Earlier that night inside the Dungeon, Bob's consciousness was slowly coming back to him. His eyes opened and blinked repeatedly as he tried to drive away the grogginess from his sleep.
The saliva from his mouth had managed to stick ample clumps of dirt to his mouth and chin, giving him the appearance of having a beard. Around his neck was the gag he had previously been wearing, now bitten in two and caked in saliva.
Forgetting his surroundings and situation, he opened his mouth wide to let out a yawn, and at that moment, he inhaled a mouthful of dirt for his troubles. After nearly choking to death, he managed to cough up the quantities of dirt.
Bob then remembered where he was and realised he had his rationality, guessing that the humans still had not been yet.
A peculiar smell began to invade his nostrils, or to be more precise, the smell had been there for a while, but only now did he realise it. Only a handful of times in his life had he smelt it before, but with his new human memories he had smelt it countless times.....Smoke!
Once that dawned on him, he then also began to hear noises, although muffled from him being lightly buried underground. He immediately started to work on severing the bonds that held his hands in place, while at the same time he unhooked his feet from their restraints.
In a single explosive movement, Bob burst out of the ground, eager to understand just what was happening. The scene before him was nothing short of a nightmare; the night-time sky had a red hue to it, while a smoky haze hung in the air.
The sounds of battle could be heard in the distance, but the smoke denied him access to seeing what was happening.
Using one of his innate Lizardmen senses, Bob attempted to see through the smoke using thermal vision, but his sight was completely overwhelmed by the heat coming from behind him.
He had not noticed it until now, with the barrage of sensory information holding his attention captive. Turning around, Bob was left speechless; the entire forest was set ablaze, and only the closest trees had not yet been engulfed by the spreading flames.
“FUCK!.....SUZY!!!”
Bob panicked; he quickly looked up towards the tree branch that Suzy was hiding in. Squinting to see through the smoke, the sight that greeted his eyes completely washed away the heat on his body and replaced it with an icy cold sensation that left him feeling like he was dead.
Suzy was still sat perched on the tree branch, her body bound to the tree, her gag firmly within her mouth. But in addition, several arrows protruded from her chest, with a solitary one sticking out from between her eyes.
Suzy's head hung forward, her lifeless eyes staring directly at him.
The pain he felt at that moment was indescribable. Bob understood that the Dungeon Core must be destroyed, so Suzy's death was her final one. Tears streamed down his face; he tried to speak, albeit he had no idea what he was going to say, but the words constantly caught in his throat.
The grief he felt was a new and unwelcome emotion, and he despised it. His hands unconsciously clawed at his chest, leaving shallow cuts in their wake.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something; the sight focused him and pushed the grief to the back of his mind, just enough so that he could function.
His brother Ted's tail was sticking up from the ground, broken free from its hiding place. A flash of optimism for his state was only that, a flash that vanished as soon as it appeared. The tip of Ted's tail was drooped over and motionless.
Another object also protruded from the ground, that being the perpetrator of his demise. A spear was sticking up from the ground, its sharp edge firmly embedded in his brother and most likely stuck fast.
The dirt around where he was buried had several holes the diameter of the spear, and each one was filled with blood that stained the dirt red.
“No, no, no, no, no!”
Bob's repeated utterance filled the air as he dove onto the dirt above his body. His claws frantically dug at the ground; in a matter of seconds, he had unearthed his brother's face. Ted's face did not greet him warmly; instead, only a lifeless face with a spear-shaped hole in his head was all that was present.
Ted had been slain while he still resided underground, most likely the same as Suzy, both still under the control of the Dungeon Core and unable to break their self-imposed bonds.
While in a state of control, Ted's struggles had seemingly forced his tail to the surface and alerted the Adventurers in the area. By a stroke of pure fortune, they had not noticed the tip of Bob's tail hidden within the shrub. With him being asleep at the time, he had not struggled and alerted the Humans by way of his wayward appendage within the shrub.
Bob now understood the situation and was aware he had no time to grieve. His priority was to escape from the Dungeon and then find a place to hide. Saying his final farewell to his brother, Bob leaned forwards and allowed his head to touch Ted's.
The sticky blood made several webs between the brothers' heads that persisted and then snapped as he pulled his head away.
Looking over towards the direction of the portal, the smoke still obscured his vision of it. Slamming his claws into the ground next to him, he located the buried spear of his brothers and took up arms. His equipping of a weapon could not have come any later; the first enemy who had a hand in butchering his family came into view.
A middle-aged Adventurer wandered out of the smoke, his eyes squinting and looking around in search of hidden enemies. Wearing a dark black hooded cloak, with a small golden sun emblazoned on the left side of the chest, and firmly grasped in his hand was his staff.
The tall wooden staff was wreathed in Magical flames at its peak, its intense heat not affecting the weapon itself or its wielder.
The moment the man locked eyes with Bob, his body moved of its own accord, pointing his staff and beginning to conjure his Magic to attack.
Before Bob could act, a newcomer came on the scene, bursting forth from within the thick smoke and launching an attack at the man. Wielding a club, the black-skinned Lizardman lashed out at the man and managed to connect his weapon with his head, resulting in a resounding thud.
Staggering backwards, the man's legs nearly buckled, but through sheer willpower he managed to persist and launch a counter-attack. Without warning, the Lizardman burst into flames, the fire consuming him and ending his life in mere moments.
“Arghh, damn monster. It nearly took my head off......Oh crap!”
The man was solely focused on his wound and the now dead Lizardman and had forgotten about the initial enemy. When he remembered, he spun to face him and was met with a most unwelcome sight.
Bob wasted no time at all and drove his spear into the man's chest, piercing his heart and landing a fatal blow.
Bob spoke in a voice that contained all his people's sorrow and rage.
“Fucking die!”
The pain and surprise from his eventual demise were overwritten by the earth-shattering realisation that the Lizardman in front of him had just spoken. In a futile attempt to understand what was happening, the man tried to speak and only succeeded in hastening his death. A spray of blood left his mouth and covered Bob's face, as the last wisps of his life dissipated.
Withdrawing his spear from the man's body, it fell to the floor with a thud. Bob stared at him with indifference while licking the errant blood from his face.
Glancing towards the portal that led to the outside, a thought occurred to Bob. Reaching down, he proceeded to remove the dead man's cloak and adorn his body with it.
"Now I just need to escape. I get a vague sense that they have someone guarding the portal. I'll try a surprise attack."
Before Bob was able to make a move towards his goal, another Adventurer started to leave the smoke. From his perspective, the man was struggling to see through the smoke, but he could clearly see the golden sun motif that his party member had on his cloak. Holding a short sword in his right hand, the man enacted a wave with his free hand and called out.
“Lewis, you moron, haven't I told you to control the fires you set! You're lucky we're in a Dungeon, or this forest fire would screw our reputation.”
Bob considered replying but quickly dashed that idea away as absurdly stupid. Instead, he chose to quickly attack while he had the advantage. Utilising the same thrusting technique he used to kill Lewis, Bob drove his spear hard towards the approaching man.
As the leader of their party, the swordsman was no slouch when it came to combat. Seeing the glint of the spear point coming ever closer, he brought his sword up and managed to deflect the blow just before it made contact with his chest.
“WHAT THE FUCK LEWI........”
His voice stopped mid-sentence when he finally saw that the person he thought was his comrade was actually one of the monsters he was there to slay, only this one was wearing his dead friend's cloak.
His green eyes noticed the two dead bodies on the ground: the charred husk of a Lizardman, and the lifeless body of his party member.
A consecutive flurry of spear thrusts came towards the man, causing him to go on the defensive and not spare the time to understand the situation before him. The two fell into an exchange of blows, with the man's swordsmanship slowly edging forward in their bout.
“How...Are you.....Fighting so....Damn well!?”
In between blows, the man forced out his words and to his shock, he got a reply to a question that a monster should not have been able to answer.
“After dying so many times, you start to get the hang of it.”
His words had a profound effect on the swordsman and caused him to falter in his attack. With wide eyes and a slack jaw, his mind tried in vain to rationalise what was happening at that moment. One effect of this was decreasing the power of his sword swings and their speed.
Bob took full advantage of the opening and swept his spear point down, catching the man's feet and sending him hurtling to the ground.
His back slammed against the ground and sought to drive the wind out of his chest, but by the grace of his strong constitution, that outcome was easily avoided. This proved to be a heavenly blessing if there ever were one, as a second later, a spear thrust drove down, aimed squarely for his heart, an attack that he barely evaded with a roll.
The attacks continued, a chain of spear thrusts aimed towards the ground, each one deftly avoided while the man looked for an opportunity to get back to his feet. Understanding the Lizardman's stamina would far outpace his own, he committed to disarming the monster.
Pushing his body backwards along the dirt, his movement caused the Lizardman's spear to strike the ground towards his legs. In an explosive movement, he managed to grasp the shaft of the spear between his feet, and with enough force, the weapon snapped.
“Tsch.”
With a click of his tongue to show his annoyance, Bob launched the now useless stick at the man's face, succeeding in nearly blinding him as the broken stick scratched him across his face.
The thought of jumping on him and letting his size advantage play a part as he beat the man to death did cross his mind, but he dismissed it as just begging for a sword to the gut. Bob glanced behind himself towards the hole he had buried himself in previously and the spear he left buried there.
Turning his back to his enemy, Bob dashed for the hole, his aim to quickly dig out his weapon. The swordsman would not let that come to pass; now back on his feet, he levelled his sword at the retreating monster and activated some form of Magic contained within the weapon.
Two words were the only sign that an attack was imminent.
“Sword Flare!”
A stream of flames erupted from the point of his sword and shot in a straight line for Bob's back. Sensing the approaching danger, Bob chose to give up on his weapon, and instead he dove to the side, but not fast enough to evade the attack completely.
His large mud-caked tail was caught by the flames, the layer of dirt providing some semblance of protection and turning pitch black, as it clung even harder to his scales. The pain he felt was minimal and easily suppressed by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Bob turned to face the man, deciding to rely on his claws and accept whatever fate befell him. The swordsman was now certain he had the upper hand and chose to ask another question before he finished off the monster in front of him.
“How is it you're able to talk, monster? Tell me, and I'll give you a swift and painless death!”
Staring at him with eyes full of mockery, Bob replied before the two committed to their duel once again.
“I tell you, and you gift me with death? You are the worst negotiator I've ever met; your mother must be ashamed.”
The man was once again left speechless; if he did not know any better, he would believe that the Lizardman was actually another human just wearing an elaborate costume.
Gritting his teeth to the point of damaging them, he lunged forwards with his sword and was met with his enemy's charge towards him.
Bob swung his razor-sharp claws in an attempt to sever the man's head with a single blow; unfortunately, his lumbering form was too slow. The incoming short slash slipped past his hand and slashed at Bob's chest.
The joy of landing the attack was short-lived, as Bob's other hand had been awaiting such a situation. From below, his free hand punched up with an uppercut, landing squarely on the sword that was smeared with his blood. The length of metal shattered and left only the hilt and a few inches of broken steel.
To his credit, the swordsman did not miss a beat when his sword was shattered. Instantly he accepted his fate and dove at his enemy, a do-or-die situation he could not avoid. With all his might, he slammed the broken blade into Bob's neck, the metal piercing through his flesh until its momentum was halted.
When Bob saw the blade coming ever closer to his neck, a wave of panic set in motion, his mind conflicted over how to respond. Should he grasp at the offending hand, or obliterate his body and hope it forces him to relent?
A sudden pain radiated within his mind, a stabbing sensation that was wholly different to the physical attacks he had received thus far. Within his subconscious, he heard a voice calling out to him, an unfamiliar language that felt as ancient as the universe, carrying a primordial fear that penetrated his very marrow.
The onslaught of words, however ominous their origins, did not feel harmful, but a warmth that stemmed from a mother's embrace, each word carrying a meaning that he completely understood.
“Help, help....Release me....Forget me not....Help me, help you.......Release.”
The exact moment Bob accepted those words, the pain subsided, his goal became clear, and the path to take was illuminated. In a singular fluid motion, both of his hands grasped at the man's forearm; his sharp claws perforated his flesh and took hold of the bones within his arm.
An ungodly scream escaped the man's lips; a pain radiated from his arm that set his nerves on fire, and caused his hand to open. The broken blade stayed lodged within Bob's neck, albeit only shallowly and teetering on falling out.
Without warning, the man was wrenched backwards away from Bob, surprising both of them. To the man's detriment and Bob's surprise, the man's arm was separated at the elbow with a wrenching motion, leaving his forearm to act as a muffler for Bob's claws.
Discarding the body part with a sudden fling of his hands, Bob's attention was squarely on the ground in front of him and the horror that was underway.
The man that Bob had killed earlier, whose cloak he had stolen, had now returned to unlife and attacked the swordsman. The lifeless body clawed at his chest and sank its teeth into his neck, causing a blood-curdling scream that ended his life.
Bob looked on in horror, not sure of what was happening or why. Understanding now was his chance, he grabbed the broken sword from his neck and left the undead creature to devour its prey as he charged towards the portal.
Now out of the heaviest part of the smoke, Bob could see a lone human garbed in the same cloak he wore and guarding the portal. The man immediately saw him and the cloak he was wearing, or more precisely, he saw the Guild's emblem and the smoky outline of a person, which ultimately led to him making a fatal mistake.
Dropping his guard completely, he looked away from Bob and instead directed his attention to something else.
Bob did not hesitate in the slightest; pulling his hand back, he tensed the muscles in his arm. Every fibre of the muscles that constituted his arm and shoulder felt like they were on fire as he forcibly stored energy within them.
A moment later, all of that energy was released; his arm shot forwards with the strongest throw of his life, a throw that contained a lifetime's worth of hatred for the people who had destroyed his home.
The broken sword left Bob's hand, flying straight and true in the blink of an eye. The broken weapon travelled at a near imperceptible speed, lacking any rotation; the weapon flew with its broken point aimed forwards.
The direction the weapon was facing, either point or blunt end, ultimately mattered not. The sheer power of the throw made the broken sword slam into the side of the man's head, forcing it to explode like a melon in a vice.
He never knew what hit him.
Bob believed his throw would kill the man and so started to run forward the moment it left his hand. A mere step into his run and that was when the man's head exploded, the blood spray making its way across the distance towards him, but suddenly something blocked the wayward substance.
Out of the smoke, another man made his appearance as he came walking out, dressed in the same cloak as Bob and the now-dead man; he carried an armful of broken crystal fragments. Swaddled within a black material, the broken crystal fragments were clear to see, their blue hue constantly shifting in the light, giving it an appearance of otherworldly transcendence.
Turning his head to look towards the sound of loud footfalls he heard, his face was coated with fresh blood, and he wore a look of utter disbelief and horror. Unfortunately for the man, he had strayed directly into the path that Bob was running.
Killing an unarmed man should have been a simple matter for Bob, but the sudden feeling of ice-cold water being poured into his mind made his brain go numb. His eyes had locked on the crystal fragments within the man's arms, the broken remnants of the Dungeon Core, the very object that gave him life and could be classified as the parents of himself and his family.
Both father and mother, the Dungeon Core was the Alpha and the Omega, an object of hope and new beginnings, yet it was shattered apart and in the arms of a moron.
Bob initially sought to slap the man down as he ran past him, but with his mind frozen, all he could muster was a shoulder tackle as he charged at him. The blow slammed the man to the ground with a thud and caused the crystal fragments to be flung directly in Bob's face.
Within the remnants, broken pebble-sized pieces found their way into his mouth, with the larger crystal smashing into smaller pieces against his face and following their family down his throat. The innumerable particles of dust and slightly larger pieces were readily inhaled by Bob under his laboured breathing from witnessing the Dungeon Core's shattered state.
Bob grasped at his throat and began to choke, his legs stumbling about as they sought purchase on the unmoving ground. The world around Bob seemed to rock back and forth as if he was in the middle of a stormy sea.
Regaining his balance, he slammed a domineering foot into the ground in the aim of not succumbing to the ailments of the mind. To Bob's favour and the man's poor luck, the foot he slammed down met resistance in the form of his face. Bob's foot had ploughed through the man's face and stood proud at the top of a now headless corpse.
Leaning over at the waist, Bob's strained breathing did not last long before he came back to his right state. Standing tall again, he locked his eyes on the target and once again broke into a run, only now with a squelching noise with every other footstep. Not sparing a look back, Bob dove through the portal and left his home behind.