For you have I made this place

  Floor 2

  I walked out of the portal to a bright sun shining. It was midday on this floor. You know, I didn’t really know what to think of this daylight cycle jumping thing. Wouldn’t it mess with my sleep schedule?

  That was assuming, of course, that I was able to complete floors as quickly as the last one. But I had a feeling that the first floor was like that for everyone. All they had to do was kill one thing then move on.

  This floor would be more difficult. And if my fight with the charviper told me anything, it was that things would be very hard for me jumping up levels in the beginning. It would get better as my levels rose, but for now I was the weak kid that attracted all the bullies at school.

  Taking in my surroundings, I only barely managed to keep myself from gawking. I was in a massive forest with impossibly tall trees that reached the sky. Seemingly literally. They were pine, maybe. Maybe spruce. I never really knew the difference. Something in the needles, I thought.

  I was in a clearing, surrounded by trunks the size of two school-buses placed end to end. Sometimes even bigger. Everything else was normal, just the trees were absolutely gigantic. It looked as though some painter had gotten their proportions wrong or smudged the paining in the wrong direction.

  What was going on with the light, then? Those trees were upwards of a mile and a half high, but the light looked like a normal clearing in the middle of the day.

  Dungeon physics were the weirdest.

  This was a place I could explore for years. The light was wonderful, the sunbeams descending and fracturing across green grass and bright flowers. The trees were majestic in their stature, tens of thousands of relative years of growth shown off in aged and gnarled roots and impressive branches stretching hundreds of yards. Flowers gave off wondrous scents that would make the best perfume in the outside world blush with envy.

  But unfortunately, I wouldn’t get that chance. There was war raging outside and I would be drafted the second I stepped out of this place. There was no way around it, but why would I want a way around it? War would be my job, my life, by the time I left this place. It was inevitable.

  Just thinking about the war made me sick. Not because I hated war or fighting that much, but because of what the war meant. So many casualties. So much death over the centuries, all because our Paragons were gone.

  Yes, they were gone. All in the fighting, as well. The war was so fierce that even the best of the best of the best got killed.

  It started small, with a few of the weaker, lower leveled ones being picked off. Then more and more until only four remained: the four natural Paragons themselves.

  Aurelia had been the first to go. She had the weakest defenses, so was easiest to take out. Her demise came in the form of an antipersonnel arrow from a hundred miles distant. One of the Ezgendi archer Paragons had taken personal issue with her for killing his sister in battle.

  She had been in the command tent speaking with the primary general at the time. They were planning their next attack when her head just… exploded. Then the shock-wave from the arrow had caught up and decimated a quarter of the army with it. Millions were slaughtered from a single attack, and not even their bodies remained to sent home for the families’ closure. An entire city’s worth of people turned to dust in an instant.

  Dimitri went next. He was wading though seas of blood, battlefields of Ezgendi fallen at his feet, when his throat opened up seemingly of its own accord. An assassin? A mage? Nobody could tell. All anyone knew was that the wound wouldn’t heal, no matter what any of the Master healers tried. Hundreds of them did, but nothing would work. He died screaming and struggling, choking on his own blood as his wound festered and rotted with poison so extreme its very vapor killed anyone within a half mile of him.

  Castor fell soon after. As the hardest one to stop, the one with the best defenses to any kind of physical damage, it was only fair that he fell to a mental attack.

  His body was strong. Unstoppable once he started going. But his mind? It broke under the strain of a Paragon mind mage’s whispers. Shattered into a hundred million pieces, dust so fine it could never be repaired. And he was killed soon after by another Paragon lying in wait.

  All three were taken by surprise. Not a single one of the natural Paragons was killed in a fair fight. Trickery was used to great effect.

  They were taken out in the span of a few months, slaughtered like cattle. Like a favorite bull finally ready for the butcher’s shop. Worse, only one of the enemy’s myriad Paragons was taken in return for every last one of ours.

  But Hades was watching.

  And he was wroth.

  There was a book out there, called the Ballad of the Lost. It wasn’t even a ballad. That was just a fancy word in the title. This book was an epic. An epic telling the tale of the last great warrior of earth. I had read it before. It was the only book I ever purchased. The only book worth more to me than the time it would take to regain the bonus money I spent on it. Here are the beginning lines:

  Speak, Voice from ancient times, of the last great man

  Whose wrath and pain drenched the stars in blood

  Sentencing to death the gods of war

  Of the worlds who dealt in souls

  For it is he mankind must thank for salvation

  The lives of a people he saved from damnation

  At the cost of his own

  Great was his vengeance on the forgotten race

  Those who take the faces of others

  Let them never forget whose face it was

  Who laid them and their heroes low

  His gleaming spear wheeling with wondrous light

  Crimson-tipped and bound in burnished bronze

  And sunlit armor brightly gleaming

  Forever burned in mind and stone

  Hades had torn the Ezgendi to shreds, raging with a fury so primal and a pain so intense that no one beneath the rank of Master could stand in his presence and even survive the pressure.

  He slaughtered and slaughtered and slaughtered and slaughtered, leaving none of the Ezgendi above the rank of Master alive, and very few even of those. Paragon after foolish Paragon faced him and was cut down until at last Hades had come to his underworld, his greatest test. The leader of the Ezgendi. The Archon.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The battle raged between them for days, but was over in a blink. The Archon lay on the ground, dead with a spear through the heart. Hades stood over him, looking tired but very much alive. He had been victorious. His friends had been avenged.

  He looked up at the sky, a wan smile brushing the edge of his mouth. It was peaceful. Quiet. As though a harsh winter storm had lulled, turning to a light powder. Everything was right with the world. It was over. His purpose fulfilled. That was all he needed. Peace.

  Energy welled up from him like a gentle tide. It grew outward, cleansing the worlds of blood and tears. It expanded over all of humanity, showing them their soldier. Their beloved champion. Comforting them more than words, or speeches, or great celebrations ever could. Then it abated, and he was gone.

  It all happened in a moment. One second, Hades was standing triumphant over the corpse of his fallen enemy, the next he simply vanished. The planet was destroyed in his passing, bodies and great monuments simply unmade.

  His own body was never recovered. Only the spear remained, a lasting legacy to a fallen hero.

  Their ruler killed, their homeworld turned to dust and ashes wafting though space, the Ezgendi were forced to go into hiding. They expunged all traces of themselves from our worlds and fled into the deepest dark of space. There they had stayed, until mankind had forgotten about them.

  Not completely forgotten, mind you. But the effects of the war diminished, and the memories of the race called face-stealers dimmed into that gray the past is painted in. Like a movie screen slowly fading to black.

  Twenty years or so ago, they had returned with a vengeance. The first we heard about it was when a fleet of shipping containers disappeared from their journey to a nearby system. We had caught a single ping on our radar. One unfamiliar vessel.

  It hadn’t registered as a human ship, not even a raider. They wouldn’t have been so concerned if it was a raider. But it had blipped red. A color that hadn’t been seen in over a century.

  The Ezgendi had returned, the stealers of faces, the great enemy. The things mothers used to frighten their little children into bed and eating their broccoli.

  Hysteria, madness, worlds-wide panic. These all had spread like a raging wildfire, unable to be put out once started. Like Castor.

  See, humanity was built with a few base components upon which everything else was placed. Things like community, cooperation, happiness, and general well-being as well as countless inventions, even war—which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself depending on the reason for it—were all placed on the foundation of four things. Joy, grief, and anger being three of them, but even those were bumped up a step from the very bottom, the rock-solid foundation of our psyches.

  Fear.

  Fear of God, fear of pain, fear of loss, fear of failure. Fear of death.

  This is what drove humanity to a state of panic when the Ezgendi came. We didn’t have any Paragons left. Not a single one had come out of the Great Dungeon since the last war with them. We didn’t know why, but it had happened. Even worse, we knew they had at least three. And if they got involved, which they would inevitably do, we would die.

  But it hadn’t happened yet. There was still time to produce a Paragon from the Great Dungeon, even if they had to start from scratch. I had to try, to keep the war from ending humanity in its entirety this time.

  That would have to wait, however, as I was only a few hours into the dungeon yet. And I was in danger.

  You see, as I had been pondering the pitiable fate of the Paragons and the future demise of all mankind, a wolf had stepped from the trees. It was pitch black with massive fangs and powerful muscles.

  Onyx Direwolf(Lvl 3)

  One of three different types of direwolf, this hunter is strong and deadly. It hunts in packs of up to twenty. This is a night hunter, blending in to the darkness of the incredible shadows on the second floor. If you are seeing it, you are likely already dead. The pack has surrounded you and is closing for the kill even if you haven’t seen them yet.

  Oh that was just fantastic. Five minutes into the floor and I was already in danger of dying. Classic. I needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

  Turning to do just that, I found a second direwolf at my back. It had crept up silently, and was now readying itself to strike. The wolf was crouched, tail sweeping slowly from side to side—I could really see the resemblance to the modern dog now. Eyes narrowed, it studied me. And its haunches tensed.

  I leapt to the side as it threw itself at me, just barely avoiding my throat being ripped out by its teeth. Claws tore through my shirt, which already had a few tears in it from my earlier encounter with the charviper.

  The wolf turned as it hit the ground, ready to spring at me again, but I was already on the run. I scrambled off, getting to my feet as I left. There was no stopping to catch my balance, it was just run and run.

  A third wolf lunged out of the brushes, directly into my path, but I didn’t stop. I ploughed right through it, stumbling a bit before pushing my legs to even greater speed. The wolves were right behind me. I couldn’t stop for the world.

  They snapped at my heels, driving me forward until eventually I would collapse from exhaustion. But I was in no mood to do that today. Instead, I ran toward the tree with the lowest limb I could see. It was a hundred or so yards distant, but if I wasn’t dragged down by the wolves, I could make it.

  I shouldn’t have jinxed it.

  One wolf intentionally jumped right in front of me and flattened its body to the ground. Or, at least, as close as it could get. Which happened to be around knee-height for me. These wolves were a bit larger than normal ones in the outside world.

  My legs collided with it when I couldn’t adjust course in time, sending me toppling forward into a roll. Well, less of a roll and more of a slightly more elegant than normal sprawl. And before I could pick myself up, they were on me. Claws shredded bits of clothing off of my body, blood dripping from open gashes. Teeth clamped on my arms and legs and a few fleshy bits I never really needed anyway. I could do with a tiny bit of weight loss. Two pounds overweight was still overweight.

  And yes, I fought. I punched and kicked and twisted and pulled, killing one in the process. What did you think? I wasn’t a total loser. But I couldn’t hold out against a full pack of the things. I needed to get out of there or I was going to die.

  So I pushed myself to my feet, using the buffeting of the wolf bodies all around to help keep my balance. That worked for some reason. Lashing out at any and all that snapped and bit at me and killing another for good measure, I started running forward again. It was hard work, incredibly hard work as I was under their level by one or more, but I kept at it. Making five yards of distance at a time.

  The wolves seemed content to harry me, thinking I would wear myself out and collapse, which to be fair I was really close to doing anyway. Not yet, though.

  I made it to the tree and grabbed the lowest limb, hauling myself up onto it despite the efforts of that pack. A wolf snagged my jeans cuff as I stood, causing me to jerk and stumble, nearly falling back off the limb. Which would mean death in my state. I probably only had the strength to climb up once more.

  Kicking forward with the foot it had caught, I smacked it against the tree. That didn’t work. I laid out along the branch and kicked at it with my other foot. That didn’t work either. It was just too tightly clamped on there.

  In the end I just shook it around until my pant leg tore and I was able to climb to a safe branch without the added weight. Only my heightens stats had carried me this far. Especially my speed. It was on the lower end of things, but even then I was much faster than normal. That was a huge blessing.

  Leaning back against the tree trunk, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had lived to fight another day. Just hopefully tomorrow was a little less stressful. Today was just terrible.

  As I drifted off to sleep for the first time in the dungeon, I noticed I had gained a level. That was nice.

  Congratulations! You have reached Level 2.

  Because you do not have a tier, the system will assign your stat point(s) for you.

  Hp 5 > 6