Hours later, it was dark. Elisa had confirmed there was a day-night cycle in this dungeon hours before it was obvious, and now there was no light except from the Palmar’s communal campfire and whatever dim light the sliver of moon in the sky provided.

Elisa had been instructed to stay put. Marco had threatened death first, which didn’t daunt her. After that, he had just threatened to take her back to her father, which seemed to have more of an effect. He was now stooped in the dark just outside of town, trying to get the moment he’d approach just right.

Now.

He let the sand muffle his steps as he kept his heavy leather boot steps as light as possible while still moving quickly. All the Palmar sentries were at the fire, either taking a break from their duties or just done for the night. He approached the cage, eyes wide open to take in any bit of light they could. It hadn’t been obvious from a distance which side of the cage was which from a where’s-the-door perspective.

Against all of Marco’s intuition, it seemed the door was on the back of the cage, facing away from the town. The person inside was laying still and breathing weakly, unconscious for some reason or another. He decided not to wake him. There was no special reason to think the Palmars heard especially well, but any sudden loud noise would bring a small army of them running.

He eased the door open on its rope hinges, glad there was no metal to creak. Then, softly and slowly, he lifted the strange man onto his shoulder and began to pad quietly away. He was almost back to the stand of trees when the man suddenly stirred in his arms, went tense, and began to scream.

Marco couldn’t blame him. He really couldn’t. They were all dead now, of course, but he understood what a shock it must have been.

“Quiet, you absolute idiot.” Marco shifted his weight on his shoulder, deciding the man’s light weight probably also meant he was too weak to run very fast. “Elisa, run.”

Looking over his shoulder, Marco saw a dozen small shadows rise as the little monsters stood and blocked the firelight before moving outward in their direction.

“Fool, fool. Why did you scream?” Elisa hissed.

“I was surprised!” The man’s voice wobbled as he bounced on Marco’s shoulder. “I’ve been in there for a week!”

“Can you fight?”

“No,” the man said. “They’ve barely been feeding me. I don’t have a combat class anyway, really. I’m a Sturdy.”

“Sturdies can fight!”

“If they specialize in it! I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re going to,” Marco said. “But first we need some distance. Elisa, I dropped my gun in the cage. We're going to need it if we fight.”

Marco and Elisa were just about as fast as each other, provided Marco was carrying an entire human. That meant she could lead the way as she drew a large semicircle back towards the Palmar camp. He had no idea how she did it in the dark, but they made it back not only to the camp but almost dead-on aimed at the cage. Marco just about tossed the mystery man to the ground as he dove in the cage, scrambled around, and got the gun.

“Okay. Running again?”

“I don’t think so,” Elisa said. “I think our best bet is to fight. I can put him back in the cage and fight with you.”

“No. You’ll almost certainly die that way,” Marco stated. Elisa knew a lot more about a lot of things than Marco did, but Marco had heard stories of what it was like when people got swarmed by little enemies of this type. He could at least hope to dodge and kill. Elisa was clever, but only about as evasive as a normal bookish girl. She’d have no chance. “We need another idea.”

“If you’re in the cage, and you don’t fight, they won’t hurt you,” the Sturdy said. “They didn’t hurt me. When they saw I was unarmed, they just took me prisoner.”

“Do that, then. I’ll get them. I just wish I had more light.”

Elisa looked like she wanted to argue. She didn’t.

“I can at least help with that. Give me a minute.”

Running hut to hut, Elisa applied fire from her hand on every grass roof except the two closest to the cage. The light shone out into the night as the bonfires roared to life, illuminating the entire village and a good area around it as well. By the time the Palmars started arriving, Marco could see them just fine.

“One.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelBin; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Marco fired the first shot as the little men came into view. Closer now, he could see there were exactly nine of them. Each shot had to count. The first pellet thunked into the target, a tiny glow flying through the air before extinguishing itself in the center of one of the grunt’s foreheads. It went down.

“Two.”

Every motion of the gun was informed by the skill, and Marco could already tell he was a good shot. His muscles were developed by years of varied work and could keep up with every instruction the skill was giving him. He could already tell that in this kind of situation where nobody could see where he was aiming, could possibly predict when he was firing, or had any intention of veering away, he would basically never miss.

“Three.”

A brute was caught in the knee on the third shot, putting it to the ground and disabling it. He cocked the gun again, getting a shot ready that he wouldn’t use for now. Six of the enemies had crashed into his melee range, forming a semicircle around him.

Every stat Marco had accumulated in this place would matter now.

He caught the first brute who made a move on the point of his sword, gouging out a hole the size of his thumb through its chest. It slammed to the floor as a knife from one of the grunts flashed forward and cut his arm before he could retract it. That one got a shot to the heart from the pistol before the other four rushed him at once.

He wasn’t really aware of making choices, after that. His skills handled most of that for him, guiding his hands in the dark as knives flashed and bit at his skin through his clothes. He managed to take another one down over the next several seconds, but was left a bleeding, ragged mess from all the nicks and cuts he had taken.

The remaining three enemies backed off a bit as he cocked his gun and fired again. For the first time, he missed. One of the brutes had seen the shot coming and ducked. They would rush now, probably, and it would all be over until someone else more competent came to save his friends.

An alternative to the worst came instead, popping out of the darkness behind the Palmars. The lightning on Elisa’s hand crackled and disabled a grunt as the rescued prisoner picked up another, ignoring a stabbing downward cut to his shoulder as he body-slammed it into the sand and began to awkwardly punch it to death.

The remaining brute only had eyes for Marco. It came in hot and heavy, using all its strength as it pushed Marco back again and again. It was like his first fight, where he couldn’t meaningfully stop any given hit without committing every bit of swordplay he had to pure defense. The brute seemed to sense that and pressed the attack, waiting for its chance to gut Marco right there on the sand.

Except this time, I have both my hands full. Goodbye.

Marco held his sword diagonally against the next strike, pushing it to the outside as he dodged in the opposite direction, hooked his left arm down-to-up, cocked the pistol, and fired a bullet straight through the brute’s chin.

The dungeon broke apart like a pane of window hit with a thrown rock, and suddenly, they were out in the open again, safe and sound. Marco flopped to the ground, exhausted and bleeding.

“Well, that was quite the thing,” the stranger said. “I’m Riv, by the way. Thanks for, you know. Not letting me die.”

—

After they all gathered a bit of wood, Elisa lit a fire. For the first time, Marco was able to assess Riv carefully. For all that he had seemed to be a filthy old guy a few minutes ago, it seemed the act of being filthy and emaciated was carrying most of that impression. In better light and after a quick run into the ocean to do what he called getting rid of the worst of the stink, he didn’t look much older than them, if he was as old as them at all.

“You’re going to have to explain how you got in there. Alone,” Marco said. “I don’t want to press you, but you know what being alone in a dungeon means.”

“That my party died, and I survived somehow. And somehow is sometimes bad.” Riv nodded. “I understand. The only thing is that I never had a party with me in that dungeon.”

“You came here without a party?” Elisa side eyed the new guy hard. “Just you, all alone?”

“Not exactly, if you mean this island by here. I had three other people with me. Warrior classes. They said they’d help me get my combat-specific skills. Sturdy is pretty customizable that way. It’s one of the only classes that can evolve from common to rare,” Riv explained.

“Really?” Marco asked.

“It’s just a matter of finding enough things that Sturdy will adjust to. Said it would be easy. Then I jumped in, and they never followed.”

“And the Palmars captured you instead of killing you… why?” Marco put aside the question of why his friends had tried to kill him for a moment. “They fought us right away.”

“I didn’t have a weapon and they did. I think they might have been able to feel that difference. Otherwise, I don’t know unless we go back in. And I’m not the most eager to do that tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Not tonight, and not tomorrow. You need to eat. More, I mean.” Marco knew a bit about exhaustion, and not having enough food tended to make that last longer. “In the meantime, we can start to work on the boat.”

“Work on the boat? I didn’t think it was in bad shape.”

“Not bad shape,” Marco said. “But if we want it to carry all three of us comfortably? It needs a bit extra. Every captain loves a better ship.”