There is no Epic Loot here, Only Puns.

Chapter 158: Sour on the Rocks

Chapter 158: Sour on the Rocks

“Pay?... Give Dungeon scum my money to get up a damn hill?” one of the Fairplay men snarled in outrage as he read the sign above the oddly placed well. Inside... weird clamping noises could be heard.

Nu thought that if everyone in the Dungeon was ‘scum’? Then these people were clearly the flotsam that did nothing for anyone.

At least pond scum produced oxygen for others, these fools just opened their mouths and tainted everyone else’s life with their opinions. B

As if hearing them, the well surface formed a layer of brick, shutting off any potential way to drop coinage into the well. A sign appeared above it.

‘Mercy given, mercy offered. Cruelty inflicted, cruelty returned. Breaking into this well might get you treasure, but it no longer allows you to skip this room’

Geytan sweated as his skin peeled in places from the mass heat from the infernal mushroom grove behind them.

“We proceed with caution,” he insisted and put a foot on the hill leading up. An arrow sliced across his cheek, leaving a stinging bleeding line.

“No kin-slayer shall be granted passage,” came a dark angry voice.

Geytan, leader of this squadron and all the Fair Player operatives in the area, looked up to see a goblin of all things getting the drop on them.

“You dare-” he began to hiss, raising his hand for his exhausted mages and bowmen running out of arrows to take aim.

A boot slammed into his face, thrown with such force his nose burst open in a spurt of crimson blood.

When his vision cleared, leaving a horrible pain on his face, he saw a second goblin looking down at him. The thing was nimble, moving between two of ramparts with only one boot on and dancing like a feral cat.

“Break my heart, I'll break your skull! For Cois!” the muscular newcomer raged.

Geytan reached into his pocket for a special vial. A deadly neurotoxin that worked ‘well’ on things with brains. Fairplay all had antidotes but these goblins would be left twitching on the floor, spasming in agony as Geytan slit their-

A hand gripped his wrist before Geytan could toss the vial.

“Such behavior is ungentlemanly. I will commandeer this,” said a massive walking... mushroom with a bushy mustache made of creamy fibers.

“Where did... you come from...?” Geytan gasped as the grip on his wrist was like steel.

“Oh... I can just appear where the winds take me. Where people lack manners and respect, Lord Mushy will arrive to deliver due justice. Such is the power of the gentleman,” the creature said smoothly.

“S-Sir! Wandering Raid Boss! The mana signature matches that level of power!” one of his mages screamed.

“Impossible! This Dungeon is supposed to have barely any floors! It’s nothing! It’s a joke! It cannot have such a thing!” Geytan screamed as the mushroom lifted him off the ground with ease.

“I may take insults to myself, the destruction of my home... even I may one day forgive you for the murder of my friend...” the self-proclaimed ‘Lord Mushy’ began before his once soft eyes began to glow an ominous yellow, leaving trails of hazy heat behind as they moved.

“But never call Mother ‘nothing’ in my presence again or this will be much worse,” he promised and Geytan didn’t comprehend what happened next. Only that his ribs made an odd noise and he was flying.

He crashed into a warm room of wood and carpet. The scent of cooking meat and ale was strong in the air. Geytan landed, rolling across the room where he gasped... trying to stand. Something cold and metallic was softly placed on his forehead.

Geytan looked up to see a hideous goblin with tumors across its torso and thick lips. In its hands, was a fire-crystal powered gun. The long barrel looked to be made for enough force to be built up that Geytan could have his head blown clean off if he moved wrong.

“I’ve heard you have a habit of saying dumb things. I wonder... does that still hold true?” the grotesque goblin asked softly, its voice smoky, and much gruffer than the other goblins.

Geytan narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to spit on the goblin’s face when he barely swallowed back the urge.

“Good boy. I might not make terrible stew out of your remains. ‘Darwin Soup’ would be a limited-time dish,” the goblin said with a wicked grin.

“What do you want, you... what do you want?” he asked as the rest of his team was carried in by the powerful mushroom creature, the sight of it making his chest ache something horrible.

“Now you talk... now you ask? Where was this when you murdered Francois in cold blood?” the hulking goblin hissed.

“You cannot murder that with no soul. How can it be murdered if it simply returns afresh after a night’s sleep? That is monstrous, nothing more,” Geytan replied coldly.

“Ohh full name. Cois is going to be so annoyed,” said the muscular goblin.

“I thought he was just Cois?” the dark hooded goblin with crimson eyes and a bow on his back mused.

“Fran and Cois shared the name, they’re both at heart, Francois, but I think they’re Fran and Cois in their own minds,” the other goblin said brightly.

What madness was this? What sick charade was this Dungeon putting on for him? Like a demonic child showing off their dolls.

“What I want... is an apology,” the large goblin said and it jiggled oddly, like an odd interpretation of a voluptuous barmaid. It’s voice wasn’t... bad, but Geytan scowled harder, ignoring its figure.

“Why not take my hand or kill me?” he asked acidicly .

“The apology will hurt more,” the goblin said sweetly.

“I... would...rather...die,” Geytan stressed through his teeth, chin jutting out.

“Then you shall wish you died,” she said simply.

‘She’? When did it transition from an ‘it’ to a ‘her’ in Geytan’s mind? The goblin went around the bar, leaving Geytan at the mercy of the mushroom monster.

She returned shortly with a bubbling cup of something. The liquid was nearly black and the air around it hummed dangerously as the few sizzling fizzes that escaped left hazy puffs of smoke in the shape of skulls as it rose into the air.

“What is that?!” Geytan shrank back, but he was against a wall now.

“It was troll soup,” the goblin maid said casually. His panic rose only to freeze in abject horror.

‘Was troll soup’? No, that wasn’t right! Troll soup never went sour or out of date due to the fact even germs would wither if trying to eat it. It would never thicken nor turn watery in the sun or rain... it was primordial ooze, or as close as one could find it! No known ingredient could dilute its pungent taste!

“What did you do to it, Fera?” the dark goblin asked curiously.

Fera... a fetching name for...

Geytan forced himself to focus on the abomination in Fera’s hand.

“I fed it to a Blackhole Piggle Nu had around. It sort of... well, anyway, the troll soup survived and it came back looking like this,” the goblin said gruffly.

A...blackhole... pig?

What?

The cup was pushed to his lips.

“Last chance, you gnawed piece of chicken bone... apologize or drink,” Fera said, thrusting the cup at him. Geytan glared into her deep dark eyes, getting lost for a moment before snatching the cup and downing it in one gulp.

It tasted... a lot better than troll soup actually. Geytan had tasted the foul stuff once as a dare. This was more like tart apple pie but mixed with a spicy ginger... it was warm and thick.

“I overestimated your bar skills, madam,” Geytan smirked as he crossed his arms.

“This drink was hardly-” he began only to pause.

Then it hit the back of his throat and a squeezing pressure of burning hay followed by dozens of angry rotted onions tap dancing along his voice box before it hit his stomach. He jerked and to his eyes, his fingers flew off his hand like fireworks, fizzing around the room which began to melt like soft candy. The goblins all became happy dancing grapes with smiles and the largest one was thick... juicy and thick.

He stood up and his legs stepped a mile in front of him, taking years for it to touch down but time was false! Only grapes existed to Geytan now!

He was god of legs and grapes!

Geytan was the king of Fairplay! The company building now a giant magical unicorn with three heads that became his steed! He was Fairplay, the player of grapes.

All was good.

Geytan was happy.

---

“I was expecting more vomit and less... this,” Fera admitted as the foolish human turned in circles on the floor, her broom between his legs as he laughed loudly, there were no lights behind his dilated eyes.

“I’ll need to dilute it to a tenth and see how it fares,” she sighed, preparing a cot and fresh water for the fool when he finally came down from whatever asteroid he was on.

It was going to be a long bad trip back to the ground.

She turned to his group who all bowed, begging about their ignorance and how they were deeply sorry for the actions they had taken.

Well, there were always good things about this.

---

Trysha wondered if Geytan would mock her... demote her if he saw her broken and defeated at the bottom of this pyramid. The dark god of music at the top, silent as he observed her.

She had been so close to something... some sort of... understanding, but at the last moment, she lost it, the glowing golden pulse of nirvana slipping through her fingers, crashing to pieces like Trysha felt now.

“Do you eat people?” she asked aloud, wondering how she might die. She would prefer to die to this one than the mouse in the other room. It just felt less embarrassing.

“I feed off attention and compliments, you’d put me up three sizes and I do not look good in stretch pants, my dear,” the creature said, walking down the pyramid as his many tendrils connecting him to the ceiling moved like reverse roots of a tree.

“I don’t understand...” she admitted, too tired to play games or angle for answers.

“No, you don’t, but you will. Soon, very soon. It will come to you like a dream... a whisper of the wind. You’re going to turn one day and hum a tune... then it will all change. Music and soul sometimes needs years of journeys to grasp or just a simple tune on a sunny afternoon. You’re close... but not there,” the dark one promised.

“D-Did music change you?” she managed to ask as her vision began to turn black.

There was a hearty chuckle from the other being.

“Every inch of me. I was devoid of self and meaning... then a light of my life sang a little tune and it all changed. Just one little tune. Now... go find your tune,” he encouraged and Trysha tried to answer, but her vision blacked out.

In the back of her mind, a half-forgotten song played.

It was harsh, a sort of echoing storm inside a drum. Harsh, but intentional. A sort of singing of energy.

Not a tune with words, but a tune for the body.

It reminded Trysha of those times where the engineering guild messed with new technology, evolving their knowledge of it.

Technology Knowledge.

This music felt like that, a playful use of the phrase. Trysha snorted and before she fell asleep, she named it with a joke in her heart.

Techknow.

---

Lord Mushy put the unconscious girl down with most of that foolish Geytan’s group, the man himself not leaving until Fera could ensure she didn’t permanently harm the man.

Being one of the few with legs on the floor, he and the goblins had been dumping the Fairplay people by the entrance as Hob and Gob carried them out... with all but their clothes taken from them. Mistress Ruli watched from a stool with a piece of wood she had been whittling into a tiny grave marker for Fairplay.

From the lake room, the sounds of content quacking sounded out and the last group fled the room, their clothes cut to ribbons, their hair in tatters, and what looked like nicks across their fingers from trying to hide something. Lord Mushy watched them run past, the entire back of their ‘Dungeon Gear’ stripped down to reveal their colorful underwear and not much else.

Looking in, Mushy saw that Waddles now had a royal tent made out of the fabric he had ‘liberated’ from the group. A yawning tent complete with a fur cape as a welcome mat. Inside, the same old twigs and feathers made up his nest.

“Will the last two teams come down?” Ruli called up the stairs cheerfully. No one came down the Dungeon steps.

“Last chance?” Ruli yelled and the sounds of heavy footsteps moving away from the Dungeon was quite audible.

“Damn right you run,” Ruli muttered as she turned to Mushy.

“Yo, Mush... how's the bar?” she asked.

“Still committing crimes against nature,” Lord Mushy reported dutifully. Ruli patted his arm on the way past.

“That’s what I like to hear. I cannot wait to try some fried catfish, smoked mushroom soup, and more! Why do you taste so delicious, Mush?” she asked and Lord Mushy pondered it.

“Because mother filled us with love and dreams,” he concluded.

“Your mum is good at filling things. I like that about her,” Ruli complimented.

Lord Mushy beamed as best he could, not quite getting the comment but affectionately liking it all the same.

---

Outside, Deo grinned as the people ran back to town in clear excitement and joy. Delta had done it again! She was even doing haircuts now it looked like. He turned to Gus and smiled.

“It’s Argus, not-”

“Gus, you should go inside! Delta is awesome!” he suggested, pulling at the other boy slightly, moving him a couple of feet before the other one dug his heels in.

“I shouldn’t,” he protested and Deo just grinned. Gus was a little shy, but Deo knew deep down he had lots of courage, as tough as metal!

“It’ll be fun!” Deo promised as Gus left tracks in the dirt like trenches. The boy finally got leverage and halted their progress.

“I won’t!” he said loudly and Deo winced, his ears sensitive to the sudden change in any other noise but his own. Something he was going to adapt to surely, but it still was a little sore for now.

There was a pause as Deo stared at him in bewilderment. Gus pulled back, looking ashamed of his outburst.

“I... Father hasn’t given me orders to enter the Dungeon,” he said quietly.

“He won’t mind,” Deo said, confident because his Dad was the best and thus all dads had to be as cool as his dad. That was just how it worked.

“Maybe, but I’ve worked so hard and long to get this far. To ignore his orders or... lack thereof would be an insult. It would be throwing his trust in me in his face. I can’t do that... not after everything he’s done for me,” Gus pleaded, sitting down on the grass, turning his back to the Dungeon.

Deo sat facing him, a habit he still had from when he read lips. “What did he do? Did he arm wrestle a dragon or suplex a hydra or maybe he disguised himself as an old woman to rescue you from evil dwarves who wanted to use you as a free maid?” he asked curiously and with no hesitation. Gus sighed and looked a little amused at Deo’s question.

“You just speak with your heart on your sleeve, don’t you?” he asked dryly.

“I speak with my mouth. A heart on my sleeve would make it dirty,” Deo said factually, arms crossed and sounding serious.

“Fine...do you know about the disaster up north involving the Silver Dungeon?” Gus asked, twitching at the name like it was an old wound he prodded.

“An event involving a massively developed Dungeon that turned corrupted due to an unknown influence. Its corruption resulted in about twelve villages in the upper mountain range being wiped out in one of the world’s largest loss of life recorded since the Great Tree turned on the people,” Deo reported dutifully. Gus stared, mouth agape.

“My teacher likes history. He said it’s filled with fools and slightly less foolish fools,” Deo explained fondly.

“I-I see... Well, I was there. I saw the village of Plata go from a peaceful exporter of silver goods... to hell,” Gus said slowly, his eyes going distant.

“Plata was the closest village to the Dungeon. It basically rose up based off its treasures. The people were happy... I was happy. It was....then it was gone one day,” Gus went on as a breeze blew through the meadow.

“The mountain cracked open like an egg and Silver left the Dungeon, followed by tides of deformed melting nightmares. Some boiled people alive with molten silver. Some became one with the villagers, becoming Half-souls...but no matter how hard I moved in any direction. I found people I had seen growing up. People I had come to know so well... my home was destroyed,” Gus whispered, his voice becoming quieter.

Deo stared, unsure on how to respond for a moment.

“Your mum? Dad?” he asked uncertainly. Gus didn’t speak for a while.

“I was too young to remember them really. They were always busy working and I don’t think... We had many memories together. But when I laid there in the cold, weeping and trying to remember how to do anything but scream and weep... my father found me. He picked me out of the snow and wrapped me in his cloak,” he said and smiled.

“He asked my name and I was so young back then I tried to use big words to impress him. I don’t remember my old family name, but he called me ‘Argus the Gentle boy’ because I kept crying if he left me alone,” he huffed at the memory. Deo smiled now, feeling that Gus really loved his adoptive father.

“Did you ever... go back?” Deo asked him.

“Never. The idea hurts so much it makes me sick inside,” Gus admitted as he twirled grass between his fingers.

“Delta isn’t like Silver. She won’t hurt you,” Deo prodded and Gus shook his head.

“I’m not afraid of Dungeons. Not Delta or any other. I’ve been near others before and I got over my fear. It’s just... if you love someone, you want to make them happy and I love my dad. I want to be someone he can be proud of and this?” he gestured to Delta’s entrance, “isn’t how I do that,” he said with firm determination.

“When can you come? I want to have an adventure with you!” Deo whined a little, but batted his eyes excitedly at him. Gus smiled, it was a real smile with his eyes sparkling.

“When Fairplay comes in earnest and I get to be the head of the operation thanks to the Elders... I’ll have a party with you and we can let Delta blow me away, that sound good?” Gus held his hand out to Deo.

Deo shook it.

He couldn’t wait for that day to come.