Araneatis Maze (1) [Re-Edited]

A loud ringtone woke Levi. He ignored the first two rings, excusing it as a random caller. The third ring confirmed its importance. Nobody ever called him thrice. Groaning, he rolled over and massaged his back. He gasped as his finger brushed against a long, black bruise. He remembered the day he got it—a light tap of a sword. It streaked from his right hip, across his back, and ended below his left shoulder. A month and a half, and it hadn't healed.

The fourth ring came.

Removing his shoulder-length silver hair from his face, he found his phone and checked the caller's ID.

"Shit…"

Levi answered to avoid the fifth ring.

[Get here—! We—Dungeon—raid.] Damion's voice broke.

"Bu"—Damion hung up before Levi finished, leaving a message with the Dungeon coordinates—"t."

He stumbled to his feet and tidied his clothes. It didn't accomplish anything with torn seams and mud and blood stains. A phone was a necessity for a Hunter. Clean clothes and body weren't. As ready as possible, he snatched a slice of bread, grabbed the tan backpack twice his size beside the off-hinge broken door, strapped his trusty steel dagger to his thigh, and rushed out of his wooden shack. 

Levi snacked on bread, scarfed down full bites, jumping over mud puddles, splashing some, adding a little brown to his muddy pants as he dodged trees and underbrush. Narc came into view. Trash, debris, and shit littered the gravel streets. Alongside buildings, filth-covered civilians slept and sat, eyes watching him as they waited. Buildings were amalgamations of metal sheets, broken brick, and mud—only those who earned lived indoors. The rest… the Unbound—waited for death… or rare opportunities.

Through a dozen alleys, the filthy streets were paved over into cleaner, well-cared-for streets with brick buildings. All civilians owned houses. No one here waited for or wished for their premature death. One man in clean black clothes dragged a body to the Filth with one hand. The other held a bloodied apple. Levi eyed it in passing, thinking of snatching it for himself as he gripped his knife but shook the notion. Ahead, a man in similar clothes knelt, washing away red stains.

He swallowed the last chunk of bread.

****

Exiting the last alley, a perimeter of stone blocked his path. Four men stood before it, dressed in black suits—Hunter Association Officials. Levi showed his Hunter's License, and they permitted him entry. Heading further in, the Dungeon's Gate came into view—a black, vertical disk-like vortex floating above the ground—the Araneatis Maze—one of two C-Rank Spawning Dungeons.

Standing before the Gate were Damion, Venessa, Arlo, Brian, and two new faces. The last two held a shield and a spear.

Damion had his short black hair slicked back, highlighting his yellow-slitted eyes. He turned, and his green sparrow tattoo running up the right side of his neck reflected the sunlight. His collar covered half of it. Its head was tilted to the right, and its eyes were fixed on the sky.

His eyes smiled as he strode over. Levi stepped back.

"You're here." He trailed. Slow. Hands at his side.

Stepping further back, Levi searched for an escape—the others. No, none; even the extras didn't glance at him. Mouthing words too far away to reach his ears. Scream—no, that wouldn't lead anywhere. His back pressed against the barricade. Damion extended his arm for a handshake.

Levi met eyes with him. His eyes twisted, and so did his lips—an actual demon in a human's skin. His expression cooled to ice, and his arms flashed—

Levi's vision blackened to nothing as his stomach and body caved in. Shockwaves tore at all angles of his body, rumbling his insides and firing hot, chunky liquid up his throat, out his mouth along with his breath. The world spun, hanging in an arc, zooming in and out as light returned. A crippling heat came next.

Where am I? What happened? The questions lingered for seconds or minutes, and then air returned to his lungs. The world stopped spinning. He clutched his stomach, which stung—his guess, another bruise. Damion towered over him, his back facing him.

"The Dungeon Permit doesn't last all day." Damion returned to the others. "Healer, heal him. We'll need him."

None of them helped him. No help or pity for Unbound. His only use was carrying their shit. They'd only protect him—save him when death gripped his neck and now when his injuries hindered his use.

Damion led the others into the Gate. One stayed—a perpetual frown scarring her face. Venessa crouched before him with her hand extended. Greenlight sparkled.

A flawless, speckless white robe fitted her as strands of her long amber hair flickered in the breeze. Green crystal teardrop earrings hung, wasted dangling on her ears, reflecting sunlight. Knowing her, they were Divine Weapons. Weapons that the Gods unfairly gifted to humans which always ended up in the hands of people like Damion. Or her.

But she was different than Damion. She healed him. His bruise, which pulsed agony after agony across his width, shrank to a point and disappeared. Pain flew off with it. Then she stood. Without saying a word and forever frowning, she entered the Gate.

Levi crawled to his feet, swaying as he steadied himself, head spinning, bruises stinging, and throat gagging. He spat the rest of his breakfast out as he did. His stomach growled, asking for the food he'd lost. Without the time, he ignored it, stumbled to the Gate, and entered.

What a waste!

****

The Dungeon was quiet, and Levi's heartbeat pounded in his chest. As he caught up to the party, he kicked rocks underfoot. They hadn't gone too far; the light of a Light Orb—a simple illumination spell—floated ahead, casting away the darkness.

The Araneatis Maze was a maze of cave systems strung together, leading to an endpoint where the Queen of the Dungeon rested. Maps were useless in maze-type C-Rank Dungeons, as when the monsters respawned, the structure and layout of the tunnels shifted.

"Anything?" Damion asked.

"Nothing," Arlo said, closing his eyes and wrapping his hands around the back of his ears.

"Keep an ear out for them."

Arlo nodded.

Minutes later, with Levi's calves burning, they arrived at a five-tunnel intersection, with the fifth tunnel above them. Arlo slowed and raised a balled fist.

"How close?"

"Fourteen, twenty feet. Above, the front, and the right. Their scuttering quieted."

"Brian, disorient the front and right." Damion said.

Brian nodded and grabbed the air in front of him. Two lightning spears shaped in his hands, and they shot toward the floor of the tunnel entrances. The cavern shook, scorched rock thrown, as Araneatis—eight spider-legged black ants—darted out. Blood and screeches scattered, as did a cloud of dust. Dozens with missing legs, eyes, and smashed abdomens crawled for them, blood spattering onto the ground. No care for their or other lives. They fell from the sky, too.

"Healer, porter, Arlo, take the middle." Damion backstepped, and the headless body of a falling Araneatis dropped to the floor. His wind sword was in his hand. "The rest kill."

Levi reached for and unsheathed his knife, which he hid at the side of his leg. He did as Damion instructed, "remain in the middle," but he had plans. The Light Orb floated above, illuminating the cavern. Levi twisted his wrist, angling the knife, and a reflection flickered on the graveled floor, up one of the extra's backs and arms, then onto an Araneatis.

The action had been practiced for weeks, across several times where he'd come close to getting caught, and with practice came certainty of precision.

The reflection met the eye, and smoke rose. The Araneatis leapt upward. Levi followed. It lurched sideways; he trailed after it, and it screeched, burrowing past the tanker toward him.

Levi dove behind Venessa, and it rammed into her. He caught her unconscious body.

It towered over him, and time slowed down for him. If he were to die, his purpose of reflecting sunlight into one of their eyes would become meaningless. Even if he didn't, it was pointless. It happened once. Venessa had once shown kindness to him. And he latched onto it, thirsting for more.

He rolled to the side with Venessa. The ground shook behind him. Rocks flew and pelted his back. Thunder rumbled, and then the Araneatis collapsed beside them. A roasted aroma permeated the air.

He pushed himself sideways, out from under Venessa, and caught the eye of Damion. He knew, but the dungeons were no place for this. There was no place to beat up party members. He was safe for now. Whether risking his life for this moment was worth it or wasn't, he'd find out. 

Cradling her in his arms, he waited.