Chapter 73: Chapter 73

There is a surprised shriek from the priestess, who is just a little squeamish apparently. The hero who reached out to stop the one closest to him is now on the ground trying to stop the man’s bleeding. What a great guy. He calls to the priestess, who is still processing the situation, only for the wizard to shout something back and stop her mid-motion. They seem to be at odds about the situation. The monk is standing in the doorway, rather indifferent to everything. The thief, well, she is more than indifferent about everything. Even from down here at this low angle, even beneath her shadowy green hood I can tell that her face is covered in absolute disinterest. Absolute boredom. What the heck, guy?

 

  I cower down behind the leg of the table, pressing myself into the shadows as the blood of the two who have fallen next to me, who are writhing and bleeding out next to me, seeps over the bright floors towards me; pooling in a puddle around my tiny rat feet. It seems to be too late, the body of the ‘man’ in the hero’s grasp goes limp and he slumps over, a final gurgle leaving his lips, carrying out a single word I can’t decipher to which the hero looks oddly… aghast? No, that word is too strong. He’s not quite shocked, but surprised, but not that surprised, you know? Just kind of… mildly uh… somewhat barely bothered? Yeah. Bothered.

 

  He sets the body of the strange being, which I have decided to dub ‘cultists’ as a whole, down. They just feel kind of culty, you know? This seems like a cult thing. Real secret society, old one cow-towing, moon-worshiping punch drinkers. Either that or I was just witness to the world’s most intense drinking game. I hear a gargle, a wet rasping as one of the ones at my table faces my way, his head rolling limply to the side to face me and I watch as the expression on his shadowy face changes as ours eyes meet, just as the light behind his goes out forevermore. At least for today.

 

  There are shouts and I look over. The hero-party is arguing again. This time it’s the hero and the wizard who has a real passionate hate in her eyes. Some real poison there behind that glare. Heck, watching them I wouldn’t even call it an argument. It’s more like she’s scolding the hero, which is, for me at least, an odd thing to witness. The small framed, red-haired girl finger-wagging the fate-chosen hero. What a strange thing. Human power structures are… odd. Him being the human-king more or less has little meaning to the rest of them in the way they talk to each other. Everything is more… balanced.

 

  I can’t understand them, but I suppose the hero being… well, the hero; he wanted to save that one cultist. But the wizard stopped the priestess from healing him? I guess she doesn’t like the purple-robes. Maybe there’s some hugely tragic back-story there, who knows? I bet the hero is like all ‘we can’t just let them die! They’re people too!’ and that the wizard is all like ‘No! They killed my family! They deserve worse!’ and the hero is like ‘Nooooo, we have to stop the violence’.

 

  Meanwhile the monk has sat down at the table and is eating the food they left behind rather indifferently, holding the priestess at bay with the other hand who is frantically trying to stop her with flailing arms.

 

  I’m just sitting here, in a dark corner filled with blood wondering; why is this my life? How did I get here? I sigh, watching them from afar. Man. When was the last time I sighed? Sometimes I forget in-between all the mayhem and cycles of death and rebirth; sometimes I forget how human they are, the adventurers. How young. Though… on the other hand, I do feel a tiny bit less sympathy for the hero all of the sudden? He never felt so bad when he was killing me. Or my friends. So I guess he’s just a bit human-biased, which I find shocking to be honest. Absolutely shocking. But not really. I mean, I guess I get it. I don’t want to kill other trash-mobs either, so we aren’t so different, him and I. That’s what I like to think at least, because I have literally nothing else going on in my life. But hey.

 

  As the discussion begins to settle down they look around the room, I suppose deciding what to do now. For a moment the brazier in the middle catches their eyes, but the fire-elemental has vanished into the flames leaving nothing but your everyday smoldering inferno in the metal basin. The hero gets up and they walk around the room, checking the bodies vaguely. I wouldn’t say they’re looting them. It’s more of a… inspection? I suppose they’re making sure every one of them is dead. They are. I guess being an adventurer is rather macabre work sometimes.

 

  The hero returns from behind the counter where the one man had gone to before and shakes his head to the others. There is a collective shuffling, some sighs and a grunt and a single ‘hmpf’ from the wizard before they all gather together and…

 

Leave?

 

They just leave.

 

What?

 

  Like, they’re not going the other way. They’re just… going back the way they came from? Huh? As the group collects and leaves the scene the last thing I see is the hero’s cape fluttering behind him as he closes the door. The fabric gets caught in it and he opens it again, pulls the cape out, and shuts it now for the second time. Watching the spectacle, I just quietly sit there and wait for the steps to fade away into the distance.

 

Well. This has been… an experience.

 

You are reading story Respawn Condition: Trash Mob at novel35.com

  Looking around at the carnage around me I scamper-scamper out from beneath my hiding place and look around at the room, not quite sure what to do now. I can’t see much from down here, nothing but dead bodies as far as the eye can see. So like. Two feet because there is one literally right in front of me. Hmm. Looking around I spot a chair next to me. It’s a bit of an act, but I manage to climb up the different joints to reach the seat, from there I make my way up the back and with a small leap, land on the top of the table.

 

  Looking over the carnage now from above I see the state of the room and its inhabitants. Yup. They’re dead. Hmm. Gazing into the slowly crackling fire I see that the elemental has reappeared and is looking around as well, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed me. I suppose there are more pressing matters on her mind right now. One thing I notice though, one thing that is impossible to miss is that all of the bodies share one familiar feature apart from their purple branding.

The sun embroidered into the fabric. I remember that. Didn’t…

 

I try to remember.

 

  Didn’t demon-miasma have one of those on his cape? Didn’t… uh… Nathan? Nicholas? Nate? Uh, well. The skeleton-caster guy. Didn’t he have the same sign on his robe? Looking at the overturned body of the one closest to me I examine the sigil. It is for sure a sun. Actually. Looking closely at it, this looks like the goblin word for hero, doesn’t it? Then again, I suppose there aren’t many other ways to draw a sun so it could just be a happy coincidence.

 

But why do they all have it? Why are there so many of them and most importantly, what does this have to do with me?

 

Dunno.

 

  Anyways there are more pressing matters at hand. Turning around I look at the brown thing before me on the table and walk over to it, taking a whiff. It smells sweet, kind of… hmm. Feeling the grumble in my tiny body I suppose I have no other choice, I’ve eaten worse things right? Haha.

 

  Taking a careful nibble-nibble of the corner my eyes shoot open in delight. It is still warm, still fragrant and soft. Ah the smell. It brings back memories. As I drop my inhibitions and dive in, taking out gigantic mouthfuls I wonder; when was the last time I had bread?

 

  I stop, my cheeks stretched full and my mouth full of saliva. Hey, bread. Bread. Bread. Ber-er-ead. BREAD. I repeat the word in my mind a few times, getting a feel for it. I remember bread. Oh man. Losing myself I dive in, burrowing a hole into the side as I nibble and gnaw my way into the warm loaf. Ah, I wish I could share this with queen-queen. I bet she would love me again then. My little heart aches at the thought of being unwanted by her now. I can almost hear the crying as I eat and worm my way into the food. It’s like it’s right next to me.

 

Oh. Wait.

 

  I turn around and look at the center of the room at the fire-elemental mourning the loss of the uh… cult? Sure. It’s an odd sight. She’s going through the motions of crying but I really doubt there are any tears given all of the uh, you know, fire. Still.

 

  I wonder if she’s a trash-mob? I think so. I don’t think she’s a sub-boss. Hell. This doesn’t seem like a usual dungeon-floor either. This whole place is just… a room. Then again I haven’t seen the other side of that door yet either so… no. Focus. I return my eyes to the elemental, to the slowly dying down flames that are eating their way through the last of the tinder in her basin. My eye twitches and I know what I have to do even if I don’t really want to.

 

With a sigh, I crawl out of the hole I have literally made for myself and set to work wondering why I have to be such a softy.

---