Motes of powder drifted through his hazy vision. Above him, the ceiling healed itself. Sticky crimson veins threaded through broken stone, pulling the shattered rock together to block out the star-filled sky.
Where is she?
“Are you hurt? Hello…”
His voice echoed back to him in both directions, a catacomb stretching into darkness.
No one answered him.
His mind was so foggy.
She’s supposed to be here. But who is she…
Waving his hand in front of his face, he tried to work water into his mouth.
“Nobody around. Huh.”
When no answer came, he let the odd urge fade with the mist swirling through his mind. He stared up at the weird sight of crumbled brick and earth.
“Did I do that? Wild. So dusty.”
“Great. Do I even have a name… Nope. Just perfect.”
He lay on his back in the dark. Above, the stone fused to stone as the ceiling mended itself from his meteoric fall through it. He’d broken through layers of soil five meters deep. Red pulses of light fed through the vine-like fingers crawling through the broken brick, reaching for one another. It was filling a hole the size of a cart.
I’m being buried alive. That’s not good. You’d think I’d be a little more concerned.
His head fell back against the broken stone he lay on with a sigh. He relaxed as the hole became the size of a door and shooting stars beyond fell through a bright heaven.
“Whelp. Guess I should get up. Oof!”
He hissed as his body protested, bruises jabbing him with hot spears to stop.
He disobeyed, forced a smile, and pushed himself up. Something shifted on his chest that he caught out of instinct. He blinked, and a silvery case came into focus. It was as big as a thick bar of soap.
“Treasure in a dungeon?” The words bubbled up and felt right. “Cool. Not even close to a treasure chest. But big things can come in small packages. Wait. Am I in a dungeon… What’s a dungeon?”
Cracking his neck, he yawned and worked around his arms.
“I’m a bit of a mess.”
Then the light arrived. Not lamplight or a fire, but two lines of it hung a hand’s width from his face. This one didn’t brighten the area itself, as if in a world of its own.
[Name: Daniel]
[Race: Angel]
He had to read that second one twice.
“Angel… Interesting. What’s that? Daniel?”
Daniel shook his head. Nothing came to mind.
Looking down, he saw only a ruined black robe covering him, and poorly.
He pulled it back, lifted an eyebrow, and twisted to check out his back. Six burning nubs wiggled, tiny black baby feathers sizzling gold.
“I don’t wear undergarments. Someone severed my wings… Angels have wings. Noted. It doesn’t hurt. I feel like they should. Is that bad? Does it matter?”
Mixed signals worked through his brain as he shook his head.
“A topic for another time. I don’t even have pockets for this.”
He grimaced while staring at the silver rectangular box.
A chuckle reverberated through the halls, making his hair stand up on the back of his neck. The voice bled into his mind, the silhouette of many teeth and saliva cast against the folds of his thoughts.
“You’re a rude, funny fallen angel, penetrating me like that. We’ll have to cultivate you nice and slow to suck out all that lingering Divine Power.”
Lifting an eyebrow, he glanced around the empty hallway. Low torches lit the way, showing a curving passageway. He spoke without thinking.
“Why did you have to phrase it like that? And I suppose you would be the Dungeon Core of this place?”
“Of course I’m a Dungeon… Maybe I should pick up singing. Wait. You can hear me?! Oh, well that’s new.”
Daniel put his hand on his hip, turning left and right.
“Does that make me impressive? Don’t sound so surprised. I’m an angel with selective memory loss. By the way, you could probably work on your singing voice. You sound rather fried, to be completely honest.”
“Well, excuse me, Captain Obvious. The best company I’ve had for lessons is banshees. I didn’t choose to be an Undead Core. I sort of woke up like this.”
“Same!”
“Right… You don’t seem to be faring well, friend. And I thought angels were genderless. Isn’t that intriguing?”
Daniel glanced down, long blond locks hanging. He tilted his head and turned to stare at the now sealed hole he’d fallen through.
“Can’t tell you. Could be thinking about the wrong angels. Maybe some are, and some aren’t. Regardless, what do I call you?”
“How very pragmatic of you! You can call me Carl. You’re a pretty interesting guy.”
“Hello, Carl. Call me Daniel. And interesting in what way? I don’t exactly know how to take that from a Dungeon Core who looks up men’s robes.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“A cheeky angel…”
“I aim to please… So, Carl, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about me, would you? What’s up with these severed wings and torn clothes? All I’ve got so far is my name and race. Oh, and this.”
He held up the silver box.
A silence followed that didn’t quite feel right to his gut. Seconds later, a rumble and shiver flowed through the air. It vibrated up his frame, and the walls pulsed, as if breathing.
“My, what a rather trashy-looking box that is.” The dungeon made a gulping sound, practically salivating behind that dark veil, barely holding itself together. “Why don’t you leave that to me? I’ll give you a ton of treasure in return! You need food, clothes…gold. Lots of gold. Answers! I can tell you everything I know.”
Daniel chuckled, shifting his weight to the opposite hip.
“Don’t forget to swallow. You may choke.”
“There must be something you want.”
He held the box up to stare at it.
“Something I want… I want answers.”
The same odd box and light popped into being.
[Silver Box: Core of the Silver City of Tarnish]
“And I got some. Huh. Something tells me this thing is pretty valuable, Carl. A city Core… So it’s like your upgraded, better-looking cousin?”
“Maybe it is to the right people. Wait. That was uncalled for. Why do you keep kicking me while I’m down? Yes, I don’t have legs anymore. It’s dangerous for you. It will lull you into feeding it, caring for it, only to consume you the first chance it gets!”
“Don’t go looking in a mirror,” Daniel mumbled. “I can practically feel you breathing down my back with how hard you’re panting. I do need some starter gear…”
He glanced down with a long sigh.
“Yes. Yes. I will offer you more than you can dream to start this new life of yours, Mr. Angel. Things the best adventurers don’t have and drool over! Just set that on the ground and make the trade… Look!”
Daniel frowned as water pooled up beneath his feet, crimson reflecting in the torchlight to show a vision of treasure. Rooms filled with riches and magical items. He gulped, but not for the riches. It was the stacks of crystals separated into piles that drew his eye.
“Carl, what are those shards?”
Monstrous teeth peeled back behind the darkness that brushed against his mind.
“Monster Cores. F-rank to A-rank. I use them to make minions. My reserve stash. You like?”
Daniel sucked in his cheeks, severed wings itching and forcing him to reach over his shoulder to scratch the base.
“Maybe…”
“I will give you all of these. Everything in this room, for that dangerous little box that you don’t even know how to use. I’ve grown and learned a lot in four hundred and twenty-nine years. If you don’t want to part with it, then become a partner with me. Come deeper. I can teach you so much.”
He paused as the sensation of a burning sword plunged into his heart, and disgust suddenly welled up within him. He stepped back, shaking his head. He huffed, realizing this box was something worth more than his own life.
Daniel’s smile grew as he held up the item and examined its ornate design, themed with feathers, moons, and a halo over a silver city.
“On second thought. No. And I suppose being isolated for so long made you terrible at making deals. You need a talking buddy, Carl… A tarnished silver box for all your treasure? Now that’s desperation, my friend. I think I’ll be keeping it. I’m not giving it to anyone.”
“Give me the box!”
The labyrinth quaked, teeth snapping beyond sight, hunger gurgling through the monolithic structure. The torches blazed hot and cast long shadows as the pool vanished.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just… I need it!”
Daniel ignored the tantrum, turning the silver case over in his hands. It was heavier than it looked. Cool, in a passage that was much too warm, and along one edge someone had cut a mark into the metal.
It had three small strokes and a curve, worn shallow by a great many thumbs.
“How can I give you something I’ve never even opened?”
He worked a nail under the lip. It opened without a sound, and he turned it over.
Cards spilled out. Rows of them, thin as a fingernail, silver-edged and cold. He counted eleven before he lost his place with the growling floor and dripping ceiling.
“Quit drooling, man! It’s gross.”
He started again, and something possessive clawed in him.
“What are these cards?”
“How should I know?”
Daniel’s face dulled.
And here I thought you knew all about it.
This thing was practically hypnotized by each card he flipped between. Every one was clouded over and misty, as if hiding treasure.
“Tarnished cards fit the theme of the box. But these are different.”
He found two that showed 3D pictures, moving with the fog in the background.
[▸ Tarnished Sword &]
[⟡ Clara’s Heart]
“A sword? Swords are good. But Clara…”
Something in his chest rolled over; a forgotten weight pinning him against a bed.
He stared at the heart. It was surrounded by six wings.
He glanced at his back, with its nubs.
Six wings. Angels… Is Clara an angel?
He looked at it for a long time. The dungeon snarled and begged through it all, which he tried his best to ignore. However, the small pale mark beside it pulsed slowly.
A woman’s voice passed through his cells like electricity. It wasn’t so much a memory as an impulse. A large, warm, unbearable shape turning somewhere under his ribcage.
“Desire the blade, and it will answer your call, My King.”
Hello? I take it you are Clara?
“My responses are limited, I’m afraid. Press forward. I’m closer than you think.”
Daniel just stood there for a time, feeling the weight of just those two responses in the wings sag within the card. There was a sanctuary in that angelic voice.
Water vapor breathed from the walls, and the dungeon’s sarcastic words snapped him back to reality.
“Careful, you’re burning a hole through it… Is it talking to you? That’s not good… Here. Perhaps we can make a wager. I like wagers.”
Blinking, he looked up. The torches dimmed, and red eyes lit up beyond sight.
Daniel sighed and absently rubbed the two cards between his fingers.
“So, it’s like that, friend?”
“It’s like that.”
“Not much of a wager, Carl. More like a threat. I can see why you don’t have many friends. Know what? On second thought, I think I’ll keep this treasure.”
Holding up the [Tarnished Sword], Daniel willed it his, as Clara’s Heart instructed, and the card’s silver edges flared. It converted to light, forming within his closing left palm, becoming a long sword. His body abruptly felt lighter, his mind sharper, and his breathing easier.
The light popped up again.
[Tarnished Sword active for 1 hour]
[Doubles the user’s attributes]
Not bad. An hour, though? Could be better. At least it gives me power.
And I’m not exactly sure what my attributes are. But it’s a start.
Daniel’s smile grew forced as he fitted the other cards back into the box and snapped it shut. He did a twirl with the blade that was hardly elegant, hopping on his toes.
“Well, my first friend kind of sucks. What do you think my chances are, Carl?”
“Not good.”
“Perfect.”
Daniel took a stance, fear bubbling up in his belly. Yet, his nubs fluttered at his back as if attempting to push him forward into a strike. Right now, he knew one thing for sure.
I have to protect Clara… She’s waiting for me.
What a strange thought?
He paused, working through the impression.
Clara feels more important than my own wings.
Why? I suppose that is something to explore.
I hope she’s better than Carl.
White, bony rabbits with horns emerged from the dark, teeth chattering.
“Alright, Carl. Show me what you’ve got.”