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Chapter 9: Don’t Call Me “Little Tune”
Compared to my last visit to the mine for Quartzite Jade, the place was now bustling with activity. From the entrance onward, miners lined both sides of the cave, their iron picks swinging rhythmically as they chipped away at rocks. Men and women, humans and dwarves, warriors and mages—all were united in a shared purpose. The clanging of pickaxes against stone created a symphony of labor, filling the cavern with an industrious fervor.
The bats and wild dogs that had once harassed me near the entrance were nowhere to be seen. Occasionally, a desperate bat would dart out from deeper within the cave, only to be swiftly dispatched by idle miners searching for fresh veins of ore.
“You said there wouldn’t be many people here,” Millionfold muttered, looking around in dismay.
“I… I don’t know what happened!” I stammered, equally baffled. “When I came last time, this place was deserted.”
“Well, since we’re already here, let’s go deeper,” Nocturne in B-flat Minor chimed in, his tone pragmatic despite a flicker of disappointment. “Everywhere’s crowded these days.”
As he predicted, the deeper we ventured, the more the scenery shifted. Dull, ordinary rocks gave way to gleaming mineral deposits—precious ores shimmering with otherworldly hues. Alongside the richer resources lurked bloodsucking bats, growing larger and fiercer the farther we went. By the time we rounded the ninth bend, the miners had vanished entirely, replaced by packs of vampire bats hovering menacingly between levels eight and nine.
These winged horrors weren’t easy prey. Their massive forms loomed over us, their fur tinged red from countless feedings. Faster and stronger than the bats near the entrance, they wielded two terrifying abilities: draining life force through vampiric bites and emitting piercing shrieks that left victims disoriented and weakened.
“Help! I’m surrounded again!” Millionfold cried, his voice laced with panic. Despite his words, his actions told a different story. Swinging his colossal tree trunk like a whirlwind, he sent bats flying in all directions, crimson splashes erupting where they landed. His weapon became a battering ram, obliterating anything foolish enough to stand in its path. Yet even as his terrified screams echoed off the walls, it was impossible not to admire his sheer brutality.
“Millionfold, when did you get so strong?” I asked, stunned after watching him hurl one particularly unlucky bat into oblivion.
“All thanks to you,” he replied, grinning as he crushed another bat beneath his makeshift pole. “That magic crystal you gave me? It boosted my attack speed and accuracy. Without it, I’d still be stuck grinding level-five mobs. Seriously, though—AH! WATCH OUT!” He shrieked as yet another bat lunged at him, only to swat it aside effortlessly moments later.
There’s truth to the saying: equipment isn’t about being the strongest—it’s about being the right fit. That same agility-enhancing crystal might have done little for me or Elegant Strings, whose lightning-fast arrows often missed their mark anyway. But on Millionfold? It transformed him. Before, his sluggish movements held back his immense strength; now, every swing carried devastating force. What separated power from weakness wasn’t some grand revelation—it was just a 10% increase in attack speed.
“If I’d known how much difference that crystal would make, I never would’ve given it to you,” I teased, driving my sword into the wing of a charging bat.
“No take-backsies!” Millionfold retorted, clutching protectively at the crystal embedded in his chest while feigning a pitiful expression.
“Stop acting like a kicked puppy. Besides, who wants something that’s been smeared across your flea-infested fur?” I snapped, delivering a swift kick to his rump during a rare lull in combat.
“Flea-infested? So what? This is called sexy,” Millionfold shot back, puffing out his chest indignantly. “Haven’t you heard? A good man grows hair, and a good woman gains weight…”
I stared blankly, imagining a grotesquely plump tauren cowgirl with udders sagging low and black-and-white splotches covering her body. Perhaps this was the peculiar aesthetic standard among taurens…
Though ferocious, the vampire bats posed little real threat. Millionfold’s newfound prowess made short work of them, but credit was also due to my new weapon—the Swordtooth Shredder. Lighter, sharper, and more durable than my old sword, it sliced cleanly through bat flesh, tearing deep wounds that refused to heal. Pulling the blade free was intoxicating; the serrated edges dragged against sinew and muscle, sending subtle vibrations up the hilt that felt eerily satisfying, like running fingers through warm sand on a summer beach.
It was dangerously addictive—a seductive reminder of why killing could feel so exhilarating.
With each strike, the shredder inflicted grievous wounds that worsened over time. Blood poured freely from gashes that refused to close, and enemies bled out before I could land another blow. Even without pressing the advantage, the continuous damage dealt by those jagged cuts exceeded the impact of a single thrust. One by one, the bats succumbed to their injuries, crashing lifelessly to the ground.
---
Somewhere along the tunnels, we crossed an invisible threshold, descending deeper into the mine. Though still vampire bats, our foes had leveled up significantly, now ranging from ten and above. They attacked in greater numbers, their bites sharper, their shrieks louder, forcing us to adapt quickly.
I relied more heavily on my shield, trading reckless offense for cautious defense. Meanwhile, Millionfold began gulping down health potions with alarming frequency.
“Hey, ‘Little Tune,’ quit slacking and lend a hand!” Millionfold shouted as a bat sank its fangs into his arm. After shaking it loose, he turned accusingly toward the gnome bard.
“Don’t call me that!” Nocturne protested vehemently.
“What else am I supposed to call you? Should I just shout ‘B-flat’ instead?”
“…”
“Fine, fine… stick with Little Tune…” Nocturne relented, sighing in defeat.
Bards are unique fighters—romantics armed with music rather than brute force. While skilled with daggers and short swords, their true strength lies in inspiring allies and demoralizing foes through song and dance. Like warriors channel stamina or mages expend mana, bards draw upon their innate “musical sense,” fueled by their artistic sensibilities.
Despite his protests, Nocturne recognized the dire situation. Realizing his sword alone couldn’t turn the tide, he began singing a stirring battle hymn while still trading blows with the bats.
Under his melody, waves of energy surged through me. Fatigue melted away, replaced by raw power coursing through my limbs. My heart pounded fiercely, pumping pure courage into my veins. Suddenly, defeating our enemies felt less like a challenge and more like destiny.
Music has a way of touching the soul, igniting passion and resolve. This wasn’t just entertainment—it was art manifesting itself physically, planting seeds of inspiration deep within.
To this day, I remember that particular anthem vividly. Its melody was solemn yet majestic, evoking indescribable beauty:
“Little cabbage greens… yellow leaves sway… orphaned child cries… mother gone away…”
SPLURT! Millionfold spat out half a bottle of potion mid-sip, choking violently. Gasping for air, he glared at the bard, gesturing wildly.
“That’s your ‘powerful war chant’?! You’re twisted!”
Nocturne grinned mischievously, clearly pleased with himself.
Amidst his haunting tune, the bats’ shrieks lost their debilitating effect, reduced to mere background noise. Emboldened, I swung my sword in a wide arc, unleashing a devastating blow that sent a bat spiraling into oblivion. A crimson “-55” floated above its head—an unprecedented feat even for me. The creature didn’t even manage a final screech before dissolving into a burst of white light.
Not only had my damage skyrocketed, but my attack speed increased too. My blade wove a dazzling crimson curtain, slicing through the air with lethal precision. Each strike sent another bat plummeting to its doom.
Millionfold mirrored my success, his massive log hammering the ground with relentless fury. Every bat crumpled under his assault within seconds. Even Nocturne contributed, weaving between attacks to stab low-flying bats with surgical precision. With me and Millionfold shielding him, few dared swoop low enough to threaten him.
Pushing forward, we soon reached the end of the tunnel, emerging into a vast chamber. Thirty paces wide, it defied comprehension how such a space could exist so far underground. At its center yawned a massive vertical shaft, nearly half the room’s diameter. Spiral scaffolding descended into darkness, offering precarious footing for anyone brave enough to explore further.
Peering down, I saw only impenetrable blackness. Was it real, or merely an illusion born of the abyssal void?
Where did this shaft lead? Could this truly be the fabled entrance to hell?
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