UH CH 9 Part 2 (Patreon)

Bullets screamed past my head.

One of our guys went down hard, screaming as a round shredded his thigh. Blood sprayed across the concrete. Richard dragged him behind cover, shouting orders I barely registered.

I didn’t have time to think. Just shoved Jana to the ground and pivoted. Though I have been training for years now, and even survived a dungeon break when I was a child. This was my first fight against human enemies. 

A masked bastard came at me with a machete. I slammed my shovel into his chest and his arm. Heard something crack. He seemed unfazed, but his broken arm dropped his blade. I kicked it away and then smashed his head with all my strength. Then, time seemed to work as he dropped down, unmoving. Was he dead? I did not have the leisure to consider what could have been my first human kill. Let’s keep the existential crisis for later.

Then more shadows moved—fast. Six. No, eight. They emerged from nowhere, fully equipped and synchronized. This wasn’t random. This was a hit.

I slid toward the injured Cleaner and dropped to one knee. He was still alive. I immediately found the source of his wound. Blood kept pumping out like a damn fountain. But I could not afford to give first aid as I would lose track of the enemies.

I cursed under my breath.

No guns. No range. Just a shovel and a rusty knife. Dumb mistake. Rookie-level mistake. I’d been so focused on the cleaning prep, I’d forgotten to prep for possible actual combat. Hot weapons were very complex and materializing them would be extremely mana-consuming. 

Thankfully, there was someone who did not make the same mistake.

“Catch!”

I looked up. Iron Fist hurled a weapon through the air. I caught it clean—a compact, matte-black rifle. 

Short barrel. Mana-synced. High-end gear. My thoughts moved./

“Sniper type. You can move with it. Make it count!”

I nodded and flicked the safety off. My subclass, Ranger, came in handy in a moment like this. 

Passive Skill. [Archery] 

Active Skill. [Hawk eyes] and [Focus]. 

The world around me seemed to slow down as mana gathered into my eyes. Thanks to my focus skills, all useless noises and stress left my body. I could not use this rifle to maximum efficiency thanks to my lacking mana, but I did not need to.

The enemies in the distance now looked like they were just a few steps away from me. I could not see their faces as they were covered by masks. The gears they were wearing did not show their affiliation.

It mattered not.

Adjust. Aim and… shot. A simple series of movements followed, but the results were deadly. I only hesitated a fraction of a second when aimed at the head, but it was more because I knew that such armor had a reinforced headset for obvious reasons. 

First shot—clean hit. Took a Viper in the thigh. The second shot grazed another. Not enough to drop him, but enough to slow him.

In the distance, I heard the sound of battle. Someone was engaging Iron Fist in close combat. I nearly froze. Retired hunter or not, Iron Fist was once a D-ranked hunter. For someone to match him would mean they were near that level as well.

We need to retreat!

I moved, firing between crates and torn-up barriers, trying to give the others some breathing room. But something was wrong behind me.

“Light of life, b-bind the wound, light—”

Jana. Her spell fizzled. Hands shaking. Voice barely above a whisper.

I turned, just for a second. Her healing spell sparked once, then died in her palms. She stared at her own hands like they belonged to someone else.

“Focus, Jana.”

“I—I’m trying!”

I saw it—panic sinking in. The kind that doesn’t just make your hands shake, it shuts your brain off, and unlike me, she did not seem to have a focus skill. 

She didn’t even flinch when a bullet shattered the wall a foot from her.

“I stopped being a Hunter because of this,” she whispered. “He bled out in front of me, and I—I froze.”

This isn’t the time for some sob backstory!

I didn’t have time to be gentle and threw my ointment at her with a flick from my hand.

“You don’t save everyone. Just save this one.”

She blinked. Her hands clenched around the ointment. Light flickered again.

I turned back and unloaded the last few shots in the mag, covering Richard as he lobbed a shock grenade into the center of the pack. It cracked with a flash and scattered the closest enemies.

Crazy bastard! But in a situation like this, we didn’t really have a choice. 

“Move! Down the tunnel!” Iron Fist barked after punching away his opponent and taking some distance.

We didn’t wait.

Dragging the injured, we retreated fast. Iron Fist stayed behind us and kept the attackers at bay thanks to his Gatling gun. 

Pure death and destruction rained down from that weapon as it seemed to shred everything apart. But they seemed unfazed, not even looking at their dead comrades. And more came out from who knew where. 

Vipers chased, but we forced them back, fighting tooth and nail down cramped halls. 

“Those guys are strange. It’s like they don’t fear death.” Iron Fist said from behind us, and I shared his thoughts. It was true that super well-trained groups could stay calm even if many of them faced death. But such a group had no place in a dungeon like this.

Whatever conspiracy we had stepped in, this was something way beyond our pay grade.

Just my luck!

This was supposed to be an easy job. Get in, clean, get out. Why the hell was I getting chased by some hitmen group?

After running for a while, we finally reached the last room. A large three-meter-tall door. 

This was the boss's room. The door should have been open as it was cleaned not long ago. But since it was closed…

“The boss is alive,” I muttered, and everyone's expression darkened as well. 

“What do we do?” Jana asked, but Iron’s Fist did not hesitate.

“Let’s enter. This is still only a slime dungeon. Once we initiate the boss battle. No one can enter. We just need to stay in the dungeon for a few days. Rescue will come.”

We all exchanged glances. This was a risky plan. But it was our only plan. There was no way for us to win if we fought those intruders head-on. 

The one saving grace was that I did prepare some rations. Furthermore the Association would search for me tomorrow for my testimony and if they did not find me, they would track me. 

Realizing that this plan was indeed not that bad. I nodded. 

“Let’s do this,” Richard said, trying to appear cheerful. Even in this situation, he was showing a good level of leadership and nerve of steel.

The others had no choice but to follow us, but they all had hope.

The gate slammed shut behind us. Light flickered on the wall as torches lit one after another. Allowing us to see what stood in this room.

The boss emerged. Bones, weapons, broken armor, a black cape, and a spectral light dancing in its eyes. 

“This can’t be real…” Richard muttered.

“Fuck.” Iron Fist cursed while Jana fell on the ground as if she were a marionette with its string cut.

“Hahah…”

I let out a laugh of disbelief. How could I not? This situation was simply absurd. 

This was a slime dungeon. One that was abandoned long ago because of its low productivity and poisonous slime. 

Even as we entered, I considered what I thought could be the worst possible situation. With how strange everything was, it was likely that even the boss might have undergone a mutation. Still, I judged that even a mutant slime king would be acceptable. 

Now, I realized that my imagination was just not rich enough. What I thought would be the worst situation did not even come close to the absurd joke that was in front of us.

A laugh cut off my train of thought, as if refusing to allow me escapism..

Cold. Mocking.

From the shadows near the back of the room, a figure stepped out.

“What a pleasant surprise. To think, the baits I cast would reel in such a good catch.”

Black cloak. Bone mask. Staff in hand. Despite his lack of muscles or vocal cords, his voice sounded strangely pleasant and well-mannered. 

The ground around him twitched. Corpses. Old and new. Rising. I immediately understood why the people we faced earlier did not fear death. 

After all, the one we were facing was none other than —

“A Necromancer.”

Our chances of survival just took a nosedive.