Strength Based Wizard

Chapter 23

After Hours at Graveyard Castle, Part II (Punching In)

Entering Dead World #13.

The light fades.

I blink, adjusting to the sudden shift in atmosphere. Gone is the junkyard, the distant hum of city life in the background, the scent of gasoline and asphalt.

Damp walls rise on either side, rough-hewn and ancient. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of mildew and something else. Something rotted. Water drips somewhere in the distance, echoing in the long corridor that stretches ahead, vanishing into a pool of shadows.

Torches burn in iron sconces along the walls, their flames guttering as if caught in a constant, unseen breeze. The stones beneath my feet are uneven, cracked in places, as if the very bones of this place are crumbling from age and disuse. Moss and creeping vines cover parts of the stone walls.

I exhale.

Then, with a thought, I withdraw my wand from my Inventory. It appears in my grip in a soft pulse of white light. A plan forms in my mind. With the wand, I can spam Wizard’s Hand and keep two hands summoned at all times.

My thoughts are interrupted by a vibration at my back. Jelly Boy. I unzip the backpack, and before I can say anything, he slips out of the pack, practically leaping out.

Plorp.

The little slime slaps onto the ground, landing with an unceremonious squelch. His gelatinous body wobbles, eyes blinking as he takes in his new surroundings. He vibrates, little bubbles rising in his semi-translucent form. Excited? Curious? Nervous? I actually have no idea this time.

A pulsing sensation ripples through my mind, and I’m welcome by a small, audible ping as a notification flares to life in my vision.

New Quest!: In the Grim Darkness of the Castle.

Description: Clearing a single Dungeon in the Realm will trigger a Return Gate to your home plane. However, clear three Dungeons and locate the heart of the Castle to complete this Quest and earn its Reward.

Reward: Access to an ally.

I frown. What does that even mean?

“Jelly Boy,” I say, glancing down. “Any idea what the hell this is about?”

Jelly Boy gurgles. His eyes close in what looks suspiciously like a happy smile. Then, without hesitation, he starts moving. Gently rolling down the dim corridor.

I stare. “So, uh. Okay, I guess…”

Jelly Boy wiggles, hopping forward in little plorp-plorp motions. I hesitate, looking back the way I came. The Gate is gone. Only the long stretch of stone remains. I roll my shoulders, gripping my wand a little tighter. I can’t help but feel my muscles tighten in anticipation…fear… Memories of my first Gate crash against my mind. The carnage of the factory floor. My stomach lurches and when I exhale, the breath is shaky.

Something vibrates against my leg. I look down and there’s Jelly Boy. He looks up at my with those surprisingly puppy-dog eyes.

“Thanks for coming back, buddy,” I say.

I cast Wizard’s Hand and my Mana bar blinks, but remains at its maximum of 4. The two spectral hands appear in a puff of silvery mist. Each hand curls into a fist, poised to beat the shit out of something, anything. Sorry there are no snails here, guys.

Jelly Boy is rolling back down the hall. He stops, turns and looks back at me, vibrating with a rhythm that says, ‘Okay, enough belly-achin’, we’ve got a Dungeon to crawl!’ The corner of my mouth turns into a slight smile.

And with that, I take a step forward, falling into stride behind my squishy little companion.

We’ve been walking for what feels like forever. The steady drip of water echoes from somewhere. A distant, leaky part of the dungeon’s ceiling. The scrape of my boots against worn stone and the squelching sound of a slime rolling along are the only other sounds. It’s enough to drive a man mad.

Jelly Boy, always a few feet ahead, bounces happily along, his gelatinous body jiggling with every hop. I’m glad one of us is having a great time!

I check my phone, half out of habit. Dead, no signal. Of course.

Eventually, the corridor ends. The hall ahead of us stops at a wall, torch burning gently. The hall, I realize, ends in a ninety-degree angle. Two paths, left and right, yawning like gaping mouths.

Jelly Boy stops, quivers for a second, then takes the left turn without hesitation. Only, a heartbeat later, he’s back—bzztt, bzzztt, bzzzzz!—vibrating like mad.

“What the—”

Then I hear it.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

From the left, out of the gloom, two figures emerge, bones gleaming under the torchlight.

Skeletons.

Full-on, honest-to-god, walking skeletons.

One wields a short sword, the other a chipped hatchet. But otherwise, they each look like they’re straight out of a high school biology lab. Both creak with each step, bones grinding, hollow sockets locked on the floor where Jelly Boy trembles like an over-caffeinated jellybean.

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Above their heads, two familiar System windows blink into existence:

Monster Identified: Skeleton Warrior

Level 2

Classification Basic Undead

“Shit.”

They haven’t noticed me yet. Their bony feet clack forward, fixated on my little blue buddy.

I don’t wait, mentally commanding my two Wizard’s Hands to attack the skeletons. A pulse thrums in my mind in response to the command, and the two phantasmal hands explode forward. Translucent, oversized, cartoonish fists with a subtle, blue glow fly through the air, meeting the two skeletal warriors.

The skeletons barely lift their skulls before the first hand punches one square in the face, shattering it into a cloud of bone dust.

The second hand follows suit, reducing the other’s head to splinters.

Both bodies crumble instantly, collapsing into heaps of worn bone.

You have defeated Skeleton Warrior, Level 2!

You have defeated Skeleton Warrior, Level 2!

Notifications flicker in the corner of my vision, but I’m already walking forward, wand still ready.

Jelly Boy plorps after me, still jittery.

The skeletons’ remains aren’t much to look at—just brittle bones and dust. I squat down, rifling through their inventories. Both have ‘bone dust,’ which looks like powdered calcium in a pop-up window. Tempting, but I leave it. Perhaps if I had an infinite Inventory, but with limited slots I don’t see the value in grabbing everything this early in the Dungeon.

What catches my eye is the short sword. Rust kisses the blade’s edge, but it’s still sharp enough.

Iron Short Sword (Rusted)

Description: A basic martial weapon from the past. It has seen better days. Physical Damage: 11.

With a mental flick, I pull it into my Inventory. It’s no wand, but it might come in handy if things get up close and personal. Probably better than that club I got from the Municipal Guild office, I think. The club is still in my backpack.

I glance down at Jelly Boy. “Good scouting, buddy.”

He vibrates, eyes bright.

We move on.

My Wizard’s Hands rip through another patrol of skeletons like they’re made of paper-mâché. Bone fragments scatter in every direction, skulls shattering as the spectral fists do their dirty work. These Skeleton Warriors—Level 2 chumps—are no match for the might of the Wizard’s Fists!

A ping echoes across my vision.

You have defeated Skeleton Warrior, Level 2.

Level 7 increased to Level 8!

“Hell yes!” I grin. My first level up since I stepped foot into this crumbling crypt. It had taken killing more of the Level 2 Skeleton Warriors than I had expected to finally level up again.

Without hesitation, I funnel both stat points into Strength. I can feel the difference immediately—my muscles flex tighter beneath my skin, veins buzzing like live wires. My Strength’s sitting at a 17 now, and I can feel the juice radiating from my Wizard’s Hands like they’re roided-out gym bros ready for round two. I’m so close to hitting a clean 20 in Strength. I share my Spell’s excitement.

You’re pushing this a little too far, too fast. The thought, unbidden, slips into my mind. The worry of my unbalanced strength triggers a pang of anxiety. I’ll put points into Constitution at Level 10. After I get to a nice, round 20. Yup. Everything will be fine… Just fine.

I rifle through the skeletons’ pathetic inventories. More bone dust. “Exciting stuff,” I mutter, shoving it aside. Where’s a damn map when you need one? At this point, Jelly Boy and I have ran into several groups of the Skeleton Warriors, usually in patrols of two or three of the monsters. I would have expected at least one to have a map in its inventory. No such luck.

Jelly Boy is already pulsing with energy, bouncing down another corridor like an excited kid at a theme park. The floor here slopes downward, the incline subtle but undeniable. We’re heading deeper. Definitely deeper. I think about the Quest, and needing to locate the heart of the Castle.

My brain itches at the thought of the Return Gate. What if it spawns way back at the dungeon’s start? I’d be boned. No map, no breadcrumbs, just endless stone halls and undead assholes. I’ve already lost any sense of direction in this place. Every corridor looks eerily similar.

Click.

There’s a slight give underfoot. My stomach drops as I look down and see that one of the stones comprising the floor has been pressed in by my foot. Jelly Boy turns around, intrigued by the stone plate he had literally just rolled over. He’s probably too light.

Behind me I hear a loud “BOOM!” Then, a low rumble starts… slow. Then it swells. Louder. Closer.

I glance over my shoulder and—there it is—a massive stone boulder barreling toward us like a pissed-off god.

“Oh shit!”

I stash my wand, scoop up Jelly Boy mid-vibration and bolt. My feet pound against the ancient stone as the corridor shakes beneath me. The boulder’s gaining, but I’m moving, heart jackhammering as my HUD pops up a green Stamina bar.

And it’s ticking down.

Faster, faster…Come on, man, pump those arms! Where’s the cliché side corridor when you need it? My eyes wildly scan the corridor in front of me, but there’s no salvation in sight.

Click.

Another floor plate. God dammit!

Suddenly, the ground isn’t beneath me anymore. It’s a chute, slick and steep. I tumble, slide, and slam into the next level below, dropping from the ceiling and landing awkwardly onto the cold, hard floor beneath. Pain explodes through my ribs and legs as I hit the stone hard. Luckily, the System is quick to kick in. My HP buffer takes the brunt of it. Bones knit themselves, bruises shrink and fade.

I groan, still winded, sprawled on the dungeon floor. “I’m starting to hate you, Dungeon.”

The rumble overhead cuts out with a sharp, satisfying crunch. I glance up at the jagged hole above me where I slid down. No boulder falling to crush me. Thank god.

From the shaft, my Wizard’s Hands descend like smug little ghosts, floating in slow, controlled spirals. As they get closer, they start shadow boxing some invisible opponent, flickering with faint blue light like they’re about to square off in a parking lot behind a bar.

“Real professional, guys,” I mutter. I can’t believe my cantrip is starting to develop a personality of its own, and it’s douchey as all hell. Fucking fantastic!...

I look down. Jelly Boy is still squished against my chest, eyes wide. “You okay, dude?”

He vibrates, lets out a soft, happy gurgle, then wiggles like a water balloon on a power plate. I set him down gently and take a proper look around.

I’m in a big room. Like high-school-gymnasium big. Stone walls, damp with old moisture, rise around me. Torches mounted in rusted sconces cast flickering light across the cracked floor. A candlelit chandelier swings gently from the ceiling, like it’s just waiting for the next Indiana Jones stunt.

And then there’s the skeletons. Yeah, a couple dozen of them.

Some are seated around a makeshift stone table, cards and dice scattered in front of them. Others are leaned back against broken pillars or slouched on crates. All frozen. All staring at me.

Oh.

The silence is interrupted with the sound of clacking bones. One skeleton, enters from a doorway on the far wall of the room. The creature shuffles in with a scroll unrolled in its bony hands. It clears its throat—which is weird since it doesn’t have one—and speaks in a clipped, nasal voice, like a manager at a terrible call center. “Alright, folks, it looks like our shift’s about to get started, so let’s wrap up and—”

It looks up, finally noticing me.

The entire room goes quiet again.

The skeleton manager blinks—well, not literally, but you know what I mean—and then sighs, closing the scroll with an audible snap. “Your shift starts NOW, actually.”

Groans. Actual, honest-to-god groans from the skeleton crew.

Cards and dice disappear into thin air, replaced with rusted short swords, chipped hatchets, and jagged knives that look like they were pulled out of the discount bin at Murder Depot.

I glance at my Wizard’s Hands. They float forward, cracking their nonexistent knuckles. One throws a mock uppercut at the other.

“Alright, boys,” I whisper, lips curling into a grin. “Let’s punch in.”