"Damn it!" I screamed, a little higher pitched than I would have liked. I brought the far too heavy club down on the little green monster's head with a sickening crunch. Panting and shaking, I stumbled backwards, hitting a cool stone wall and sliding to the floor, the club clattering to the wet and sticky paving stones next to me.

  "What are you doing?" Hollered a young girl as she rushed past me. Her hair was a reddish brown, her black restaurant uniform torn in places and name tag long since torn off. She also held a club, hers already smeared in gore as she glared down where I sat, glaring right back. "Get up! There's still a ton more!"

  When I did not answer, nor pry my sorry ass off the ground, she made an irritated noise and dashed back into the fray with a scathing, "Useless!" hissing between her lips.

  The girl was a little more than half my age but seemed to have tipple the stamina. But I wasn't surprised. I was a 'dud' after all, and she was probably destined to be a great and revered 'hero' in the grand Stella Empire.

  I watched as many of the seventy odd people I had arrived here with fought the current mass of, what I assumed, to be goblins, that had entered this accursed room. There were a few like myself, pressed against the walls and just praying that this nightmare would be over soon. None of us would have guessed we would be in this situation three days ago, but many were adapting to it better than others.

  We were the summoned heroes, brought from earth with a grand spell to the world of Zearsa. Yeah, I was living some kind of messed up isekai bullshit. According to Smarmy-Priest-Dude, who we met upon suddenly being zapped here, Zearsa was in deep need of heroes to fight the over running numbers of monsters and the hateful demons. Apparently a bunch of randos from a subway station on Earth could do a better job of that then their own, highly trained, people?

  All I knew was that one moment I was sitting on a bench in the tunnels, noise and city stink everywhere, thinking about what I was going to eat when I got home, and the next I was falling flat on my ass on a golden stone floor. There was pandemonium for a good ten minutes before the priest and a hand full of armed soldiers- men in freaking plate armor and carrying swords!- managed to return order.

  He explained why we were brought here. All about the impending doom and blah blah blah. I knew bullshit when I heard it. I was an expert bull-shitter after all. There were, maybe, ten horrible things in the world I had never done, and lying to get what I wanted was not one of them. Sure, maybe this world was in trouble, but I could tell that the tall bastard in white and red robes was fishy.

  I wasn't the only one to question this, of course. Hell, I bet most were having a hard time coming to terms with it all. At least I was adaptable.

  But the fact of the matter was that there was no going back. At least that is what we were told by the priest. He could have been lying, but on that point at least, I don't think he was. In reality, that didn't matter too much to me; I had no kids, no husband, and more than one warrant out for my arrest. Clean slate, yay! Even in a shady fantasy world I may have been able to make it work. Hell, for what amounted to a career criminal like myself, this world might be easier to live in. As far as I could tell they had no clue about things like D.N.A testing or finger prints.

  But apparently, kidnapping us wasn't good enough for these people. We found that out a few hours later when, after being fed a meal and given time to calm down and get our heads on straight, the priest dropped another bomb on us: we were being thrown into a dungeon. He could have meant a prison, but I was right when I assumed he meant a labyrinth crawling with dangerous monsters.

  Kings orders, or so the priest said. Not to worry though! We were being sent in with numerous healers and some of the best knights the great nation of Stella could provide. Lucky us! Yeah, right. Sure, the men sent in with us seemed competent enough, certainly far superior to us normies from Earth who never encountered anything scarier than Larry-the-street-bum on Main Street, who sometimes threw his shit at people. But they were under orders to let us do the fighting as much as possible.

  They gave us the bare minimum in gear: some scraps of leather armor or a shitty sword. None of us even knew how to hold a damn sword! They dragged us to the basement- some kicking and screaming- and the priest waved his hand at a large, blank wall, mumbled some words I couldn't pick out, and then there was a flash of light. One second there was a wall, and the next there was a tunnel. A tunnel reeking of must, iron, and decay.

  That had been three days ago now. None of us were in doubt that this was all real, and -surprisingly- most had, actually, adapted well. Young and old, people were getting better with their swords, their movements, and most importantly: their skills.

  I watched as a man about my own age let out a war cry and barreled into a mass of the three foot tall, nobbily, goblins. He was a fairly big man- named Thomas I think?- wearing a beat up pair of loafers and a bloody white button up shirt. He was dressed like an office worker but built like a linebacker. He had a skill that boosted his offensive stats. I never asked what it was called, mostly because I avoided talking to these people as best as I could, but I had seen him use it often enough. The goblin's went flying and Thomas bent down, picking up one of their wood and iron shields and strapping it to his arm.

  Several people had used the items dropped by monster's to survive, weather they be things like shields and clubs, or even in rare cases, enchanted cloaks or even a potion here and there. Anyone getting these guarded them jealously, and with good reason. We had nothing, and every item meant it was a little easier to survive.

  I would have thought about stealing some, but the truth was, as the passing girl had stated, I was useless. Many of the summoned had gotten useful skills, yes, but they also attained strength most would never had gained back on earth. And, I suspected it was this that the priest and the other higher ups of the Stella Empire really wanted from us. From what I had picked up over the last three days, these inhuman powers were not easily obtained, even here on Zearsa. Warriors had to train for years to be able to do what an Earthling could do ,almost right from the time they arrived here.

  I was not one of those people. I had heard the priest and knights whisper about me, and the few others like myself. They called us duds; people with a skill, but no corresponding stat increases. Basically, were were like average human citizens of the empire. Some of these 'duds' were still being protected and watched; they were weak, but they had skills that were of some use to the empire. But I was among the trash.

  At least that is what my fellow, so called heroes, stated to call people like me: Trash heroes. I had a comparatively weak body and a pointless skill on top of it. I needed protecting while providing no aid in return.

  And what was my skill, you ask? The cliche 'appraisal' skill, of course! Now, I had seen enough anime's and the like to know that this could be immensely useful, almost down right necessary at times... but not here, and not at its current level either. Right now, all I could see when using it was a person's name and their base stats. Same for items from what I found out through experimenting. I couldn't even tell if a thing was enchanted, not unless it had a fancy name that made a person believed it might be at least.

  I glared at my discarded club once again, squinting my eyes and focusing. Information appeared that only I could see: Goblin Club... That was it, besides a few question marks below that hinted of further information had my skill of been a higher level.

  According to the priest, skills get better with use. And I had seen that happen with many of the others, like Thomas. Or even Cassandra, a blonde haired woman with doe like eyes and a green t-shirt that was a little too tight, often rolling up and exposing the slight belly she had. She had a skill that allowed her to heal. Apparently mages- if they had the aptitude for it- could heal with time and practice, but Cassandra could cast rather advanced spells straight away. She was like me, a dud, but because of this skill, she was still seen as useful.

  My skill had its practical uses- if I could level it- but here, where brawn was needed over brains and knowing the name of an axe didn't make it any less sharp as it came at your face.

  I let the image of: Goblin Club, fade from my mind and reluctantly got to my feet. I could not trust these people to keep me alive. It was clear, as my fellow earthlings began to drink the Kool-Aid the priest and soldiers were metaphorically serving them, that I was being seen as a burden, and not an actual living human being. We were not on earth anymore, and I would be left to die at the drop of a hat.

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  An hour later, the waves of goblins subsided and we all set about settling in for a meager meal. It would just be jerky and stale canteen water, but I had lived on the streets enough times to not look a gift horse in the mouth. I decided to sit near a older woman named Grace and her husband Jake. They were in their sixties and Grace was a dud like myself: her skill was Regulation. Basically, she could regulate her own temperature. Great for surviving harsh environments of hot and cold, not so good when fighting goblins and giant spiders.

  Luckily Jake was not a Trash Hero, though he had thought he was at first. After the first day, when most of us had already found out our skills, he learned that he could erect barriers. They were small now, only able to cover a small space, but it was enough to keep he and Grace safe, and with training, could be very useful to the empire. But like Grace and I, he had no stat increases like the others.

  "How are you doing dear?" Grace asked me, patting my leg. She looked exhausted and her eyes had a hollow, haunted look about them. But I was sure most of us looked that way. Till now, most of us had never even seen a sword, much less cut a living creature in half with one.

  "Fine." I said, with my best attempt at a smile. I would never claim myself to be a 'good' person. Far from it, in fact. But Grace and Jake were kind to me, and that was more than most other people in my life, either here or back on Earth.

  Jake was a war vet, he was taking things better than most. But Grace was devastated. Unlike me, these two had children and grand children, two cats and a mortgage. They had a life to return to, and it had been a good one. I truly hoped that they could find peace once we got out of this hell hole- if we got out.

  "Any luck on leveling up that skill of yours, Karen?" Jake asked, stretching out his achy back before stuffing a strip of tough jerky into his mouth. I didn't have the heart to tell them that, through my skill, I knew that this stuff was River Rat Jerky... Not sure Grace could handle that right now.

  "No. You?" I said, also tearing off a bite. It wouldn't be the first rat I had eaten after all.

  Jake nodded. "Yeah... looks like I can cover a whole extra foot now..." He did not sound overly impressed, but it made me laugh. He gave me a strange, worried look, before saying: "When it happened... I heard that weird voice again..."

  I frowned but nodded. Much like with many video games, when we leveled up, or attained a new rank in our skills, there was a rather robotic, monotone voice that announced it in our heads. It was unnerving the first time I heard it when I 'leveled up' for the first time. But for Grace and Jack... well, they were very devout Cristian's, and this all seemed a little too much like false gods to them. They were not happy about it at all.

  Our captors- sorry, summoners- said that it was the 'voice of the world' and that it was perfectly normal to receive information from it at times of note. I decided to just categorize it all as video game nonsense, but a few people were like Grace and Jake, feeling quite uncomfortable with a disembodied voice watching their every move. Others went the complete other direction. I heard a few start referring to it as the voice of god. People coped in different ways, but I still tried to avoid the crazies when I could.

  My skill had not leveled up at all. At one point, sometime yesterday, I decided to just ask on of the knights about it. He sounded exasperated when he answered, but at least he did answer. I wasn't sure they would for Trash like me. I was told that some skills, like appraisal, didn't level up much, and so it took longer for them to reach the next stage. Apparently Cassandra's Heal skill was like that as well, but she was getting a lot of use out of it here. I guessed that that was the point of dragging a bunch of inexperienced people here in the first place: to force us to level up faster.

  Apparently this dungeon, known as the 'Demon God's Labyrinth', was one of the worst in all of Zearsa. It was also one of the largest, and the priest was having us stick to the top few levels, where the monsters- though above anything considered beginner- were not as ferocious as they could get the deeper you went into the Labyrinth. But, unless goblins were considered demons, I was pretty sure we had not come across any demons yet. I could only imagen that that was a good thing.

  A ruckus from the other side of the room drew our attention, making Grace jump from the sudden angry shouts. I looked just in time to see a man I thought was named Jesus being pulled out from under Thomas by a man I didn't remember the name of. The tree men got the Hispanic male with the silky hair and a once well groomed goatee, to his feet before they spun on a fourth man.

  Figures it would be Shane that was causing problems. He was now facing three men but did not drop the cocky grin that appeared to be his resting face. Shane was the epidemy of a 'dick'. All muscle and just enough brain to be dangerous, with an attitude of someone who thought the best of himself in the worst way. He was good looking enough, with short dark hair, three days worth of beard growth, and vibrant blue eyes. Too bad his personality wasn't as pretty to look at.

  "Something needs to be done about that man." Jack mumbled, eyes narrowed on the burgeoning confrontation. Of course the priest and other Stellans were not bothering to get involved. We were all rats in their little hero experiment after all. Though, in this case I could not blame them much. If anything, I was impressed at the three other men were willing to confront Shane at all. "He is going to get half of us killed soon."

  Shane was one of the few of us who truly seemed to excel here. I could see that his stats were super high and grew faster than most the others. Add to that his skill 'Berserk' and he was a damn monster in his own right. As soon as Shane got on a roll, he would turn into a nearly uncontrollable rage beast; like the hulk, but angrier. He was damn near unstoppable, and I was pretty sure that the empire was cautiously optimistic about that.

  "Quit your wining." Laughed the big man, puffing out his chest like any of us cared. "What do you care so long as we smash the green little shits?"

  "Its not about that!" Spat Jesus, cutting an angry hand through the air while massaging his jaw with the other hand. I guess Shane had punched him. He could thank his 'Harden' skill, that he still had a head after receiving a punch from that beast. "You nearly got Lane and Heather killed! Its like you don't even care."

  "Who?" Shane laughed, looking around at his audience, as if Lane and Heather would just present themselves to him. "I can't keep track of everyone here. If I don't remember them, then they probably aren't worth remembering-"

  "Shane, drop it." Asserted the real star of the show: Alex. At least, he thought he was the star. The rest of us were just side characters to his leading role. He was probably about twenty, with chocolate brown curls and an athletic build. I believe I heard that he was in collage on a track and field scholarship. He had a skilled called 'Leader' and he seems to have took that to heart. Unfortunately, most people seemed to be just fine with that. "We are all here against our will. We need to look out for one another."

  "Are you fucking stupid?" Laughed Shane, not impressed with the guys confident stance. I didn't like Shane, but I did share his thoughts in this. Alex was a self inflated moron. But a charismatic moron. "All of these duds will be dead by the time we make it out of this place. Better they bite it now and half the suffering."

  "What a horrid thing to say..." Whispered Grace next to my ear.

  Sure, it probably didn't need saying, but it was still pretty accurate. As a 'dud' I could vouch for the fact that it may very well be a miracle if i made it out off this dungeon alive. But I was a survivor at heart, and I wasn't about to roll over and accept my death so easily.

  I watched as Alex's minions sidled up to him. They were among the most gifted among the summoned, either with their accelerated stats or their useful skills. There was Selena, the eight-teen year-old red head with a skill that enhanced light magic. They had picked up a weak wand for her somewhere, and some one among the guards had started to teach her some spells.

  Then there was Alex's collage buddy, Carson: the leggy African American man with a bald head and long limbs. He seemed a little kinder than Alex, but had zero leadership skills, choosing instead to be a follower, through and through. But his skill, that allowed him to carry just about anything, made him a truly terrifying opponent.

  Standing either side of him were Cherry and Margaret. I referred to them ass the 'cheerleaders', though I had no reason to think they were. Unlike Margaret, Cherry didn't look like a cheerleader, but she did stand on the side lines and basically do nothing but cheer the others on. She was average in height and weight with red hair she got from a box, green eyes and glasses. Apparently her improved stats did not fix her eyesight. I had no clue what her skill was, as my appraisal still wasn't leveled up enough to see.

  Margret, on the other hand, looked like a cheerleader. Short blonde hair, big bright brown eyes and a golden natural tan. She was probably the youngest of the bunch. If I had to guess I would have put her at about sixteen. What really stood out about her was her clear 'mean girl' attitude. Verry early 2000's teen drama... gross. According to her, her skill allowed her to read peoples emotions in the form of colored emictions that surrounded them like an aura. Apparently I have 'a nasty atmosphere', if you wanted to know.

  "Alright, that will be enough." Sighed our priestly guide. I was surprised he bothered to interfere, as they all hadn't cared if we fought before now. "Let us continue on. We are not far from the nearest exit, and I think we know all that we need to know about you, honored heroes."

  There was a collective sigh amongst the group. Finally this farce was about to finish. Shane and Alex glared at one another, but didn't attempt to continue the argument. Shane simply flashed Alex a nasty smile and stomped off. unfortunately, he stomped off in my direction.

  As he approached, he glared down on me. He was nearly a foot taller than my slight, half starved frame with lanky dirty blonde hair and murky water eyes. I wasn't a looker, so I knew that that sneer on the man's face was not meant as an awkward attempt at flirting.

  "And what are you gawking at, Trash." He said as he passed between Grace and I. Shouldering past and sauntering toward his own gang of pathetic cronies.

  So far, this world has been pretty shit.