The bridge shook, as if a ripple propagated through it. Someone screamed out of terror, someone else screamed out in pain. She grasped the rope on the side, her feet firmly planted on the planks as she peeked over to see what happened. The bridge shuddered again as panic began to build up amongst those on it.
Someone was hanging off the side of the bridge, his hand wrapped by a thin strap, digging into his skin – the only thing keeping him alive, was also the very thing torturing him in that moment. She took a deep breath, relaxing her mind, ‘Another soul to save,’ a thought surfaced in her mind as she leapt over the edge of the bridge. Her hands grasped the rope firmly, then released it for a moment. She fell for a brief moment before catching herself on the bridge’s planks.
She moved forward as swiftly as she could with the precision and confidence of someone who had been trained in this sort of thing. In mere seconds she was closing in on the distressed classmate of hers who was squirming and whimpering in pain.
“Alright there pal, take it easy, here’s what we’ll do,” she began but then a crack caught her attention.
She glanced up at the rope that was fraying rapidly under the weight of dozens distressed and panicked students scrambling over each other to get off the bridge. Like a stampede of squirrels rushing in both directions.
“Or, maybe not,” she remarked. The rope jerked, then twisted as another strand snapped, stretching the remaining few to their limits.
She exhaled through her nose like someone mildly inconvenienced by nearing end of the world. Her gaze dropped down to the stretching canyon, like a beast’s mouth, wide open and yearning for a snack. The bridge twisted as the rope snapped, shaking off a few students who fell with an ear-piercing screech into the abyss beneath.
She clenched her teeth as her heart drummed in her chest. The bottom was so far down she couldn’t actually see it. For a moment she wondered if perhaps the mist at the bottom of the canyon would cushion her fall, spoilers – it didn’t. The overly strained remaining ropes snapped shortly after, and she plunged into a free fall, with nothing to save her.
The bottom of the canyon contained nothing but jagged rocks and a small stream, a beautiful sight to be your last, but one she wished she didn’t have to witness. Bones snapped, darkness consumed her.
“Rewind,” a voice echoed in her mind. And so she did. She now stood 10 minutes earlier, staring at the bridge as first students began to step onto it.
“STOP!” she shouted, taking a firm step forth.
“What’s wrong Nora?” spoke one of the teachers.
Sudden pain jolted through her body from her back, as if somebody sunk a dagger into it, she slumped down to one knee, wincing for a few seconds until the pain subsided.
“The bridge won’t hold the weight. One at a time,” she murmured. Her teachers knew of her blessing, or perhaps a curse. They were wise enough to heed her warning, nonetheless.
Such was one of her few most memorable returns, ones where she saved dozens of lives and not just her own.
“Nora? Are you alright?” spoke a woman in a humble, gentle voice.
“Uh?” replied the girl. Nora was in her teens.
“You are spacing out again,” spoke the older woman.
“Oh, sorry mom, was just having another one of my, uh, whatever. So, this is it?”
Her mother approached her. She was in her late thirties, perhaps early forties. Creases on her cheeks made it obvious that she smiled a lot, but the creases on her forehead also showed she had seen sorrow.
“Pride?”
Nora spoke sarcastically, “why did you call it Pride? What an odd name for a dungeon.”
Her mother chuckled.
“Oh no, I didn’t, your great great grandmother, five generations ago, called it so. The first of our bloodline to walk this path.”
“The path of, pride?”
Nora questioned her mother.
“The path of humility rather, this place here is different, unlike any you’d ever seen before. Your whole life I trained you to take on this challenge such that more can be unv-” her mother continued but Nora interrupted her with a loud sigh, “Whatever mom, I get it. Blah blah we’re blessed blah be respectful I’ve heard it before. I get it okay? I’m going in, see-yaaaa.”
She pressed her hand against a stone slab that, judging by the marks on the stone beneath, was very obviously a rotating, hidden door. The stone groaned as it ground against other stones, rotating slowly and unwillingly.
On the other side she was greeted with much of exactly what she expected inside a dungeon. Ancient corridors, stone walls and floors, conveniently lit torches to guide her way into the nearest trap, ghostly sounds and echoes of the past, and a disgusting, stomach twisting stench of a rotting corpse. She gagged slightly as she pulled her shirt over her mouth, “Lovely, just freaking lovely.”
Disgust built up. She walked hastily down the narrow tunnel, confidence in every step and pride in every breath. The tunnel stretched on endlessly. It took minutes of walking before she realized that the tunnel was tapering inwards and walls were narrowing with each step she took.
What made it worse was the fact that when she took a step back, the walls narrowed significantly faster. Her only choice was to walk forward. She took a deep breath, “Alright, so that’s how we’re playing huh? Stupid dungeon,” she straightened her back.
“Pride, pride… pride it is.”
She thought back to her rewinds, to the amount of lives she saved. Confidence built up.
When she reopened her eyes and took a step forth, the walls no longer rubbed at her shoulders. They made way for her. She grinned, “Yeah, that’s me, I am fucking awesome. I save lives with this power, I fear nothing.”
Another step, and there was a grinding noise of stones against stones. Another one and the stones were buzzing, vibrating against each other. She paused, glancing around nervously.
“What is it now?” the walls, unsurprisingly, did not respond, but the stones within them continued to vibrate. Still brimming with confidence, she took a step forth.
The walls disagreed. In a loud, stone-cold clap, the walls shot close on her. Her body reduced to the thickness of merely few millimeters under the immense pressure of the dungeon.
She jolted awake at the sound of her name being called.
“Nora? Are you alright?” spoke a woman in a humble, gentle voice. She swallowed audibly, “Uh? Huh… ah, yes, yes all is,” she groaned as pain shot through her body from her back. Another sensation of a dagger digging into her back. She stumbled, almost falling over but her mother caught her.
“Whoa, okay, I see. Welcome back. How was it?”
Nora clenched her teeth and grasped onto her mother as another mark was bestowed upon her.
“Fine, fine. I got this. Stupid trap. I’ll do better next run.”
Her mother smiled, patting her daughter on the shoulder.
“Of course you will darling. That’s what you’re here for.”
She stepped through the rotating entrance once more.
The dungeon greeted her with a ghostly howl, stench of death and musty, stale air that turned her stomach once more.
“Gods, what a shitty place.”
This time however, the dungeon wasn’t a straight path, it was akin to a slow flowing river’s path – meandering.
She walked on and on. The stench remained consistent. Her disgust built up further, along with mild frustration. The path split at last. To the left it felt hot, distant echoes of gurgling noises could be heard, like boiling over rage. To the right – darkness beckoned her, accompanied by a not so friendly stench of death. She swallowed hard, contemplating where to go.
Something about the gurgling noises was just off-putting. Her disgust built up even further from it as her stomach turned, imagining the worst, the day she found herself on death’s doorstep for the first time, gurgling on her own blood. She shook her head, dismissing the disturbing memory, turning to head into the darkness. It was now that her pride took a hit, her pride that made her say ‘I don’t need anything, it’s just a dungeon, I’ll be fine without any equipment.’.
Death seeming beckoned her. With every step she took through the darkness, she felt chills through her bones. The walls were tight, she had to squeeze, shimmy sideways. Her body rubbing on cold, coarse stones. She felt something sticky and wet at her fingertips. Stench filled her nostrils, stench of death and decay. The walls seemingly parted when she gagged from disgust, giving her room to breathe.
A ray of light beamed through the cracks in the stone above. She glanced up at it, it was as if sunlight breaking through a tiny crack. In the god ray she raised her hands to find them covered in blood. She gagged instinctively, clenching her teeth. A barely audible voice, as if echo of the past, whispered seemingly into her mind, “I am amazing.”
The voice sounded familiar but also not. It was hers, but not now, it was a different time, a different her, distressed, distant. It slithered through her mind, digging itself into the deepest, darkest corners of her prideful thoughts.
“I AM amazing,” she echoed the words, words that faded to darkness and silence as she raised her gaze from her hands to a familiar stone wall where blood and torn clothes remained glued to it.
A memory set in stone. She staggered back, her heart pounding in her chest, “No, this can’t be,” she shook her head, “when I rewind, nothing of me remains. This, this isn’t right,” she stuttered. From the darkness of her mind, a thought crept up, ‘I. Am. Amazing.’ Her eyes widened, panic building up within her.
“NO!”
She shouted, dashing off into the darkness.
Blinded by her fears, or perhaps just by the lack of light, she stumbled through the narrow corridors of the ancient dungeon for what felt like hours, until she felt herself stepping on something. It squealed. She tumbled. As her hands met the coarse stone floors, she found herself on the cold floor. Something brushed up against her leg. Another creature brushed against her elbow.
She scrambled, kicking whatever was at her feet away, thrashing her arms to push whatever was next to her out of the way. Rummaging through the darkness she found a familiar shape, a wooden shaft. She pulled it up, a torch, a spark of hope in her dire situation. She swung it to the side, hitting another shape with enough force to send it tumbling down the tunnel.
A pace away was a tinderbox. She sparked it instantly, lighting up the torch. In that moment – her stomach sunk and she had hoped she didn’t do exactly that. Nora found herself surrounded on all sides by bunnies. Distorted, rotten bunnies. Fur patchy and ancient. Body parts missing. Fluids oozing out of their wounds.
Panicked and disgusted scream of hers echoed through the dungeon’s tunnels seemingly endlessly. The light was a grave mistake, it angered these foul creatures who were accustomed to the darkness. She tried to swallow, but it was as if a knot had formed in her throat.
“No, hah… this is just-” she began but then screamed out of pain when one of these creatures bit into her achilles tendon, tearing right through it.
She fell to the ground, another bite, and then another. No matter how much she thrashed, it only made the pain worse.
“Nora? Are you alright?” spoke a woman in a humble, gentle tone.
“Ye,” she began but then paused as pain coursed through her body from her back. She winced. Anger building up within her.
“Ughh, stupid animals,” she groaned softly. Her mother tilted her head, “Oh, I see. Welcome back honey. How was it?”
Nora glared at her mother, “Awful.”
Her mother squeezed her shoulder and then stepped around her, “Show me.”
Nora swallowed audibly and hunched over slightly, lifting her shirt up to expose her back. She had numerous scars on her back, they formed tally marks. .
Three completed tally marks, and two new ones, for a total of 17..
The two new tally marks were quite bizarrely shaped. The first one was a flat, broad line, as if just pressed into her body with immense pressure, permanently deforming her skin. It recessed into her muscle tissue. The second was a wild, ragged, barely resembling a line, it was more like a collection of tiny, overlapping scars that formed a line. Some were claw shaped, others resembled bite marks by a critter. It was pitted, uneven.
“Owh. That looks pretty awful, what was it?”
“Undead animals,” she uttered, lowering her shirt.
“Whatever,” she stepped away and stretched, then before approaching the door once more, her gaze darted to a traveler’s backpack.
“Uhm, may I borrow it?”
Her mother’s gaze followed.
“Oh? You? And taking equipment?”
Nora sighed, “This dungeon is a bit tricky.”
Her mother smiled, almost glistening with joy.
“Of course dearie. Food, water, rope, knife, torch, all the basics are already packed.”
Nora grabbed it, threw it over her shoulder and ventured inwards once more. This time the dungeon welcomed her with distant echoes of something boiling. Each step she took caused the stones beneath her to crackle, as if a demon walking on them, causing them to overheat and expand with each and every step.
The popping and cracking was easy to endure for the first 30 minutes. After a while it began to irk her. A while later it was outright annoying. Her pace hastened. She climbed up ladders and made it across gaps in the floors. And yet, no matter how far she walked, the noise persisted. Like constantly walking on popcorn, or tiny shells that cracked nonstop. Her patience was reaching its limits.
A distant echo reached her, a pained, frightened scream that seemingly came from the deepest depths of this hellhole. A voice whispered to her. Once more familiar, yet different, distorted by time, a howl of the past.
“I don’t need it,” it whispered softly. As she rounded the next corner she stopped dead in her tracks.
Before her, a twitching corpse. Reanimated by a curse, or perhaps a virus, it didn’t matter. What mattered to her in this very moment was the corpse’s clothes, they were hers. It took a jerky step forth, she recoiled instinctively, holding her torch out in front of the foul creature.
“Great, so, first I find my squished remains and now a walking undead corpse. What’s next?” she asked in an irritated tone.
“Pride,” a distant echo of her own voice whispered to her, “what an odd name for a dungeon,” Nora replied to the whispering echo. Something wasn’t lining up. Her powers weren’t working how they were supposed to. This dungeon was different, it was as if its sole purpose was to torture her with every iteration. She reached for a pickaxe attached to the side of her backpack.
The creature lunged at her the moment she pointed her torch at it. Aggravated by the light it desired to destroy it. One of the eyes was missing, the other followed the torch closely, like a maddened beast. Nora stepped back, dodging the first swiping strike by the undead, “I don’t need…it,” the creature echoed her own words she used to utter frequently to her mother during training.
“I stand above death,” the creature continued to utter before lunging once more.
Nora hesitated for a moment after hearing the words, then firmly grasped her pickaxe and swung it once. A clank echoed through the cave from iron impacting stone. She swung again, and again, until eventually the crunching sound echoed through the dungeon.
The steel crushed bones.
A body slumped down. “I,.”
she took a deep breath, glancing at the pickaxe that was dripping the undead’s blood.
“I do need it,” she admitted at last.
She continued her journey. Each step echoed with more than just popping and crackling sounds, they now carried with them a sense of frustration. The corridors just went on and on and the constant noise was driving her crazy, as did the echoes that kept whispering to her. Once she came face to face with a single door that had countless claw marks decorating it, her instincts told her ‘no’, yet the dungeon showed her no other way to go.
Too many noises. Too many deaths. Too much stink. Too many whispers. Too many dead ends. Frustrated, she swung open the door. It slammed against a stone wall with enough racket to awaken even the most deeply slumbering beast. Inside was a cavernous room, it resembled more a cave, or perhaps a burrow, than the rest of the dungeon.
She barely noticed the shape that sat hunched in the corner. When she did notice it, it was too late, for it had noticed her, and she was far too loud for its preference. The creature rose from its hunched, sitting posture. It was slender and boney. Its wolflike head, thin and malnourished.
A voice echoed in her mind, “I do what I want, I am practically a demi-god.”
She gritted her teeth, grasping pickaxe tighter, “What do YOU want?” but her bravado dissipated the moment she heard a bone-chilling sound of the creatures’ claws scratching the stone wall as it stepped toward her, out of the shadow.
Nora gulped, realizing that the beast before her was an infamous werewolf. A creature of the myths, a stalker in the night. Before her, albeit malnourished and weakened, an apex predator stood. Bloodthirst visible on its face as it sniffed the air. Its eyes white, blinded by life in the eternal darkness, but its other senses sharpened due to it. Its snout furrowed as it took in her delicious scent.
The creature let out a low growl. It vaguely sounded like bubbling lava off in the distance. Saliva dribbled from the corner of its mouth. She tried to scream but it was too late, only gurgling noises escaped her throat as the creature’s teeth ripped through her flesh. She felt her muscles slashed and bones broken. Darkness. Rewind.
“Nora? Are you alright?” spoke a woman in a humble, gentle voice. Nora gasped, glanced around in panic, then shuddered and stumbled backwards from the nearest shadow. Her mother followed her gaze, “Relax. It’s okay.”
Her mother’s firm grasp on her shoulders was reassuring, comforting and warm. Nora leaned in for a hug.
“How many times has it been?” her mother whispered.
“Only three.”
“What happened?” her mother continued.
“A werewolf.”
Her mother chuckled, “Big angry wolf?”
“What’s so funny?”
Nora shot back, pushing her mother away.
“I’ve been through here as well. Want a tip?”
Nora winced as pain shot through her back once more. Another mark.
A thought bubbled up in her mind, ‘I don’t need it,’ but she shook her head, dismissing it.
“Yes, please. I don’t know how many more times I can see my dead self without losing it.”
Her mother nodded, “I know. It took me seven, and my mother’s mother – two.”
Nora sighed, “What am I doing wrong?”
Her mother shook her head and hugged her once more.
“You still don’t quite get it do you? You’re not doing anything wrong; you’re on the right track my dear. The equipment you previously were too arrogant to take, and now the advice.”
Nora, leaning against her mother, glanced over to the side, “Pride?”
Her mother chuckled, “The first in our bloodline with this blessing called it the Pride Trial, the name stuck since then and was etched into the stone here, hence – pride, but you quickly realize it’s to humble your pride, not to further ignite it.”
Nora nodded, “Why?”
Her mother shrugged, “Easy to assume us to be demigods with this power. Something wrong? Just die and restart. But the scars remain to remind you of each and every time.”
“So, humility?”
Nora whispered.
“And serenity,” her mother replied.
“Catch a breather, then try again. And remember – dogs can feel your emotions.”
Nora took a deep breath and sighed.
“I get it now, it’s not a dungeon, but a mirror.”
She ventured into it once more; calm this time around. The noise did not bother her. The stench no longer there. The door opened quietly, and her steps were silent as the wind. No whispering voices, no crackling rocks or slamming doors. The chamber beyond the door was much the same – cavern like and eerie, but lit, albeit dimly, by an unknown source of light, as if the darkness itself made way for light if ever so slightly.
“You’re quiet, thank you,” a voice nudged at the edge of her consciousness. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t her thoughts talking to her this time. She gulped upon realization, “Uhm, I’m sorry to disturb. I’ve been angry, full of myself, I’ve been disgusted by this place.”
The shadowy shape in the corner seemingly shifted, then took a slow, and lazy step forth.
She shuddered, shut her eyes and calmed herself. She pushed the fear away, reminding herself that not all things are out to get her. As she reopened her eyes, in the dimly lit space before her sat a skinny, shaggy dog. Not a foul beast, nor a vicious monster of the nights. A normal, old, shaggy dog. Its ribs peeked through its thin gray fur.
“Few are ever sorry,” the voice tugged at her mind.
She took a step closer, the voice continued, “You were angered, your anger passed on to me. You were disgusted. Your disgust rubbed off on me. You were prideful, it irritated me.”
She sighed, glancing around, “And you are?”
The shaggy dog laid down, “Old, tired, waiting.”
“What for?” she questioned, kneeling beside the old dog.
“For praise that I’ve been good. Praise that I’ve done well,” the quiet voice continued to whisper in her mind. Her hand trembled with hesitation for a moment. The dog’s eyes turned black as the night sky, it glanced up at her. A low growl escaped its throat.
She forced her hand onto the dog’s head, giving it a gentle pat, “You have. So resilient, strong. I admire you.”
The dog’s eyes returned to natural color, its tail wagged.
“As I do you, Dungeon Crawler. Remember this emotion,” the voice dissipated as if never there. The dog’s body morphed into a plant. She found herself sitting amidst a grassy field, her hand rubbing a leaf on a tea plant.
She glanced around in confusion. It was the same room, just brimming with life now. Butterflies fluttered around, light beamed down from the ceiling, and at the center of it stood a single tea plant. The exit – a well lit corridor with an abundance of torches to light the way.
“Uhm, is this it??”
She pondered.
After another moment of hesitation, she ripped two leaves off the plant, and back on her feet.
“Well, okay then.”
She made her way back down the corridor, this time with no stench to accompany her. Just as she was about to reach the entrance, something leapt out of a small hole in the wall and crashed into her leg.
She glanced down, jerking her leg back out of confusion and shock. Whatever crashed into her leg didn’t let go. There was a lot of very angry cursing in a language she didn’t speak. Attached to her pant was a teapot with arms, and legs and… a head.
The teapot was confidently but slowly crawling up her leg, uttering in a language she didn’t speak, or rather – cursing audibly, or so she presumed from the intonation. The green skinned creature, that wore a teapot as a set of armor, glanced up at her, then tugged at her pant and then continued to confidently crawl up.
As it reached her pocket, it paused. She eyed it curiously. Not afraid, but rather – bemused.
The goblin in a teapot reached into her pocket, grasped one of the two leaves she took off the plant, glanced up at her again, squealed many incomprehensible words in an excited tone, and then, just like that, with a snap of its fingers, the creature disappeared.
“So, that’s what happened… I had two, but was left with only one,” Nora explained to her mother while warming her hands on a hot cup of tea.
“You, got mugged, by a kettle? That’s a new one. I wonder what that’s meant to represent? Greed?” her mother chuckled wholeheartedly. Nora laughed too, “That kinda makes sense.”
She looked down at the steaming cup of hot tea, “Well, one’s enough.”
Her mother nodded. A voice echoed at the depths of her mind, ‘I am good enough.’.
Stories in the same world
Is it the same world? Not confirmed yet
- A person stealing my loot that I need… it has happened way too many times now…
- I want a teapot goblin
- bunny apocalypse
- So, here’s what I’ll give you: a werewolf, nothing but skin and bones, his skull just bones, he’s twice the size of ordinary wolves, walks on two legs, can communicate telepathically, looks dangerous, but is actually just looking for someone to scratch his ears, which no longer exist.
- How about love, a bridge or connection between two souls. You know its there but can not touch it. You can feel it warm you but can not see the flames.
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