Chapter 83: Flowing Experience Points

There was no day or night in the Underdark. The raucous hours had passed, and after a day’s toil, both mercenaries and paladins were utterly exhausted. The paladins withdrew to their stronghold to rest, while the mercenaries slipped in pairs and trios into their tents, yawning as they surrendered themselves to sweet slumber.

No one noticed that, at this very moment, a group of shadowy figures stealthily slipped out of the base, heading deeper into the tunnel. They evaded the sentries with ease, then melted into the shadows of the Underdark’s passageways, quietly making their way to the cave where Jan resided.

The Church’s stronghold had been established within an abandoned duergar mine; after arriving, Lox and his companions had made use of local materials to build a fortress and a ring of defensive walls. Most of the mercenaries lived in tents, scattered here and there around the fortress’s perimeter. Still, generally speaking, they all resided within the mine—after all, in the Underdark, it was safer to gather together. Should trouble arise, they could look out for one another.

But Jan clearly disliked crowds. Instead, he’d chosen a cave on the edge of the passageway as his place of rest. It was a fair distance from the base, and few people came by, but since it lay within the paladins’ defensive perimeter, it was reasonably secure—just remote enough to see little foot traffic.

This, precisely, was why the shadows’ approach went so smoothly. Before long, they’d arrived before Jan’s cave. The leader peered out, glanced left and right, then opened his mouth and hissed softly. At once, another shadow slipped from a crack beside the cave.

“How’s it look?” Half-elf Castor asked in a low voice. The shadow nodded in response.

“They haven’t left. Still inside,” came the reply.

“Good!” A glimmer of satisfaction flickered in Castor's eyes. As the Thieves’ Guildmaster, he’d come to the Underdark hoping for some luck, but had found little. Thieves—unlike other professions—were suited to scouting, but ill-equipped for direct combat with subterranean monsters. What’s more, the strange comings and goings of these creatures meant his thieves had not only been useless but had suffered losses. By now, Castor was ready to withdraw, but his pride wouldn’t let him leave empty-handed.

Just then, Viscount Ralph’s bounty presented a new opportunity. True, the Underdark’s monsters were formidable, but assassination and kidnapping—these were the Thieves’ Guild’s forte.

Thus, Castor resolved to make trouble for Jan. He knew Jan was powerful, but thieves never fought head-on; poison in the food and a knife in the back were their specialties. If this job succeeded, his trip would not have been in vain.

With that thought, Castor allowed himself a cold smile. He made a subtle gesture, giving an almost imperceptible order to his men.

“Do it!”

At his command, several black-clad figures slipped forward in silence. Each drew a wooden canister from his cloak, shook it vigorously, then pried off the lid and rolled it into the cave. Smoke began to drift from the canister’s mouth, spreading into the depths of the cave. The others raised light crossbows, aiming at the entrance—ready to fire at anything that emerged.

Nothing happened.

Even after the smoke had dissipated, there was no reaction from within. The leader frowned; perhaps things were going too smoothly—it made him uneasy. But now, the arrow was nocked and could not be withdrawn. Gritting his teeth, he signaled again, drew his dagger, hunched low, and crept silently into the cave.

Jan’s cave was shaped like a teardrop—a spacious chamber within, with a passage connecting it to the tunnel outside, some ten meters long. The passage had a forty-five-degree turn, making it impossible to see inside from the entrance. All was darkness and silence.

Something’s not right.

Castor frowned. The toxin released was potent—colorless, odorless, and powerful enough to render anyone instantly unconscious. No reaction from within should mean success. But Castor remained uneasy. He’d heard of Jan’s skills. Could he really have been so careless? Could he have fallen for such a simple trick?

Perhaps they simply didn’t know what was happening yet.

He reassured himself. His spies said Jan and the two women had stayed inside the cave for days, likely unaware that Viscount Ralph had put a bounty on their heads. If so, being caught off guard would be plausible. Maybe they were inside, enjoying themselves, never suspecting an attack.

Imagining such crude scenes, Castor snickered inwardly and adjusted his mask—a special covering that neutralized the poison’s effects. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have dared enter.

Yet…

He glanced at the ground. As a half-elf, he’d inherited the elves’ darkvision and could see clearly in the blackness. Something seemed off—this wasn’t rough stone, but smooth flagstones beneath his feet.

Why are there flagstones here?

He was puzzled. The outer passage was a typical tunnel; why was the cave floor neatly paved? Had Jan done this? Unlikely. Perhaps he’d found an old dwarven excavation and chosen to settle here?

He shook his head and pushed the thought aside. They all knew the base was built in an abandoned duergar mine—mercenaries often found duergar equipment, rooms, even statues. Perhaps this had once been a duergar chamber, and Jan had simply moved in.

But that wasn’t important. Focusing his mind, Castor pressed on. Jan and the two women were the priority; anything else could wait.

As Castor pondered, the bend in the passage came into view. He hesitated, then sprang forward, landing like a cat, silent and swift. He rolled, dagger at the ready—only to freeze in astonishment at the sight before him.

No one.

The cave, scarcely bigger than a guest chamber, was empty. A few odds and ends were scattered to one side. The campfire was long cold, showing no sign of recent use. Most importantly, there was no trace of anyone—not Jan, not the women.

Impossible.

Castor stared in disbelief. This was a dead-end cave—no other exit. Jan couldn’t have slipped past his surveillance. How had he left? When? What trickery was this?

“Sir, look over there!”

At that moment, the other thieves entered, equally stunned. Soon, one softly called out, pointing to the far corner of the cave. Following his gaze, Castor saw a huge, pitch-black chest.

What could it be? Treasure?

Excitement surged. Castor approached the chest, carefully inspecting it. Producing his lockpicks, he set to work. In moments, the lock clicked open. Not letting his guard down, he checked the chest for traps—disarming two cunning mechanisms—then slowly lifted the lid.

At once, dazzling golden light spilled out.

Inside, gold and jewels glittered, coins piled into a small mountain, studded with gems and crystals that shimmered with magical radiance. Around the heap lay an ornate dagger and several pieces of precious jewelry.

We’ve struck it rich!

Castor’s eyes nearly leapt from their sockets. Hands trembling, he scooped up a handful of coins, savoring the cold, heavy feel. He shook with excitement—he’d never dreamed of finding such a hoard in a place like this! Even a tenth would be more than enough to live lavishly.

Eyes red with greed, Castor reached again—

A cold pain stabbed through him. In that instant, the golden glow and wealth vanished like a bubble. The half-elf stared dumbly at the black tail blade protruding from his throat. The agony cleared his mind in a flash—this was a trap, and he was the fool who’d walked right in.

He tried to shout, but as the tail blade withdrew, only a faint, strangled gasp escaped his lips. A moment later, darkness—carrying the certainty of death—descended and blotted out his sight.

[All enemies invading the dungeon have been eliminated. The Dungeon Lord gains 70 experience points.]

Jan lowered his head, glancing away from the system message that had appeared.

“It seems this really is an excellent opportunity to gain experience.”