OF THE CURSED CITY
Only after moving a safe distance from the temple did the dwarf take a torch out of his travel bag and light it.
“We need to hurry, now we are receiving damage from the cursed land again and it is growing, which means this passage leads deep into the city. We don’t have so many health elixirs left. Let’s hurry. We need to find a safe haven,” the dwarf hurried his comrades.
The torch in Redbird’s hand cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, exposing ugly fungal growths and ominous cracks.
“Damn these dungeons,” the dwarf grumbled, spitting on the floor. “Why are they crammed into every game?!”
“You are a dwarf, make yourself at home,” Darriel parried.
“I’m a dwarf, not a mole or a slug! If you had ever been to Flokia, you would know that it is quite cozy in dwarf dungeons. And here… what can be good in such a hole?”
“Quiet,” whispered the archer, listening. “Do you hear?”
Maxim listened. Dripping water, rustling sounds, the distant squeak of rats… and something else. A faint, almost inaudible grinding sound, as if someone was dragging something heavy across the stone.
““Dark Paladin”? ” whispered Artem, gripping his mace tighter.
Shadows danced on the walls of the tunnel, tracing bizarre figures.
Artem raised the torch and threw it forward, sensing the enemy. The light snatched a tall figure, clad in armor as black as pitch, from the darkness. Death and hatred emanated from him. Two red lights flickered on the helmet, exactly like the eyes of a demon. In his hands he was clutching a huge two-handed sword, from which a faint ominous light emanated. On the sides of the Paladin, like faithful servants, walked two undead – skeletons, clad in decaying armor, with empty eye sockets, greedily looking at the living. Their bony jaws clacked in anticipation of prey.
“Damn it!” Artem roared, raising his shield higher. Dasha fired an arrow. It pierced the eye socket of one of the skeletons, and it collapsed, crumbling into dust. But the other two continued to advance.
Maxim understood that they were in trouble. But he couldn’t help his comrades in any way. Unarmed and without armor, he could only stand on the edge of the torchlit platform, silently watching the battle.
The Paladin didn’t make a sound. He just raised his sword, and a bone-chilling screech of metal against the ceiling of the dungeon resounded. Sparks flew down. This titanic sword with a very wide blade was the size of a dwarf and weighed, must have been the same.
“Damn…” Artem whispered, clenching his mace. “We’re retreating!”
Dasha fired an arrow, but it bounced off the Paladin’s armor as if from a stone wall. The second undead rushed to the attack, clacking bones and waving bony claws at the tips of his fingers.
The fight broke out instantly. Artem took the blow of the undead, blocking it with his shield, and hitting with his mace. Dasha found a gap in the Paladin’s defense by plunging an arrow into his eye socket, without, however, any noticeable damage to him.
Maxim stood as if paralyzed. Fear paralyzed his movements. He tried to remember at least something from his new abilities and real skills, but there was only emptiness in his head.
At that moment, he heard a strange sound – a muffled scraping of stone.
“Maxim! Watch out!” Dasha shouted.
Without noticing it himself, he leaned his back on a lever on the wall.
Raising his head, he saw the ceiling above him beginning to collapse. Huge stone blocks were falling down, ready to crush him to pieces.
Time seemed to slow down. He saw the stones approaching him, saw the horror in the eyes of Dasha and Artem. He knew this was the end.
But suddenly, someone’s strong hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him aside. Maxim fell to the ground, choking from dust and fear. A stone rain collapsed over him, turning the place where he had just stood into a pile of debris.
Maxim looked at the collapsed ceiling, realizing how close he was to death.
“Trap,” Redbird grumbled, examining the debris. “Ancient, well camouflaged. Only a dwarf with good eyesight could have noticed it.”
He pointed to a small mechanism hidden behind one of the plates. “Press this plate – and everything will collapse. You’re lucky. Be more careful next time.”
Both undead, not endowed with good reaction, remained buried under the rubble.
Max looked at the two-handed sword sticking out of the pile of stones, still pulsating with green light. Wanting to finally get his first weapon, he approached and grabbed the handle.
He pulled up…
“Looks like you won’t be King Arthur.” the dwarf snorted, looking at his pointless attempt to pull out the sword.
“Don’t worry,” Daria explained. “These swords weigh so much that no one can use them. Even giants.”
Suddenly, the handle of the sword twitched and went up.
The pile of stones under Max’s feet stirred and came into motion.
The Dark Paladin, with a barely filled red life bar, slowly rose from under the rubble, his hand still clutching the sword closer to the guard. Maxim, almost hanging on the handle, stepped back with a cry.
The dwarf and the dark elf showered the paladin with a hail of blows from arrows and spells.
Finally, messages poured in from the system signaling that the battle was over:
You have destroyed Dark Zombie Level 15.Dark Zombie Level 15.
Reward: Experience +5
You have destroyed Dark Zombie Level 13.Dark Zombie Level 13.
Reward: Experience +4
You have destroyed Dark Paladin Level 18.Dark Paladin Level 18.
Reward: Experience +16
Experience to the next level: 1165 (+25) \1200
From the first zombie crumbling to dust, old leather boots remained lying on the ground, which Max appropriated with general silent agreement, having previously walked barefoot through the dungeons.
The deeper the dungeons went underground, the worse Max’s companions felt. The dwarf was covered in sweat and drank one healing potion after another.
“It’s even worse underground than above…” he groaned.
“I don’t feel anything.” Max confessed. “What kind of damage is killing you?”
“Maybe he is still cursed? Monsters do not receive damage from the cursed land.” The elf’s voice seemed to joke, but the dull click of the cocked crossbow string in the stone arched vaults of the tunnel sounded loud and eloquent enough to make it clear that she still did not fully trust Max.
“Come on, you still go first, Arthur.” she picked up the dwarf’s joke. “Moreover, you see traps so well in the dark.”
Letting Max go ahead, she herself went behind everyone. So that the dwarf with the torch was between them.
“The mobs don’t feel you. And you don’t receive damage from the cursed land, and we will feel more comfortable this way,” she explained.
However, it was not quiet in the tunnels.
At the edge of the torchlit area of the floor, where the light barely broke through the darkness, something was constantly moving. Shadows writhed, and from time to time there was a scraping of claws on the stone slabs, creating an ominous symphony that made the blood run cold in the veins. The flashes of red