“I’m yours. Your champion. Forever sealed to your core.”
I hadn’t even started building my dungeon yet, and I already had a champion. I was itching to eke out my existence as a collection of floors filled with traps and monsters on the mountain’s peak, but first I needed to escape this grotto.
I slid off the bed and found my tunic and trousers in a crumpled heap on the floor. I still had no pockets but couldn’t afford to leave the dungeon core in here. Time was pressing, the minutes ticking down, and the longer I stayed here, the sooner Gavin would arrive.
My reinforcements still hadn’t shown up, and it was probably best to assume they weren’t coming.
Bertha fastened her leather bodice around herself, and I let my eyes wander over her form appreciatively for a moment longer as I dressed. She’d boasted of her own abilities, but even with her by my side, I didn’t want to get into an extended engagement with her family. My new champion was the only enjoyable aspect of troll hospitality, and I had no intention of finding out what else her mother and brother had in mind.
Bertha picked up her weapon and spun it. It was a short-handled poleaxe with a broad blade that curved into a point. The half-troll performed a flashy display for my benefit, but as her eyes flickered across to the main room and back to me, it was clear she was all business now.
“Your orders, Master?” She grinned slyly and looked at me from the corner of her eyes.
“We need to leave,” I told her. “Getting to the mountaintop—that’s our priority.”
Bertha bent down to pick up the cleaver from where she’d tossed it. With a calm smile, she offered it to me.
Acquired Item!
Cleaver (Troll Iron)
Rarity: Magic
Damage Type: Physical
Seals: None
I took the heavy weapon and turned it over in my hand. It was fashioned in the manner of a meat cleaver, not the kind of agile, light weapon that would complement my elfish agility. I was almost a super-elf now that I possessed Bertha’s strength, so the cleaver would probably work well.
At least, it’d work well until we got outside and I found a better weapon. I cast my mind back to the layout of the cave. The exit was on the right, but we’d have to blitz through the trolls’ kitchen first.
I picked up my dungeon core and cursed Jeff for leaving my makeshift sling behind. Fucking idiot could’ve at least done me the courtesy of bringing the thing down with him. Bertha read my mind and retrieved a pouch from among a pile of rags and bones in the corner.
“Here,” she said as she offered it to me.
“I don’t have a belt for the pouch,” I told her. “Better if you take it.”
I was putting my life in Bertha’s hands, but I trusted her now. There was something about fucking someone that broke down defenses, for better or worse.
“I’ll protect you with my life,” the half-troll promised. She took my core reverently and tucked it into the small leather pocket before fixing it to her waist.
I tested the cleaver with a bit of a swing and grimaced at the weight. The strength boiling in my bloodstream was still very much present, but the weapon felt ungainly, awkward, and badly balanced. It was definitely more suited to a troll than an elf.
Bertha stepped past me, that berserker grin widening, and I reached out to touch her shoulder; we needed to work together on this. Even with her on my side and my newfound power, speed was key. The sooner we were outside and could put some distance between ourselves and Gavin, the better.
“We only kill them if they’re in our way,” I told her. “We can’t waste any time.”
I would have liked to enact some revenge on the other trolls, but my thirst for retribution came second to my desire for efficiency.
Bertha gritted her teeth but nodded. “I understand.”
We left the bedchamber, moved silently through the passage, and halted at the entrance to the main chamber. Nothing untoward struck my elf’s ears—it sounded dead out there. The silence didn’t stop a fresh charge of adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream.
“You be done already, Bertha?” Ma’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Mr. Core be not lasting long.”
Fuck. Well, so much for the stealthy approach. Time to go in loud.
“All yours, Bertha,” I told her. “Kill Jeff.”
Her savage grin widened, and she exploded out of the passageway with the speed of a panther and the power of a runaway bus. I stepped in behind her, just in time to see Jeff dive out of the way of my champion’s poleaxe. The curved blade arced downward and missed him by a hair.
“The elf done something to Bertha, Ma!” Jeff screamed as he dodged another powerful swing from Bertha.
Ma’s eyes turned upon me as she strolled casually forward. She seemed to have all the time in the world and not a single care.
She was wrong.
I felt a wicked grin split my face as I stared at the massive flesh mountain in front of me. The kitchen—if you could call it that—stood in the way of my freedom. A table full of bloody meat, a collection of rustic, clumsy blades, and the ugliest fucking mother I’d ever seen in my life were my only obstacles.
Jeff howled beside me, and I spared him a glance. He was grappling with Bertha, trying to keep the blade from sinking into his face. A line of blood coursing down over his eye, told me my new champion was everything she had said she’d be. He was twice the size, and still struggling to hold her off. I saw Ma move, hurling her knife, and I barely managed to duck as it ripped past my head, showering sparks as it collided with the cavern wall.
Ma watched the battle between her children, spectating as if I didn’t plan on entering the fight at some point.
“What was
