After such a long series of visions, Grim thought he might finally be done. The day had been full of more revelations than any one person should be expected to endure, after all. His body was still in good condition, but his mind was exhausted. But, of course, he had one more thing to do.
? “I still have to delve a dungeon,” he said, rubbing his forehead. It felt as if his brain were trying to break out of his skull, using the most destructive methods possible. “Veyra won’t let me join her guild if I can’t finish a dungeon solo.”
? “Well, that’s only to be expected,” Granden replied, to his surprise. At his questioning look, he only grinned broadly. “She keeps to the old ways. The only way to ensure a delver’s worth is to throw them into a dungeon. This is how it was done in our ancestors’ time as well.”
? And, so saying, Granden held out a hand. Mana flared to life inside it, but quickly lengthened and thinned, curving towards his body before flaring out slightly at the end of its growth. Then a thin line formed out of the remnants of the mana, until it formed… a bow. Not just any bow, either. A dark silver, with dark grains that, when viewed at a distance, made the entire material seem darkened. It was Relvan’s bow. No, he corrected himself. It was Taron’s bow, handed down to his son.
? “This is but one of the weapons linked to our bloodline,” Granden said softly. “I think it would suit you better than the sword or staff.”
? Grim reached out a hesitant hand for the weapon. He half expected his hand to pass through it, as it would have done in any of the visions in which he’d seen it. But instead, his hand curled around the center, feeling the coarse linen wrapped tightly around the wooden stave. He marveled at how light it felt. For a weapon with such heavy history, it seemed exceptionally fragile.
? “Worry not,” Granden added. “You cannot break it, at least not forever. It is no longer the same mortal weapon that was once in the hands of Taron the Hero or Relvan the Hunter. If broken, it will repair itself in time. This is only to be expected of a boon, of course.”
? “A boon,” he said mutely. He knew the meaning of the word, of course. Boons were a step above the common gear used by delvers. They were truly unique in the sense that no weapon could ever copy their capabilities. Even at his level, a boon was an incredible bonus to his power and capabilities. It was said that only dungeons could offer boons, and only to delvers that they found worthy.
? “But…” He looked up from the weapon and into his ancestor’s face. It felt wrong to complain in the face of such a gift, but a glaring problem had flared to life in his mind. “I have no idea how to use a bow.”
? The laugh that came out of Granden with that line felt particularly mocking. His ancestor shook his head, his body still shaking with mirth as he lifted both hands, something other than mana trailing from the tips of his fingers. “Nobody knows how to use a weapon when they first pick it up, young Evandross. This is the point of learning.”
? And suddenly, with a flash of white, he found himself standing on the front step of the house, stumbling onto the street outside. “Wait! You haven’t given me any arrows!”
? Yet even as he said it, he had a strange inkling that it wasn’t necessary. He gave a half-hearted tug on the string, then, when it wouldn’t budge more than an inch or two, he put more effort in, and it began to draw back. He grunted in surprise at the strength required to pull it to full draw. He wasn’t weak by any definition, but even he found it a real struggle. The one good thing is that, as he drew the string back, an arrow began to form out of some ethereal energy, already knocked to the string and ready to fire. On a whim, he let go of the string and saw it shoot aimlessly into the air, before vanishing into the dark sky and out of sight.
? Darkness? When had it turned to full night? He glanced around, his mind suddenly reminding him just where he was. The sounds of roaming monsters were still prevalent, and the midday sun was a distant memory against the starlit sky that greeted him now. The darkness was even more pervasive without the presence of lanterns, as would be up in any other city. Right, he told himself. Still in the monster-infested city of his birth. He didn’t exactly have time to sit around marveling at a new weapon he didn’t know how to use.
? As he slung his new weapon over his shoulder for safe-keeping, he became aware of a new weight in his core. He… knew another dash skill? No, that wasn’t right. It was the same dash skill he’d had for the past two years, but more. He waited until he was on the rooftop of a nearby building before he really focused on where the skill sat in his mind, and found his answer. He had an extra, independent use of his Shadow Dash skill. It would operate on its own cooldown and essentially let him use the skill twice in a very short time.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
? Double dashing, he thought, a faint grin spreading across his face. Not too shabby. And, the harder he looked, the more he became certain of something else. Just owning this bow would modify other skills that he learned. While it didn’t seem to teach him anything new, it still represented enough of a power boost that he felt gratitude, instead of confusion. Some of the worry drained out of him as he felt the weight of the weapon on his back. Despite being so light, he remained constantly aware of its position.
? As he made his way across the city by Shadow Dashing between rooftops, he experimented with the weapon. First, he left it behind before a dash, and noticed that he still knew exactly where it was, even though the darkness had obscured it from his vision. Well, that was handy. He hated it when a dungeon fight resulted in him losing track of his weapon. His copper-pinching ways had ensured that he always tracked the lost items down, but at least with this, he’d avoid serious search time.
? Another revelation. Shadow Dash had lengthened by several feet. He discovered this when he found himself having to cross one of the wider streets, at a range that would have normally defeated him. Usually in this type of situation, he’d have to climb down one building and up another. This would put him in the potential visual range of many monsters. Instead, he’d dashed neatly between the buildings, landing lightly as ever.
? If only the bow had given him a single offensive skill, he thought, but quickly brushed the morose thought away. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, and it was clear that the weapon would be useful… once he learned how to use it properly. Besides, offensive skills were given an appropriately heavy price tag, unless you discovered a scroll inside a dungeon. All elemental and martial skills carried heavier prices. His tight budget as a fledgling delver had allowed him to buy only a utility skill like Dash.
? He tried to practice with the bow as he made his way across the city, searching for a dungeon that wasn’t too powerful. He couldn’t shoot worth a damn just yet–over half his shots missed his intended targets entirely, while some barely counted–but he knew with a proper teacher and enough practice, he’d even get that far. Maybe he could start hunting to supplement his delving income, he thought with excitement. That seemed feasible. Hunters in Beastwick didn’t make as much as the crafters or merchants, but they were always in high demand and earned a tidy sum.
? Finally, he found the entrance to a dungeon that seemed appropriate. Towards the western edge of the city, he saw a dark hole in the ground surrounded by smashed wooden beams. Obviously, those belonged to the small shack that had once sealed off the entrance to an old mining tunnel. If it had been the true entrance, it couldn’t have been destroyed, even by years and years of weather. But he knew there was a dungeon further down, because as he watched, he’d seen a pack of goblins coming out and surveying the city with obvious interest and confusion. They were fresh, and the only place where they could spawn naturally was a dungeon.
? He ended the rather short taste of the surface for the four goblins. His Shadow Dash took him just behind the creatures, where he slashed at necks with his knives before using the second charge of his skill and avoiding nasty club attacks from the two still standing. It was a short-range dash, and left him within easy striking range. Two more slashes, two more critical hits, and the last of the goblins fell with a gurgle. Trying not to let that near-flawless execution get to his head, he quickly rifled through the bodies. He ended up two silver and six copper richer. No treasure shares this time, he thought with a smirk.
? He took his time going down the tunnel, exploring each corner with every sense he had before progressing further. The dark tunnel was narrow and twisting, which greatly slowed his progress, but he encountered no other monsters until he reached the entrance, a branching mineshaft sealed off by a simple wooden door. He wondered if this dungeon had existed before the fall of the city, or if it had been around a while, merely forming after the citizens above stopped using that particular shaft. After putting a hand to the door, he could feel that it was a second-level dungeon. The dungeon felt pretty calm, too, which hinted at a wary dungeon, if not benign. He let out a sigh of relief at that. The last thing he wanted to deal with alone was a dungeon that had a three or higher rating on the hostility index.
? Inside, the dungeon looked like any other tunnel. After a short trek through more twists and turns–in which he found no monsters–he came upon a small cavern. More goblins were inside here, the worker kind. They hacked away at the stone walls with pickaxes, presumably working to expand the cavern slowly. He paid them no mind, as he knew they wouldn’t attack without provocation. They also gave reduced essence and no money, meaning that killing them would be a waste of time.
? Their foreman, however, was a different matter. The tall goblin–almost tall enough to be a Greater Goblin–carried a whip and used it on the workers with alarming frequency. Grim brought that monster down with two quick cuts to the back of its knees, then a stab to the heart after it fell prone. Three silver and a cluster of essence later, he was on his way, hearing the goblins chattering mindlessly away as if nothing strange had happened.
? He just had to hope that the rest of the dungeon would be as smooth as the first encounter, he thought. But he knew that couldn’t be the case. Solo delvers usually took on either a tank or a fighter style. Stealth-focused solo delvers did exist, but they almost never performed full clears. How he’d achieve that, when boss monsters were known to have some nasty attacks and even debuffs, he wasn’t sure. Just like living in Beastwick as a poor commoner and orphan, he’d have to find a way. No different from his everyday life.
