Tier Two Dungeon: The Watery Grave (Floor One)

  Objective: Defeat The Blood in the Water (0/1)

  Objective: Defeat The Howling Moray (0/1)

  Objective: Survive (0/1)

  Completion: 13%

  Fragile Walls: This dungeon is close to breaking. Its inhabitants will be freed if a threshold of Delver deaths inside is reached.

  Break Counter: 4/5

  Sealed Environment: You cannot leave this dungeon until it is completed.

  Environmental Hazard: This dungeon’s denizens are not its only threat.

  I spluttered and spat out brackish salt-water as I surfaced inside of a tiny pocket of air lit by glowing coral. The System didn’t need to tell me this dungeon was dangerous; I could tell just by the entrance.

  We’d stepped through the fog wall at the Shedd Aquarium just a minute ago. From the outside, it didn’t look that much different than the Adler Planetarium’s entrance—doors made of metal and glass framed by Greek-looking pillars and marble steps. But the moment Tori, Bobby, and I went through, we’d plummeted a good fifty feet and hit the dark water like sacks of bricks. So far, we hadn’t found any serious business monsters, to say nothing of either The Blood in the Water or Howling Moray.

  Not that there wasn’t plenty to worry about.

  The first issue was keeping above the surface. In some places so far, it had been possible. In others, like the rough coral cave we were slowly working through, it was a race to move from air pocket to air pocket. My Body points weren’t high enough to swim it all in one go—none of ours were—so we were forced to play hopscotch, bouncing from one spot to the next.

  It was exhausting work, and we’d only been going for a few minutes, but this was the only way forward.

  The bigger issue that kept pressing down on me like a weight was that Break Counter. It implied that someone had attempted to clear the Watery Grave—or that someone still was—but unlike the Twilight Menagerie, we hadn’t seen any sign of people so far. If there were folks inside, they were almost certainly Saul’s gangsters. And if they were, they were just as much a threat as any of the monsters.

  We’d also abandoned all of Tori’s attempts to beat the water dungeon gimmick pretty quickly. The scuba gear didn’t work. It was a lot like the fuel tanks and trying to light stoves post-terraforming; there was air in there, and it was compressed, but getting it out just wasn’t happening. Our tanks and masks littered the bottom of the reef near where we’d dropped in.

  Something tapped my foot twice, then bumped into my other foot. I took a deep breath and dove again, clearing the air pocket for Tori. She waved as she surfaced, and I kept swimming.

  Honestly, it was gorgeous here. The near-white coral skeleton that formed the caves we were swimming through was almost glowing, and the living corals and kelps clinging to it actually were. They threw the dungeon into a wild kaleidoscope of oranges, purples, blues, and yellows. And even though we’d only encountered a couple of monsters, the same couldn’t be said of fish. There were thousands of kinds. Some of them looked like ones I’d seen in textbooks or movies, but others were completely foreign. They didn’t even look like Earth fish.

  I kept swimming. The currents were against us, and it was lucky that there were so many air pockets, or we’d be in trouble. As I swam, a shadow passed over me, and I readied the Trip-Hammer.

  Bar Cutter: Level Thirty-Eight Monster

  The monster was long, silvery, and about as long as I was tall. It darted toward me, its smooth body cutting through the water, and I revved the Trip-Hammer without even thinking about it. The twin hammers ripped through the water with a loud popping sound that almost blew out my eardrums; the force spun me around in a circle over and over until I managed to slow my rotation.

  And of course, I missed the Bar Cutter.

  It sliced across my arm, leaving a thin red line. Blood clouded out from the wound as both the fish and I turned, ready for another charge. My lungs were starting to burn, and the nearest air pocket was still a few dozen feet away. I couldn’t leave the Bar Cutter alive, though—both because Tori wanted a full-clear since we were stuck here and because it was a threat to her.

  I set my feet on the coral, feeling it slice into my boots’ soles, and readied the Trip-Hammer again. The fish picked up speed, its sharp beak almost bird-like but glinting like a dagger. It closed the gap. The burning in my lungs started growing overwhelming. I revved and fired the Trip-Hammer, and the two bladed heads spun. The Bar Cutter was chum a second later.

  Tori swam past, a look of disgust on her face as gore floated around her. She pointed at the air pocket, but didn’t have to tell me twice. I was already moving, and hit it only a second or two after she did. This one was big enough for the three of us to surface at the same time; in fact, not only was it wide and airy, but the coral seemed to form a ledge wide enough for us to get out of the water.

  “Let’s regroup here for a minute,” I said, sucking in air gratefully as my head cleared. My wound stung, and the Bar Cutter’s experience hadn’t been enough for a level.

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  “This place sucks,” Tori said. “Hal, I told you water dungeons sucked. But did you listen? No. No one listens to me.”

  “We listened to you, Tori. It doesn’t matter if this sucks, though. We still have to do it.” I shrugged, and water dripped out of my sleeve and down my chest. “Besides, you were excited about a Tier Two Dungeon yesterday.”

  “I regret everything.”

  I laughed as Bobby pulled himself up. “No you don’t. You’ve already leveled a few times, right?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I only regret almost everything.” She wrung salt water out of her hair.

  As we caught our breath, I looked around, getting my bearings. A narrow passage through the coral led further into the Watery Grave—and more importantly, it was above the surface. The water below also offered another way forward; I’d spotted more air pockets leading deeper into the reef.

  Neither option sounded good for me. The tight, narrow passage put me at a huge disadvantage with the Trip-Hammer’s bulk, while I’d already proven that underwater fighting was a messy prospect at best. “Bobby, what do you think?”

  “I think we stay above water for now,” he said, smiling. “Bobby Richards has had enough of swimming. I did plenty of it in school!”

  Bobby Richards may have been sick of swimming, but swimming wasn’t sick of us.

  The tunnel led to a room filled with more of the punching shrimp from the Dozen-Path Descent. Bobby and Tori handled them beautifully, leaving me to guard their backs. It wasn’t ideal; I could do so much more damage than either of them, but I couldn’t get the Trip-Hammer swinging in the caves and crevices we were slowly working our way through.

  That was fine, though. I didn’t need to be involved in every fight, and every level Tori gained was a little less risk of her dying in here and pushing us over the Break Counter—and worse, forcing Jessica to kill me in my sleep.

  After the technicolor boxing crabs, we followed the only way forward, squeezing through into a circular cavern in the reef. The familiar, dark water covering most of the floor seemed ominous. It almost felt like a promise that we’d be returning to the depths soon enough. That promise was reinforced by the blank, featureless coral walls. There wasn’t another way through.

  “Guess we’re going under again?” Tori asked. She pulled her hair back and slipped a scrunchie on over the rough ponytail; with her short cut, it looked less like a tail and more like a paintbrush, and it stuck up over her head instead of trailing behind her neck.

  “I guess so,” Bobby said.

  We went under again.

  The only good thing about this passage was how wide it was; the moment we descended, there was plenty of room to swing the Trip-Hammer around. But the ocean floor was so far below us that I couldn’t even see the sand, and the nearest air pocket was at least half a football field away.

  I gritted my teeth and started swimming. Tori did, too. Her breaststroke pushed her ahead of me, slicing through the water almost gracefully. She’d clearly had better lessons in Green Bay and Chicago than I’d had in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska.

  But neither of us could keep up with Bobby. He’d been a high school state championship-level swimmer, and even competed in college for one year before dropping out to take over his family business. He hadn’t told us what that business was, and I hadn’t asked. Tori had, though. His response, “Oh, this and that,” hadn’t exactly reassured Tori. She wouldn’t stop glaring at him when he wasn’t watching—and sometimes when he was.

  She was stuck with him in here, though, and she knew it.

  We surfaced in a wide, expansive room with, of all things, a glass-walled walkway around it. The rough concrete felt incredibly out of place compared to the skeletal coral cavern around it; it was also the only indication I’d seen so far that this dungeon had been an aquarium and not a real reef. The glass walls only went up a few feet; we could probably pull ourselves up onto it if we wanted to. Instead, Bobby treaded water, pointing at the dry land. “See that? That’s a trap. That’s one hundred percent a trap.”

  I stared where he pointed; the man’s Awareness was through the roof, and it took me a minute to see what he was talking about. Then I saw it; a campfire. It looked almost fresh, like we could get it going with a little effort. And beyond that, a bright orange branch of coral glowed in imitation of the fire that had once burned there.

  “Why don’t you two check it out?” Bobby asked. “I’ll stick around in here and bail you out if you spring the trap.”

  Tori and I nodded, and I let her stand on my shoulders to boost her out of the water. Then I pulled myself up behind her and set foot on dry land.

  But before we could even step toward the fire, the cage plummeted down from above.

  Jessica Silvers was worried.

  No. Not worried. Jessica Silvers wasn’t worried, because worry implied some sort of control over her problem, and whenever she’d been worried, she’d always figured out what to do about it. Then she wouldn’t be worried anymore. Instead, she’d be driven and motivated.

  No, this time, Jessica Silvers was anxious.

  Anxious was a much better word for this feeling. She’d done what she could—and something she thought she couldn’t—and now there wasn’t anything to do but let the whole dungeon break mess go and focus on what Calvin was saying.

  “I’m going to be honest with you, Jessica. This ain’t gonna work,” the old soldier said. He had his Vietnam veteran hat on, and they were both staring at the finest of Museumtown’s volunteers.

  Other than Zane and Carol, who both stood behind them trying to look intimidating, not one of them was over Level Twenty-Five. Anyone higher had already headed out to find Tier One Dungeons, loot the city, or whatever it was people were up to these days. That left them with…not the dregs, exactly. They’d been very clear that no one below Level Twenty was allowed to show up unless they had higher-level people in their party, and Calvin had already rejected a half-dozen people who hadn’t listened.

  So, not the dregs, but not the quality Calvin and Hal had been hoping for.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said halfheartedly. “Just do your thing, and we’ll back you up. Right, kids?”

  Carol nodded. She looked determined, with a scowl on her brow as she squeezed her spear’s haft. Zane didn’t say anything, though. He still looked blank and shell-shocked. Part of Jessica wanted to pull the boy away and sit down with him; she wasn’t a therapist, but in all of Museumtown, she was the closest thing they had, and he trusted her. Why wouldn’t he? She’d healed his wounds, after all.

  But before she could, Calvin stood up and got to work. “Alright, you lot! You’re here because Museumtown needs you, and you recognize that! We’ve got a job for you, and you’re going to do it!” he shouted. He started walking in between the groups, sizing them up. Carol followed, still scowling, and Zane followed her.

  Tommy followed behind, staring at the ground like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Jessica only spared him a glance before returning her gaze to Zane.

  Jessica watched him move robotically, and she couldn’t help but shiver. That boy had even less business dungeon delving than Tori did right now, and Jessica was ready to fight the strongest person in town if so much as a hair on her stepdaughter’s head was hurt at the end of this.

  Her gut said that Zane needed help, but she had no idea what help she could give him. All she could do was keep an eye on the boy and try to intervene before something else went wrong in his life.

  She hoped it’d be enough.

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