1.4 Dragonslayer Redux

First, a long, low grinding sound like chains rumbling against chains and then a thud that caused the entire chamber to shudder, and then the red dragon fell to the ground, dead. The head lolling to one side, wisps of smoke escaping from its mouth.

A triumphal horn blast blew and specks of golden confetti filled the chamber, a chamber the size of a concert hall and made to look like a massive, underground cavern. Words traced themselves in the air: Congratulations!  You have defeated the final boss of Castelmara Dungeon. Claim your loot!

As always, several loud Dings! announced that he had won three treasure boxes along with over 3,000 gold coins, a sizable haul for an early-level dungeon. The boxes appeared at the dragon’s feet, large brown chests with brass hinges and locks that popped open in front of him.

The dragon’s body lingered for just a few seconds longer than normal, before it disappeared, leaving him alone with the treasure chests.

He was now Level 20, and he did it. Vikom managed to defeat Castelmara solo, all by himself. He opened the treasure boxes, one at a time, finding a +2 Titanium broadsword in the first one, +3 Chainmail in the second one. Pausing on the third one, he realized … none of these chests would contain the one thing he really wanted.

To be free of this nightmare. To see the face of God and live. To … whatever it was that was supposed to be there waiting for him, for everyone, after death.

Not this. Not here. Not this place.

For an instant, while staring at the third chest, waiting to open it, to see what he was sure would be a great piece of loot, something he could use or sell, instead of doing that, he saw and realized he was seeing an image in his mind, like an echo of a thought, like a flash of lightning, something like a vision, something like a memory of a place he had never been.

In that memory, in that space he saw Jesus on the cross, like a flash of lightning with sudden thunder, a flash of a tomb with Jesus’s body laid to rest in it, a flash of an empty tomb, a flash of the risen Lord and then …

He fell to his knees in front of the final chest, feeling as if maybe, just maybe if he could reach out his hands, Jesus – that person you were supposed to see when you die, right? – that Jesus would be there, dressed in white linen, the scars on hands and side. But no, there was just the final chest.

“What do you want from me?” When would this end? He knew what he wanted to find in the final box. He knew what he was going to find instead.

Sure enough, he opened the lid and found a magical scroll of [Resurrection] and … laughed. It was – almost funny, as if the universe itself were laughing at him. A one-time, one-person, one-use [Resurrection].

And then, he said the thing he had been wanting to say for a while, since before he had died even – allegedly died, maybe in a coma. Maybe he was in a coma and this was all a coma dream. He chose to cling to that sliver of a possibility.

“Why?” he asked, no one or everyone. “If you really defeated Satan, if there really is a you at all, then why does Satan still seem to be winning? Why did Dmitri have to die in freaking Ukraine?”

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the world seemed to grow still around him, as if – maybe this time – as if Someone were Actually Listening, maybe.

This time the memories were real, the arguments with his friend who was absolutely sure that he was doing a righteous act, one blessed by God Himself, but a very different Jesus from the one Vikom used to believe in. And, he died doing that act and his friends and family never even got to see the body, if there was even a body left after whatever happened to him.

Memories of him in Xaranya – or whatever this place even was – going to [Cleric] Alaren, the pastor of Avalon, with questions. Memories of a door slammed in his face, literally, because he knocked on her door, she answered, heard what he had to say and closed the door without response.

And then, all the people, all the fights that got him to this point. Fighting with and studying these mobs, finding the strategies that worked, investing in equipment and scrolls and skills that could cover for what even his high-level could not manage alone.

He picked up the scroll and looked at it for a second before saying, “Inventory Scroll,” out loud, and the scroll disappeared into his inventory, because he had an inventory now, like in a video game. Except, this was not just a video game. Whatever this was, it was not just a video game.

Okay, so that made two memories, two reasons this world felt like a test that he might just be failing, at this moment. It wasn’t the last time he saw Dmitri, but it was the last time he … tried to convince his friend to not go, to not enlist, to not be involved in … whatever that even was going to be, not knowing for sure, because no one knew for sure.

He remembered telling Dmitri this was not a video game, that real people would be trying to shoot actual him, to kill actual him, and he would be killing actual people – at least maybe, depending on how and where he was deployed, if he was ever deployed.

His friend had never been as gung ho as Susan was, but his friend had been … enamored, had believed that if he died in the line of duty, if that happened, he would get to go to heaven for it, and when Vikom got the word, he believed – he wanted to believe that … it was true.

And now that he was dead too, at least maybe, allegedly, where was Dmitri? Where was his friend?

He removed his gauntlets, feeling as if he were on fire, wanting to look at his skin, to feel the air on his skin, cool and a little bit mildewy, very dungeon-esque. “Where am I? Where are you?” His voice low, almost a whisper, he added, “Dmitri.”

He dropped his gauntlets one by one on the ground, like a challenge, like challenging – what? – challenging God to a battle.

And then, a cool breeze swept through the chamber, as if something very fast were moving past him, something very fast and very invisible. He looked up to see what it was. When he looked down, one of his gauntlets had disappeared.

“What?” Leaning over, he picked up the remaining gauntlet.

The gauntlet looked the same, the main piece made of solid steel, emblazoned – as per his own personal touch – with a cross across the back of the hand, with solid leather  over the fingers. Solid at the hand and wrist, clasping around the wrist like a bracelet that snapped into place.

And yet the gauntlet felt lighter. He [Appraised] it and the name and description had changed to read:

[Ultra Rare Item: Divine Gauntlets of Protection. +3% Stamina, +1% to All Stats, New Ability: Holy Warrior.]

The [Holy Warrior] ability gave him a skill buff that would allow him to fight [Celestial] class opponents, whatever that meant. Once a day, with a 24-hour cooldown, lasting for the length of his encounter with [Celestial] class warriors.

“What is a [Celestial] class warrior?” he asked. There was no response, of course. Not yet. Not, perhaps for a while. We’ll see.