Dungeon Hunter: Act I

Shopping

There had to be a better way of doing this. I was beginning to think that whoever designed the system had a deranged sense of humour and derived enjoyment from watching others getting tortured. Despite the instant sense of spite aimed at whoever had orchestrated this whole apocalypse, it did nothing to dull the sense of awe that washed over me when my surroundings finally hit me.

It was nothing like the desert or cabin I'd just come from. In fact, if anything I'd have called it the perfect permutation of what people would think of when they were told to imagine a "fantasy marketplace." Little wooden stalls decorated the edges of the cobblestone street, each manned by a different vendor, none of which were human. Species varied from identifiably elven and dwarf, but running to non-humanoid figures I couldn't have dreamt of. A few vendors called out, sharing their deals, and others were offering samples of their products. To me it sounded like English, but I was sure some of them did not have the necessary mouth parts to create such sounds. Automatic translation? Or was this simply another version of a Dungeon where things were more game-like?

The tantalising aroma of a freshly baked apple pie with the lightest follow through of cinnamon and vanilla that wafted over to me from a nearby stall smelt so real. Which meant all these people and this place could be real as well. This thought ricocheted around in my mind. I hadn't let the events settle, hadn't reflected.

This was real.

Axel had nearly died.

I'd nearly died.

I'd nearly killed someone.

Yes, I'd long since accepted that the world was over as I knew it. For about a week now, I'd been willing to be open-minded about what was happening. The abilities, the screens, the Dungeons, the Gates. I had thought I had fully accepted reality for what it had become. That I was okay with it. But I think I was... Fuck. I'd been dissociating almost the entire time.

As the familiar tightening of my chest began, I frantically tapped my pockets for the Warhead, but found them empty.

Of course, this probably wasn't even really my body. There'd be no way they'd let us leave that Dungeon. Unfortunately, being aware of that did nothing to stop the panic attack. Not as though anything could really stop them. It didn't help that without any physical anchor, focusing was impossible.

The panic tore through me, like my spine pulled straight up into my brain.

Though I wasn't the same person I was the last time I had one. I'd basically died. I'd found peace with a new purpose. If this happened, I couldn't protect anyone. I'd never be more than I was. And I wanted to be there for Wren, and Jye and Axel, and fuck, even Tam. They wouldn't die without me, I knew that. But if I could help them, I wanted to. So, I had to do something.

I could feel the anxiety attack beginning to sweat through my pores, my muscles trembling, my lungs struggling. No! I had to be better. I wanted to be better. For my party. For Chrissie.

That I was capable of thinking of someone other than myself meant even right now, I was different. Maybe I could actually... change this.

The breathing method my doctor had taught me ages ago when I'd come in about dealing with the stress of university exams came to mind.

Breathe in for six, hold for four, out for six, hold for four, cycle. Think of your calm place.

In for six. Hold for four. Out for six. Hold for four. My happy place.

My chest felt tight, limbs locked.

In for six. My apartment back in Brisbane, watching stuff with Axel, on the sofa he hated, because he had nothing better to do, burning time before his friends came by, or he had to go out. Hold for four. His expression of disdain as he skipped the Bounto filler arc. Out for six. Arguing about the implications of learning the alien language on people's perception of time. Hold for four. The laughter we shared at the distorted smear frame of Invincible fighting that we'd accidentally paused on.