screen. She had been doing this every day for the last two weeks since the program had started the service, desperately hoping not to see her brother’s name on the list, yet also wanting some sort of closure about his disappearance. She read every name, letting out an anxious sigh when she didn’t see his appear, her chest still tight.

  “Elizabeth,” her mother said from the door to the room, making her jump slightly, “You’re watching this again? It’s just depressing.”

  “I just…” the teen muttered, “Sorry, I’ll turn it off.”

  “You’ve been glued to the TV for weeks now,” her mother huffed disapprovingly, “Your grades are starting to slip as well. You need to study more.”

  “Yes, mom,” Elizabeth sighed as she stood, heading to her room.

  She paused beside the door to her brother’s room once again, as she did almost every time she passed it, wondering if he really had managed to find a Dungeon and go inside. And if he had, had he managed to survive it. She sniffed as she carried on, thinking about her kind and silly older brother, how he’d always do his best to cheer her up whenever she felt sad or stressed.

  “Chris,” she muttered, “Please, just come home. Please.”