An Outcast in Another World 02 - Shared Insanity, page 39
Prerequisite: Experience a deep-seated, soul-crushing sadness. Four times.
Description: Allows you to get back on your feet more quickly.
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Prerequisites: Reach Level 99, ???
Chapter 24
Aside from Elder Alessia becoming the de facto leader and Elder Duran ranking second on the totem pole, the Deserters’ organizational hierarchy was rather loosely-defined. The one consistent rule was that people with higher Levels were allowed louder voices on the debate floor, but that was already a universal tenet of Elatran social structure. It wasn’t unique to the Deserters, and it was hardly the end-all. Rob was higher-leveled than a fair number of the Rangers, but if he tried talking down to people with a hundred years more combat experience than him just because he was a Fast Learner, then his friends would immediately form a queue to take turns smacking him upside the head.
As a result, decisions within the Deserters were often managed in a hands-off fashion. The Elders might be present if truly necessary, but a couple of decently-leveled folks were all it usually took to mediate most disputes, which would be then considered settled the second that voting ended. It was the kind of Laissez-faire organizational structure that was needed for a group on the run. They couldn’t afford to get bogged down in minutiae, not when monsters kept trying to kill them and their food rations were on a shrinking timer. Bureaucracy was the luxury of stability. During their travels, Rob sometimes speculated about how the Deserters would eventually transition to a more traditional Elven community format once they were able to establish a base with housing, infrastructure, and – most importantly – big, reinforced walls that would protect them from things that went bump in the night. The concept had felt like idle musings while on the road, though. Civilization was a dream for the future, not a reality of the present.
It was in this moment, as Rob looked out among the largest pre-vote gathering he’d seen in Elatra, that he realized that the future was now. Every single Combat Class user – except Lycia, who was absent for some reason – had shown up to participate in the discussion, including the trainees, Meyneth, and freshly-minted Combat Class users such as Randor. Their numbers were equaled by the Utility Class users throwing their hat into the fray, no longer content to let their lives be dictated solely by people whose primary qualification was the ability to kill things real good. Elves such as Lenora who possessed influence among their peers were acting as the will of the Utility Class users, as were other Elves like Marconez, whose nebulous ‘connections’ might actually be worth a damn in this situation. With all those disparate voices coming together, Rob was unsurprised when a fast headcount put the gathering at around 50 people in total.
Much like everyone on Earth would start caring very quickly if a nuclear power plant started melting down, people on Elatra took notice when a Dungeon clawed its way into existence.
Admittedly, Rob found it gratifying to learn that the crushing tightness in his chest he’d felt ever since hearing the news was a sentiment shared by many others. Made him less embarrassed over how much the prospect of another Dungeon Crawl had shaken him. Nothing could be worse than the Blight – and that thought was not an invitation for Elatra to try and prove him wrong – but that didn’t make his sole experience in a Dungeon any less of an ordeal; one that he was in no hurry to replicate.
Rob glanced at Keira to try and gauge her thoughts, eyes widening as he saw that her face was pale and her lips were pressed into a thin line. All at once, he remembered that while the Crawl had been an ordeal for him, it had been a nightmare for Keira. She’d almost died, falling into unconsciousness with ~20 HP remaining, enemies swarming as her limbs failed and vision faded. If you excluded the mishap with the Mine, she might have taken more damage in her Dungeon Crawl than in the entire rest of her life put together.
He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. Keira’s head snapped towards him, the fear evident in her eyes. Rob called upon the full extent of Diplomacy’s and Deception’s capabilities, using the Skills to direct his mouth into something resembling a confident smile. Keira stared at him for a few moments, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Some of the color returned to her face as she managed to put on a fragile grin. She wasn’t at her best, not yet, but she would be able to hang in there until she climbed back over the edge. Rob had zero doubt that she would. Girl could do pull-ups for days.
Thanks, Diplomacy, Rob thought, sending an emotional pulse of gratitude towards the Skill.
Figures. Rob paused. Thanks, Deception. Can Deception hear me?
Ah.
Rob didn’t know what to say after that. He elected to wait in silence until the rest of the gathering had calmed down enough for proceedings to begin.
“I’ll skip the preamble,” Elder Alessia stated. Her booming voice was enhanced by magic so that it traveled across the length of the hotel lobby they’d requisitioned as a meeting room. “A Dungeon has been discovered. It is located close to Esternard City; a half-hour’s walk at most. From what the scouts were able to glean, it’s not young, but not old, either. Whether or not it is an aberrant Dungeon has yet to be confirmed.”
Aberrant. The word sent a shiver up Rob’s spine. Normal Dungeons – or what passed for normal – were supposedly straightforward affairs that involved traveling from floor to floor, slaying monsters and evading traps, before finally locating the Dungeon Core and shattering its vile construction into pieces. It sounded like a goddamn walk in the park compared to the aberrant Dungeon that Riardin’s Rangers blundered into. Those kinds had weird shit like the Miasma Amalgamation. Or worse. No one, not even veteran fighters with Levels far exceeding Rob’s, could truly prepare for what awaited within an aberrant Dungeon, and there was no way to tell which type of Dungeon it was until you were already in the thick of things.
“I will allow for twenty minutes of discussion before a vote is called,” Elder Alessia continued, sweeping her gaze across the room. “Whichever way the decision falls, it will be upheld. Every voice will be heard, but in that same vein, dissent will not be tolerated. The Deserters won’t be long for this world if a rift forms at the first sign of differing opinions.”
“Why bother holding a discussion at all?” Marconez said. “A Dungeon is not called a Wound in the World for the sake of dramatics. Need I remind you what became of past cities that were content to let a Dungeon freely encroach upon the land? Cities which, might I add, no longer exist?”
“I don’t give one whit about Esternard,” Taleya countered. “By Lothren’s Lordly ass, this place is already dead, and we never intended to make it our permanent residence. I understand your trepidation, but you must remember that the Utility Class users won’t be the ones risking their lives to endure the Crawl and expunge the Core. Why flirt with death when we can simply head north to Broadwater and let the Seneschal deal with the problem? He’s sent his forces to perform routine Dungeon sweeps ever since the Humans...” She glanced at Rob. “...Became unable to do so themselves.”
Shocker, Rob thought, in a blasé tone. Turns out that, in a world where monsters and Dungeons can appear anywhere at any time, killing off the inhabitants of the largest territory on the continent causes some problems for everyone else. Can’t wait for the Fiends to come south and fuck everyone in the ass now that their gatekeepers have taken a leave of absence.
“Regretfully,” Elder Duran started, “I must remind us all that the Seneschal is currently occupied with the Blight’s invasion of Reviton City. There is a stark possibility that he may be unable to perform his duties. As such, the responsibility of expunging the Dungeon falls to we who are here, willing, and capable.”
The gathering fell silent as they considered the worst-case scenario. If the Dungeon was left unattended, it would grow. And grow. There didn’t seem to be an upper limit to the damn things; they were like a cancer infecting reality, converting the adjacent matter into more Dungeon mass. And once they reached a certain threshold, monsters would come pouring out and go rampaging across the lands. In theory, a Dungeon that was never expunged could threaten the entire continent. It would take years to grow to that size, but considering that Elatra was already fighting – and sorta kinda losing – a war against an impending Blight apocalypse, a second apocalypse might very well be the killshot that wiped out everyone and everything.
As most of them considered this chilling eventuality, Meyneth brought forth a point that was both simple and compelling.
“We need Levels,” she stated. The Dragonkin flinched as the gathering turned to face her, her posture wilting under the heavy pressure of dozens of eyes insisting that she elaborate. After a few seconds, and with visible effort like she’d lifted a hundred-pound weight, Meyneth managed to find her words and continue.
“The core objective of your – of our group, is to survive.” Her voice wavered, growing markedly less confident the longer she spoke. “I do not believe that we are in a position to ignore the EXP that a Dungeon would offer. Not when the Seneschal, assuming he prevails against the Blight, will eventually come for us. We are insurgents, and he is a ruler. Our existence is one that he cannot tolerate.”
Meyneth glanced at Rob, sending him a panicked look that acted as a plea and a question. She was lucky that it was a specific sort of look that he’d had seen on previous occasions; when one of his friends needed to mention Fast Learner in a context that treated him like a resource. He nodded, and a bit of tension in her shoulders relaxed.
“Rob’s unique ability to grant a portion of Fast Learner to his Party Members is a factor that must also be taken into consideration,” she continued. “That element alone tips the balance of risk versus reward heavily in the latter’s favor. Should we go, it may very well be the most lucrative Dungeon Crawl in the history of Elvenkind.”
Avarice lit in the eyes of most of the Combat Class users. Rob himself felt a tingle in the back of his mind, Leveling High whispering loudly about power and revelry before he put the boot to its face and squashed it back down into the depths where it belonged. Problem was, even without Leveling High wrapping its tendrils around his thoughts, he had to agree with Meyneth’s reasoning. Until the world stopped trying to murder them, which didn’t seem likely anytime soon, they needed Levels.
They could never have enough Levels, honestly. Not until they were at the very top of Elatra’s food chain, so powerful that nothing would ever pose a threat to them again. And that was a dream bordering on delusion.
Despite Meyneth’s faltering tone, her logic was compelling enough to sway most people in the room. Elder Alessia looked like she was contemplating whether or not to start the vote early. Then another voice spoke up, smaller than Meyneth’s, but with conviction as solid as steel.
“We shouldn’t go,” Orn’tol said. “I refuse to lose anyone else.”
“Young man,” Lenora began, in a soothing tone. “Our Rangers are dependable and battle-hardened. They-”
“You haven’t been on a Dungeon Crawl,” Orn’tol interrupted, with a hint of rage. “I have. I’ve been there, in the muck and the danger and the pain. You can’t begin to fathom how close me and all of my friends came to dying on that day. We escaped death’s due by a fraction of a fraction, and even if we were to undertake that same Crawl as we are now, with greatly higher Levels and more combat experience, I would not be able to guarantee that each of us returns home alive.”
He sent a piercing gaze to the Rangers. “You’ve been on Crawls. No one understands the risks better than you – is what you may be thinking at this very moment. But have any of you plunged into the depths of a highly aberrant Dungeon? Ever? Have you any notion of what it’s like to come across something not of this world, an enemy that you could never hope to defeat, one so unnatural and terrifying that it will haunt your nightmares for months to follow?”
Orn’tol’s voice had risen to a near-shout, pent-up anguish flooding out of him like a river in a storm. “And even if the Dungeon is the standard kind,” he seethed, “There’s still no guarantee that casualties will be avoided. In spite of your best efforts, you’ve lost friends and allies to Dungeons. All of you.”
A wave of grief spread through most of the Combat Class users and half of the Utility Class users. Orn’tol opened his mouth as if to continue speaking, before slamming it shut and covering his eyes a moment later. He let out a shuddering breath and fell silent.
As did everyone else. The mood in the room had done a complete 180 from before Orn’tol said his piece. Gung-ho Rangers ready to storm the breaches were now plagued with indecision and painful memories, while the Utility Class users had been struck with bouts of shame as they seemed to finally comprehend the potential sacrifices they were asking from the Combat Class users. A few people in both camps were less conflicted, but they hesitated, apparently not wanting to be the ones to break the mournful quiet and come across as the ‘villain’.
Should I say something? Rob thought. Realistically speaking, I might be able to swing this vote all by myself. Kind of arrogant to think that, but it’s true. Meyneth put the idea of a Fast Learner Dungeon Crawl in their minds, and if I refuse to go, the disappointment of losing out on that bonus EXP will imbalance the risk/reward ratio to an unacceptable degree. If I go, they’ll go. If I don’t, they won’t.
The question was: did he want to go? Actually, nevermind, that question was garbage. Of course he didn’t want to go. But he might have to, anyway. The Deserters needed levels, and a Dungeon was no better than a boil that needed to be lanced. They’d be killing two birds with one stone. All he had to do was raise his hand and throw in his support for the Dungeon Crawl.
Then head into the Dungeon.
And hope no one died.
And hope it wasn’t aberrant.
And hope that there wasn’t anything like the Miasma Amalgamation.
Fuck.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. Zamira walked towards Orn’tol, knelt down in front of him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She whispered something into his ear, and the coiled tension in his posture released. Nodding, she stood and turned around to face the gathering, meeting them with an unwavering expression of pure, unfiltered resolve.
“How many of you know of Rob’s home world?”
Rob blinked. Come again? The people in the room sent confused glances at each other. Some of them shrugged, and only a few of them replied in the affirmative. Rob hadn’t hidden details of Earth from anyone, but few people outside of the Elders or the trainees had ever asked, so what the populace at large knew must have amounted to half-baked rumors.
“Then let me enlighten you,” Zamira continued. “Rob’s home world, called Earth, is better than Elatra.” She paused, giving the scandalous proclamation a moment to set in. “It shames me to say that, but the truth must be laid bare. Earth has no monsters and no Dungeons. Great wars have burnt across their lands, but no obscenity on the level of The Scouring or The Cataclysm ever took place. The people of Earth lack magic, but this deficiency has spurred them to reach technological heights that outmatch our greatest spells. Heights that we will never reach, because we never stop fighting, or struggling, or killing. All our time and efforts, devoted to survival for survival’s sake.”
Rob had to stop himself from taking a step back, feeling as if he’d been struck by a gust of wind. And by the expressions of the rest of the room, he wasn’t the only one. Zamira’s usual neutral tone had been inflamed with passion, and her speech carried the authority of a ruler laying down a decree to her subjects. She spoke, and everyone listened, magnetized by the charisma that had come seemingly from nowhere.
“In a sense, learning of Rob’s world has irrevocably altered my desires,” she proclaimed. “Perhaps if I had never learned of the life of luxury that so many on Earth live, I would have continued to accept the state of Elatra. It was the only world I ever knew. I wanted things to be better, of course, but in the sense that a child makes a wish upon the stars that they know will never actually come true. But now?”
Zamira unclasped her sword from her waist and slammed the tip of its still-sheathed blade on the ground. “My eyes have been opened. I will no longer accept this pit of a world that the fates have dealt us. We can do better. We will do better.”
She unsheathed her sword and held it high. “Hear me: it is not enough merely to survive! We must pour our efforts into making this world a place where our children can grow in peaceful happiness! No more wars, no more monsters, no more extinctions! We cannot sit back and suffer the existence of a Wound in the World! By Lothren’s name, I swear that I will descend into the depths of the Dungeon and expunge it alone if I must! The question is: will I be alone? Or will you join me, and fight to take back our world!”
Everyone was stunned into silence. A second later, Rob clapped.
“Make the world a better place?” He said, with a savage grin. “I like the sound of that.”
And with that, Zamira had won.
She would later admit to Rob that she’d planned and rehearsed variations of that speech for weeks. It was refined and iterated until it was polished to a crystal clear shine, and no one else in the room was remotely prepared for it. She’d brought a bazooka to a knife fight. The hearts and minds of the majority of the room were swayed, and the few holdouts were cognizant that they would be outvoted by a landslide if they objected – and look like assholes in the process. Rob was certain that the score would be near-unanimous, and while he still wasn’t a super big fan of going back into a Dungeon, he felt a deep craving to respond to Zamira’s words. For once since coming to this fucking world, he had a chance to do something proactive, instead of reactive.
