A Gamer's Guide To Beating The Tutorial

“I’m sorry. He’s really far gone. I think… unless someone were to donate, then…” Jazz bit her lip. “But he’d never agree to that! If he found out that you died to save him, he’d never forgive you!”

“I don’t mind that,” Kitty said.

“He’d never forgive himself, either,” Plus noted.

Kitty drew back slightly, giving a rare expression of shame. “I… I value his life more than I do that.”

“As any great friend should,” Jarne said sarcastically.

Kitty smiled. “Thank you, Rat.”

“I wasn’t—” He huffed. “Whatever.” He scowled at the now-fully-healed Kitty. A thought struck him. “Tell me something. If your healing is so good, why can’t you just, you know… Donate your heart, but still survive? I mean, there’s no way your heart-removal-protection isn’t at level ten.”

“There’s no such tolerance,” Kitty said, “and even if there was, it wouldn’t cap out at protection; it’d continue to immunity.” Jarne glared at him, hoping that with sufficient mental exertion, he might be able to make Kitty’s head explode. “Aside from that, though… I’m sorry, but I can only donate my heart once. I was going to experiment with it back when I first entered this floor, but then Cruelty sent me a message telling me that if I did that I’d die, so I haven’t used it. But if Moleman needs it, I’ll happily go ahead with it.”

Jazz, her hands pressed to Mole’s chest in an effort to heal him, shook her head. “No, I really don’t… Didn’t Dr. Benevil have some ability that could heal people no matter their injury?”

Plus rubbed his chin. “I think he said so, yes. But will Mole survive until then?”

“I’m not sure. However, if we go with Kitty’s plan…” She frowned. “Nevermind not forgiving himself, I doubt he’d forgive us.”

Janus leaned back a bit. “So, what do we do? Escape through the kitchen, like planned, and then run all the way to the hospital? All the while protecting Mrs. Mayor and her six kids, hoping Mole doesn’t croak on the way there?”

Plus and Jazz shared a look. Plus nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Growling, Jarne glared at Kitty again. In truth, the idea of getting rid of that blight while also saving Mole sounded like a much better plan to him. But what did he know? “Sure, fine, okay. Let’s get going then—I doubt our attackers will wait for us.”

“You’re right,” Plus said, standing up. “As for how we’ll do this… Rat, you’ll lead us at the front, I’ll protect our back, Kitty will carry Mole, and Jazz will walk behind him, healing Mole. We’ll keep the mayor’s wife and her children in the middle.”

“Sounds good,” Jazz said.

“About as good as we can do with this ensemble,” Jarne sighed.

Kitty blinked at them. “Um…” They turned to him. He hunched together shyly. “I’m sorry, I just… Wouldn’t it be best if I went ahead, killed everyone, and then you came after? It’s not like I mind carrying Moleman, it’s just that, well… Wouldn’t that be more effective?”

Jarne frowned and upon sharing a look with Plus, he found a similar expression on his face.

“That would indeed be effective,” Plus said, “however, we don’t want to kill everyone.”

Kitty, as if to prove the fact that he was pure evil, tilted his head in confusion. “Why not?”

"Because," Jarne said, “these attackers are civilians. In other words, these are the guys Mole is working his butt off to save. Mindlessly massacring innocents is bad. Also, since they aren’t trained or whatever, we don’t need to kill to dispatch them.”

“So, you’re saying…” Kitty said slowly, like a child learning his first words. “...It would be bad for Moleman’s reputation?”

Jarne wondered if Mole would mind him snapping Kitty’s neck, as long as he survived it. “Yes,” he hissed, facepalming. “It would look bad. That’s exactly it. Wow, you’re so smart and moral. I can totally understand why Mole keeps forgiving and excusing you.”

“Thank you,” Kitty said, “that means a lot to hear.”

Strangulation, then. Strangulation wouldn’t kill him, surely. A little wringing of the neck never killed anyone…

There was a thudding at the door. Someone outside shouted something in goblinese. Something about locks and keys? The gathered members exchanged a single look and stood up. Kitty attached Mole to his back using a strangely elastic rope, Plus waved over the kids and the mayor’s wife, and Jazz moved away the barricade from one of the exits, only waiting for Kitty to give the sign before opening it. Jarne, as per the agreement, went first. A nerve-wracking task to be sure, but not one he was unfamiliar with. It was only that he was so used to Mole being at his side that the sudden absence felt all the more lonely.

They snuck carefully through a corridor. Most of the windows had been shattered. Jarne took one look at them, glanced back at the children holding hands to stick together, and decided not to risk it. He knew the manor’s outlay by heart. The mayor was… used to be a fan of warm food, so the kitchen was unusually enough part of the main house, going so far as to be quite close to the dining room.

As per usual, Rat snuck ahead of a bend, perked his ears for any noise, and then waved over the rest of the group. The manor felt eerily quiet. Where had they all gone? It had been swarming with attackers only minutes ago. Either way, if this let them get away easier, it was for the better.

The front of the manor had a number of exits, however, the back had only three. Two were located at the very edges of the west and east wing. The third was a large exit that spanned between the kitchen and the outside, connected through a combined cellar and pantry. It was a very effective outlay, since it meant food could go straight from the arriving carriage to the pantry. It was also the least conspicuous of the three back exits. Since the attackers had come from the front, this exit would be their best chance at escaping unnoticed.

Jarne turned a corner. There was something there. Three bodies, one slumped against the wall. He crept closer, crouching to keep hidden.

Servants. They hadn’t even spared the servants. Animals, the lot of them.

After a moment of hesitation, making sure no one was coming, Jarne pulled the bodies into a nearby room and closed the door. Then he went around the corner again and waved for his companions to follow. They didn’t mention the bloodstains. Best of all, the kids didn’t seem to notice it at all. Allowing himself a sigh of relief, Jarne continued on.

The kitchen wasn’t far away now. He could hear some sounds now. Walking, talking… But not running. Not stamping. Maybe they were searching through the manor, leaving the back for last? Or maybe they had moved onto the upper floors. That made sense. They’d scoured the whole of the first floor, so now they had moved to the second and third, hoping to clear it out fully. Logical.

Still, that was no reason to lower his guard. Steeling his heart, Jarne moved on.

Only one more hallway, and then the kitchen should be visible. Jarne waved the group through. As he passed, Kitty tried to say something, but Jarne shushed him. Even the slightest noise could tip them off. Even someone like Kitty should know that.

They saw the kitchen. Holding up a hand to the rest, Jarne went on ahead, slipping inside the doorhandleless double-doors.

It still smelled like food. The fires in the ovens had almost gone out, and black smoke was belching from inside the metal pots and pans. But when Jarne looked inside, he found only scraps left. It almost looked as though someone had scraped out the leftovers with a spoon, but the more realistic answer was that in times like these, the cooks had opted to serve every single speck of food available, even if they had to scrape it out. Speaking of the cooks, they were all laid on the floor, two of them having been decapitated and the third simply stabbed through the heart. Jarne tried to move them away, but there was nowhere dignified to put them. Grumbling, he placed them in a line, matching the heads to the bodies and threading kitchen towels over their faces. That was all he could do.

Exiting again, he waved the rest into the kitchen. Now, it should be smooth sailing. There was no one in the kitchen, so it was unlikely that there would be anyone in the pantry, either. Still, safety was of highest priority.

Again, stupidly, Kitty tried to say something. Jarne had to shush him twice before he finally agreed to shut up. Gesturing to Plus and Jazz, Jarne headed down into the cellar and pantry. The wooden stairs creaked slightly. It was cold and damp, smelling like earth and myriads of food. But there was another smell mixed in, too. Like copper. And for some reason, it smelled foodier than usual, and then the sound… Almost as though there were a hundred rats in the cellar, gnawing and chewing and…

Jarne froze in the opening of the cellar. His right foot had only barely touched down onto the ground when he saw them, and they saw him. There must have been at least fifty goblins down there, stuffing food into their pockets and into sacks and into their mouths, into anywhere they could keep it. Bottles of liquor, bags of root vegetables, bundles of fruit and berries, dried meats and sausages and salted fish, bottles of lard and butter and cream and jam and sugar and flour and honey. Starved, bloodied hands grasping for food with such starved fervor they barely even noticed Jarne.

Barely.

And that ‘barely’ was the difference between life and death.