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Packmule of the Dungeon

For generations, Monster filled dungeons have plagued the world. Ozel Kasper, the 'pack mule' of the Black Lotus Guild, was left to die. Unwilling to easy into that sweet night, she fights back. After falling to another world, crippled and broken; she given a choice. Become a Saint and save not only her world but all worlds cursed by the Dungeon Plague; or die like a lowly dog. Ever the Opportunist and driven by a burning desire for revenge, Ozel agrees.

Zealnote · Fantaisie
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61 Chs

Chapter 52: Private Conversation

"Unhand me this minute you good for nothing wench!"

"No, we're going to talk."

"Where are we!"

"In the tower." Oz placed the cow-skull down on the empty floor before her. The entire space was empty actually. Nothing more than shimmering darkness and a sea of stars under their feet. She then sat down before the skull, with a wave of her hand he once again took shape.

The lich stared at his hands in confusion, the illusion now turned into flesh.

Oz pulled out a much needed drink from her inventory and took a long swig of the sweet tea. A matching bottle placed before the unlikely pair along with a pack of jerky and sweet cookie crisps.

An awkward silence covered the space, only broken when the lich's hand reached out. Boney fingers crinkling on the soft wax paper package.

"I'm from a world called Earth, a slice of its reality that has people called hunters. Ascended human beings with all sorts of power and problems." Oz kept her voice neutral as she stared up at the twinkling stars.

"I've never been much, but a packmule. Lugging supplies up and down dungeons. One day everything went wrong. I nearly died." She then pointed to the scars lining her right eye.

"Fell out of the dungeon I had been in, into another world. This world actually. Nahern ripped my eye out and put something called a Dragon ruby into it. Now I can see things, hear things."

The lich froze his inspection of the cookies at that. Quietly inspecting her.

"You are a saint. The promised Saint."

Oz gave a slow nod. "And I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't want to hurt people, I have no need to hurt you. I only need this so i can unlock the gate to the final tower."

Above her hand appeared the crystal that seemed to give the Lich strength. A shimmering prism that slotted with the previous one she had before. Together they made the beginnings of a star. 

His fingers reached out desperately for it, waiting for Oz to rip her hand away but froze when she did not.

The lich sighed heavily, which was quite a feat given he was bone underneath the fine suit.

"Why do you want to do such a thing?" The Lich then leaned over, laying out to stretch out his long limbs. Despite the fine suit, it was a lazy action that showed a far different personality then the regal gentleman.

Oz watched the prism disappear into stars again and turned her eyes to the sky. 

"I want to climb the tower and defeat the Dragon. To end all this pointless suffering. To get revenge against those who abused me. To simply say I did it? Does it matter the reason? I am going to finish what I started. That means collecting all nine of these." 

One eye socket took light at that, glowing red then blue then a spiraling purple. Slowly he spoke a familiar poem that made Oz's chest tighten.

With the Dragon's Eye to guide us,

From the dungeon afar,

From within, we shall unlock,

The path to the Tower's star,

With the Dragon's Saint,

We will overcome fate,

The challenge of the dungeons nine,

And claim the Tower's prize divine.

As the Dragon's Eye glows,

Our enemies will fall,

For we are fearless in the face of fear,

As she fulfills the Dragon's call.

With the final line the Lich pointed at Oz, one boney finger pointed at her nose.

"You dare to answer the Dragon's call with such a lackluster party. You will wipe out the moment you leave."

With that the Lich stood, dusted off his trousers. "I will assist you."

"You will?" Oz dared to feel a ray of hope as she stood.

"Of course, better than rotting here in this dungeon. Constantly bothered by greedy scavengers who seek out the spoils left behind by those clueless fools that abandoned their hopes. Besides you have my skull, which puts me in your debt." 

"My name is Oz. Ozel Kasper. And you are?"

The lich tilted his skull at her, eye sockets glowing softly in amusement. "You may call me Sir Come Diean.

Oz blinked at that, sounding out the odd sounds of a more guttural, rattling language that came from deep in his bones. It took her a moment to even attempt the sounds right.

"The Comedian? What brought you here? Why are you…ah…in such a state."

He sighed sadly, a shake of his skull head. "My party wiped out the original boss of this dungeon, dehydrated and starved from cold. The ice absorbs , the salt draws away, a dangerous partnership. I and another were the only survivors but the coward left me for dead. Damn fool. Now that my mind is clear I feel ashamed of my actions. To think I acted so stupidly."

Oz placed a hand on his arm, a warm surge of mana flowing between them. "Time doesn't heal all wounds, I would know."