'This is the place,' he thought as he looked at the building. At first glance, it looked like a rather average bar. It had the same scent of alcohol as others he had encountered before. Yet, something about it felt different. The smell around it seemed...heavier, somehow. Not only that, the scent of blood seemed to flow underneath the stench of liquor, albeit faint.

  'Doesn't smell like human blood,' he thought, tilting his head as he sniffed the air. It was much more pungent than what he knew, yet was also somewhat of a contradiction. It was like he was smelling both rotted meat and roasted pinewood at the same time. 'Must be monster blood or something.'

  Pushing his thoughts aside, he stepped into what looked like a jazz bar. The sound of music melted into the overlapping chatter of the patrons. Every face he saw was relaxed, with a few flushed faces even attempting to sing along to the music. As he weaved through the bar, he eventually found what he was looking for. On one of the walls sat a large cork board, a majority of it covered in various sheets of paper. One of the ways that players would be able to gain specialized materials and items. A method of leveling up the main cast that became all but a staple of downtime in certain parts of the game.

  Dungeon Poaching.

  Making his way over to the board, he began scanning through the multitude of requests. He couldn't do Corrupted Dungeons since the danger wouldn’t be worth the reward right now. Mid-rank Dungeons would be in a similar vein, due to the need of more varied equipment and rations. As he searched through the available Dungeons, one of them caught his attention.

  Lizard Den

  | Rank: D

  | Completion Reward: 3700 MaCre + 40% of all harvested resources

  'This'll work,' he thought, ripping the paper off of the corkboard. The direct reward was rather unremarkable for its rank, but worth the trade. He also didn't need any materials at the moment, so the high cut was rather bearable. Currently, all he would need now are the tools to harvest the materials. Folding up the paper, he stuffed it into his pocket before scanning the bar. Dressed in various levels of armor, each one seemed prepared for any danger on their treks. Large bags sat near each of the patrons, no doubt holding necessary supplies.

  Walking over to one of the patrons, he watched as they seemed to be deep in conversation. As they talked with the others at their table, Jake began to unzip the bag sitting on their chair, revealing a multitude of various items. Various potions, knives, traps, and other gear sat in it, ready for use. Taking out one of the potions, he watched as the ruby liquid shone underneath the light, giving a soft glow. ‘First time seeing a healing potion in person.’

  Putting it in his bag, he zipped their bag before he began to search through the others. As he did so, he didn’t find anything of major use. A few extra potions, a canteen, some bandages, and some rations. They were useful, but nothing that he needed. Yet, one of the patrons gave him pause. Dressed in rusted plate armor, they seemed to be in a drunken coma, the heavy stench of alcohol surrounding them. Sitting next to the drunk was a backpack about the size of a small child.

  Making his way over, he began to search through the bag. In it, he found a large assortment of items, each shown to be rather well maintained. As he sorted through them, he found what seemed to be a flashlight. Taking it out of the bag, he switched it on and off. Seeing the bulb stay bright, he tossed it into his own bag before continuing his search. As he looked through the bag, he took smaller, but useful items. Things like bandages, small bags of monster parts, ration packets.

  As he searched through the multitude of items, his eyes landed on a pistol. While not much of a concern on its own, it seemed...different, somehow. The air around it seemed to twist and bend, with wisps of what looked like smoke emanating from its barrel. He took the pistol out of the bag, silver engravings shining under the light. It was much lighter than any pistol he had held before, as if made from wood rather than metal. Pulling back the slide, he wasn't met by the sight of polished brass or milled steel. Rather, what he saw was pure energy. The cylinder of what he could only assume was mana vibrated when the air touched it, almost annoyed. Small crackles of lightning nipped at his skin as he looked it over. Letting go of the slide, it snapped shut, silencing its low hum.

  'Never expected to see an Aether weapon so soon,' he thought as he examined it. Taking a quick glance at the counter, he paused as he saw hundreds of shots left in the weapon. To see an amount that would be on Aether rifles was abnormal. Yet, nothing about it seemed faulty. If anything, it seemed to be rather stable, the low hum contrasting the hissing he remembered. Holstering the weapon under his shirt, he continued to search through the bag.

  As he continued to loot the bag, he found a small packet, half the length of his forearm. Unclasping the small roll, he found half a dozen knives sitting in sleeves. Each blade was highly polished, the edges almost mirror-like. Rubbing his thumb against the edge of the blade, he felt it dig into the skin, but not cut through. Yet, it was rather warm as well.

  Bringing his thumb away from the blade, he closed up the leather roll before clasping it shut. He then shoved the item into his bag before turning his attention to the backpack. Closing up the bag, he made it so that it looked untouched. While he didn't take much of value, the amount taken would be noticeable if one paid attention.

  Now with enough of a possible safety net, he needed to go and get transportation to the dungeon itself. He made his way over to the bar, weaving through the crowded tables. Grabbing an empty seat, he sat down before watching the bartenders. As he watched the staff interact with the patrons, one began to approach his direction. Once they got close, he leaned over the bar stand before tapping their shoulder. As soon as he touched their body, they jumped back, shock and confusion on their face. As he felt their gaze rest on him, he sat back down. Good, he now registered in their mind. Pulling out the folded up request out of his pocket, he sat it down on the table.

  "I'm going to be doing this one and I need a ride," he stated, pushing the paper towards the worker. He watched as the worker took the paper from the table before reading it, their gaze flickering to him. Once they finished reading it, they folded it up before putting the paper in their pockets. clearing their throat, they turned to face him, a stern look in their eyes.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "As per protocol, I will serve as your guide. I will not interfere any further than that. Do you understand?" they stated, their voice firm. There were hardly any signs of unease, with the only he saw being the slight tension in their body. Once he nodded, he saw their shoulders relax, albeit still holding a smaller amount of it. "Alright, I'll guide you to the back. Follow me."

  Not seeming to waste time, the staff member weaved their way out from behind the bar. Once they stepped out from behind the polished wood, they made their way over to a door. As Jake followed them to that same door, he felt the scent of iron bleed through the mask. It hung alongside the sulfuric scent he encountered, each one seeming to dance with the other. Once he stood in front of the door, the bartender pressed what seemed to be a touchscreen. Immediately, the door let out a light click as the smell became thicker. Yet, something else came out from the room as well. Sounds of tools and barked orders echoed through the small gaps, each one overlapping.

  "I have to go change, so wait by the exit," they said before turning on their heels and making their way deeper down the hall.

  Now left alone, he stepped through the open doorway and into the room. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, a wave of noise assaulted him. the heavy sounds of meat hitting tables. the barking of orders and clattering of tools. Dulling his hearing, he began to look through the room for the exit.

  As he weaved through the bustle, he watched as each of the members of the staff went through the motions. As he watched the staff cut through the carcasses of beasts, he noticed something. the way each of the people went through their tasks, it seemed patterned. As if it served as more than a way to cut through flesh and fur.

  Strange.

  Pushing the oddity aside, he resumed his search for the exit door. Eventually finding it near what looked like a shelf, he planted himself next to the steel door. As he waited, he watched as the staff went through the motions given to each of them. Their movements were like that of machinery, each one clicking into that of the next.

  As he continued to watch them go about their job, he saw the bartender step in and walk towards him. Dressed in body armor, their eyes met his own, their gaze firmer than before. Gone was the slight shakiness of their gaze, with it replaced by a look of hardened will. No words being said, they made their way to the door, only pausing to send a glance his way. A silent command hung in the air, cutting through the noise of work and chatter.

  ‘Follow.’

  Nodding, Jake followed the bartender, now his guide, out of the building. The two of them made their way through what seemed to be the city's back roads. as they weaved through the side paths and backstreets, Jake attempted to make sense of the city.

  'Buildings are both utilitarian and follow a collective design. Materials seem aged, but not ancient. Still a good amount of snow on the ground despite it looking to be around spring, so northern.'

  Yet, as he took note of his surroundings, nothing in his memory seemed to fit. It was either one that was only named in passing or one that was never mentioned.

  'Something I should rectify.'

  Making his way up to his guide's side, he gave a light tap to their shoulder. at his touch, their attention turned away from the dawn-lit pathways.

  “Do you know what city this is?” Jake asked. At his question, the guide furrowed their brow. At the confused look on their face, he gave a light shrug. "I'm new in this region and didn't pay attention to any signage."

  Wasn't exactly a lie, considering he had done similar things. Waking up to find himself in a different city or state wasn't exactly rare for him whenever he had to hitchhike.

  "Well then. Welcome to Duskfrost and its greatest shard, Northwater," the guide said, turning away. Hearing the name, Jake felt it sounding familiar, somehow. Yet, whenever he went through his memory, nothing seemed to show. No mention by either quests, characters, or even descriptions. Yet, something about it made it felt like he should know.

  Odd.

  Pushing the paradox aside, the two of them continued in silence. After a while, the duo arrived at a parking garage. Making their way through the main entrance, the duo walked past a variety of cars before stopping at one. In front of them sat a pickup truck, the aged paint illuminated by dawn light.

  Going over to the side of the truck, Jake grabbed the side before vaulting over into the bed. As he sat down in the empty bed, he turned his gaze to meet the guide. A heavy silence grew between them as a mixture of emotions passed over the guides’ face.

  "It felt easier," Jake answered, breaking through the silence. He had rode in truck beds before, so it wasn't anything new to him. From tagging along with hunts to serving as security, it was something he did rather often.

  Deciding to not ask further, the guide made their way over to the truck. Climbing into the driver's seat, the truck began to sputter before the engine roared to life. Once the engine settled into a low grumbling, the guide stuck their head out from the truck window to face him.

  “Hold on tight,” the guide said before ducking back into the vehicle. Securing his grip, he felt the truck jerk as it pulled out of its parking space before making its way out of the garage. Now on the roads, he watched as buildings flew past his sight, the cold wind grazing his neck. As he turned his gaze to the sun, he felt memories begin to resurface.

  It was a rather cold day. Reddened leaves gave way to that of pale snow, but still held a firm grasp. Jake, now an orphan, watched as the half-dead trees flew past his sight. His clothes still stained with blood, he bit into the sandwich he made, a mix of spices hitting his tongue. As he kept eating, he turned his attention to the conversation between the two in front. They were bickering about something. Football or something equally trivial. Whatever it was, he must've marked it as 'unimportant' in his memory.

  Tuning the two out, he turned his attention back to the scenery. The crisp dawn painted the landscape, as if like that of an artist. Bronze and yellow illuminated red and orange, each color interweaving with one another. The blues of the rivers crashing against the browns of the dirt.

  "We're here!" the guide suddenly shouted, bringing Jake out of his memories. Pushing his past aside, he noticed that the air was sharper than before. It dug into his skin, almost like that of dulled knives. He hopped out of the truck bed before turning his attention to the source. In front of him sat a large cave entrance. Gashes and blood littered the stone around it, as if an intense battle happened.

  'So, this is what a Dungeon entrance looks like,' Jake thought, tilting his head. These things were never shown in Blades Of Passion. Whenever the player chose a Dungeon, it would simply cut to a loading screen. After a while, it would cut back to the party in the dungeon proper.

  "Are you nervous or something?" the guide asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. At their question, he paused. Was he nervous?

  Closing his eyes, he searched inside his mind for what could be 'nervousness'. As he looked through it, he was met with...nothing. No changes in breathing. No shakiness in his hands. Nothing has changed.

  Everything was still.

  Opening his eyes, he made his way towards the entrance to the dungeon. As he got closer, he pulled his hood over his head before unholstering the pistol. He had to start preparing for the road ahead. Weapons, experience, gear. That way, he would be able to keep everything on course.

  This would be the start of it.