The town square of the town was as lively as it could be. The merchants, the customers, the lives that bloomed underneath the dungeon sun--it was beautiful, no doubt.
They arrived in front of a map, numerous civilians backing away from them in order to avoid confrontation.
Also, they smelled.
Looking at the map, they came to learn that the town they were currently in was referred to as: Fordale.
And from the compass legend on the corner of the map, the part of the island that they were currently located on was on the south side of the island. With another town located on the furthest north of the island.
Between the two towns was a vast forest. There was no notable points of interest named within the forest, raising interest.
"Something is telling me that whatever we're looking for resides within the forest."
Grace thought so too.
Perhaps this curiosity is influenced by destiny, as well. Grace mused inwardly.
Since the length of the narrative didn't seem to be that long, Grace figured that the dungeon itself wasn't anything too strong.
"Oh, my!" A voice rung behind them. They turned around, seeing a clown juggling an array of colorful balls.
"Are you three, too, looking to be a part of the treasure hunt?" His voice trailed off in a playful, illusive manner. Grace narrowed his eyes.
"Treasure hunt?" The word escaped Miller's mouth, his gaze looking at Grace and David, wondering if they were sharing the same thought as him.
The Law of Dungeon Convergence!
It was taking form of a clown spilling the hot gossip as though he was a whistleblower. A mysterious glint rolled in the clown's eyes, his blistering red lips forming a wide smile.
"Curious? Pirates, mercenaries, regular folks—people from all over are all gathering on this island six days from now to partake in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that will occur once the clock turns to the seventh day! A phenomena that occurs every one hundred years! The ambient mana in the air on this island culminates, manifesting into a beam of light, leaving forth a Legendary Artifact!"
A Legendary Artifact.
How fucking ridiculous. Grace thought.
It was almost impossible for there to be a good item or skill to be drawn from a low-level dungeon.
Almost.
And perhaps that possibility was something that Grace wanted to be true at an unconscious level.
"How is this possible?" Grace asked, eyes narrowing. The clown turned his gaze at Grace, his plump red lips forming into a twisted smirk.
"Skeptical? Well... that is only natural, I suppose! Thousands of years ago, this land was once barren to the touch. People starved, people died, people dreaded living. That was until a Goddess had stepped foot on this land on the verge of death, imparting the last bit of her essence and becoming one with the aimless ambient mana in the air around us the island."
After all, mana — much like energy — could neither be created or destroyed. Grace was dissatisfied, however.
"That doesn't explain why the mana converges to make a Legendary Artifact."
The clown caught the balls he was juggling, allowing it to settle between his fingertips before he shrugged his shoulders.
"I am as clueless as you! I merely accept the tale told to be true."
David raised an eyebrow, "And why do you believe it?" David had analyzed the clown's features, and despite his features being obscured by the thick white cream, he couldn't have been older than thirty.
"Is there a reason as to why I shouldn't believe it? If it brings life to this island, then why would I ever deny it?"
Miller's gaze swept across the vicinity.
This fairy tale was precious to these people.
Grace held a similar thought, but he forced it down, burying it as if it never even existed in his head.
Focus... He told himself.
The clown inspected their wear and flung them ten gold coins. David caught them effortlessly, his eyes rolling over the gold luster that boiled underneath the sun.
"A gold coin each to get out of your stupidly ragged clothing. And the rest for your stay... if you wish to witness something beautiful." He smiled as he danced off, his figure becoming like a fleeting leaf.
David held the gold coins, frowning.
"Stay or not to stay? Gabe shouldn't be too far away from Fordale," questioned David.
Miller held a strained look on his face.
"I think... tidying ourselves up and then leaving would be beneficial for us for now."
Grace nodded in agreement to Miller's words.
"Agreed. Leaving would allow us to create the necessary distance. By the time the 7th night rises, we can most likely enter the forest again."
~~~
Fortunately for the three of them, Gabe and his crew of pirates — mostly consisting of his subordinates that were already under him — were being held up by another crew of pirates.
Gabe clicked his tongue, standing mightily as he steered the ship to the right in order to dodge a cannon ball that narrowly missed the side of their ship.
SPLASH!
Water got on board, soaking some of the crew members with the cold ocean water. Stopping the ship, Gabe vaulted over the wheel, landing on the wet floor. As the rivaling pirates got closer, Gabe's eyes glossed over their ship for a brief instant.
It was larger than the ship he had been assigned to.
Beside him, the black scroll interface unraveled.
[Gabe Laughlin]
[Age: 23]
[God: Minor Deity of Wind]
[Grade: 2.1]
[Prayer Characteristic: Wind Magic (Rank 1)]
[Skill(s): None]
My Grading went up by a decimal. Good. As the wind tousled with his auburn hair, he lifted his head up at the domineering point of the ship.
A Captain emerged, wearing a similar coat to the man he had killed before, Paren. Beside the unknown Captain, was a sword with a slight curvature embedded into its creation.
A Cutlass.
Behind him, his crew stood beside him with confidence. Their faces were expressionless, though the air around them also echoed their experience.
Still...
A mere dungeon such as this one could never make me yield. Gabe thought as the Captain jumped down.
The storm had calmed, yes, but as their gazes met, bodies tensing, they felt something brew between the two of them.
"Name?" Gabe asked, stepped back in order to create space.
"Eving," he responded simply.
A gentle hum of acknowledgement escaped Gabe's lips.
"Gabe."
As clashes of steel occurred around them, there was only a moment of silence between the two of them before Gabe decided to make the first move.
His right arm churned with a luminescent green, expelling a crescent-shaped spell. Eving stepped to the side, circling around the base of the mast before pushing off of the wood and extending his arm and motioning it with a violent swing.
Gabe stayed expressionless, merely leaning his head back to narrowly dodge the tip of the blade. As a strand of hair was cut, Gabe extended his leg, hoisting it to the side before allowing his foot to smash into Eving's cheek.
SLAM!
Blood escaped Eving's lips as his face planted onto the wet wood.
"What did you think was going to happen coming here?" Gabe suddenly asked. Eving spat out the blood that built up in his mouth before jumping back to create distance.
"To kill my men? Me? And then take what I own? That is not how I roll."
His face contorted into an ugly, hateful expression.
"No," he continued, voice low. "I'll take what you own."
Eving imbued his cutlass with mana. He swung it down like a hammer, unleashing a destructive wave of oceanic blue. Gabe, however, did not move, his face not wavering in the slightest.
He kept his feet firmly on the floor, extending his arm, his palm facing the incoming wave of mana. Then the same green mana churned from underneath his skin, coiling out before he released two consecutive blades of wind.
FWOOM!
They soared beautifully like birds, clashing with the wave of mana.
BOOM!
A part of the ship was destroyed, sharp splinters penetrating Eving's skin. However, the same could not be said for Gabe—he was completely unharmed.
Gabe looked at the destruction that they caused then he turned his head to the ship that Eving operated.
"Well... I do like yours better," he said, smirking. "But there is not enough room for two Captains, is there?"