Respawn Condition: Trash Mob

“Wow! Will you look at that!” I mutter in awe of the giant egg that sits before me. Lifting a finger, I gently poke the shell. It’s an odd mixture of firm, but pliant. Like a soft rock. A sweltering heat rages all around us, but it’s kind of nice. It’s not like… lava hot. It’s just, I dunno, hot-hot. You know?

 

The slime and I look around floor forty-one, getting a feel for the landscape. It’s a hatchery of sorts. If I had to guess, this is a dragon’s egg. You might be wondering, guy, how do you know that? The slime wraps herself around the egg, touching it tenderly with her tendrils as she feels its exterior.

 

Well. You see -

 

I lift my head, looking up at the mangled corpse of the dead dragon. It’s scaly skin seared away as if scorched off by a raging energy, it’s bones crushed and pulverized as it had been crushed against the stone wall of the dungeon in defense of its eggs. Yes. Eggs. Dragons lay eggs. Do you have a problem with that? You better not. I’ll fight you if I have to, tell you what.

 

“It’s a baby!” she says excitedly, pressing the side of her face against the egg as she lets out a soft coo.

 

Looking around at the hatchery, I stare at the many destroyed eggs. Dozens of them, hundreds. Smashed. Kicked in. Broken. Any goo that leaks out of them has long since started to rot. Any half-formed creatures inside of them, have long since begun to fall back apart. The intricate construction that was taking place to create their fully living shells, slowly being taken back apart by the natural forces that guide all life. The many dreamers returning to their sleep, having never truly woken from their dreams to begin with. Are they the lucky ones?

 

I sigh, turning back to look at the single egg that survived the chaos, perhaps having been overlooked. Or is it you?

 

Bending down, I stare at the egg. It’s a strange thing. Big. I’d say about my forearm in length and it has a dark taupe color. The metal of my gauntlet runs along the top of the shell as I pet it, stroking past the slimy tendrils that hold it warm, as I hum an out of tune melody. I’m not really sure where I picked it up from, but I think it sounds nice. Sleep little one. Stay inside. It’s better there. It’s safer there. Egg. Egg. I stare, my eyes wide and fascinated as I stare at it. The egg.

 

It must be nice. Living in an egg. I bet it’s warm. I bet it feels safe. I’m sorry everything you were meant to love is dead. So stay asleep. Dream the dream. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t look at the world around you. Don’t open them. Don’t see. Don’t ever see what I see. Don’t ever rouse from the dream.

 

Egg. I flick my tongue, smelling the air around us. Ssss~

 

Do I want to eat the egg?

 

No. No I don’t. Sleep child. Close your eyes. Shhh. Shhhhhhh- it’s okay. It’ll all be over soooooon~ I coo, bobbing on my legs.

 

Rising to my feet, I roll my shoulders and adjust my lance as I decide that it’s time to keep on walking. I made the mistake of waking up and crawling out of my own egg, so now I have to do this. I have to walk. I have to fight. I can never go back. None of us can ever go back. Life is a one-way trip, much like the dungeon. Nobody gets out alive.

 

“Egg!” shouts the slime from behind me as I walk away, her gooey body stretching thin between me and it as I pull away.

 

I look back down at her. “Leave it, we have to go.”

 

“I don’t want to leave it!” she argues. “It’s just a baby!” she says, pressing her face against it and looking up at me with those yellow eyes of hers.

 

“There’s nothing for us to do.”

 

“We can take it with us!”

 

I narrow my eyes. Take it with us? An egg? That sounds like a huge pain in my ass. I don’t want this kind of responsibility in my life. I’m trying to be young and free. She wraps herself tighter around it, covering its exterior as she tries to instill the warmth of her body down into it.

 

“Eeeegg~!” she coos up at me in protest, her maternalism having gotten the best of her as she holds the thing firmly in her grasp. I sigh, rubbing the back of my head. What if we get in a fight with the hero?

 

“Egg!”

 

What if we have to run and climb and I need both of my arms?

 

“Egg!” she yells.

 

My fingers run along the back of my skull. What if we have to go somewhere cold? The egg needs to stay warm. If we leave it here, it can sleep a peaceful sleep and die quietly. It will be like nothing ever happened.

 

“EGG!” she shouts at me, clearly becoming distraught over this as evidenced by her shimmering eyes.

 

I turn my head, looking down the way, wondering if it isn’t easier if I just leave both of them here and just go forward on my own.

 

But that’s not what a good friend would do. That’s not what a hero would do. I clench my fists. It’s an annoying, unnecessary burden in my eyes, but I will carry it. I don’t feel what she feels. I don’t see what she sees. But as I stare down into those large eyes of hers that shine with a strange glimmer, I can at the very least see that there are strong feelings hidden behind their surface. Strong, clean feelings. Things that I can’t feel anymore. I feel as if the pool of my soul has grown dry, as if there is only a puddle left to signify the depth of my emotional core. So if someone else has these feelings, then I have to at the very least allow them to exist. I should foster them. I am brother. It’s the right thing to do.

 

I sigh and lean down, holding out my free arm to both of them. Egg.

 

She glibbers gleefully and crawls back towards me, pulling the egg with her. Wrapping my arm softly inward, I hold the egg in my grasp as gently as I can and I look at the little thing. At the life that has been entrusted to me. Who am I? To carry something like this. Something this fragile. This precious. I am nothing but a hunk of metal and bone. This isn’t going to end well.

 

There is a soft humming, as the slime gently slides around the egg, humming a wet, out of tune melody that I can’t help but find oddly endearing as I hold both them.

 

Why is dungeon life like this? I just want to fight the hero. I just want to gouge out his ey-

 

“Shhhh-“ says the slime, lifting a finger against my lips to shush me. “He’s sleeping.”

 

Oh. Sorry.

 

I look down at the egg in my arms.

 

Egg.

 

 

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