DCO- Dungeon Core Online

Chapter 8

As expected, the five-man party was able to handle the basic floor mob with relative ease once they burned their cooldowns. The skills, most which were commonly used by gamers as trump cards or for burn phases of major boss fights, easily bridged the level gap between the players and the level 91 Chem-Era. Honestly, after overcoming its early barrage of breath attacks, all which had a minute long cooldown themselves, James would have been extremely disappointed in the pro gamers if they had lost to the mob.

“Any good loot?” Z asked the group as they finished sorting through their experience gain and loot drops from the creature. It’s body lay on the ground, mechanical parts sparking. The serpent head was laying in a far corner of the room, having been completely severed and thrown aside by a powerful blow from Oak. The goat head was burned and blacked, and the lion head, well, it now had a mane of arrows instead of fur.

“No pets or anything on my end.” Elm said, followed by an agreeing nod from Oak and Med Ic.

“No gear either,” Faust said as his fingers flipped through hidden screens. “Though all of the materials seemed to be of rare quality at least.”

“Makes sense,” Z nodded, “being the sixth floor, I’d be surprised if anything dropped under rare quality when it came to materials. After all, these mobs are dangerously close to level 100.”

“Likely over it too,” Elm concurred, “if the trend from the other floors continues. If this was a basic mob at level 91, I’m willing to bet the boss is over 100.”

They were, of course, right. Jormun-Grander was level 101 currently, and would max out a level 110, while the regular mobs would max out at level 100, once James hit Tier 7.

“I cannot wait to hit level 100.” Oak said, hungrily rubbing his gauntleted hands together. “You think they’ll have something special for that benchmark?”

“Who knows,” Z shrugged, “I’m guess they’ll do something for it. It’s a pretty common landmark to hit, but we can’t know for sure till we get there.” He paused, “ideally I’d like for our group to hit 100 first. Though, in all honesty,”

“SoulDemon will likely do it before us.” Elm finished for him. “That pretentious prick.”

SoulDemon was the only player James knew of that was higher leveled than the Knights Who Go Ni. On top of that, when it came down to pure skill level, there was no denying his. However, he had all the personality of a rabid honey badger. He didn’t work well with others, was extremely selfish, and didn’t seem to give any thought to anything else. He’d singlehandedly almost caused the Siege to fail, all because he was chasing a unique piece of gear for himself.

“He’s definitely got some problems,” Z concurred, “I hope his teammates can figure him out.” Z shook his head as his tone softened, “there’s a darkness in him, that I feel like I know.”

“Whatever he’s dealing with doesn’t justify how he treats everyone. Especially not those who help him,” Faust began, “the others of the Candy Dungeon are all likeable enough. But that guy, I personally wish he’d stop showing his face around here.”

Z looked at Faust, and for a brief moment there was a shadow on Z’s face. A look I recognized from his eyes. Z had a dark past himself. A weight he carried, blaming himself for the death of his daughter, his wife. If anyone had a right to be bitter and dark, it was Z, and yet, here he was, smiling with everyone. Z was the exact opposite of SoulDemon, in every manner of speaking.

“Maybe he just needs the right people to show him the light,” Z said softly, “just like I did.”

The room went silent then, both in the dungeon, and in the hot spring. So somber that Steve even set his drink down, his own eyes losing their trademark smile lines for just a moment. Everyone here, James figured, had some sort of skeleton in their closet. James felt guilty for a moment, realizing as much as he’d lamented his own life over the past week of the real world, compared to everyone else, his life probably had been the easiest. Which just made him feel guilty, about everything.

The silence was broken by a loud thrumming, heavier, deeper, than before. The Jormun-Grander’s jaws had closed once more, marking another minute in the dungeon. With each passing minute, it grew slightly larger, and moved forward a little more. At this rate, it would find one of the three orbs within the next hour. Something that James was eager to see. What would happen when the boss consumed it? Would it’s growth and appearance change to account for its massive gain in stats? Would the players get any type of warning or message? Currently, as far as James could tell, they had no idea that loud boom was the countdown to their own demise.

“Right, well,” Z slapped his cheeks as the sound echoed away from them. He looked towards the exit of the room, opposite of the side they’d come in. “We’ve a sixth floor to explore, and this dungeon is creepy enough without all the doom and gloom.”

“Shall we continue exploring?” Faust said as he walked up beside Z, placing a reassuring hand on the leader’s shoulder as he spoke. “Is that what you’re getting at?’

“Aye,” Z said with a nod. He looked back at everyone and paused. His party was watching him. They were ready, and yet, the air around them still seemed heavy, their eyes, their faces, still partially clouded by thoughts that were consumed by a darkness unique to themselves, secrets from their past that James had no way of knowing.

“Though,” Z took another breath, and using his right hand began flipping through his own hidden screens. “How about a quick dicken break before we go further? The stat boosts are nice, and you can’t argue those special herbs and spices have a cheery kick to them.”

In his hand, a large bucket of fried dicken appeared. On the side of the bucket, the Dicken Shack logo. That is… a fire breathing dicken with the words ‘Our Dicken is Kickin.” Apparently, if you opened a shop within DCO, you gained the ability to customize the containers your product was sold in, including unique artwork and designs. And Alex’s parents, who ran not only a restaurant in the real world, but also multiple chains now in DCO, apparently had quite the flair for branding.

Everyone cheered and walked towards Z, grabbing various fried dicken bits from the container. In Elm’s hand, a bottle of fireball whiskey appeared, the drink Alex himself had introduced to James’s players, crafted from the infernal corn on James’s first floor. Alex’s parents had matched the flavor profile of the Fried Dicken to pair perfectly with the cinnamon notes of the fireball whiskey. Something James had personally made sure to experience firsthand while he was running around in his developer avatar.

As the group shared in their food and drink, the mood around the party immediately lifted. Within the dungeon, lit only by flickering torches, there seemed to be a new light source. The smiles on the party’s face, their good mood, all of it, lifted the shadows from their faces, their eyes, and all around them. The center of that light, the source of it, the man with the darkest shadows. Z was without a doubt the greatest adventurer James had ever met, and more than that, he was the very heart of the town’s instance of DCO. As long as he was around, no matter what it was, no matter the threat, the situation, the players, James even, would either prevail, or die trying with a smile on their faces. That was just the type of man Z was. The type of man James hoped to someday be.