Haeros Dungeon - Chapter 33 preview (Patreon)

The tarzaks were a strange creature, a bottom-feeding scavenger that started taking over on these levels. For a time, they pushed out the majority of the slimes as cleanup crew on these levels, until the slimes grew strong enough to destroy them again. Damn slimes were entirely dependent upon the amount of core energy they could gain, and deeper down there were a few levels known as the slime hells where they were the dominant creatures.

For now, though, they were a non-issue to worry about. Instead, the tarzaks were the main cleaners and it was not surprising they were here. Unfortunately, like the scavengers on Earth, just because they were not necessarily directly predatory did not mean they wouldn’t take a chance nibble on a creature too weak or injured to fight back.

The tarzaks, being as ubiquitous as they were, were a monster I had studied. This was mostly via discussions with other adventurers, but it gave me a few clues on how to beat them. One of which I began to put into effect immediately, focusing on the gauntlet by my side. The spikes shifted in size and shape, reforming into a single long one. About a foot and a half long – a damn decent size. It was a little thin and weak though, at this size, so I reduced it, all the while watching as the first tarzak tentatively made its way down the rocks, checking for foodstuff.

Now, it might seem like one of the dozen eyes on its side would be the target. And theoretically, yes – there was a single eye that, if struck properly, would lead to its brain. It was the third or fourth eye on the first segment, and if you punched through with a weapon, you’d kill it.

Unfortunately, the creatures were just different enough individually that figuring out if it was the third or fourth eye was often a guessing game, especially when one was fighting numerous members of their kind. I had some time to work it out, though I noted another two tentacled faces poking up over the edge, so it wasn’t that much.

No, I had to hurry. But I also needed it to get close, so I held still and waited. Waited until the first of the tentacles touched my foot, crawling over the leather of my boot. I watched as one tentacle slipped under the hem of my pants, up my socks, the cool feel of the bulbous limb a strange and dissonant sensation. It was not slimy, more cool and smooth. Almost nice…

At least until it extended the tiny barbs along the edge and pulled. I hissed, tiny pinpricks of blood surely welling from where the equivalent of dozens of needles pierced my skin. The noise I made sped up the creature’s motion, as it tugged me forward and humped its body closer, the other tentacles moving over my leg searching higher and higher.

Time was up. Having “tasted” blood, the creature would not let go; not until it ate me. I could glimpse flashes of the dark mouth between the writhing tentacles as it dragged me closer. Gathering will and focus, readying myself for the pain, I lurched upwards and forwards, swinging my hand.

Momentum thrust forward, shooting my hand on – and only my hand – as I targeted the creature’s third eye. The spike burst the eyeball without stopping, plunging in and in, sharpened tip punching through the thin skeleton of the skull beneath. Orbital bone cracked open and the spike entered the head, and I poured my focus into the gauntlet to extend it further.

The monster thrashed for a few moments, rearing back and yanking my hand with it. I shrunk the spike as quickly as I could, yanking myself free to sit back as my foot was released. This time, as it let out little yelping, high-pitched screams, I joined it.

Everything hurt, but at least, as the monster kept thrashing, going through the equivalent of a stroke, its death throes kept the others away. Slumping, I took inventory of my body, curious how long its slow death would buy me.

I got five or six minutes, which was not a lot of time in some ways, but enough to reinforce bones that had barely come together. To stop the bleeding I had caused by moving and reinforce my blood vessels and muscles and pop back the broken bone that had been missed till now. Enough for some last-minute fixes, before the rest of the tarzaks came crawling down to their dead comrade. The first two started eating their own brethren, not seeing a reason to differentiate in the meal, and I cursed mentally at the lost shard.

The third, not finding enough space at the backend, stomped past the group on its stubby legs and then, sensing me and smelling the newly spilled blood, came for me directly. I had tugged my leg in close, pulled the rest of my gear in and tucked up, waiting.

I could run, but all that would accomplish was making me die tired. I could fight, but backed into the corner and with so much noise made, I might just be wasting energy fighting the lowest of the totem pole of creatures waiting to prey on me.

After all, I knew what else lived down here.

I weighed the two options, waiting for the noise over the crater of rock to make itself known. When the third monster crawled way too close, I struck. This time around, I sunk the point into the fourth eye, same rough spot but with enough pressure to kill. Rather than expand my point, I yanked back and scrambled aside, as the dying tarzak drew the last two of their kind above the rim.

Now that I had an idea of their placement, I ran for it. Scrambling up the slope, I used the shield edge and my own fingers to grab and thrust myself upwards, pouring momentum at a controlled rate to push me. It was a little too much force, and I flew off the top of the rock pile, cresting it for a moment as I lunged upwards.

Killing momentum and beginning to save it once again, I spun past the slow-moving tarzaks, in the space between them. Beneath my feet, as I looked down, a few more were working the ground around, scrabbling along the trail of blood that had led me to the orb.

I shuddered, watching as they slurped up my trail, and then my feet hit the earth. Pain jolted up through my heels, my toes, and my bruised and damaged and still healing bones. Something snapped again, and I had to pour more healing into it to try to stymie the damage, even as my legs gave way.

I did a front-roll and came back up to my feet on instinct, always preferring that to a full breakfall. It let me get up and moving rather than stay on the ground, and, as such, I was able to take a half-dozen steps. Only for the waving tentacle of another tarzak to grab at my windmilling arm.

Needle-hooked teeth dug into the gauntlet, tore at the armor and sought to break through. A few found a spot between elbow guard and gauntlet and gripped flesh, but not enough to do anything more than leave me bleeding.

Unimportant, though it pulled my back off dangerously. Normally, I would have course-corrected without a problem, but I lacked the mobility in my toes, my physical reaction time dulled by the pulses of agony in my still damaged body.

Instead, instinctively, I reached for momentum. Released a burst that set me in the right direction and gave me a few more steps to push forwards. Managed to get another couple of steps, before something else grabbed my boot.

Pain, as it crushed down, as I dragged my foot – spurred on by another forced use of momentum – out of the grip. I howled, but kept running, breaking through the tight group around the remnants of the stone imp.

There were more tarzaks out here, but more dispersed. I was able to avoid the slow-moving creatures, though avoiding them was not the problem. No. I was bleeding, and even as I sealed the wounds with healing, it mattered little.

One of them had my scent and my blood. That meant they all did.

Now, this group, this pack, would hunt me down without end till I finished them off or they did the same to me. They would never stop, and if I didn’t kill them all, their descendants would hunt me too. Being dungeon monsters, that meant I had less than a week before they procreated.

A week to kill them all, or else I was going to be hunted for the rest of my dungeon life by these scavengers.

Well, you know how that story ends.