Dungeon of Niflheim

136 Chapter 136: The frost troll’s injuries

The group of four remained in place for a short while, allowing Nanna and Loki to fully rise from their rest and vacate from Frost and Maya’s backs. Frost had managed to relay quite a few details about himself as well as what to expect last night. Now they just had to go in.

Making triple sure that there wasn’t any adventurers anywhere near, Frost led everyone towards the gate.

“Once we enter the dungeon, we’re going to use special magic to enter the private space. You may feel a little out of sorts at first since the experience is rather unnerving but once we arrive, you’ll get to see the heart of the dungeon, your new home.” Frost explained as he ushered them along. The moment he reached the vicinity of the Dungeon’s territory his body filled with power, feeling like he suddenly dipped into a hot spring, his entire being revitalising and becoming filled with energy. He missed this feeling, this bond with mana. At the same time the DP he collected over the past several days fused with the Dungeon, combining into a significant sum, the bond between him and his heart was strong once more.

While smiling and feeling a little intoxicated Frost brought up the dungeon menu once again. This time it had returned to its usual layout, allowing him access to all its features.

“Teleport: private space,” he spoke the command words while grabbing hold of Nanna and Loki. This would be the first time he’d be bringing anyone other than Maya with him.

While holding onto their hands, space started to warp for the four of them. They spun and shrunk as they were dragged into a tear in space. A moment later they were within the private space, exactly how they left it.

“Bleurgh!” Loki couldn’t stand the sudden spatial shift and voided his guts out onto the floor, his vision was spinning, and he couldn’t tell which way was up. Nanna wasn’t much better but managed to keep her stomach contents down. Thankfully this entire space was outfitted with automated cleaning services. Loki’s vomit was promptly absorbed into the floor, vanishing, and leaving no trace.

Frost and Maya quickly but gently brought the two over to the couch to sit down and gather their bearings. They’d need a few minutes to recover. Frost however couldn’t wait on them, he needed to analyse the damage that had been wrought in his absence.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of them, go find out the extent of the damage.” Maya spoke softly while monitoring Nanna and Loki.

.....

“Thanks” Frost nodded his head in gratitude, before removing the backpack filled with bentos from his front -they’d likely be hungry soon- and placed it on the dining table before teleporting from the private space.

Frost’s body materialised right in the heart of the heavily fortified glade. This was the strongest and best defended area in the entire dungeon, where the Frost troll and many of the frost dwarves lived.

The moment he arrived an axe was sent his way which he promptly knocked to the side. The offending dwarf was at first angry, aiming to strike again but was quickly pulled back by another dwarf before being rattled across the head and being grunted at. To Frost it seemed that the dwarf was being called a blind idiot before being forced to look at Frost’s face.

The moment it did however it blanched, its entire body filling with fear and panic. Frost already used to this predicament quickly soothed the offender before it started balling his eyes out. The atmosphere in the area was tense, very tense nothing like the easy going happy feeling he got when he gifted them a barrel of beer. The dwarves nearby and even some of the goblins were patrolling with fierce expressions, clasping their weapons tightly as their eyes darted all around.

“Take me to the frost troll.” Frost gave an order with a firm tone, he needed to speak to the one he left in charge. The Frost troll could speak common tongue and should be able to explain the situation. Feeling their creator’s urgency the two dwarves frowned, their hearts felt heavy. With a pained look they promptly lead Frost into a well-hidden area of the glade, a closed off room. Sharp, dangerous wooden spikes heavily obscured this area, and two goblins were standing vigil with spears looking very solemn. Frost got a bad feeling and quickly moved ahead dashing passed the on guard goblins and into the small room.

Blood, the room stank of it and lying there on a makeshift bed was his frost troll, in terrible shape. Its left arm was missing from around half way up the elbow, several deep gashes were carved along the chest and puncture wounds dotted its legs. Its axes were nowhere to be found and its two proud tusks were broken. And Its face appeared to have suffered from a fire element spell, given the burns present.

The frost troll was in a very dangerous state, even the dungeon with all its capabilities would struggle to deal with this. Its life was hanging on by a thread and could give out at any moment, yet the frost troll remained conscious and aware of its surroundings. The moment Frost entered it craned its neck up and looked his way.

“M....Mas...ter” the frost troll spoke with great difficulty, his body wracked with pain with every attempt to speak yet he did. Seeing his master after such painful ordeal the frost troll couldn’t help but smile and feel reinvigorated, despite his injuries he attempted to get up and greet his creator. Frost quickly put a stop to that nonsense.

“Stay lying down, you’ll keel over if you move.” Frost felt pained at the sight of the troll. Its battered and broken body brought him close to tears. This was his monster, and someone dared to harm it, his eyes looked as though they were about spit flames. Even if the dungeon managed to recover the frost troll, it’d be still be missing an arm. His two strongest summons, the polar bear dead and now his frost troll hanging on for dear life, someone had to pay. Frost crushed the trunk of a tree he was holding.

The frost troll understanding that his master was angry on his behalf smiled gently, before coughing, it felt truly loved. Unable to continue looking at the frost troll in his current state and given its injuries it was in no place to talk. Frost removed a low level health potion and moved in close. He assisted his monster in drinking the potion, like Luna did for him when he was too weak to hold the vial.

Around a minute later the frost troll felt a bit better and could talk clearer now.

“T...Thank you m...aster,” the potion worked in concert with the dungeon’s assisted healing, it was out of deaths door for now but still had a significant road to recovery.

“What happened?” Frost jumped straight to the point; anger still clearly present in his voice. He opened up the dungeon menu at the same time quickly perusing his current guests.

“Strong adventurers, very strong,” the frost troll then began speaking about the events that transpired with its broken common tongue and damaged throat.

Everything was going as it should be, a couple monsters dying here and there, a few injuries to the adventurers even an occasional death, just like a usual day in the Dungeon. The Frost troll was keeping a good tab on things and the Dungeon was successfully raking in a fair amount of DP. The problem started when a group of five adventurers entered yesterday, far better equipped, and stronger than the regular groups that came hunting or investigating. This group were a D-rank party, far stronger than the Artic Warband perhaps equal to the Glacial scions. A few of the other adventurers recognised them and kept their distance, afraid to aggravate them for some reason. Once it was known that this group entered many other adventurers left with their tails between their legs. This was the first offence they made against the Dungeon, chasing away their valuable prey but the Frost troll chose to ignore them, hoping they’d be on their way. But that was naive.

Not only were this group incredibly strong by its standards they were mean and aggressive, cruel, even more than bandits. They robbed a couple adventurers that scuttled their way, granting them that or death which didn’t bother the Frost troll in the slightest but then seeing that all their targets ran away and left. They started attacking the dungeon monsters. Not ones at their level, or because they themselves acted in defence or to complete some sort of quest, no they attacked and tortured for the fun of it.

It started with an artic horned rabbit that wasn’t able to run away in time, the archer shot a couple arrows pinning it to the floor, leaving it very much alive. Next a swordsman started to slowly flay it while it still breathed before eventually a mage casted lifestyle magic to burn it slowly as the entire group laughed. This was strike two and a major one. The frost troll was filled with fury when one of his goblins reported their actions. Frost left him in charge, behind to protect his creations. He accepted that monsters would die, it was part of the job but this this was barbaric and uncalled for, so it made preparations to deal with this group.