Dressed to kill 15 (Patreon)

“You named your wolf-dog Cinnamon.” I said.

“Does he not look like a Cinnamon?” Sandy looked offended.

I evaluated the dog closely. He was panting with excitement, curled tell wagging behind him. Mud clumped on his fur around his paws. Sandy stood behind him, holding a leather leash she had clipped on.

Sandy pulled on his leash and he walked astride her, staring at me as he did. We took a walk around the village at night to kill the time, walking around the very edge. Sandy stepped with measure, staring out into The Wild beyond. Cinnamon sniffed and looked out curiously, but he was behaved. Far too behaved, as if he was intelligent. I couldn’t help but stare at him.

When he panted, his fangs were visible, huge and so pure white they seemed to almost glow. But he seemed to be almost constantly smiling. He looked over at me, catching me staring, his eyes seeming to almost widen as he stared up at me. I couldn’t help but scratch between his ears. 

We crossed back through the center of town, staring at one of the unlanded Nobles that Valjean employed as guards. He stared back with suspicion, eying Cinnamon. Cinnamon growled as he passed.

The guard rested his hand on the sword at his side.

We crossed back towards Sandy’s house.

Her dad was sitting on the porch outside, smoking. Shadows covered his face, his eyebrows dark and furled, and the smell of alcohol hung off of him.

“Come in.” He said, staring hard at me, and then at Sandy. He ashed his cigarette, stood, and walked inside.

Sandy bristled. Cinnamon barked once. She scratched his ears.

I had never been in Sandy’s house proper. Maybe once at some point as a kid while her mom was still alive, but the memory was a blur. The house, as always, smelled of food.

It was a graveyard of dead memories. Dust hung on the frames of portraits on the wall. Lamplight snuck down the hallway, painting them a burnished red orange. Sandy looked distinctly uncomfortable as she followed behind me.

Cinnamon left a track of muddy paw prints, head swiveling to stare at the hallway. His eyes seemed to glow golden-brown in the dim light.

We stepped from the hall into an open workshop that must have filled nearly half the house.

The open center of the room stretched down the house with a table long enough to seat eight. Most of the chairs and table were in disuse, piles of clutter filling up half the table. Sandy’s cloak was spread over the open half. Cabinets and counters pressed into the walls, shelves lined with spices over sinks full of dishes.

The room was hot and filled with the sound of crackling wood from smokers. Chimneys from the top of them stretched up to the roof.

Henri sat at the end of the table, gesturing us to join him. I sat down, curious what he had to say.

“You made this?” He asked me before Sandy even sat.

I ran my hands over the cloak. The fur was cold and fine to the touch. I turned it over to stare at the stitch work. It wasn’t my finest. My inability to recombine the leather meant that I had to cut the pattern and then stitch more pieces back together. Inside, the cloak was a motley work of stitched together pieces.

“Yes.” I said.

Henri folded his hands. They were wrinkled and calloused. He still wore his wedding ring. His folded back sleeves left his arms showing, tattoos of animals creeping down one side. He rubbed his eyes.

“It’s fine work. Let me pay you for it, at least.” He said.

“What is this about?” Sandy asked pointedly.

“You have to stop.” Henri said, authoritatively, his voice not taking no for an answer. Cinnamon bumped his nose into Sandy’s hand, staring up at her dad.

“No.” Sandy’s tone was venomous.

“You — ” Henri started, raising his voice, then stopping, covering his eyes with his hand again. “Valjean will be clearing the dungeon tonight. He is hoping to catch whoever is clearing the gate unprepared. Since they snuck by the guard.” Henri said the last bit pointedly at Sandy.

At least he had no idea it was actually me clearing the gate.

“What is with your obsession with stopping me? Do you just want to abandon mom so quickly?”

“I just want my daughter alive.” Henri said, standing suddenly. His chair scraped the tile.

Cinnamon growled, hackles rising.

“Do not get caught. Do not get injured.” Henri left the house. Me and Sandy sat as the front door creaked open then slammed.

“He isn’t going to go tell someone is he?” I asked, concerned.

“If he was he wouldn’t have warned us about Valjean tonight.” Sandy said, chewing her lip. “Maybe you should stay back tonight.”

“No.” I replied after a moment of thought, pressing my hands over the cloak. “I lost one of my sewing needles inside when I… if he finds it, I might be found out.” 

Sandy tapped her fingernails on the table. Then she grabbed the cloak and stood. The wall into her workshop and impromptu bedroom was on the wall into the kitchen and dining room.

The smell of food grew stronger. Henri prepared an entire meal on the table. For both of us. So maybe he did suspect me.

[CON +6]

The meal left me filled with energy and strength. It made me feel more real and complete. My Health doubled.

With a content sigh, I stood, gathering my backpack and supplies and changing into my cloak.

“I’m going to try to bring home one of the spiders today.” I said.

“Make sure its dead.” Sandy said between bites, still eating.

I pushed open the door to outside, pausing for just a moment.

[Shadow Cloak] [Mana: 9/10]

The clock ticked with my mana. But I wondered, did I really even have to clear the first floor of monsters? As long as I had at least one mana left after killing the spiders, I could just skip the floor and move to the next. 

I slunk through the town, lurking in the shadows of buildings as I crept around the square. When I came into view of it, I was shocked to see Valjean himself there, strapped in armor and mounting his horse. He spoke tersely to the guard that waited outside.

The guard departed.

Valjean entered.

He had to duck to ride the horse inside the dungeon. The horse itself was a monstrous thing, larger than any horse I had seen in my last life, bulging with muscle. I wondered what kind of classes and skills horses gained. As far as I knew, every living thing here, even insects, had access to the system.

Valjean had a shield the size of a man strapped to his back and a long Halberd in hand, all dark black with bright white filigree. The horse trotted through the portal. I waited for a few minutes before following, slinking around the border of the open square before diving into the portal. 

His eyes swept the plains inside of the dungeon as he trotted forward far ahead of me up the road and directly into the Dungeonheart without stopping. I had to jog to keep up. His horse was taller than I was.

I crept around behind him. He didn’t see to notice me. I didn’t know what kind of Skills Nobles had, but his didn’t seem to be any kind of stealth detection. I wondered if he would notice the shadow wolf inside. He walked casually, whispering something to his horse as he went.

“Good boy. That’s the way…” He said, patting the horses side.

His halberd flashed in the moonlight trailing into the cave. There was a thumping noise as a wolf died. He didn’t even look up.

Was that a skill? Or just his stats? Was his perception so high he saw it and reacted instantly? I crept behind him.

I could do that. My skill wasn’t so different.

Valjean looped around the dungeon. Twice more, his blade flashed, instantly killing the wolves. Not just killing them, mangling them. I looked down at one. His blade hadn’t cleanly parted them like Sandy’s nor pierced them like my needles. The curved blade of the hatched was swung with enough force to shatter their bones, leaving the monsters in piles that splattered against the walls.

They weren’t worth recovering. Hopefully he wouldn’t mangle the spiders as bad as the wolves.

I watched tensely as he trotted his horse around the center room of the dungeon. His expression was bored, looking through the shadows. The gate to the next floor was closed.

The stealthed wolf leapt at his back. He didn’t see it.

Its mouth clamped on his arm, tearing viciously, flopping about and digging its claws into the horses side. The horse didn’t seem to be in any pain, it made a noise of discontent.

“Shadow monster? A first floor miniboss…” Valjean was almost whispering, though it echoed in the cave. It was barely audible over the growling of the wolf. Almost bored, he reached out with his open hand and grabbed the top of the wolf.

There was a crunch.

The body flopped to the floor.

He stopped and stared at the wolf for a second before trotting through to the next floor.

I waited a minute before following behind again.

Valjean’s experience showed. He stared upwards at the canopy, patting the side of his horse again. 

“I hate ambush floors…” He said. Then he stepped until the horse was sideways, holding up his halberd. I wondered if now was the moment to rush forward and look for my sewing needle before he found it.

It glowed with mana as he began to activate a skill. It seemed like one that took a moment to charge. 

After a second, his blade flashed left to right. A wave of light passed through the trees. The forest shook.

The trees began to fall. The closest ones first; the sight confused me. I thought that something invisible was lancing out to break them down one at a time before I realized they had been cut clean. Painfully bright light began to pour in from the open canopy as dozens of trees collapsed like dominos.

Valjean began to casually saunter into the trees, his horse crushing the wood where it stomped on the falling logs.

I shouldn’t have been worried about Valjean finding my needle. He didn’t even look. He just stomped his way down the twisting floor of the dunge0n. His singular attack had cleared the monsters. Broken spider corpses sat beneath tree branches. I carefully counted them all; there were six in total. Enough to expend the whole of my mana.

Unless I found a way to expand my mana, my dungeoneering would end at this floor.

Valjean walked to the end of the second floor; a place I hadn’t reached when I was first here. The floor ended in a wall of trees blocked by hanging vines. It seemed as though his skill hadn’t cut through the vines.

“Only the second floor.” He said. Then he turned around. His eyes swept the floor behind him.

And he waited.

I watched for a few minutes to see what would happen or where he would go. But nothing did. After I was assured he was staying still, I crept back towards the exit. I saw Valjean’s head turn, but his eyes passed right over me, as if he could see the impression of motion but not the motion itself.

I walked back to where I suspected the needle was, finding it half buried in tree limbs. A spider corpse sat on the floor next to it, crushed inward like a broken candy shell. I pulled the needle free with a crunching noise. The [Shadow Cloak] stretched around it, hiding it from view. It was covered in grime and dirt and ash, impressed into the earth. Nine days had passed on the second floor.

I clung to the shadows of the foliage that remained, reaching out and grabbing the spider body as well. I felt the [Shadow Cloak] stretching thing, struggling as it spread out, thinner and thinner.

Then it snapped, disappearing without a sound. I felt Valjean’s eyes land squarely on me.