Chapter 43

Man, I don't know what it is about me and forgetting Fridays. I've just been rushing to get this editing pass finished since David requested the manuscript a month early. Anyway, sorry again, and I'll go ahead and schedule next week's posts to make sure I remember!

Chapter 43 - Entrapment

Somewhere South of the Crystal Reach

Several Days Later

Karen

This was a terrible fucking idea.

It wasn’t just the cryptic message she’d received from an unknown sender—barely more than coordinates and a promise of “good hunting.” Or the quest prompt that had followed. You know, the S-rank difficulty nightmare to destroy a dungeon core.

It wasn’t even the insane payday. A boatload of gold, the amount ratcheting upward each day the quest went uncompleted. Or how eagerly the other members of <Arts and Crafts> had jumped at the chance to be rid of the Crystal Reach and their kiddos’ constant complaints. Apparently, digging through rubble looking for so-called “relics” wasn’t as entertaining as blowing themselves up like little terrorist prodigies. Go figure.

Even the grueling, week-long hike through these swaying grass fields full of over-leveled monsters hadn’t broken Karen’s spirit. Although, those damn centipedes had come close.

It was the sight before her that had her stomach clenching tight.

“What the hell is that?” one of the moms murmured, the others slowing... then stopping as they crested a ridge ringing a circular valley.

Unnatural dark clouds pooled like a bruise against the pale morning sky, wrong in a way that made Karen’s skin crawl. The clouds didn’t drift. Didn’t move. They hovered there, lightning crackling within their depths. She’d been hoping... alright, praying, that this wasn’t what she thought it was. That his twisting feeling in her gut was wrong.

“The quest marker looks like it’s right beneath those clouds,” Sandra said slowly, the implication lingering in the air, punctuated with a peal of thunder.

Karen didn’t answer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen clouds like these before, except looming above twisting dark spires and dead branches. Then there were the forum posts—Rogue-Net abuzz with speculation about a new dungeon. One that was supposedly crawling with high-level monsters and valuable loot.

Posts that suggested Jason might be involved.

“Maybe we should turn back,” Karen murmured.

That suggestion was met with skepticism from the others and a nasal whine from Tommy.

“But Mommy, but you promised I could stab things!” he protested, slashing at the air with his oversized dagger. “I’ve been practicing!”

She grimaced. Ahh, right... that. The other children were looking antsy, too. And, in this world, they were heavily armed. A fact that the mothers were slowly starting to realize as they eyed them warily—then glanced to Karen with pleading expressions. It was best to keep their growing little sociopaths distracted. It quelled the bloodlust.

“Karen, we have to keep going,” Sandra whispered beside her. “It’s either this mystery dungeon, or they start trying to pluck one of the “pretty birdies” back in the Crystal Reach, and we all get murdered. Brutally.”

“Or we stay out here and the centipedes eat us,” another mom offered with a shudder.

“Plus, Tom and I could use the money,” Sandra added with a wince. The others looked at her skeptically. “What? We want to remodel our kitchen.”

So, plenty of reasons to keep moving. Distracting the kiddos. Shit options. Money.

Still, she hadn’t felt this way since that blood-soaked alley in Pax, watching Jason tear through her entire guild like they were made of gory tissue paper—

No. It was impossible. Why would the necromancer decide to set up shop in enemy territory? In this land of harsh sunlight, and with the environmental buffs still radiating away from the Crystal Reach? Besides, was it even possible for a player to control a dungeon? So, she willed herself to plant one foot in front of the other, but she definitely pulled her massive two-handed hammer from her back and hefted it in each hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go. This dungeon core won’t destroy itself,” she muttered.

He couldn’t be here; he couldn’t be behind this.

She kept repeating that like a spell... or a prayer.

Yet as they started down into the ruined remains of Asphodel, she realized her prayers were landing on deaf ears. Those rainless clouds blotted out the sunlight and left the air heavy and oppressive. Ruined homes and shops loomed around them, their once-majestic forms now reduced to crumbling stone and tainted crystal, the murky depths corrupted with threads of darkness.

Dark mana. As though the fucking cloud cover wasn’t evidence enough.

With a nod at her guildmates, they all drew their weapons and moved into formation. Casters in the center, fighters forward, and the kiddos way out front. “I bet you can’t beat Ryan to that big Mausoleum,” Karen cooed over Tommy. “Last one there gets last choice on snacks!”

“Oh, I so can!” he chirped and then vanished… along with the rest of the kiddos.

They just left a trail of dust in their wake as they all activated Sprint.

The other moms shot her conflicted looks, but no one said a word. After all, the kids were expendable. They would respawn, and they could use the tether to recall them. Karen didn’t feel great about it, but it was better than making that damn hike again. The rest of the group finished their preparations, shields raised, bows knocked, and rainbow-colored auras wrapping their limbs as their casters began chanting spells of protection and enhancement.

Yet none of that prepared them for what came next.

Because, in the dead center of that ruined village stood a massive pillar of stone and corruption, shadowy mana swirling around it like a living thing. A mausoleum, but one unlike any Karen had ever seen. It was huge. Spanning more than a hundred feet tall and looming over the landscape like a dark sentinel. But it was also wide. Like someone had cobbled together a makeshift series of buildings from the original opening. A single arch now marked the entrance, gaping open, a shimmering green barrier flickering at its threshold.

It was the banner draped over the top that brought them up short.

“DUNGEON GRAND OPENING,” it announced.

“Is-is that painted in blood?” one mom asked.

Karen swallowed hard. Yeah, it was definitely blood. She was starting to—

“Oh, candy!” Tommy exclaimed, pointing at the entrance, where another sign rested on the ground. Karen had, uh, missed that one.

Under other circumstances, she’d have praised her son for his reading ability. He seemed to learn so fast inside the game—too fast, arguably. However, her brain was still vainly trying to process the sign itself. The one that was advertising candy, coffee, and other refreshments. Also, an “Unhappy Meal” special, complete with a cartoonish skull mascot.

“What the hell is this? Wasn’t this supposed to be a dungeon?” another mom murmured.

However, Karen had other problems. Tommy had disappeared, just a faint blur streaking inside that yawning portal of death, the other children hot on his heels.

“No, wait—” Karen called out, the other mothers looking suddenly distressed.

This whole place screamed trap.

Yet it was too late. Far, far too late.

The kids streaked across that green threshold.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Karen muttered. “If they’re dead, get ready to back out of the dungeon fast, and we’ll regroup and wait for them to respawn,” she instructed the others, already visualizing the worst-case scenario. They nodded and hefted their weapons.

They soon barreled across that threshold, and a system notice flared:

Welcome to The Farm!

Welcome to The Farm!

We’re a homegrown, family homestead established in 2076. We provide a positive and constructive learning environment focused on traditional gaming values. Please make sure to visit our store and peruse our high-quality, handmade goods, try our head chef’s farm-to-table menu, or roam our dry, desiccated ruins.

And for those looking for adventure, the barn calls.

Maximum Occupancy: 50 players

Instance Duration: 4 hours

Respawn Location: Dungeon Entrance

Note: All sales are final. No refunds for dismemberment, psychological trauma, or existential dread. Most importantly, let’s all have fun… or else!

Karen and her crew stood there at the threshold, breathing hard. Weapons raised. Fireballs ready. Buffs gleaming. A miniature army ready to blast this twisted place apart, save their children, and then hightail it out of what was guaranteed to be a cesspit of murder.

Yet there was, well... nothing to murder?

Despite its grim trappings, the interior of the mausoleum was surprisingly cheerful. Tidy, well-lit with glimmering red gems in the ceiling, and decorated with the kind of attention to detail that suggested someone had put considerable thought into the customer experience. Stalls dotted the walls, selling food, gear, and consumables. Except, all of the were strangely empty. As were the shelves and counters. Which was odd. However, she would just have to add that to the list.

The children were already lining up at the food counter and claiming samples from a tray that had been left there. Karen had to choke back the bite of bile as she saw exactly what they were eating. Those so-called “samples” appeared to be fried centipede legs and candied batwings. She had no idea what the kids saw with the content filter, but they were feasting with ravenous delight.

Sandra leaped forward to try to stop the kiddos. “Don’t put that in your mouth! What have I told you? It looks like candy, but it could be poison!”

And, just like that, their formation dissolved into chaos.

Not that it mattered. There were no enemies here. Only the tables placed at even intervals—no doubt, seating for the ‘dungeon diners?’ And on the far side, lanes had been roped off leading to a counter. The sign over the top announced that this was the “ticket booth.” The one right beside a set of stairs leading down into murky depths.

“What is this madness?” Karen muttered. Her mind was already racing through possibilities, each one worse than the last.

This wasn’t just a dungeon. This was a production. Someone had invested serious time and resources into this place—the kind of someone who treated murder like a business opportunity.

Only one person she knew could be that insane. That thorough. That theatrical.

She half expected to see a sapphire camera orb floating there, filming them.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” a cheery voice called from the shadows, “to the grand opening of our splendid new dungeon diving experience!”

Karen whirled, her hammer raised and at the ready.

He looked different than Karen remembered. Pale white cheeks, sunken eye sockets, and a grin that seemed to stretch just a bit too wide. His cloak replaced with a simple, black robe that covered his body. An ivory cane that tap, tap, tapped at the polished stone floor as he strode out from behind the counter to greet his new “customers.” His steps strangely uneven, as though his balance was slightly off. Yet she’d remember that voice anywhere.

Apparently, so did the others.

“Jason,” one of the moms murmured.

All movement in the dungeon—or store?—or mall?—or amusement park?—ground to a halt. All eyes turned to that unassuming skeletal figure. The one smiling at them broadly beneath yet another blood-drenched sign. He was apparently going for a theme.

Karen’s mouth went dry. She could already see the video in her mind, one of Jason’s earliest streams, taken in a dungeon north of the Twilight Throne. Near a town called Lux. A group of travelers had been stupid enough to hunt the necromancer. They’d entered that dungeon, confident in their numbers and levels. Not a single one had made it out alive.

He’d trapped them inside and turned their deaths into content.

“We need to get the hell out of here,” Karen hissed.

The others seemed to have the same idea. Several of her guildmates stepped backward instinctively, hands gripping their weapons, their children suddenly forgotten. They could always make more, right? Not a single one had forgotten their gruesome deaths at Jason’s hands—how he had used their own kids against them. The corrupt energy that had erupted from their tiny little bodies and ripped them apart, stripping them down to the bone.

And now, here he was, doing it again.

One mother broke completely, spinning toward the exit in her panic—

Only to slam face-first into something that hadn’t been there before. With a shimmer of displaced light, a massive skeletal guardian materialized, its form blocking the entrance entirely. The creature was an unholy fusion of a spider and an armored beetle, its legs buried deep into the stone walls. Worse, the bone wasn’t the usual ivory—dark veins ran through it like an infection. It had been augmented. Strengthened.

Already dreading the result, Karen hefted her massive two-handed hammer and took a swing. The force of her strike sent wind rushing through the chamber, a blow that could have cracked a building’s foundation. Yet the hammer bounced off with barely a scratch.

The creature didn’t even seem to notice.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of that cane against stone cut through the sudden silence like a funeral bell. Karen and her guildmates turned slowly back to their host, their movements stiff and anxious.

Jason’s smile had widened, becoming something that belonged only in nightmares. His dark eyes smoldered with the kind of corrupt satisfaction that came from a plan executed perfectly.

“Ah, no need to rush off,” Jason said, his voice carrying the warm hospitality of a serial killer inviting guests to dinner. “You’ve only just arrived. Please... stay a while. I insist.”

Yep, this had definitely been a terrible fucking idea.