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A roar rolled up the shaft like a furnace blast, and then another crashed over it from a different throat. The sound multiplied into a storm of voices—goblins shrieking, orcs bellowing, skeletons clacking their jaws as if laughter could kill.
Hundreds of Common monsters poured from the tunnels and vaulted ridges of stone, all of them angling for the same target. Ketal fell through the warm, stale air, let his body twist once, then touched down lightly.
The floor heaved as a dull boom went out from under his feet. The shock ran in a ripple across the cavern and made the stone flex like a drumhead. The first ranks of monsters lost their footing and went tumbling. A second wave slammed into the first and folded, and the whole front became a tangle of limbs.
“I have seen enough of you to last several lifetimes,” Ketal said, almost apologetic.
If it had been up to him, he would have ignored them. However, the Guildmaster had been clear: the Dungeon’s mechanism would not open the way until every monster on the current floor was dead. The rule was inelegant. It was also simple, and simple rules were easy to satisfy.
He closed his hand into a fist. Myst curled to his knuckles and pressed outward without a sound. He punched the air in front of him. The pressure went forward as a shell of wind. It burst in the middle of the horde and turned bodies into pieces. The remaining force rolled out as a ring and took the legs out from anything still standing.
In a single exchange, more than a hundred broke and did not rise. On their own, these were the sort of creatures a competent...
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