Devourer Class

The fight against the Golden Vesplugs didn't last anything longer than a few moments. The tunnel was too compact for them to fully extend their wings in flight, so Galahad's sword had a decent enough reach to tear open the bug monsters on the ground and air.

Once everything was quickly finished and laying motionless on the ground, Galahad began collecting the orbs and an additional drop of a poisonous stinger before carrying on. The occasional drop of monster loot was an added bonus to Galahad's spending money, so he was happy to put in his bag pocket.

With all the mana orbs going straight into his devouring skill, the only money he made was what Regin paid him. Most of which, went towards food and rent, so he could only buy occasional books and gear after saving up as much as possible.

The small fight ended no serious injuries or bleeding, so Galahad put the orbs in his bag as well. He learned it was best to save the orbs for healing his more serious injuries instead of consuming them the moment he had them. Either way, he gained the same amount of +XP, so keeping them close by was the smartest option.

Using their abilities to heal his body came in handy since he had no way of using any form of conventional healing magic anymore. Having no one to lean against in the dungeons meant fending for himself and fixing his own wounds.

If not for the mana orbs, he probably would have died long before the Vesplug swarm or gone bankrupt from buying all the expensive healing potions. None of which developed a passive skill, so he was very disappointed in that over three hundred credits went straight down the drain on that one.

After walking around and avoiding a few dungeon hunting parties, Galahad felt he was far enough away from the crowds to stop sneaking along the paths. He aimlessly went down tunnels and searched for vertical slants to make it further downward, hoping to see some change.

Every time he entered the dungeon, the words; [ You've Entered the Dungeon: First Floor ]. Once he made made it farther down the tunnels, descending vertically, he'd make it to the second floor usually after half a day of walking. Sometimes it would take even longer or less time since the tunnels had no pattern or reason that he could use to go farther down.

About two hours before the shift was about to happen, Galahad felt the chime go off and a new message appeared.

[ You've Entered the Dungeon: Second Floor ]

'Oh wonderful, the first time I manage to get down to the second floor in just a few hours, but its worthless when I have to go right back up.' Sarcastic complaints poured out of Galahad's mind as he made his way through a rockslide of a sloped tunnel. He practically slid down the dirt like it was winter sledding hill, trying not to fall on his a.s.s like he did when going skiing.

He still had no idea what the floors of the dungeon signified, but he felt the more powerful he grew, the more interesting the future floors might be. After a few minutes of moving through unstable ground, he found it ended on more compacted dirt that seemed almost aged from busy activity stomping it flat.

'Strange, maybe this tunnel has been surviving the shift for a while.' Galahad thought as he brushed his gloved hand against the wall, feeling almost nothing coming loose.

'Maybe this leads to a nearby cavern, then I can stay till the shift and make it down to the third floor. Wouldn't that be a nice, then I don't have to start back up at the beginning.'

At first, when the rumors about him starting carrying around the city, Galahad was concerned people would find out who he was and the guild would start coming after him. But then a few days went by and the worrying turned out to be nothing important.

The city of Diagon was much bigger than Teramore; many faces came and went through its streets. He may have been wearing black armor, but unless he kept wearing the skull mask and flaunted his magic sword's uniquely blue blade; no one thought twice about him coming up to the surface alone before the shift and just going right back down.

Now that he was already at the second floor, it'd be a waste of time to start back up at the top of the gate. Looking for a safe place for a rest would give him more time to keep fighting in the emptier parts of the dungeon, so the search was vital to his curiosity.

"What the ffff-" Galahad instantly went into a defensive stance, pulling out his sword with a lightning swing ready. A soft wind whistled through the tunnels and blew against him. The light draft wasn't that unusual, but something else was coming at him. His sensitivity to his surroundings had increased greatly since the black orb merged, but after leveling up so many times, his eyes and ears were nearly inhuman.

Galahad felt like something was there, he couldn't tell if it was approaching or leaving but it existed nonetheless. It felt like a physical presence, but not in the right way. It was not just at the end of the tunnel, but all around him. Almost like the draft of air was hostile towards him.

'I swear to the gods, if that angry voice comes back; I am not going back up to the surface. Life was much more likeable when I didn't feel like murdering everyone.'

After glancing around for a moment, Galahad felt the skin on the back of his neck start to crawl. Without waiting for the unknown to emerge, he turned and sprinted down another tunnel. He'd rather miss a chance at some orbs than fight something that made his newly developed instincts flare up so bad.

After a few minutes of running and putting distance from the spot, Galahad stopped at a bend in tunnel's path. He didn't feel the threat of the unknown entity's presence completely disappear, but it was far enough away that he wasn't concerned with it too much.

'Well no harm in running, the only damage it does is take a hit to my self-esteem.' He thought as he hid his mask. No one was nearby by and Galahad doubted the eerie presence would tattle on him for being a topic of the city gossip.

'It'll be nice when I can eventually ditch this ridiculous getup. At least it will be a funny story to tell everyone about finally wearing heavy armor when I get them . . . out . . . Is that a c.h.e.s.t?' Galahad stopped in the middle of his thoughts, wondering if he was in fact seeing the object in front of him.

Sitting in the middle of the tunnel of the tunnel was indeed a knee high c.h.e.s.t with an unlocked padlock hanging from the notch. It looked completely untouched and out of place where it was sitting, like an obvious trap.

"Great, I am hallucinating again. Oh wait no, the words and voices in my head are apparently very real. So this should be real too." Galahad took out his sword again and pointed it at the box before him.

As he slowly made his approach, he went as far to try and sniff the c.h.e.s.t from a cautious distance, wondering if it had any explosive material inside. He learned his lesson with the barrel full of orbs at the bandit camp, and found fire puffer dust had a strong molasses odor he could recognize if found.

Nothing happened with the c.h.e.s.t's distanced inspection, so with no other excuses to stay away, he flipped the lid open with the blade of his sword. No traps or explosives went off, so he could finally let out a sigh of relief.

Galahad peeked inside and rolled his eyes as he found the c.h.e.s.t was just as clean on the inside as it was on the outside. Not even a pile of dirt was inside.

'I wasn't hoping for anything, yet finding nothing still makes it seem disappointing.' Galahad chuckled at himself for being so paranoid, still wondering what it was doing in the middle of the dungeon.

That confusion was quickly overtaken by the alarming sensation of a torturous ringing in Galahad's ears. Without any warning, his brain felt like an ice pick was sloshing it around and banging against his skull. He fell to his knees in pain, not even being able to hear his sword clatter against the ground.

"F.U.C.K!!! Was it cursed!?!" Was all he could shout before the pain overtook his voice with screaming.

The pain went on for a matter of seconds, but it felt much longer. Galahad had no idea what caused it, but it left him a sickly-pale color and covered in a thick layer of sweat. He hadn't felt anything that intense since waking up the first few times in the medical center. His legs nearly buckled out from under him when he tried standing up.

He managed to get on his feet and stand straight for about two seconds, before immediately bending back over to start vomiting his ham sandwich from lunch.

"You know what, I think its time I call it a night. Augh, *Spit!" Galahad said with stomach acid and saliva stringing from the corner of his lips. "Tonight might not be the best night to try finding the third floor."

"Yeesh," Interrupted another voice, "We leave him alone for a few days and suddenly he's getting sick alone in a tunnel. Can't imagine what he'd do without us." Stated all too familiar and impossible voice from the other side of the tunnel.

"T-t-that's not possible." Suddenly the sickness didn't seem too important as Galahad looked up to see the voice was truly there. His eyes had never been so big in shock before, only a silent expression that followed was his response.

Standing in the middle of the darkness was the last person Galahad was expecting to see in a nonchalant stance with a long dagger spinning in hand.

Trista was right there, along with everyone else that got taken by the altar of the black orb.