Chapter 26: Training Montage

Note: GREAT suggestions for Derek’s jobs. I was tempted by lawyer, real estate agent, and fast food manager. I had to go with sales, though, because if you’ve ever worked in sales, you’ve probably met a Derek or three. At least, I have.

Thomas woke from a deep, restorative sleep. He had been completely sacked out and only had vague memories of waking up once to use the bathroom and scarf down spaghetti that someone had left out for him. Then he’d gone immediately back to bed.

He looked at his phone. It was after ten in the morning.

The apartment was quiet. It seemed that Derek had gone out, hopefully to network for another sales manager job, and the kids were off to school. Thomas had slept through it all.

After taking a long-needed shower, he luxuriated in having his apartment all to himself again. Then, since he had never been much of a breakfast guy, he busied himself heating a Hot Pocket.

He had a busy day ahead of him. Zach was gone, finding himself in nature or whatever, but Thomas could still dungeon dive. He planned to revisit the Demon Chicken dungeon again. It had been over 72 hours, so he could reenter, and it had dropped a nice variety of crystals last time, not to mention his penknife and dagger. He—

The front door opened.

For a terrible second, his mind snapped into battle mode, and he grabbed the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a plate. He stood there, ready to throw it.

His oldest nephew, Ashton, walked in.

The kid looked comically surprised to see him. “Don’t you ever work?” he demanded.

Thomas set down the plate. “Don’t you ever go to school?”

Ashton slumped his way in and threw his backpack on the floor. “What’s the point? I hate it here. And our history teacher is going over the start of World War I. Who cares about ancient history when we have history happening right now?”

The microwave beeped, and Thomas slid the Hot Pocket onto his plate.

Truth be told, he had hated history when he was Ashton’s age too, though he was surprised that even a dumb kid couldn’t see a little value in looking at the causes of World Wars when the world was about to… he didn’t know. Be remade all over again? There would probably be at least one big war before this was all over.

“I still want a dungeon dive,” Ashton blurted.

“Really? Even though you saw firsthand what your dad went through?” He raised his arm and wiggled his hand in emphasis.

“But we’re all going to have to dungeon dive, aren’t we? To keep them from overflowing? That’s what the news says,” Ashton spoke quickly, as if he had been memorizing his little spiel. “And yeah, what happened to Dad was really scary, but he lived, and his hand is fixed. What if I go in there and the same thing happens, and I could have been training all this time, but no one would let me? I’ve been doing research, and there are level one dungeons with really, really low casualty rates. I can go on one of those. You could help me train. It’ll be really easy!”

Thomas was getting a headache. “Ashton, you’re fourteen. You’re not ready. Go back to school.”

Ashton had his mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but the way he set his jaw in stubbornness was all Derek.

“If you don’t take me, then I’ll go on my own. Or I’ll join the guys at school who are already doing it and making money.”

God damn it.

The thing was, Thomas didn’t think this was an empty threat. All it would take was some determination and stupid teen bravado, which Ashton had in spades. Then add in opportunity, because not all dungeons were heavily guarded.

Yes, he could do it. If he teamed up with a group of other idiots doing the same thing, the idiocy would compound.

With a sick feeling, he thought back to the Mantis Dungeon. There was one guy guarding it. All it would take was some inattention, and Ashton and a group of friends could dart right in. Thomas didn’t think anyone would go into the dungeon to stop him.

This was not what he wanted to do today.

He supposed he could have called Derek and ratted out his son, but Derek had not been making good choices over the last few days, letting the kid drive without a license. And he had taken him to his first dungeon anyway. He might actually approve.

Thomas could absolutely envision a scenario where his brother pretended to take Ashton to task just to shut Thomas up, and then gave the wink and nod to his dumbass son.

He chewed on his Hot Pocket as he thought and, as usual, found it cool on the outside and searing in the middle.

Ashton must have learned the art of negotiation from somebody, because he stayed quiet.

“Fine,” Thomas said.

This was not fine.

“Yes!” Ashton pumped his fist. “I promise you won’t regret this. I won’t get in the way—”

“You won’t,” Thomas said. “Because if I’m training you, we’re going to do things my way. Got it?”

Ashton shut his mouth and nodded eagerly.

“All right…” He considered for a moment, then went to his room and shuffled around his things. The apartment had gotten a little cluttered, what with Derek and the boys moving in, but he found a pile of his stuff. He came back with a sheaf of papers in his hand, then pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

Time to be a hard-ass.

Ashton sat, looking thrilled. The kid probably expected more sword lessons. That wasn’t happening.

“Okay. First thing you should know is I’ve been through five dungeons,” Technically four, but who’s counting? “and I haven’t been seriously injured in any of them.” Also a lie, but his nose wasn’t growing yet. “Whereas your father got his hand chomped off by his first monster.”

Ashton’s face darkened. He obviously didn’t like hearing any criticism of his father, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there had to be a point here.

“So I’m going to teach you my method. You might think it’s boring, but it’s also how I stayed alive and got cool loot drops, like that katana that Zach was showing you yesterday.”

He perked up. “That came from a monster?”

“Yeah, it came from a mimic, which is a creature way too high-leveled for you.”

“So how did you fight it?”

Thomas was about to lie his ass off. “By knowing what I was facing ahead of time, of course.” He dropped the sheaf of paper in front of the kid. “This is the guide for your first dungeon with me. Read it front to back.” He paused. “You can read, right?”

Ashton scoffed. “Duh!”

“Really?” Thomas feigned surprise. “Because you only have an eighth-grade education.”

“I’m in ninth grade,” he growled, “I’m a freshman in high school.”

“You didn’t finish ninth grade,” Thomas said, with mock pity. “When you’re my age, you’ll always be known as the guy with the middle school education.”

“Whatever,” Ashton sneered, but then he started reading.

****

“Get a move on, valet,” Thomas yelled back over his shoulder, mockingly.

He really loved his backpack of holding. Though it still had his approximate ass-ton of crystals and the loot from the Creepy Mimic dungeon, he didn’t feel the weight. And there was no way the Demon Chicken dungeon up ahead would fill it completely. He was making great time.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

A groan came from further back on the trail. Thomas grinned to himself, though he made sure that Ashton didn’t see it.

Part of the deal for taking him through the dungeon was that Ashton would be carrying all of his stuff. Thomas made a big deal of packing full water bottles, snacks, a first aid kit, a switchblade (non-magical), flares, flashlights, and an extra sweater for both of them in case it got chilly. (It wouldn’t in the hot jungle dungeon, but that wasn’t the point.) Then, when Ashton went to use the bathroom, Thomas had added a few rocks just to really increase the weight.

This was not going to be a fun experience for his nephew. Hopefully, after this, he would decide that school was cool.

The same two guards as before were stationed outside of the dungeon, though this time there was a line of a couple of people. Cheerily, Thomas got in line and waited for his beleaguered nephew to catch up.

Ashton did, though he didn’t complain. He just stood right behind Thomas, breathing hard. The wait was fairly short, and as before, the guards took down his information. If they recognized Thomas from a few days ago, neither said anything.

“And you are?” the younger guard asked Ashton.

“Ashton Coldstrike.”

“Date of birth?”

Ashton rattled it off, and Thomas more than half hoped that they would do the easy math, see that he was under 15 years old, and tell him it was a no-go.

But they didn’t. They just verified that he was with Thomas, who was obviously over the age of 15, and stepped aside so they could walk in.

“What’s the minimum age allowed in a dungeon?” Thomas asked, while Ashton bounced on his toes.

“Well, we’re not going to let any little children in there,” the older guard said. “But your son is close enough to his Gift date that we don’t mind him doing a little training.”

“That’s right,” Ashton chirped, with a smile. “My dad’s the best.”

Thomas didn’t bother correcting him, since he didn’t want this to become a whole thing. It seemed the guards really didn’t care. Together they made their way in.

The entrance room was bare and closet-sized, as usual, but Ashton had the sheer audacity to step forward to reach for the handle of the dungeon door.

Thomas knocked his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”