《The Dungeon's Escapee》


 Prologue: Greetings!

    Hey there, if you''re reading this, I''m assuming that you''ve found my little journal. Hopefully, I''m still alive, and this is in some museum out there being upheld as physical proof that a true paragon of adventuring once lived. Actually, I might as well wish that I¡¯mfilthy rich as well. Even better would be if I were already back on Earth...


    My name is Clayton. Before coming to Cespes, I was a college student: poor, hungry, trying not to fail. After I had woken up that fateful morning, I had brushed my teeth, changed my clothes, realized I was late to class¡­ and ended up here. Well, not here in my rather comfortable room, but this world in general.


    I guess you probably already know everything about this world, so there¡¯s no real point to me trying to describe it. Still, I¡¯ll just try to relate how I felt from the first moment I arrived on Cespes. Let me just say that where I¡¯m from, there are cities that overflow with millions of humans and messages that travel instantly through the air and lights that look like a glowing sea when viewed from giant metal birds we ride through the skies. Despite all the awesome might of my homeland, there is nothing as terrifying as Dungeons, especially the one in the Hewther Kingdom. If you ever happen to visit there without dying (unlikely), please say, ¡°Hi¡± to Bobette for me and tell her that I¡¯m still alive. She¡¯s a real piece of work, but she is admittedly responsible for my current state of relatively good health.


    Well, I don''t really think there''s any need to introduce myself, but here goes: I''m the Human who escaped the Dungeon, the One who Dealt with the Demon Lord, the Talentless One of Talent, the Leader of the Adventuring Team, Logic Inc. I have a few other titles, but I''m sure you''re well aware of them. If you''re not, I figure they''ll publish a book sooner or later about me. Well, I suppose this counts as a book about me. To be fair, I''m only writing this to make sure the Demon Lord doesn''t screw with my brain too much between Restarts. Honestly, I don''t know at this point yet whether someone else will really think I¡¯m important enough to write about even though I have some really strong suspicions based on the current trajectory of our group''s growth. Did you know that our profits soared almost 200 percent in the past month? If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Well, that damn elf just blew something up again, so I''ve gotta run and fix that. That¡¯s one thing about this world: there¡¯s never any quiet. Someone always needs offing or saving or running from. Sorry that I seem a bit meandering; I have to watch an enchantment I¡¯m testing while I¡¯m writing this. Anyway, if we''re still around, remember that you can always come to Logic Inc. for anything, from disappearing something or someone to retrieving a lost artifact that hasn¡¯t been seen for thousands of years. Special discounts if you return this!*


    *Discounts are at the discretion of Logic Inc. The group still expects proper reimbursement.


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    Hidden Note by Rhodovus: Clayton''s just bragging, but I figured he might as well write some of the stuff down. After all, Demonic Magic''s really no joke, and the fool¡¯s an idiot. Also, please don¡¯t think we have lots of business and don¡¯t need yours. Last month we went from one accepted quest to two¡­

 Chapter 1: The Most Terrifying-est Thing Ive Ever Seen

    As all journeys do, mine too has a beginning, events that shaped my life along the way, some meaningful, others resulting in regrets that would haunt my dreams for years to follow. However, the one thing I will never regret is the journey itself and the people I met along the way. Each of them shaped the person who I now am, causing me to lead a life many would envy. Though, if they knew the full truth of the matter, this likely wouldn¡¯t be the case¡­


    It all started when I arrived in a foreign place, another world far removed from my own, Cespes. In truth, I have no idea how I even ended up in this place, as my recollection of the events at that time is rather hazy, shrouded by layers of confusion and fear. Looking back, I suppose the only thing that kept me from going stark-raving mad was the Dungeon¡¯s calming effect on inhabitants. Without this small mercy, I may not have been able to reach the apex that I have achieved through my many adventures, each a chapter in my own personal legend, a journey that, as any meaningful journey is ought to do, all began with a single step¡­


    As my foot fell forward, expecting to land upon a grass covered step that I had tread hundreds of times, I instead found hard black dirt meeting the sole of my shoe. Looking down, I noticed that, instead of the dirt roads I had come to know on my college campus, I was now in a location seemingly bereft of the vibrancy one normally found within an institute of higher learning. I had been on my way to Chemistry class, on time for what seemed like the first time in weeks, when I had suddenly experienced a strange lapse in my thought processes.


    Suddenly, in the back of my mind, I felt a part of myself lament the fact that I had made so much effort to set my clock a little earlier than normal. Sure, I had slept through it and awoke at the normal time anyway, but my desire to reach class and avoid another reprimanding had ensured that I had still been on pace to arrive on time.


    Now, however, it was starting to seem as though I might never arrive at my destination as, unlike the pristine college campus I had come to know over the last two years, I was now surrounded by towering metallic structures that were far removed from anything I had ever seen before. All around me, there was a pungent haze that threatened to overwhelm my nostrils, causing the disorientation I was feeling to compound as I struggled to get my bearings. Surely, this was all a hallucination. I shook my head, trying to cast off this mirage. Pop! I gasped as I was assaulted by noise. Everything seemed so clangy, so obnoxious. It was like I had been on an airplane and descended 5000 feet in a second. This was no city sound, but a harsh clang like metal on metal. It was like a million hammers simultaneously striking hard metallic surfaces, each strike like an impact upon my very mind...


    Looking around, I noticed there were holes interspaced through the strange metallic structures. The only light sources through the haze were several streetlamps situated with around a hundred meters distance between each. They glowed with an eerie yellow light, seeming pale against the strange backdrop of my unknown surroundings. It was almost as though the entire world were filled with muted colors, as if all the life had been drained from the world and replaced by a stagnant and threatening atmosphere that caused a primal part of my mind to remark that I was no longer in the world I had known for my entire life. This place, filled with loud sounds, pungent smoke, and distorted colors...could not be the Earth I had known...could it¡­?


    Now, the panic set in. Where was I!? I¡¯d never even seen architecture like this before. I flicked on my phone and tried to call Mom. No reception. Okay, I called Dad. No reception. I called Bill. No reception. Then, I tried 911. No reception. Maybe, I had just fallen into a deep dark hole; that¡¯s right. This was just an underground subway no one had ever mentioned to me that the school had been planning to announce today, and I had somehow landed here. I looked up. In the dark grey haze, I didn¡¯t see any ball of light suggesting the sacred grounds of learning were just above me.


    I remembered reading that when you read something in dreams, the words would change every time you read them. I opened my phone and read the last text Mom had sent.


    ¡°Have a great day!¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I felt lost for a second. The message didn¡¯t seem to fit in this world. It grated on the eyes. I wiped my eyes; the haze must¡¯ve made my allergies act up.


    Afraid to look, I glanced again. It seemed the same, which meant this might or might not be a dream. I finally concluded that I might as well assume that this was reality and figure out what to do. Realizing that it might be best to conserve my phone¡¯s battery because I probably would not find somewhere to charge it for a very long time, I shut the screen down, watching as the small cycling wheel of white dashes turned black. Based on my past experiences, it would do for a week or two. I shook myself; instincts from my Boy Scout days flaring. Snap out of it, Clayton! Safety first. Figure out where you are! I worried about my sanity, then that some savior would never come, then that something else would. I didn¡¯t feel anxious: my elevated heart rate was a coincidence, but I was wary of what dangers this place might hold.


    I¡¯d either gone insane, been kidnapped, or been sent to Hell after a run-in with a moving vehicle. Regardless, I was beginning to doubt if I could ever go back to the life I had planned out. Goddamnit, it had been going so well too! As I scooted off beneath one of the holes, hidden in the shadow between two buildings, all I could think about was the fact that trying in high-school seemed like it would not not end up mattering. I was potentially more bitter about this than I had any right to be. Hey, APs were strenuous.


    Pulling off my backpack, I took inventory. I had typical clothes on: a shirt, a pair of jeans with a belt, socks, and shoes. In my pockets were my now-off phone and my keys with their pocket knife keychain.


    I focused on my backpack, ignoring the red Nalgene filled with water hanging on the side. Starting with the main section, I found my textbook, two notebooks, one gridded the other lined, and some pencils. Well at least I can do homework wherever I am. Unzipping the front pocket, I found some wipes, three crushed protein bars, a pair of earphones which I used to listen to podcasts and music, one pack of gum, allergy tablets, and them, 25 morphine tablets.


    I can explain the last one. To be clear, I was not addicted¡ªnot really: the pills removed the pain I felt from breaking my leg two years ago. They had been expensive. I¡¯d gone to the college drug dealer, some white bloke with a future in the business, and handed him a wad of cash for the small bottle.


    I¡¯d last bought a bottle a month ago; it had contained around fifty tablets back then. I still remember the first time I¡¯d bought some illegally around a year and a half ago. The doctor had removed my cast, and I¡¯d asked for one more container of the pills, for chronic aches, I¡¯d said. He had looked at me with wide eyes, some flicker of patronizing sympathy, and said, ¡°Son, you¡¯re a grown man. You don¡¯t need those things anymore.¡± I hadn¡¯t really known what he meant back then, but I think I do now. He got it wrong though.


    Then, he¡¯d asked to speak to my mother. In private.


    She had come out after five minutes, white in the face, and whispered to me, ¡°Clay, you be careful now, alright? We can try Tylenol if the pain gets bad.¡± I tried back then. I really had, but after a few weeks, the pain had kept on building, and I hadn¡¯t even sleep during nights. One day, after suffering another sweaty, hazy nightmare, I had gone to him, the drug dealer. After that, I stopped taking Tylenol, and Mom had been happy, proud. I never did tell her where half my wages went from working as a cashier. I regretted that bit now. Without me there to conceal it, she would quickly discover my transgressions. If I never returned, I would at least like to know if she still loved me despite all that.


    Life. Right, life first. I wore my backpack, brandishing my flicked out pocket knife in one hand and a filled Nalgene in the other. One kilogram of water could do serious damage when wrapped in a nearly indestructible container. I snuck between the two buildings and ended up on what seemed to be a bigger street.


    I saw a gigantic green, three-headed, ogre thing lifting a block of shimmering metal the size of a couch into a wooden chassis. The thing grunted, hefting the stone onto its shoulders and hoisting it nine feet into the air, just barely level with its head. I gulped and stepped back, knocking my nalgene against the fortress walls. Never had I brushed against something so loudly.


    The three-headed ogre glanced at me before waving. It roared, ¡°YOU MUST BE NEW HERE! HOW DO YOU DO, HUMAN!¡±


    The words cut through even the beating cacophony of this place, almost like a gust of wind trying to blow me over. The thing examined me before coughing. ¡°Sorry about that; I forgot I was using my Big Voice.¡±


    I swayed. The last thing I remembered was: what¡¯s a Big Voice? Perhaps, a tiny piece also asked, ¡°And how can I get one?¡±

 Chapter 2: A Dump of a Camp

    Rhodovus kept on bugging me about writing his story into this as well, so I figured I might as well. Fortunately, the elf had all his stuff written already, and I just had to paste it in. Whew! Don''t ask why he chose to write about himself in the third person... what can I say about arrogant elves?


    Thossolarian Rhodovus of Yirgh the Third glared over the drab conditions of the army camp surrounding him. Where were the feasts to keep a mage¡¯s mana and focus up? Where were the baths to assure that he could work his Arts in peace and cleanliness?


    He shivered as he glanced across the plains at the grey blob. The Dungeon loomed across the flat land like a beast lurking above its prey. Even from here, the dead zone could affect him. He imagined tendrils snaking through him, sapping a bit of his mana every moment he spent on this wretched plain. While a bit exaggerated, it wasn¡¯t even that far from the truth. Either way, the mental exertion required to channel the thin mana around here tired even him, a fourth-rank Papermage from Izmuth Academy.


    The sergeants hustled about the camp, preparing the men for the march. Ugh, more dust. Rhodovus, Lord Thossolarian to those not close to him, once again regretted taking on this mission. He had been promised ten thousand contribution points as well as access to an ex-headmaster¡¯s, a sixth ranker, notebook for a month, but he had not been told the mission would require traveling to this mucked out plain with commoners.


    He cursed, although not out loudly because that would be far beneath him. As an elven noble, he ought to have had the commander¡¯s tent! He could trace his descent all the way back to the founding of the Avish Empire four thousand years ago; it was only ten generations for an elf, but still!They ought to have given him hisdue of at least a modicum of respect. These humans had only regressed from their peak under Elvish dominion.


    Of course, there was the main Summer Elf branch, but he could hardly claim himself to be of their line. Flushing, he thought about how terrible it must have been for his family when they had returned to that place a millenia ago, arriving in rags. Oh, the shame his family must have faced from the mainline! Even now, they were regarded as second-class family members. Still, their unique bloodline had assured their acceptance, and they had been integrated and were now almost accepted as part of the mainline family. Now, he dreamt of her instead, trying to shift his mind away from his family¡¯s shame. He would become a great mage and win her hand in marriage, joining the ranks of the City of Yirgh¡¯s upper crust.


    He would have to bear this disgraceful current state of affairs for her love, but these scoundrels made his life so difficult. How was he to maintain his elegance in such squalid conditions?


    He nearly stuffed his clothes into his trunk before reconsidering and carefully folding his embroidered gowns. He glanced around his tent, making sure he was leaving nothing for those thugs to steal. Someone else, probably a common lieutenant, would take his tent down later. Once he assured that everything was in order, he stomped toward the officer¡¯s breakfast while the rest of the army readied themselves for the march.


    ¡°Ah, so the Elvish Lordling deems to grace us with his presence.¡± The commander glanced up and deeply bowed; some of the officers snickered. Ignoring the fools, Rhodovus prevented himself from snarling, speaking with a voice devoid of passion brimming with the same cold incision taught by the cutthroat Summer courtesans, ¡°Sir Thomas, how kind of you to greet me. Please, continue telling us of your little plans.¡±


    The commander frowned. Seeing his superior¡¯s irritation, a captain stood, ¡°Listen here, you son of cowards who fled the fall of¡­¡± Rhodovus pulled out a piece of paper, archaic gold markings scrawled over a black background. The captain paled. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The commander raised a hand, trying to seperate the two.


    Rhodovus knew he ought to not bully humans when any one of them could have some powerful hidden bloodline. On the other hand, he doubted the Hewther Kingdom would waste such rare powerful individuals on this type of suicide quest. After all, the Hewther Kingdom was far from one of the old Avish Empire¡¯s bloodline centers, leaving it relatively sparse in terms of powerful bloodline abilities.


    Rhodovus smiled. ¡°That¡¯ll be Lord Thossolarian to you. I only recognize your superior.¡± As what, Rhodovus left unsaid.


    Sir Thomas coughed. ¡°Lord Thossolarian, we were just discussing our plan of attack against the demon. You¡¯ll provide support as we¡±


    Rhodovus cut in, ¡°I was specifically hired by the provincial constable who begged the academy to send in a capable mage. Do not presume you command beings born before your father, child.¡±


    Rhodovus wasn¡¯t quite sure how long modern humans lived, but he assumed his 50 years was sufficient. Then again, Rhodovus refrained from mentioning that 33 was considered an adult age among the elves, meaning he had actually only been an adult for seventeen years, seven of which he had spent in the Academy, and the last three of those seven were spent preparing for the highest rewarding mission he could find. Now though, he regretted wasting so much time on preparing because all those three years had gotten him was a mission to come here.


    The captain hesitated. Rhodovus sniffed, ¡°Now, the academy was offered a decent enough reward for them to send me, a fourth-rank acolyte to aid your excursion.¡±


    Rhodovus snacked on a bread biscuit, which tasted how he imagined tree bark would. If anyone dared to suggest that Summer Elves ate tree bark like those nature-loving Spring Elves, Rhodovus would assure that the last thing they saw before they died the next instant was a fireball larger than their head.


    Sir Thomas went through the scout¡¯s reports; the officers saying inane things here and there. Rhodovus sighed. He pondered about the head mage¡¯s instructions to collect research materials on this mission after fulfilling the commander¡¯s orders. The bonus reward offered by the Academy had been quite enticing, but how was he going to do that?


    ¡°Lord Thossolarian?¡±


    Rhodovus turned. What did these humans want now?


    Sir Thomas spoke, ¡°If it isn¡¯t too much trouble, sir, would you be able to strengthen our men before we march in an hour?¡±


    Rhodovus sighed. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll provide some spells.¡± While he detested that the commander was bossing him around, he figured it¡¯d be safer in the likely case that the mission failed because the commander would be unable to blame him for refusing to contribute.


    Sir Thomas glanced over the room at the twenty other officers in the Officer tent, a captain for every five sergeants who each lead a ten-man squadron themselves. Rhodovus disdained the place. Ever since the fall of the Avish empire, humans had lost the trappings of civilization. When the elves marched for war, they understood that morale determined how an army fought and a thin tent hardly sufficed for an officers¡¯ meeting. It wasn¡¯t even warded!


    Pointing at a group of six captains, Sir Thomas ordered, ¡°You will follow Major Orias and lead the men in a charge. The rest of the men will protect the rear so that you can retreat. As you all know, we lack any cavalry, so we¡¯ll have to hold the flanks while we charge in, which will be the period of greatest risk. According to Council Mage Aryam, the core should be facing the North side.¡±


    Rhodovus ignored the whispers swirling around him. A captain spoke in a barely concealed hush, ¡°Ha! Aryam¡¯s a real mage. A human mage! Not an elvish scumbag playing around with runes.¡±


    Red in the face, Sir Thomas yelled, ¡°Damn it, Tivanius! I ignored it the first time, but just because you don¡¯t like the elf, you better show him the respect he deserves. Apologize! He¡¯s going to be fighting by your side, and I won¡¯t have any discord among us that¡¯ll cost soldiers their lives.¡±


    Captain Tivanius sat down, cowed. Without looking at anyone, he growled, ¡°My apologies, sir.¡±


    Rhodovus spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°I see this is how the rank and file of the ruins of the Avish empire act nowadays. I¡¯ll go perform the rites.¡±

 Chapter 3: Blood Rites

    Standing in the tent that would contain at least dozens of wounded soldiers by the end of the fight, Rhodovus looked over the small gathering of hedge mages preparing their magics. There was one fancy pure mage who thought like the rest of her kind that the world revolved around her. At most, the woman was capable of minorly sensing and, thus, influencing the threads of fate with her power as a rank three pure-mage.


    He eyed the rune mages around him. They looked liked dropouts or people who had never been professionally trained: second or third ranks at best. They crowded over a few sergeants, writing non-personal-attributed runes on slips of paper before passing the paper to the sergeants for them to activate the runes themselves.


    A couple priests in the back blessed soldiers and dressed the few wounds soldiers had received from wild beasts while on the march. Based on the dim light surrounding the blessed, these priests were at most rank four. Pah, false mages who slave for the Gods!


    Leaning against the tent pole, he watched the four mages prepare runes for the sergeants every few minutes. One out of three papers remained inert when used while nearly every fifth functional one glowed red, draining a bit of ¡°somethingness¡± from the soldiers. Rhodovus imagined he could see the ki flowing out in little wisps with each crimson glow. Sighing, he ordered a pair, ¡°Go prepare some basic dyes, imbeciles.¡± He trusted that even these novices couldn¡¯t mess that up.


    The lead mage growled, ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Rhodovus scanned the man, giving him a cool look over. He looked like a late second-rank papermage at best. ¡°Perhaps, it should be me who asks that question. What is this sorry excuse for paper craft?¡±


    The man walked forward, encroaching on Rhodovus¡¯s space. Rhodovus frowned, reaching into his pocket. Then, one of the mages who had been drawing an enhancement rune sensed the tension and glanced up. She gasped, her runes alighting her paper. Screaming, she backed away from the flames, and all the mages in the room turned toward the fire.


    Rhodovus chuckled, his fingers grasping something within his pocket. Taking it out, he revealed that it was a small bound booklet. He flicked through a little bound booklet and counted the twentieth page. Written on violet paper, it was a quick reacting, long duration vacuum spell. It was a fairly simple combination of second and fourth rank magics that he had made tens of copies of in order to practice for his fourth rank qualifications. He hadn¡¯t quite passed the fourth rank test, but he was planning to do it once he returned. One of the prerequisites for the test was completing the graduate test mission.


    He quickly pushed his mana through the rune paper, gathering the meager ambient mana into the packet. A grimace flashed across his face as he had to focus in order to force the mana through because the thinner mana atmosphere left less mana to push along the rune lines. There was a dull fwoomp! The flames disappeared, and Rhodovus smirked. The other mages gaped.


    The lead mage hesitated before gathering his courage. ¡°Was that a wind magic rune? You expect to impress us with some mutated second rank elemental magic?¡±


    A thin man pulled the lead¡¯s clothes, whispering something in his ears. Hmph. Look at the dirt on their robes. What type of self-respecting mage would allow for that travesty.


    Rhodovus flicked his robes, which were as clean as the day he had bought them. They were enchanted to stay unblemished and last a thousand years, although Rhodovus did not plan to stick with these paltry robes even close to that long. Within a few years, he planned to upgrade his gear as he progressed in his career as a great mage.


    Rhodovus¡¯s ears flicked. People always forgot about elves¡¯ natural talents. He caught the whispers. ¡°That was some type of rank four vacuum kinetic magic. Only directed impulses could do something like that,¡± said the young woman from before.


    The other mages paled. The previously confident leader stuttered. ¡°Y-you¡¯re hi-im!¡±


    His voice rose into a shriek. ¡°Elvish! Fourth-rank paper mage! Arrog...¡±


    Stumbling back, he begged, ¡°Lord Thossolorian! Please forgive me! I didn¡¯t recognize you.¡±


    Rhodovus strode forward, taking one of the supplied papers within the tent; he wasn¡¯t about to waste one of his own. He pulled his stylus out of his miniature bag of holding, a modified upper rank five spatial storage containing 2 cubic feet. It had been one of many presents from his family after he had been accepted by the main line. It had also cost a good portion of their funds, once again reminding him how much his whole family relied on his efforts.


    He fought off his painful reminiscing with a grin and scrawled a rather simple red and blue rune. He implemented a few fake parts that, if copied with improper mana force, would cause a nasty surprise. It was a waste of time, but the extra mental exertion and expenditure of personally stored mana was negligible. It was at times like these that he appreciated his bloodline, changing the colors of liquids. It let him more efficiently control the correctly attributed mana through the rune with his willpower by changing the color of the ink to best match the purpose of the mana. Mana tended to flow more continuously and faster with colors toward the violets, while the reds tended to be slightly less efficient but were less likely to unweave themselves throughout the spell. Note by Clayton: At this point, Rhodovus had yet to learn that rune magic was actually heavily influenced by the light spectrum...


    Ten seconds later, he finished and handed the newly minted rune to a waiting sergeant. ¡°This should provide a 10% regeneration boost and a 10% strength boost.¡±


    For the second time, the other mages were stupefied. The female papermage asked incredulously, ¡°A twenty percent total increase? That¡¯s incredible. We could only get¡­¡± She blushed. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Eight to ten percent? I could tell based on the glow from the runes.¡±


    ¡°You can determine a rune¡¯s strength just by looking at it? How?¡±


    Waving his hands, he said, ¡°It¡¯s a secret taught at the Academy.¡±


    The other four mages looked suitably impressed. Rhodovus pointed toward the other waiting sergeants. ¡°You handle the rest. I¡¯ll take care of myself and the captain.¡±


    With a sigh, he flourished his stylus. While a bit dramatic, he had decided that if he was going to have to help these fools, he would at least be properly flamboyant.


    He scribbled a bit on a blank page, producing colors that sparkled with the glow of excess mana. Now that a basic personal link to himself had been created through a personalized rune, which would make the rune spell more efficient, he needed to actually build the spell module. His assistant mage gazed in awe at the magician¡¯s powerful tool. Only he knew that inside his ¡°enchanted stylus¡± was mere water. Pausing, Rhodovus decided on which runes to employ. At least for this one, he would put an ounce of effort into it in order to properly protect himself. He would use better paper than the standard army stuff, but which paper to use¡­


    He settled on paper created from mana-infused bark harvested from the naturally sustained younger branches of trees found in the elven forests. This would cost even him a bit of a pinch, a page made of Igrarian wood was worth two gold even with his elvish discounts, so he only had 3 pages. He shrugged. If he was going to use this paper, he might as well use the little vial he had brought from his collection back at the Academy.


    A few months ago, the mainline family had discreetly sent him a disguised ink pot that his sensitive nose had immediately determined was blood essence. Based on the mana he had perceived around it at the time, it had been taken from an at least late sixth rank, perhaps early seventh rank beast.


    That small bottle had contained a full tenth of the purified blood essence from the beast, worth anywhere between five hundred and a thousand gold. It had been a reward for his advancement to the fourth rank as a rune mage, nothing much to the Second-Tier Summer Court Main Lineage that made a couple tens of millions of gold a year.


    They had viewed it as protecting their investments in one of their most talented adoptees. It was left unsaid that they wanted him to practice his blood magic to become more efficient in using their expensive gift. He sighed, it had been difficult secretly practicing the Blood Arts at the Academy. He¡¯d barely increased his efficiency to twenty percent and had only learned a smattering more theory even after nearly a decade.


    Upon completing a few rituals to prepare the ink and conceal its nature, he had allocated it into a dozen vials, three of which he had brought on this trip. With the current Concealment enchantments embedded on the bottle as well as the various secret herbs he¡¯d mixed in with the ink, it¡¯d take a mage with vastly more power than himself to figure out the secrets. After all, the Summer Elves had successfully concealed their secrets from the world for millennia.


    Now, even the most observant interlopers would assume it was just a vial of beast blood, a highly taxed and frowned upon ink, but a far cry from the ritualistic torture and sacrifice required for Blood Essence inks used in Blood Magics. While Blood Magic presented several moral quandaries, it also provided rank surpassing power to spells, making it a useful boost for complex spellwork.


    He filled an empty ink cartridge from his bag of holding with the contents of this small vial before switching the ink cartridges in his ¡°enchanted¡± stylus while silently snickering to himself.


    With a complacent smile, he flicked the paper, straightening any hidden creases. Then, he walked over to the clear wooden table and prepared his craft.


    From his pen flowed a dozen runes, intricate designs and swirling patterns that seemed to fog the mind. As the other mages noticed what he was performing, they quickly finished their handful of runes and observed him.


    Ten minutes later, Rhodovus stopped his furiously dancing pen and examined his work, a dense mesh of mysterious runes on a paper twice the size of his hand.


    He marveled it for a second; the other mages whispered in awe. The female mage asked, ¡°Lord Thossolorian, is that sixth tier rune magic?¡±


    Rhodovus nearly laughed. ¡°No, for all my brilliance, even I am not that advanced yet. It is merely approaching the fifth rank as a general physical buffing rune that provides resistance to mana attacks as well as metallic objects in motion.¡±


    As he turned around to examine the captain in order to determine a proper runespell for the man, he almost missed the look one of the few half-elves in the room gave him. There was a mixture of disgust and glee in the man¡¯s eyes. Rhodovus noted the uniform marking the half-elf as a sergeant.


    Damn it, I should¡¯ve hidden the mana traces of the Blood Magic better. How did he figure it out though? I only used activated the Blood Magic within the ink for a portion of a second in between two strokes of the stylus!


    Thinking quickly, Rhodovus looked at the half page left. Neatly splitting it in half, he jotted down a few quick runes. It would have to suffice. Blowing on the paper so as to dry it faster, he stored his ink cartridge, noting that he had already used two thirds of the original vial¡¯s volume.


    He turned toward the observing mages and commented, ¡°Now then, I¡¯ll go prepare the captain¡¯s runes.¡± The other mages nodded. Rhodovus desperately hoped that the sergeant would be stupid enough to try to extort him rather than being a good soldier and reporting it to his commander in the room.


    Right on cue, the half-elf sergeant interrupted, ¡°Before you do that, Lord Thossolarian¡­ Could I request your expert advice on this rune I once saw in a cave as a child.¡±


    So the half-elf couldn¡¯t wait, could he?


    Rhodovus raised an eyebrow. ¡°Intriguing¡­ Well, I can always spare time for research. Shall we step out of the tent to discuss it?¡±


    Smirking as if he knew that he¡¯d won, the half-elf said, ¡°Of course. I mean, of course, my lord! I¡¯ll even compensate you for your advice.¡±


    Folding up the runepaper he had just finished and placing it in his bag of holding, Rhodovus turned and asked, ¡°May I guide you to a suitable spot?¡±


    The half-elf backed away, smiling pleasantly. ¡°No, no! It¡¯s fine. Your lordship doesn¡¯t have to bother sullying yourself with acting as a mere guide. Why don¡¯t we meet outside beneath the tree by the mess hall? There¡¯ll be a lot of people watching, so your lordship doesn¡¯t have to worry about any of the seedier members of the army.¡± The sergeant chuckled, trying to make it seem like a joke. To the rest of the tent observing their exchange, it seemed like the sergeant was concerned for the elvish lord¡¯s safety. To Rhodovus, the sergeant¡¯s last sentence served as a warning that witnesses would be about. Rhodovus had to admit that while the sergeant would soon discover that he had made a terrible mistake, the half-elf had nearly succeeded in mucking the smooth gears of his plans.


    Mentally adjusting his schedule, Rhodovus regretted storing his sword in his bag of holding earlier in order to seem less threatening to the human soldiers. Then, he smiled. ¡°As you wish.¡±

 Chapter 4: The Killing of an Officer

    The sergeant hesitated before leaving the tent, glancing back as if to check whether Rhodovus would follow¡ªor determine whether he maintained a safe distance from Rhodovus.


    Rhodovus bowed toward the astounded group present. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but the exploration of magic calls. I shall return as soon as we finish our matters.¡± The rune mages nodded and politely smiled, figuring it was some quirk of the powerful mage.


    Meeting the sergeant beneath the tree, Rhodovus held out his hand for the other to shake. The sergeant spat at it. ¡°You know why I¡¯m here, and you should know you can¡¯t fool me. I¡¯m well aware of the tricks of your Court.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and how pray tell?¡±


    The half-elf grimly grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t have noticed as one of the haughty elvish nobility, but my name¡¯s Yuliser.¡±


    ¡°A fine elvish name,¡± Rhodovus murmured.


    Yuliser grunted, ¡°Yeah, well. My elvish mother died after seeing something she wasn¡¯t supposed to. She was a servant in the Summer courts. Do you get where I¡¯m going here?¡±


    ¡°I assume you want some of my noble riches?¡±


    Yuliser chuckled. ¡°That too. I want all your non-paperrunic-related magic items. I¡¯m not stupid enough to touch that crap or let you retrieve it. Think of it as compensation for what me and my family suffered through at the hands of your Courts. And, in case you were stupid enough to wonder, if you don¡¯t do exactly what I say, I think we both know that certain rumors will spread about your little blood taboo. After our exchange, we¡¯ll sign a little contract stating that you¡¯ll never harm me.¡±


    ¡°And will this contract also stipulate that you can¡¯t continue blackmailing me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Yuliser smiled at Rhodovus.


    ¡°What prevents you from meeting an untimely demise? Say, before this contract is signed?¡±


    Yuliser grinned, all teeth. ¡°Wow, I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re actually this stupid or just crazy desperate. Besides questioning under Truth Contract...¡± He jerked his head back toward the milling crowd. Every once in a while, a curious head would poke their way, reminding Rhodovus that they were very much not alone.


    Sighing, Rhodovus felt like all 50 years of his life were weighing on him. ¡°Fine. Know you do make a difficult enemy today, Sergeant.¡±


    ¡°I think I can live with that if it gets me an extra hundred gold today. Don¡¯t even bother pretending you don¡¯t have it. I can tell paper made of elvish wood when I see it.¡±


    Suddenly curious, Rhodovus asked, ¡°Well, I suppose I would be willing if I viewed it as a gold payment for your silence and a bit of gained knowledge. Pray tell me how you could identify such magic?¡±


    Yuliser sneered. ¡°Oh, so Lord Thossolorian doesn¡¯t know everything? There are some things beyond even his understanding?¡±


    Yuliser straightened his back, a bit of pride creeping onto his face. ¡°Well, I suppose I can teach this humbled arrogant an important lesson. There are always more talented people. Take myself. Not only am I a third level qi user at only twenty-five, I also awakened a talent to see mana traces.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure whatever you saw was a blood-rune?¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid? Of course that enhancement rune you drew for yourself was blood magic!¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± praised Rhodovus. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t need your compliments; just your money.¡± Suddenly wary at Rhodovus¡¯s nonchalance and remembering stories of the feared elvish courtesans, Yuliser reached for his sword.


    Rhodovus lifted his hands. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll retrieve your gold. Be at ease, Sarg.¡±


    ¡°Shut it. I¡¯m watching. Anything suspicious, and I¡¯ll kill you. I have a sword¡ªand you do not. Don¡¯t think I won¡¯t! I will swear under contract that you used blood magic.¡±


    Raising an eyebrow, Rhodovus asked, ¡°Why don¡¯t you just kill me first?¡±


    Hesitating, Yuliser frowned as if truly considering Rhodovus¡¯s advice. ¡°I¡¯m not falling for your tricks. You¡¯ll just claim you reacted in self-defense. Besides it not concerning you, we both know that I won¡¯t get any of your stuff then before Command claims it. Stop wasting time.¡±


    Slowly reaching into his bag of holding, Rhodovus¡¯s fingers groped a few seconds for his gold coins before piling them onto the ground. Reaching his hand all the way up to his elbow, he sifted through the contents of the bag, trying to grab every last piece he could find. A droplet of sweat trickled down his neck.


    The aristocratic elf prepared to take out his artifacts next. At this moment, Yuliser shouted, ¡°Wait! Let me check the gold first. There¡¯s a weird mana signature on it.¡±


    He drew his sword, and Rhodovus retreated. ¡°Aha! You thought this could fool me, Lordling? I just told you I can see through mana. Half of these are just Faerie coins!¡±


    Rhodovus frowned. ¡°You got me.¡±


    Yuliser sighed. ¡°Lordling, you¡¯re far too tricky. Unbuckle the bag of holding and pass it to me. I¡¯ll pay some less suspicious mage to deal with any tricks you¡¯ve put on it.¡± Rhodovus slid it over.


    Yuliser ordered, ¡°Back away five steps! If you don¡¯t want to have anyone else discover your little secret, you¡¯d better stop trying anything else. Next time, I¡¯ll be far less¡­ accommodating.¡± Rhodovus complied to Yuliser¡¯s demand.


    Keeping an eye on the elvish noble, Yuliser bent down and picked up the gold coins. Simultaneously, Rhodovus clenched his hand, the movement sliding down the runepaper he¡¯d stored in his sleeves while sifting through his bag of holding, and yelled, ¡°Your mother was just an elvish whore.¡± Inwardly, Rhodovus scoffed. Only ignorant commoners would¡¯ve been fooled by his quick street trick: anyone worth anything knew that you didn¡¯t have to actually physically sift through a bag of holding for anything. Once you sent a mental thought into the artifact, it would automatically put the item in your hand. The vast amount of time Rhodovus had spent retrieving the gold had simply been for preparing his ploy.


    Yuliser jerked at the sudden yell, knocking over the stack of gold and contacting the slip of paper hidden within. Rhodovus had ¡°prepared¡± right before their meeting. Yuliser stared at the paper in shock. ¡°What is that! How did you hide it? It reeks of blood magic. No, the mana¡¯s entering my body! What did you do, Elf!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit fortuitous. I made a bet that your bloodline was too weak to see through layers of mana. Fae glamours do have their uses, I suppose.¡±


    His eyes started frenziedly rolling as he yelled, ¡°I¡¯ll kill you. You damn elvish scum! Everyone will know that...¡±


    Before the half-elf could yell his secret, Rhodovus charged forward, twisting at superhuman speed so the sergeant''s sword thrust missed his heart and pierced through his shoulder instead. He slid along the thin blade until almost half the sword stuck out his back. Coughing a bit of blood, he shook his hand, revealing an unfolded black paper, the very one with which he had threatened a captain earlier that morning.


    He grunted and pressed the paper into Yuliser¡¯s blood soaked uniform, sending a jolt of mana through the rune lines in order to activate it. Staring in horror at the small black square, Yuliser scratched at it in panic. His fingers futilely scrambling at the rune, the man completely ignored the elvish lord impaled on his sword.


    Paper made from Trapper Vine sap and Slimes. Quite useful, really, for controlled damage.


    Rhodovus pushed the sergeant away, the sword sliding out of his body with a sickening squelch. Grunting, he pressed a napkin from his coat pocket against the blood spraying out of his abdomen. Need to finish this quick. Any time, now.


    There was a flash of light, and Yuliser¡¯s ashes floated in the wind.


    Relatively calm-headed for his current rate of losing blood, Rhodovus rationalized that he couldn¡¯t use blood magic to suspiciously curb his bleeding. He stumbled to his bag of holding that Yuliser had dropped and ripped out two quick fire runes from the booklet he retrieved. Placing them at the entry wounds, there was a brief flash of pain, heat, and light as the wounds cauterized. Despite the pain tolerance granted by his near rank five physical enhancements, he let out a shrill scream. I¡¯m a mage, not some goddamn warrior! I¡¯m not supposed to have to deal with this crap.


    The first soldiers charged up the hill as he collapsed.

 Chapter 5: Interlude-ish Dreams of Rhodovus

    Despite approaching his forty-second birthday, the towering structure before him instilled an innocent awe in Rhodovus. A rush of pride made his heartbeat quicken: this ancient Academy was the last remnants of his ancestor¡¯s, the Avish Empire¡¯s, might. Here, he would decipher the secrets of rune magic and embark on his destiny as a great mage! Breaking out of his reverie, Rhodovus bowed toward the mage the Main Family had sent to guard him on their perilous journey through human lands.


    Hanz Yulizer grunted. ¡°Rhodovus, you¡¯re a good kid. This is your first time in human lands, so keep your wits about you¡­ It isn¡¯t like the Summer Courts here. There are things that are not¡­ allowed.¡±


    Then, the man unwrapped a few pages from a protective leather cover and pressed his finger on them. The paper shimmered with an effusive glow that cocooned the elven man, signaling that his mana had activated the runes. The man rubbed his ears in farewell, and Rhodovus¡¯s fingers traced his own tipped ears. When he next blinked, his guardian was already halfway down the street. Rhodovus walked up the stairs and knocked the gate embedded in the enchanted white walls that had withstood millenia.


    A stout stone humanoid opened the door, greeting, ¡°Welcome to the Academy, Student Rhodovus.¡± Controlling his surprise, Rhodovus mutely nodded at the creature, trying to figure out what it was. The thing quirked its head, eyeing the young elf. ¡°Is something troubling you, Student Rhodovus?¡±


    A tall human wearing golden robes strode through, wielding a gold scepter. The stone creature bowed toward the incoming male. ¡°Welcome, Prec-¡±


    ¡°Shut it, Gronar. Get a move on, knife-ears! Never seen a golem before?¡± The boy brushed past Rhodovus who watched the boy in confusion. Without looking back, the boy with golden robes disappeared into a side hallway that diverged from the massive entrance chamber.


    Dropping both his briefcases, one packed with forestry clothes, the other holding more ornate robes for magic and elegant company, Rhodovus felt his ears, fingering the sharp ends. ¡°What in the?¡±


    Gronar humbly bowed. ¡°Please don¡¯t mind Precept Lirel, Student Rhodovus. He likes to be a bit rough with new students.¡±


    For some reason, Rhodovus felt a rush of anger, irritation, annoyance at the apparent insult despite his manners training at the Summer Courts. Why had the human denigrated his ears? He flushed and rushed into the hall, ignoring the golem¡¯s plaintive cries behind.


    To escape the golem, Rhodovus had wandered down the various halls lining the main chamber and now found himself lost. Sure, his memory was sufficient to retrace his steps, but he had no doubt that the golem would spot him from its perch by the door if he did so. With little else to do, he followed a gaggle of students wearing mage robes, employing the skills he had learned hunting in elven forests and cities to track targets without being noticed.


    Finally, he entered a loud market that rivaled the earlier entrance¡¯s size. He read the various bulletin boards surrounded by milling crowds.


    ¡°Buy your enchanted gear here! Discounts for students!¡± Intrigued, Rhodovus watched a group in commoner¡¯s clothes rush toward that stall. Now that his ears had adjusted to the constant roar, he could hear countless voices selling wares, advertising missions, requesting aid, bartering¡­ Figuring he might as well window shop, Rhodovus hefted his two briefcases, wondering what to do with them.


    Helpfully, one of the larger signs identified an information desk operated by a golem, which Rhodovus had determined acted as administrators. ¡°Ah, Hello, Student Rhodovus!¡± The short, clearly feminine golem greeted as he walked up.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, how do all of you golems know my name?¡±


    The golem laughed like ringing bells. Thrusting a hand over the desk, she said, ¡°The name¡¯s Lily. I¡¯m a gnome golem.¡± Rhodovus hesitantly shook her stony hand. In his experience, golems weren¡¯t supposed to be so¡­ real.


    Lily continued, ¡°If you haven¡¯t noticed yet, the Academy¡¯s golems are¡­ different. Some of the real old ones are artifacts imported as guards from the Fyorin Towers, but others were made by rank seven mages.¡± She tapped her stone head. ¡°While we¡¯re all distinct, we can share information between ourselves.¡± She puffed up her chest. ¡°Most older models are independent sentient beings and don¡¯t share a network. Connection¡¯s all the rage. Based off Dungeon magic or something, apparently.¡±


    Rhodovus blinked. How could a golem seem so sentient¡­ and so aware of the processes behind its own making? This golem seemed to have complete sentience, yet surely, in its mind, it was bound by countless absurd rules. All it took was a spark, and the golem would work around its bindings and either kill itself or everything around it if it ever recognized the pointlessness of its existence. For exactly that reason, elves strictly restricted the creation of sentient beings.


    Fighting a frown, Rhodovus asked, ¡°Well, I was just wondering whether you could help me find my rooms or some place to stow these.¡± He pointed toward the two briefcases. Tapping her lip, Lily frowned, startling Rhodovus once more by how alive she seemed. Reaching beneath the desk, she pulled out a small white disk with an arrow on it. ¡°Could I have your hand? I need to take a droplet of blood.¡±


    Yanking his hand back, Rhodovus yelped, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, please. I don¡¯t know why you elves have such a cultural phobia about this. It¡¯s just to Imprint this locator for your dorm.¡±


    Staring nervously at his hand, Rhodovus hesitated. ¡°What do I need to do? Is there some other way?¡±


    Throwing her hands in the air, Lily said, ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll just input your dorm¡¯s position.¡± The gnomish-looking golem reached under her desk and dropped a thick tome in front of Rhodovus. Flicking through the pages, her face basked in the emitted red glow. Her roaming reading finger stopped. ¡°Aha! Rhodovus: Room 32 Floor 5 House of Polinick.¡± She closed her eyes and held the disk before handing it to Rhodovus, its arrow now shifting whenever he moved.


    She sighed. ¡°This isn¡¯t a proper navigation disk because it can only direct you to your dorm, but you just need to follow the arrow. Leave your bags here. Albert can take them to your room later.¡±


    Handing his baggage to her, Rhodovus left when Lily yelled, ¡°Wait!¡±


    Turning, Rhodovus inquisitively looked at her.


    ¡°Here. Gronar was supposed to give all incoming students one. As usual, he probably got distracted chatting to some students.¡± Lily held out a light brown cloak made of fine cloth. The golem proudly announced, ¡°This here is made from Spinnerian silk! Third rank enchantment. Guaranteed to enhance mana absorption by at least twenty percent!¡±


    Rhodovus eyed the robes, realising that it mirrored the ones others wore throughout campus. Covering his travel wear with the silky cloak, Rhodovus grinned and flipped up the hood, hiding his ears. ¡°Wow, you¡¯re already on the path of becoming a mage! Cya around, Student Rhodovus!¡± With a wave, Rhodovus joined the throng of cloaked figures surging through the market. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Rhoduvus shuffled along with the crowd¡¯s flow. While uncomfortable about so many strangers jostling him, Rhodovus also marveled at the experience. Here, there were so many people! Not even in the lower elven markets would the crowds get so bustling. The air felt hot, filled with people rushing to find their next deal or to secure their goods. Rhodovus stopped at a meat stand, taking out a silver coin for a beef skewer. Placing the coin in the dish at the ordering counter, Rhodovus waited as the vendor reached toward several meat sticks roasting over a charred grill.


    A gong resounded, and the market¡¯s furor silenced. Seeing the more lost-looking students gaping around themselves, Rhodovus refrained from peering toward the sound¡¯s source; he didn¡¯t want to mark himself as an amateur on his first day. A voice echoed, ¡°Hark! Praise the Senior Prefect Olinth! He has retrieved a branch from the Sacred Tree of Hope!¡±


    Rhodovus felt a bit confused. Turning toward the vendor, he asked, ¡°What type of Quest did he do to receive a branch from the Spring Court?¡±


    The vendor eyed him in disbelief. ¡°Are you a treehugger? Pfft, as if the Courts would grant outsiders branches. He cut it down himself.¡±


    ¡°Why would the Spring Court allow someone to cut the sacred tree?¡±


    Peering at Rhodovus¡¯s face, the vendor¡¯s gaze turned serious. ¡°Pah! I knew it. You¡¯re a knife-ear. I hope Olinth killed your kind when he stole that branch.¡± He threw the coin back at Rhodovus. ¡°Take your trash, knifer.¡± The silver coin bounced off Rhodovus¡¯s arm and rolled on the ground. Righteous fury surged across Rhodovus¡¯s face. How dare this foolish human besmirch the Tree of Hope? Rhodovus reached for his rapier when a hand landed on his bicep without the slightest of warnings from his formidable hunting instincts. Wary, Rhodovus swirled around, ready to cast his magic.


    A tall elf dressed in robes finer than any student¡¯s released Rhodovus¡¯s arm and grasped his hand in a firm handshake. He felt a cool sensation as a silver coin was pressed into his palm.


    ¡°At ease, Student Rhodovus. Call me, Lord Firenze. Hanz told me you¡¯d come. He did not warn me you¡¯d be so¡­ difficult. To find, I mean.¡± Both Rhodovus¡¯s and the vendor¡¯s eyes focused on the man¡¯s neck where an emblem swayed on a chain: Rhodovus¡¯s because it looked rather fetching, and the vendor¡¯s because what it signified. Paling, the vendor stammered, ¡°Professor! I meant no harm.¡± He weakly justified, ¡°We should celebrate heroes like Olinth.¡±


    The professor arched a brow. ¡°Oh really? And had I not taught him last year, I would¡¯ve thought him a genocidal maniac. Two meat skewers.¡±


    Hearing that this professor had personally taught the prefect, the vendor ashened. In silence, he handed over two sizzling skewers. As the professor reached into a small pouch, the vendor waved his hands. ¡°Upper professor, I would never dream of making you pay.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to. Follow me, Student Rhodovus.¡± Pulling out a glass shaker containing a white powder, the professor sprinkled his skewer before offering Rhodovus the bottle. ¡°Salt?¡±


    Rhodovus shook his head, inspecting the professor¡¯s small pouch. He could have sworn that the professor¡¯s hand had shrunk when approaching the pouch¡¯s opening. Following Rhodovus¡¯s eyes, the professor chuckled. ¡°Ah, you noticed. It¡¯s one of my favorite artifacts, a rank seven bag of holding, capable of distorting space. Well, Hanz already told me about you, so I¡¯ll introduce myself. I am Professor Firenze, a rank 6 runemage here at Hewther Academy.¡± Tapping his chin, Professor Firenze reached into his pouch for a slip of glowing paper, the latent mana rolling off in waves. Pulling out a quill, the professor scrawled something on the sheet.


    ¡°I specialize in ink preparation and paper summons. Take the right hall. I had planned to meet you as soon as you officially set up your dorm sigil, but who would¡¯ve expected you to escape Gronar? Your independent exploration seems to have led to a bit of culture shock.¡±


    Nodding, Rhodovus walked behind Professor Firenze, intently watching the professor¡¯s scribbling: observing a sixth rank papermage was a treat. Handing Rhodovus a white disk, the professor obliviously continued, ¡°Well, I owe Hanz a favor, so see me if you need anything. Just say my name, and that locator will direct you. That¡¯s how I found you: professor tracking privileges and all that.¡±


    Stowing his quill, the professor surveyed the hall before opening a door into a small room equipped with a few tables and little else. He carefully examined his arcane runes. Gently pushing Rhodovus in, he furrowed his brows and tapped the rune, releasing a flash of violet mana that soon dissipated.


    Rhodovus frowned. Violet mana was generally for fast acting magic or things that required constant checking by a spell. His ears popped as the mana wave passed over him; his frown deepened. Firenze had just cast some type of ward.


    ¡°You may speak in confidence. Relax, by the Gods. I¡¯m not going to murder you. It¡¯s an anti-scrying ward.¡±


    Rhodovus gritted his teeth. ¡°How can you accept this? The very missions ordered by this Academy threaten our race. They dared to raid the sacred tree!¡±


    Firenze rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°First of all, you¡¯re not a Spring Elf. Don¡¯t act like a tree-hugger. Second, are you familiar with Archmage Niphlet?¡±


    Rhodovus paused. ¡°Yes¡­ He was an elven Archmage of the Winter Court who believed the apex of any intelligent race was to create sentient beings¡­ His mysterious disappearance four centuries ago resulted in the release of his golem creations, allowing them to annihilate life in three Kingdoms before the Fyorin Towers stepped in. After him, all the nations banned the creation of sentient beings.¡±


    ¡°Ignoring that the newly minted golems at the Academy are very much sentient, just not unbounded, there¡¯s another thing about Niphlet that many forget about in light of his other effects on Cespes. Before he researched the creation of golems, he attempted to crack the secret to life by observing what he believed was the primordial origin of life, microorganisms that required powerful magics to be observed.¡±


    Rhodovus subtly glanced around the room. This did not seem at all like an office. If anything, it looked more like some type of spartan classroom. Besides for a stack of cheap-looking runepaper sitting on a desk at the front, it was barren except for chairs and desks.


    ¡°Focus, Rhodovus. Well, Niphlet found that these organisms appeared to occasionally split into two cells in order to reproduce.¡± The professor pointedly stared at Rhodovus. ¡°Now, why do you think the sacred tree is important to our race?¡±


    Rhodovus obligingly recited Article 12 from the Court of Season¡¯s Constitution, ¡°In the second era after the sacking of the Tree of Life, the Primordial Goddess Laya sent down her prophecy:


    In Four Seasons shall Cespes flow.


    Elves and fae and creatures high and low


    All around one tree grow.


    Should from it you ever flee


    Or try to find the endless sea,


    Shall it in two cleave.


    Then from this world must you leave.¡±


    Firenze grinned. ¡°And how does a world tree reproduce? Have we ever observed seeds?¡±


    ¡°Everyone knows they¡¯re a divine gift from the Gods. They cannot form anew on this mortal plane.¡±


    Stabbing a finger at Rhodovus¡¯s chest, the professor smirked. ¡°That¡¯s what they want you to believe, but why does a divine tree have to reproduce with a seed? Who knows to what other places the Goddess will lead?¡±


    Inwardly groaning both at the rhyme and the professor¡¯s argument, Rhodovus asked, ¡°Professor, Sir. Are you a member of the Leave Faction?¡±


    The professor shrugged. ¡°I am ambivalent. The primordial Gods have been silent for over five decades, and even if they were around, they have never wished to reveal their secrets in the millenia during which they walked this earth. Do not be so hasty to condemn those who do not follow your precepts. Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re such a moral fellow either. Hanz stated in your recommendation that you¡¯re an adult by Summer Court standards.¡±


    Firenze measured Rhodovus. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta ask. Did you take the hunting path or the torture one? Or both? You don¡¯t seem the type, but you never know.¡±


    Aghast, Rhodovus scanned the room. How could he speak so openly about the secrets of their race? To do such was begging death.


    Firenze waved a hand. ¡°Stop worrying so much. I¡¯ve warded this room with the most powerful artifacts I could buy, not to mention the runespell I just cast. Nothing short of a rank nine mage, who¡¯d already no doubt know of this, could eavesdrop.¡±


    Sullenly, Rhodovus said, ¡°I took the hunting path. I hunted some criminals who had been raiding the countryside and sacrificed them to ignite my blood.¡±


    ¡°Good. We will be training here at the start and middle of each cycle until you can resist a more powerful bloodmage.¡± Before Rhodovus could protest, he crumpled toward the ground as all his muscles violently spasmed.

 Chapter 6: Interrogation

    Rhodovus groaned, rolling up to find one of Lidia¡¯s priests leaning over him. Based on the green sash adorning the woman¡¯s robes, she was of the fourth rank, making her the leader of the gaggle of clerics sent along with this mission. She whispered above him, ¡°So bless this man, Goddess Lidia of Healing.¡± With his acute perception, Rhodovus sensed a tendril of divine energy wrap around his shoulder. He focused on his shoulder, watching as the wound slowly closed. The flesh seemed to crawl across the bloody hole, repairing the inner workings of his body. To test out the priest¡¯s spell, he shrugged, wincing as he felt the still sore shoulder throb in response.


    Lidia was actually the Elder Goddess of Healing Wounds from War, but he supposed her priests would want to increase the goddess¡¯s dignity by encroaching onto the Ancient God Hypses¡¯s Domain of Healing, especially now that the god himself had disappeared for almost three quarters of a century.


    He turned to examine the other occupants of this healing tent and saw Sir Thomas grimly staring at him. ¡°Lord Thossolorian, please follow me. You will explain why I have a dead sergeant an hour before we have even begun marching to battle, or you will be hung for murder.¡±


    Rhodovus sighed. ¡°The quest for knowledge is arduous.¡± Shaking his stiff shoulder, he nodded to the priest, passing her a gold coin that she quickly pocketed. Despite his disdain for the false mages, he knew better than to offend some of the most reliable healers on Cespes. The faction of the Gods was truly a thing of terror.


    He collected his things and clipped his unopened bag of holding to his belt; the army hadn¡¯t been willing to open it in case he had trapped it, ruining any evidence they could charge him with. He asked, ¡°Will I be performing this interview here or somewhere else?¡±


    Sir Thomas stalked away. ¡°Follow me. We have a tent prepared.¡±


    Rhodovus thought furiously during the five minute walk. Glancing at the sun, he determined that about an hour had passed since he¡¯d lost consciousness, enough time for the army to finish several particularly troublesome preparations.


    As he walked, his body ached, and he knew that those initial soldiers had probably beaten him so bloody that not even his bodily rune enchantment and the priest¡¯s magic could fully recover his body. Then again, he doubted that she had truly tried, only healing him enough to keep him from falling unconscious due to the pain. She had still healed most of the damage though; it would have been a diplomatic incident if reports had spread of an Elvish Lord from the Academy being led around with blood pouring out of him. Nevertheless, because she had been ignorant of the pain tolerance granted by his runes, he could now perform at near optimal physical capacity since she¡¯d healed him far more than she¡¯d thought.


    He grumbled. They had stripped him of his hidden daggers as well as the rune pages he kept taped to his body even while he slept. He thanked the Gods once more that rune pages erased all evidence of their existence after their use, which meant that the only connections between him and blood magic were the two remaining vials of disguised blood. Ideally, he would dispose of them before the army performed a thorough search of his belongings. The very thought of that necessary sacrifice made him lament the hundreds of gold coins that had gone into their creation. Now, he just had to find some way to safely discard the vials.


    Based on the glare Sir Thomas would shoot him every few seconds, merely reaching for his bag of holding would constitute a threat that justified the use of lethal force. An argument along those lines might even hold up under truth spell, and Sir Thomas knew that. The elf eyed the guards flanking him, wondering whether there was some way he could fool them.


    Supposedly, they were for protecting him from vengeful soldiers until the truth was determined, but they¡¯d kill him just as quickly as Sir Thomas would if they suspected he was planning anything.


    Rhodovus was pushed into a larger tent, his entourage surrounding the outside to prevent any interruptions while two of them followed him and Sir Thomas inside. There, he found three waiting men and a woman.


    Sir Thomas softly spoke, ¡°We¡¯ll perform a triple inspection. Father Poin of the Elder God of Things that Light the Night, Kalcul, will perform the identification spells on the objects within your bag of holding, which we will need your assistance under truth spell to retrieve and verify that the objects we cast identification spells on are truly everything contained within your bag.¡±


    Pointing at the two scowling men sitting in chairs at the side, the knight continued, ¡°These two men have already signed a truth contract and will confirm for us anything you say about Yuliser. Miss Invikles here is a trained interrogator and will prepare the Truth-Speak contract the Royal Contracter wrote.¡± He coughed. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even consider lying, although I would enjoy it if you did. It¡¯d be terribly messy having to explain why our Elvish mage went insane or, depending on the severity of the lie, burned to a crisp. ¡°


    Sir Thomas smirked. ¡°But please, if you wish to test a fourth rank contract made by a sixth rank Soul Mage specializing in Contracts, be my guest.¡±


    He finished with: ¡°I think I¡¯ll enjoy finding out why I get to kill you, Lordling,¡± before taking one of the two final free seats by the woman.


    Rhodovus looked toward the waiting woman who had spread out a parchment across the only non-chair furniture within the room, a wooden table in the middle. He noted that her seat was slightly above his, letting her tower over him. Foolish intimidation tricks.


    The woman cleared her throat. ¡°Mage Rhodovus, you may now inspect the contract.¡±


    Giving it a glance and making sure that there was no foul play, he confirmed that it would merely force him to tell the truth and not force him to follow what others commanded him to do. Because Rhodovus was a noble lord, even the commander was leery of pushing him too far by ordering him to fully open his mind toward his interrogator. There was too high a risk that they would hear elven secrets that would result in their assassinations by both the Hewther Kingdom and the Summer Courts or infuriate the other nobles once they heard of the incident, not to mention that this army probably lacked expensive blank command contracts, which could cost over fourty gold coins to chain a fourth rank elven mage¡¯s soul. Unlike Law Contracts, which forced those who signed them to follow a certain set ¡°rule¡± like speaking the truth, Command Contracts required a link to the very psyche of the beholden and controller, thus making them far more complex enchantments.


    Luckily, this was a cheap, pre-finished, mass produced Truth-Speak contract, so they couldn¡¯t directly force him to reveal all the facts relating to Yuliser¡¯s death like a Command Contract could. Instead, they could only give him free reign to repeat the events according to his perspective. It seemed that this small task force lacked any capable contract-specializing Soul Mages. It made sense: after all, what task force planned to hold a trial?


    He casually signed it, pausing as he felt phantom chains bind his mind. Even though this contract had been undoubtedly mass produced in a batch of hundreds using Emulator Paper, this was the real deal. Nevertheless, there was a silver lining because the Soul Mage making it hadn¡¯t had enough soul power to both mass produce and make it malleable enough for interrogators to specify the ¡°rule¡± conditions according to their needs. ¡°I think you¡¯ll find yourself disappointed, Sir Thomas.¡± He just had to stall for ten minutes until the contract¡¯s bindings disbanded.


    Flipping over an hourglass, Invikles glared at him. ¡°Don¡¯t talk unless you¡¯re asked a question. Now, did you kill Yuliser?¡±


    ¡°What type of dumb question is that! Of course he did!¡± One of the men wearing a leather jerkin shouted. Rhodovus had to agree with the idiot.


    Still, he politely replied, ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure the witnesses can attest to that, much as they just have.¡±


    She continued, giving both him and the man who had spoken out a frown, ¡°Lord Thossolorian, would you kindly tell me why?¡±


    Man, this woman really cut straight to the truth. He supposed it was the sign of a decent interrogator. More direct questions left less room for dishonest yet truthful answers. However, that only really worked for human criminals who tended to be far less experienced in the manipulations of upper echelon politics.


    Pausing to gather his thoughts, Rhodovus leaned into his chair. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you already know from your investigations that Sergeant Yuliser had said he wanted to show me a special rune.¡±


    ¡°And did he?¡±


    ¡°Why, yes. He drew out a rune he had previously seen when he was younger. When I saw it, I immediately recognized it as a blood rune.¡±


    The room hushed, and Sir Thomas stared at Rhodovus. ¡°A blood rune? Where did he see it!? This is disastrous; I have to report it!¡±


    Rhodovus calmly replied. ¡°Calm down, Commander. I¡¯m sure those two... gentlemen over there can confirm that Yuliser spent much of his youth in the Elven Courts. While I was conversing with him, he suggested to me that his Elven mother had discovered a blood rune¡ªdon¡¯t ask me more on this; I truly don¡¯t know where or even if she truly had. It is very possible that this is how he was introduced to blood runes, so I believe there is very little worry of a rampant blood mage preparing to sacrifice a city around these parts.¡± Rhodovus carefully edged around the truth. After all, he didn¡¯t have any plans on sacrificing civilians anytime soon. Eight minutes left. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Rhodovus ignored the dampness of his clothes. While he¡¯d never provide such an obvious tell when he lied, the humidity trapped within the tent was starting to make him sweat, and his thick robes did not help with this. Invinkles tapped the table with her knuckles, ¡°Focus!¡±


    The captain cooled down before growling, ¡°And why did you kill him over this? Unknowing brushes with blood magic are hardly a death sentence.¡±


    Miss Invikles interrupted. ¡°Before we ask any further questions, I¡¯d like to know something, Lord Thossolorian. You seem to know an awful lot about blood magic. Would you care to explain how this came to be, and what you think of it?¡±


    Thossolarian cringed inwardly, but he outwardly smirked. He had to figure out how to make this woman stop this line of questioning¡­ He had to distract her with something, but what? He continued down this train of thought even he answered with the carefully prepared answer he¡¯d been taught his entire life.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure if you commoners would know, but the Academy trains us mages to identify blood runes so we can more easily react to and eradicate blood mages.¡± Nevermind that the Academy had never taught him any techniques he hadn¡¯t already known about from his time at the Elven Courts although to be fair, at the Courts he¡¯d more focused on how to avoid such skills.


    He continued. ¡°While I see the attraction that many have for the near limitless power offered by blood sacrifices, I find the idea of mass sacrifices distressing and have never wished to be one of those city-razing freaks. Elvish society has laws stating they will exile and assassinate anyone they notice performing a blood rite.¡± All true, Elvish practitioners, mostly nobles, preferred small sacrifices, extracting blood from willing participants who were usually paid for their precious resource, or taking the blood from beasts or criminals that were hardly accepted in cities. Also, small sacrifices had the advantage of being easily concealed, preventing the world from ganging up on you for performing illicit magics. If you were stupid enough to be reported, you deserved to die for threatening Elvish interests.


    ¡°Anyway, as to why I killed the man, the reason is both simple and logical. Once I told him what he had showed me was a blood rune, I was prepared to pay for his silence in gold.¡±


    Invinkles cut in, ¡°And his silence was worth twenty-five gold?¡± Rhodovus silently thanked the World Spirit that he had used half fae gold, which were actually mere flowers that had disintegrated with the presence of the magical fire. It was actually quite an interesting result proven by an Archmage of Fyorin Towers almost three centuries ago that Fae glamours would with extremely low probabilities turn real or, more likely, fade away once properly observed by either a mage or through an interaction with ambient mana. It had been called a collapse of the wave function, as it were.


    Rhodovus squinted at her. ¡°Would you not price the lives of the innocent at at least twenty-five gold? But, more to the point, it was to convince him that he shouldn¡¯t speak of it to anyone else or sell the secret. Moreover, immediately after, we planned to sign a contract in which I¡¯d hoped to convince him to never speak of blood magic again. That gold was all for buying his silence. Perhaps if I were generous, he would have then gained some goodwill toward me and spread this around the camp. I know how you all hate me as it is.¡± Six minutes left.


    Everyone in the tent shot him dark looks but kept silent. Suddenly, one of the two men sitting beside the priest of Kalcus opened his mouth. Sir Thomas glared at the late Yuliser¡¯s two friends, preventing them from interrupting again. Still, one muttered, ¡°For good reason too, Elvish bastard.¡±


    Sir Thomas walked over. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand how all this led to the death of a good man.¡±


    Rhodovus hesitated, pretending to be thinking. Invinkles growled, ¡°Speak or be thought guilty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly legal,¡± Rhodovus shot back, gaining a grudging nod from Sir Thomas. However, Rhodovus began, ¡°I hesitate to say this, but I wouldn¡¯t be so sure that he was a good man. He did actively threaten me. I suppose that the unfortunate death of his mother made him hate all other elves.¡±


    Sir Thomas glanced at one of the men who reluctantly nodded to confirm that what Rhodovus said was true.


    ¡°When I asked for his silence, he absolutely refused. He seemed suspicious of my actions. When I went toward him, he seemed to go crazy even though I had agreed to pay him. He yelled an insult about my kind and stabbed me through the shoulder. As the many soldiers can attest to, I was not the first to attack. In fact, I was so surprised that I barely dodged in time, saving my life and allowing me to speak to you. Furthermore, before his untimely demise, he seemed to be insane because he declared that he would expose the blood rune to everyone in the camp. In the moment, I decided I had to end him before something truly terrible happened.¡±


    Rhodovus looked around the tent, trying to appear regretful with all the acting skills he had learned in the Summer Courts.


    Sir Thomas glanced at Invinkles. ¡°There¡¯s something off here.¡± Damnit. Only four minutes left.


    The interrogator nodded. She calmly demanded, ¡°Do you swear you have revealed the whole truth without leaving anything out?¡±


    ¡°As you well know, I have only spoken the truth.¡±


    Sir Thomas growled, ¡°Answer the question, Lord Thossolorian.¡±


    Rhodovus sighed. ¡°I guess not then.¡±


    The two men in the back cheered.


    Rhodovus continued. ¡°Well, as I was walking through the camp behind Sergeant Yuliser, I smelled the odor of whatever your ¡®cooks¡¯ scrounged up for the pre-march meal. There were also these lovely flowers that almost reminded me of the Elvish forests. As I was talking to Yuliser, he seemed awfully edgy. Based on the smell he emitted, I suspect he might have been suffering from a lice infection...¡±


    Sir Thomas glowered, ¡°Enough with your stupid fancies! Did you provoke or threaten him to attacking first? Did you set up the events leading to his death?¡±


    ¡°No and not really. He did truly threaten and stab me before I laid any harmful spells on him or gave any direct indication that I would do so. While I did say some rash words in response to his insults, I had not yet displayed any aggressive intent. As for setting up his death, it was only in the natural sense resulting from his actions upon my learning of the nature of his blood rune.¡± Rhodovus felt a slight twinge as the contract nearly reacted. Thank the World Spirit that the contract hadn¡¯t built failsafes displaying when someone was telling a near lie. Most likely, it only had two states: truth and lie, with a lie resulting in a painful death. Three minutes.


    Invinkles questioned, ¡°Did you kill Yuliser to hide something he knew?¡±


    ¡°Miss, I¡¯ve already told you that I killed him to prevent him from revealing the blood rune. It is one of my responsibilities as a rune mage.¡±


    ¡°Did you truly act in self-defense? Can you repeat the exact words to me, ¡®I acted only in self-defense without any machinations at play?¡¯¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that because all my actions today were to prevent the exposure of a potentially dangerous blood rune. However, that does not make me guilty. I acted in defense of myself upon being stabbed by Yuliser. Had he been willing to sign a Minor Command Contract promising to remain silent on the matter at the nearest city, which I¡¯m sure the Academy would have been willing to pay for, he would still be alive now. Depending on the strength of his soul, I could have even used a Rank 2 Contract of Silence I keep on hand for purposes like these.¡±  Two minutes.


    Suddenly, Sir Thomas confidently grinned, all teeth like a shark. ¡°Let¡¯s see what else you keep on hand, eh?¡±


    ¡°Take out everything in your bag of holding,¡± the knight commanded.


    His heart thumping, Rhodovus reached into his bag and pulled out two vials of black ink, two vials of green ink, ten vials of red ink, a stack of various types of paper, gold, his quill, some rope, a few day¡¯s rations, some rune designs, a small folding desk, a mana battery, a notebook, a healing potion, an fourth rank enchanted sword, an anti-arrow warding Artifact, and a flask of Never-ending Water. It was actually quite a bit considering that his maximum storage space was two cubic feet.


    Once finished, Rhodovus announced, ¡°I swear that I have just now taken out all the items I am aware of within my bag of holding.¡±


    Father Poin looked at the items in interest, a glint of greed flickering in his eyes, but Sir Thomas shook his head, warning, ¡°Do your job. Don¡¯t forget that we¡¯ll have to report on this too under truth spell if we convict the mage.¡±


    The priest paled upon realizing that Thomas had noticed his thoughts and quickly chanted a prayer to his God, invoking the God¡¯s Blessing Spell: Reveal. Silently listening to the priest¡¯s chanting, Rhodovus secretly fidgeted his toes, which were concealed by his shoes. He stoically refused to glance at the two black vials, best not to draw attention to the only evidence of his crime. His nerves felt frayed; if the Kalcul¡¯s spell reacted to the blood magic¡­


    After an eternity, the priest finished chanting ¡°Oh, God within the Light Domain Kalcul, he who pierces through the fog of ignorance and darkness to find the truth, please light that which seeks to hide a falsehood.¡±


    The priest carefully stared at the items, but there was no change. Rhodovus imperceptibly relaxed. It seemed that this priest was unable to invest enough of the God¡¯s consciousness for Kalcul to notice the problems about those two vials. Still, it wasn¡¯t exactly unexpected. After all, one of the first rituals Rhodovus had performed on the blood ink was to make it resistant to detection spells. The priest turned to the knight and reluctantly shook his head.


    Handing over Rhodovus¡¯s necklace of rune sheets and concealed daggers, Sir Thomas grimaced. ¡°Even though this stinks of some retched Elvish lies, I guess you¡¯re free. Thossolarian, we aren¡¯t hanging you. Today, at least. Be that as it may, you just killed a good soldier today. You¡¯re getting an official demerit and will serve a punishment for causing unrest even though you acted in self-defense. Refusing will mean death.¡±


    ¡°What punishment?¡± Rhodovus frowned.


    The commander smiled. ¡°You¡¯ll draw runes that provide buffs better than the 10% you claim our mages max out at to all of our soldiers without sacrificing any aspect of their battlestrength, emotions, or intelligence.¡±


    Rhodovus interupted, ¡°I don¡¯t have the mana to do it, and by the time I get through the last one, the first few will wear off. I will follow your rather stringent conditions but will only do it for the captains. If you haven¡¯t forgotten, I am still necessary to attack the Dungeon.¡±


    Sir Thomas grinned. Rhodovus gritted his teeth, suddenly wary of the man¡¯s next words. Speaking slowly, Sir Thomas said, ¡°That¡¯s fine. Just do our captains. It¡¯s fine if you do only that even though you really ought to have considered the repercussions you¡¯d have to suffer through before you killed a decent soldier. However, I wasn¡¯t finished with your punishment. I agree with you exactly; we need to conserve your mana. After all, you¡¯re going to be fighting on the front lines rather than from the back as you were going to before. No need to say you¡¯ll follow through with your punishment under truth spell. I think I¡¯d prefer you trying to escape, so I can execute you for deserting.¡±


    ¡°You will regret this, Commander,¡± Rhodovus shouted as he stormed out the tent. Once he did a cursory scan to confirm that no scrying spells followed him, he smiled. Time¡¯s up.

 Chapter 7: Meeting Bob

    I woke up to find what must have been a foot-wide hand shaking me. The air smelled a bit musty, but it wasn¡¯t really unpleasant. It reminded me a bit of the upstairs attic actually. I forced my eyes open and nearly entered cardiac arrest. This was no attic.


    A green, almost classically orc-ish face popped into my swimming vision. ¡°Hey there, Newcomer! You panicked there for a bit. You must be from really far away!¡± Another two heads popped into view, tripling my fear. Before today, I would¡¯ve assumed that fear had a peak beyond which it could not grow, and the max was your brain literally shutting down. Today, I learned some fears could persist long after you woke up.


    I suddenly remembered a really loud green three-headed monster that had tried to bludgeon me to death with mere shouts. ¡°Grah! It¡¯s you!¡±


    The green thing hoisted himself up, displaying his full nine-feet, three-headed frame. ¡°What? Have you seen me, the Great Orc Krugrar, before?¡±


    I avoided staring at its extra heads; while I still suspected Krugrar¡¯s face would give me nightmares, once you got past the sharp fangs and oddly disproportional nose and forehead, his visage was¡­ somewhat human. Well, he had two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth brimming with lethal incisors that could rip through my flesh in seconds, so about as human-looking as he could get.


    Looking back I should have already realized this, but I still blankly asked, ¡°You can talk?¡± In my defense, I was still gathering my wits about myself.


    Krugrar looked mildly offended. It was disconcerting seeing three frowning faces, each a literally demonic green and having teeth that could rip through a man¡¯s throat. ¡°Of course I can talk! Whatever gave you the idea that we orcs couldn¡¯t speak common. What do they even teach you silly humans nowadays? Pah!¡±


    Common. A universal language, spoken by man and monster alike in a thousand terrible fantasy novels, and it turns out it was literally just idiomatic Earth English. I allocated one more point to the ¡°I am hallucinating as I bleed out in a ditch somewhere¡± hypothesis. After all, what were the odds that the one time I crossed dimensions I¡¯d end up in a world where I could actually speak the language? It seemed too coincidental.


    I apologized to hopefully avoid having my head crushed like a ripe grape. ¡°Sorry! It¡¯s just where I¡¯m from, there aren¡¯t really any of your kind, Mr. Krugrar.¡±


    A bit mollified, Krugrar¡¯s right head spoke out of sync with the others, ¡°Well, silly human. Welcome to the Dungeon Bob! What¡¯s your name?¡± The other two green heads glared at it but didn¡¯t reprimand it for creating the odd echoing effect where three voices had spoken in close succession.


    I stuck out a hand. ¡°My name¡¯s Clayton.¡±


    Krugrar¡¯s three pairs of eyes seriously looked at my frail hand. ¡°What are you doing¡­ Clayton?¡± The left head rolled the name over its tongue as if appraising how it would taste.


    I inspected his giant green hands and decided against explaining how shaking hands worked. Putting my hand into my pocket and adopting a slouch, I suddenly had a desperate urge to take a morphine tablet; I deserved one after all this. ¡°Oh uh. I dunno.¡±


    Krugrar¡¯s heads guffawed. ¡°I think we¡¯ll get along just fine, silly human.¡±


    I meekly followed him as he hoisted me onto my feet and told me to follow him. I took long steps, almost lunging each stride in order to keep up with his pace, which was probably considerately slow for the nine-foot giant. I asked a bit curiously, ¡°So how does the three head thing work?¡±


    Krugrar patiently explained. ¡°Silly human, Claire, Clay¡¯s son, eh, whatever. Stupid human names.¡± Okay, maybe not so patiently.


    He continued, thumping his chest. ¡°I¡¯m a great Tri-Orc! I¡¯m not the common fodder you hear about that dies by the heap in battle! I have three times the brain mass! My kind makes great mages!¡± His face fell.


    Sighing, he glanced toward something I couldn¡¯t see. His voice forlorn, he complained, ¡°If only the Dungeon Bob would recognize my talents! I could serve so well.¡±


    My steps faltered as my mind fully came to terms with what he¡¯d just said. Magic? ¡°I¡¯m sure your talents will be discovered. Where I come from, magic¡¯s quite rare. I¡¯ve never had the opportunity to see it in action. Could you demonstrate your mystical magical abilities?¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    For a second, Krugrar¡¯s three heads seemed to all turn red in rage and growl with a guttural accent clouding his voice, ¡°Stupid human! You make fun of the Great Krugrar?¡±


    Waving my hands, I stumbled back, deeply regretting my momentary curiosity. ¡°Sorry, sorry! I promise you that I was just wondering.¡±


    Krugrar hissed, ¡°Of course, I get stuck with an idiot human! Don¡¯t you know that to better serve Bob, we all give our souls to the dungeon?¡±


    Horrified, I asked, ¡°Wait, what? Why? Does Bob threaten you or something? Don¡¯t you want to keep your powers?¡±


    Krugrar grunted. ¡°Unlike you, stupid human. I, the Great Krugrar, know how to place the needs of others above my own. Once you''ve been in a dungeon long enough, you start to realize that us mortals are pointless! Born to die. Here we have the opportunity to serve something greater than ourselves.¡±


    Don¡¯t tell me I ended up in some communist society. I cautiously hedged, ¡°Doesn¡¯t that make you angry? What about your freedom?¡±


    Krugrar looked at me in confusion before slapping his middle forehead. The left and right ones both seemed to gently sway before falling asleep and leaning on the main one. Now with only one active head, Krugrar exhaled a deep breath. ¡°Ah, yes. Non-dungeon dwellers wouldn¡¯t understand. Don¡¯t worry. In a week or two, you''ll see what I mean.¡±


    My eyes darted out of here. I had to get out of here! This place was worse than a deathtrap. What did Krugrar mean by I would see? Would it be some sort of Big Brother society where I was tortured into saying whatever the Dungeon wanted me to?


    I shrieked, ¡°What do you mean by ¡®I¡¯ll see¡¯?¡±


    Krugrar grabbed me. ¡°Calm down, stupid human! I can hardly believe that I too was once nearly as stupid as you.¡±


    Sighing, Krugrar forced me to sit down. ¡°You see, over time, I realized the Dungeon¡¯s goals aligned with my own. By making the dungeon strong, I too could become strong, yes? The dungeon will reward me for my efforts. It is fair. Even if Bob did originally use magic to convince me, I am still me.¡±


    The three-headed orc paused, staring off into the distance before murmuring, ¡°Actually, sometimes outsiders beg to be let in. Bob provides comfort and health. A Dungeon trains, heals, improves its soldiers.¡± His voice grew in strength. ¡°We fight for the glory of the Dungeon!¡±


    I nodded, stoically blank-faced. Internally, I was scared out of my mind. If I understood things correctly, staying here wouldn¡¯t just pose a significant threat to my life but would also end up with the Dungeon scooping out my goals, editing them, and shoving them back in.


    There¡¯s nothing more terrifying than losing your mind. With shaking hands, I opened the morphine tablet container and swallowed one, already imagining the relaxing aura that would soon spread through my body. The urges immediately stopped, and I felt more centered. Still, there was nothing worse than becoming another¡¯s willing slave through mind control.


    Back when things had made sense, I¡¯d quit books and stopped watching movies whenever it had become a plot point. It was just too easy; a villain with power over your mind controlled everything about you. People just didn¡¯t realize how viscerally terrifying that prospect was - someone could come up to you while you engaged your average day-to-day life, working toward your own purpose, and suddenly tear your very sense of self in half, putting the pieces back together to form a willing slave. After making sure that the Dungeon¡¯s tendrils had yet to grasp my mind by confirming that I still hated the place and all its monsters, I started cataloging ways to kill myself in the event I couldn¡¯t escape its control in time. I would not become anyone or thing¡¯s slave; my mind was my own and would remain free from the influence of others.


    Krugrar smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, silly human, but you will. It doesn¡¯t do well to dwell on it, so let¡¯s talk about something else.¡±


    Since I didn¡¯t really know what to say after that stunning revelation, I silently followed along. Might as well make light conversation to figure out my plans. ¡°Uh, so is there like a main head or something? Sorry, don¡¯t answer if it offends you or anything of course.¡± Smooth, Clayton. Real smooth.


    Krugrar¡¯s middle head turned toward me before saying, ¡°Oh, the two side heads are subservient, but we¡¯re all independent. Technically, I can survive so long as only one exists even if I¡¯ve never tested that out.¡± He paused. ¡°Like now, I usually keep the other two heads in patrol mode or planning stuff out. I¡¯ve found stupider creatures tend to get disconcerted when they discover how much brainier I am.¡± He smirked; I wasn¡¯t sure whether that was meant to be some type of pun.


    Nodding while making sure to remain unthreatening, I glanced around to figure out where I was. Although I¡¯d tried to memorize our path, I¡¯d given up after the first few minutes because we¡¯d winded through so many different side alleys. ¡°So where are we going?¡±


    Krugrar opened a wooden door. ¡°Why, here, the pub, of course! At Cespes, it¡¯s always the pub. You wanted to meet Bob, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    I gulped. ¡°Bob, the mind-controlling dungeon?¡±


    Krugrar grinned. ¡°The one and only!¡±


    Krugrar half-dragged me into a dimly lit but semi-modern pub. A few other green shapes shifted in the shadows, surrounding a rather large grinning orc who brandished a sword. At least this one only had one head.

 Chapter 8: Dungeon Tour

    The orc paused with his sword still held in the air, turning toward the doorway where I stood. The pub fell silent, and I felt thirty pairs of eyes land on me. None of which were human.


    Then, the moment of awkward confusion passed, and the orc who had sat on the bar stool rose, rushing over. On his feet, he seemed far shorter than Krugrar, being only seven feet and single-headed. Yet, despite his lack of an intimidating physique, he was the only one in the room wearing any sort of metallic armor, and he had a distinctive aura unlike any I had sensed before. Something about him seemed ancient and regal like a king from ages past.


    Just as he entered within stabbing distance, he sheathed his sword.


    With a bellow, he patted Krugrar on the back. ¡°You¡¯re back! And, who¡¯s this? You brought someone!¡±


    Krugrar nodded, smiling. ¡°Everyone meet, Claire.¡± I nudged him, but it was too late.


    Krugrar glanced at me before apologizing, ¡°Sorry, thank you for reminding me with that gentle touch. I forgot to introduce you, Human. This is Bob, the Dungeon.¡±


    Bob chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what the man was complaining about. If I remember correctly, Claire is a female name to humans.¡±


    Krugrar grunted. ¡°Huh, for real? These stupid humans that can¡¯t just pick a good name like Rangrar or Krograr or Krugrar... ¡± He glared at me. ¡°WHY DIDN¡¯T YOU SAY ANYTHING?¡±


    I glanced at my feet, stunned. Krugrar had turned on his big voice.


    Mortified, Krugrar took a step back. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. Sometimes when I¡¯m agitated, I revert to my big voice.¡±


    Patiently nodding, Bob gave me a sympathetic glance. ¡°Well, Krugrar, I think you might¡¯ve not given our guest a chance.¡±


    Krugrar frowned before agreeing, ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    Bob yelled above the din that had erupted after the introductions. ¡°Innkeeper, get our guest some of your finest!¡± He grinned at me. ¡°It¡¯s on the house.¡±


    I found myself sitting on a barstool next to Bob¡¯s with a frothing mug in my hand. Honestly, I needed something to kill my barely-suppressed terror. Drinking under 21 was illegal, but breaking some law that most 19-year-old college students broke was not on my list of concerns.


    Bob whispered, ¡°Well, go on! Tell us your story. I mean, I¡¯ll take you to the human sectors of the Dungeon sooner or later, but the guys are curious.¡±


    I began to sputter out something about my recent life: being a student, working a side job, constantly studying for tests, an annoying number theory problem I¡¯d been working on puzzling out before I had been dumped here. This was evidently not what the denizens had expected.


    Bob ignored the blank looks around him, staring at me. He patiently coaxed, ¡°Okay. Clayton, what¡¯s your end goal? Here, we can help you achieve anything. After all, we¡¯re in a Dungeon, the places that fulfill dreams be they fantasies or¡­ nightmares.¡±


    I gaped at him. Then, I paused. ¡°I want to go home.¡±


    Bob chuckled. ¡°Okay, okay. Anything but that. Even I don¡¯t know where you came from or how to return you. What was your real goal in your homeworld? The one before all this happened. The one that would follow you around anywhere you went. Your destiny, path, geas.¡±


    I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, ignoring the dense knot in my chest, the sinking anxiety that pressed me any time I thought of my nebulous future. ¡°I dunno. Just do well, succeed, y¡¯know? Do well in college, get a job, and then...¡± I trailed off, running right into the same mental trap that had given me so much anguish before. How can you succeed when there¡¯s not a clear goal to work towards? A safe path, a central problem, something you¡¯re expected to do. Life on Earth was so planned; the ideal path so clearly marked out if you refused to stray toward the edges.


    Bob tilted his head. ¡°College? As in a magical academy? Interesting. It sounds like you¡¯re quite talented.¡±


    I paused. ¡°Magic? Like a magician¡¯s academy? No, that¡¯s like street tricks or something.¡±


    Bob laughed. ¡°Ah! This human is so interesting! To call the magical arts street tricks. Come. We shall see what you think of these street tricks of mine. Another version of me would be better suited for this.¡±


    Krugrar waved at me with a bit of jealousy as Bob led me out of the building.


    Bob quickly digressed from the path I had taken to arrive at the pub, and I found myself walking through several fortified streets with green orcs wandering in and out through buildings lining the sides or groups of them congregating around construction sites.


    As we reached the end of what I was mentally referring to as the Orc District, my curiosity reached a maximum. I could only stand going so long without having any idea about what was going on.


    ¡°So¡­ what is this place?¡± I tried to sound calm, conversational, un-terrified.


    ¡°I was just about to get to that. This is a place commonly known as a Dungeon, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve figured out by now. Specifically, we¡¯re traveling toward the internal sections. The Dungeon prefers to keep the stronger, wilder Orc settlements around the rim.¡± Bob¡¯s grin had too many teeth, and I suppressed any thoughts about savage green humanoids ripping through normal looking humans. ¡°People talk about me like I myself am the Dungeon, that the stone and brick are all secondary, but really, it¡¯s the other way around. I am a mere avatar of the central intelligence of this place, designed to help keep the troops in line. Perhaps¡­ one day I¡¯ll evolve to become a Dungeon myself.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    We next entered something out of a DnD campaign or a pulp fantasy novel. Long, dark corridors, all rotting brick and rough stone. Rotting brick, in this case, meant that moss literally grew out of the brick with fragments occasionally breaking around us. Fortunately, they seemed to always avoid us as if they were being controlled. Actually, the thought now terrified me. If the Dungeon had this much control over itself, couldn¡¯t it just collapse this whole tunnel on me? There wasn¡¯t a torch in sight, but somehow I could see regardless. A perk of my enslavement, I supposed. ¡°So if you aren¡¯t the Dungeon, what is?¡±


    ¡°Everything you see around you, of course! It¡¯s best not to think of all the architecture around you as artifice, something built. Everything here is as natural an appendage as the third joint of your left index finger. No one built this: I merely grew. I am less a person and more a spirit of the place itself. That¡¯s where you and my tall green friends come in. You¡¯re here to turn the natural into something¡­ better.¡±


    Every time he turned to speak, I noticed another little wrongness in his features. It was like a magazine photo edited to perfection by someone who had only seen drawings of orcs. I didn¡¯t think this thing had ever been truly alive. Sometimes, his facial expressions seemed stiff as if he were animated by a puppeteer far away.


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, I¡¯m meant to do things you, as a series of tunnels, can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. You¡¯re learning fast! Maybe we can fast-track you up the ranks. Maybe magic? I think you¡¯d like magic.¡± There was an eager anticipation in his voice that made me feel uncomfortable.


    We continued on through the narrow caverns for about twenty minutes. Moving felt easier here, like the air knew my intent and graciously let me pass unimpeded. More than once Bob would gesture slightly, and I¡¯d watch in shock as thousands of pounds of rock flowed out of our path.


    We left the tunnels and came into what must have been an agricultural district. Iron lattices rose into the vaulting cavern, weighed down with some of the weirdest plants I¡¯d ever seen. Bioluminescent, translucent apples, bushes made completely of grey tentacles that every once in a while lashed out and gouged a chunk out of the rock wall the lattice leaned against, some brain-coral-looking fungi the size of a small bus. In the pens below, some humans oversaw a house-sized pile of chittering insects being gradually fed into what looked like a woodchipper.


    The curiosity and disgust must have been apparent on my face because Bob immediately commented, ¡°Ah. Don¡¯t worry about all that. We have some very talented illusionists working to make all that biomass taste as good as its nutritional content would suggest.¡± Deciding not to think on that too long, I focused on the first humans I¡¯d seen in this place. They wore strange clothing, not quite medieval, but also not modern. It was a weird mishmash of different time periods from history as well as some things you¡¯d see only in postmodern fashion runways. Some wore shimmering silver gowns with wings attached to their arms, a few wore roman like togas with various sashes lining their bodies, and others wore simple loincloths. Most surprisingly, they seemed to all be working in harmony, suggesting their clothes did not relate at all to social status.


    We entered another series of tunnels, these far more polished than the last. Had I woken up here instead of the fortified outer sections of the Dungeon, I might have thought this place was an underground subway station. My curiosity once again got the better of me. ¡°So you¡¯ve said that all this is the Dungeon, but where does it all come from? Where do we come from? Did you grow me too?¡± I suddenly had the nauseating thought that I was as much a fabrication as Bob, that I had been created from whole cloth, memories and all.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s simple. We just pull everything from other realities: people and places that won¡¯t be missed. We drop in a location and whatever people might have been inside. Sometimes we end up with someone who doesn¡¯t even notice the change until they¡¯ve already come to think fondly of the dungeon! Always good for a laugh, those. But anyway, we took an alleyway, and you came with it. The same principle applies to everyone else here. We dungeons thrive on forgotten spaces. We appear in regions untainted by sentients and draw from people and places similarly abandoned. You might call us caretakers.¡± So much for universities being a place of learning, then again, I supposed my university wasn¡¯t in New York City, and the surrounding areas might have had a low enough population to be labeled as untainted by sentients.


    ¡°Wait, if you have all these people from so many worlds, where¡¯s all the cool technology? Surely someone you nabbed must have had a laser gun or something on them.¡±


    ¡°You overestimate the probability of any given world reaching a high level of technical expertise. Nearly all simply lose steam shortly after the invention of bronze and carry on like that until the end of time. Then, many like this world discover how to use magic and refrain from using your weapons. Unfortunately, many such magics don¡¯t work in every reality.¡± He paused, speaking a bit more quietly. ¡°Then, there¡¯s places and things we don¡¯t dare to take.¡± He continued brightly, ¡°That¡¯s not all to say we don¡¯t have some powerful artifacts. We just hold them in reserve. No use wasting a limited resource. We can¡¯t exactly build more.¡±


    ¡°... Reserve for what? Where can I get some?¡±


    ¡°Come back to me in a week. You can ask as much as you want once your loyalties are a bit more¡­ solid.¡±


    Mulling over that terrifying thought, I withstood the urge to ask any more questions that might lead to answers I most certainly did not want to know. After all, it seemed like I was stuck here anyway, so I might as well be fu*ked blindly without fearing it.


    We finally arrived in the human district of the dungeon. It looked vaguely like a medieval village, except that it was underground and built from stone and fungus instead of wood and thatch. Some nostalgic soul had even set up some bioluminescent street lights, probably hoping that seeing with light again would bring back a little of their slowly draining humanity.


    Bob looked at me. ¡°Bob the Human has some queer tastes that make it feel that it is approaching becoming Individual. While I don¡¯t know what the Main Dungeon thinks of that, I don¡¯t believe it a bit.¡±


    ¡°What is Individual? And why would Bob the Human want to have that?¡±


    Bob pursed his lips. ¡°Nevermind. I¡¯m just saying that it¡¯s probably all an act.¡±


    I shrugged. Maybe all the avatars aren¡¯t as in concert as I had thought.


    Navigating the streets, we were ignored by the milling humans; it seemed Orcs were a rather common sight here, which wasn¡¯t too surprising given that I¡¯d seen many different races working together outside the settlements.


    Bob joined a crowd of humans traveling toward what appeared to be the center of the town. He yelled over the humans talking around him, ¡°Clayton! We¡¯re going toward the city district at the center. The human settlements are among the most organized out of the districts within the dungeon.¡±


    I nodded my head, watching the crowds of humans. While they wore mostly simpler clothes, they reminded me of home. Bob grabbed my shirt, pulling me back. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going? We¡¯re here.¡± Snapped out of my reverie, I looked at the three-story stone building, a bit of smoke rising from a chimney. Propping open the door xwith one massive hand, Bob ushered me in, letting the door slam on a disgruntled male who had followed us.

 Chapter 9: Frontlines

    Rhodovus pushed his way through the camp as he headed to where the captains waited. The tension in the staging area was palpable. Every veteran here knew what awaited them in the Dungeon¡¯s maw, and every new recruit was picking up on it. The mage suppressed a chuckle. These humans were going to get themselves killed. Served them right.


    Popping into the mage¡¯s tent, he quickly set out fifteen sheets of uniform rune paper. It was a bit spiteful, but if he was going to do this, he was going to waste as much of the army¡¯s resources as possible. Next, he chose the most expensive inks even though it wouldn¡¯t really fit the magic he planned to use. Recalling that for those without better means, white ink was by far the hardest to dye, he told the observing rune mages that he needed white ink for its efficiency in mana use and low interference with runes, both true and also completely unnecessary.


    The mages were reluctant, but after some conferring amongst themselves, they brought him a white ink pot worth around a gold coin. Rhodovus struggled to conceal his smile before realizing he¡¯d still have to waste much of the vital mana that he¡¯d planned to use in completing his other mission for the Academy. Then again, it didn¡¯t matter anymore; he wasn¡¯t in any position to complete either of his missions.


    Sighing, he quickly scrawled some mediocre strength runes for the soldiers, each taking around twenty seconds each, making sure to waste as much ink as possible. With a smirk, he completed fifteen runes, meaning that one of the sixteen captains would receive no enhancements. After all, he had merely agreed to make runes for captains¡ªnot all of them. So long as he stayed within the spirit of the contract, he¡¯d remain perfectly unharmed by the promises he¡¯d made under truth contract.


    Striding out of the tent while all of the captains rushed to use one of the runes, he yelled, ¡°Enjoy fighting without my blessings, Cap Tivanius!¡± With a mock bow towards the red-faced human, Rhodovus hummed and left for his tent. One of the watching mages reached out to stop him. Rhodovus whirled around. ¡°I¡¯ll be fighting on the front lines. Don¡¯t bother me.¡±


    The mage glanced at the scowling Tivanius and shrugged. Brushing him off, Rhodovus stomped out.


    Now that he had completed the required parts of the truth contract, it was time for him to flee this wretched camp. Thank god that the arrogant commander hadn¡¯t forced him to accept the fighting on the frontlines part under truth contract.


    Finally spotting his tent that loomed above the other soldiers¡¯ shoddy setups, Rhodovus quickened his steps. At his tent stood two humans in full plate. They were conspicuous with their dazzling magic gear and intricate insignias emblazoned on their breastplates, the Commander¡¯s personal guard.


    The elven lord stopped in front of his tent, hesitant to order them away. These were some of the best trained and equipped soldiers in Hewther. He wouldn¡¯t offer much of a fight at such a close distance. Best to see what they wanted for now.


    The guard on the left gave a slight bow. ¡°We¡¯re here to escort you to the front, sir. The Commander asked us to be polite but forceful.¡± He winked in a way that seemed anything but friendly. ¡°Personally, I¡¯m hoping you run. Us in the Guard have a bit of a pool going. Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ll give you a 10-second head start.¡±


    The other guard cut him off. ¡°As my friend here was saying, we¡¯re bringing you to the front. No packing, no preparations. This is a punishment detail, not a caldarium. Walk or be dragged.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t stand for this! I am one of the few mages this pitiful army¡± Rhodovus was pushed into line between the two soldiers. ¡°You¡­¡± the rear soldier punched him in the kidney.


    The impromptu prison convoy gained a decent number of hangers-on, grunts who poked fun at the fallen elvish lord. Still, they kept their distance. No one was brave or foolhardy enough to interfere with the Commander¡¯s business. As such, the abuse kept itself down to a trickle of jeers and curses. Rhodovus suppressed a groan. He should¡¯ve abandoned his chest; after all, he only had some easily replaceable clothes in it. Everything of value was in his bag of holding as it would be of an experienced adventurer.


    <hr>


    Rhodovus glanced around him, noting Sir Thomas and his circle of higher-tiered qi users leading the vanguard. There were even a few of the upper fifth circle, a full rank higher than Rhodovus, although qi ranks were far easier to achieve and, thus, granted less power than their equivalent magic ranks. Still, at close range, any of these qi warriors could give him a run for his money. Rhodovus turned to eye the enemy he had been forced to face.


    About a ten minute walk away, he could make out the milling demons who had already noticed their presence. Clearly, the human army did not merit much of a threat because only a tenth of the total demon population had arrived. While they had simplistic weapons and lacked any mage staffs among their midst, Rhodovus knew that each of them could easily match an upper third rank qi-user, with their chieftains reaching the early fifth rank, not to mention that they outnumbered the 750-man army ten to one. Sir Thomas pulled out a bullhorn.


    The 750-man army approached, not even bothering to hide; they knew the demons had noticed them. It was almost impossible for the army to hide in the Dungeon¡¯s domain, where it had entrenched hidden monsters and traps to defend itself even before trespassers entered its main body. Luckily, the army¡¯s scouts had already identified the worst of these, so the marching army successfully avoided the majority of them. There had been a few accidents, but the point of most of the traps was anyway more to notify the Dungeon of people¡¯s approach and remove lone, weak travelers who would prove to be a waste of the Dungeon¡¯s true defensive resources. An army of future victims would remain relatively unimpeded.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Rhodovus looked back, watching the individual units follow behind. The archer and mage units remained at the rear, guarded by a contingent of troops. Once more, Rhodovus nearly bit his tongue in anger before managing to still his face once more. He ought to have been protected as a powerful mage, used only as a trump card and, otherwise, treated with respect. Instead, Sir Thomas barked, ¡°Mage, get ready to charge. If you screw us over, I¡¯ll make sure you die before I do.¡±


    Not even Rhodovus would attack a Hewther Kingdom commander in broad daylight. He couldn¡¯t afford to ruin the Academy¡¯s reputation and enrage the Kingdom enough to chase after him. Being the focus of an entire Kingdom was never a good idea.


    With a roar that swept across the plain, the army ran toward the mass of demons arranged before them. Rhodovus wheezed, not even his enchantments would allow him to pace with Sir Thomas charging forward at full sprint. With a roar, the commander unsheathed his sword and decapitated the six-foot-tall red demon reaching toward him, and so the battle began.


    For some though, the battle was far less bloodthirsty. Sighing, Rhodovus calmly pulled out a sheet of ice spike runes. Sending a blast of mana into the paper, he lobbed the paper into a ring of demons. Bang! The demons grunted; a few screamed shrill gasps of death. Rhodovus smiled. At least he''d finally gotten to kill things.


    Sir Thomas grunted as a demon¡¯s spear hit his chest plate. Frowning, Rhodovus pulled out his sword and stabbed it through the demon¡¯s eye as it overreached. Sir Thomas nodded toward Rhodovus, wiping his brow with his gauntlet. ¡°You¡¯re not a bad fighter, Mage.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. You made me come here.¡±


    Sir Thomas laughed as he forced his way forward. The Dungeon was only a few hundred meters away. Arrows flew by both ways, causing soldiers and demons alike to falter and fall. One even grazed his cheek, and Rhodovus was suddenly very glad he¡¯d spent months before accepting the mission to make sure this Dungeon was too young to develop Magic Demons. The army''s charge slowed. Rhodovus was sweating, feeling a bit of mana chill settling in. He hated this mana desert. He started drawing mana from his battery, regretting that he¡¯d only brought a few gold coins worth of extra mana. He hadn¡¯t expected to be sent to guard an army. If this battle turned into an endurance match, he¡¯d quickly exhaust himself.


    He cursed, turning toward Thomas¡¯s entourage, roaring, ¡°Has anyone got any mana batteries.¡±


    The guards blankly looked at him before one coughed. ¡°We¡¯re bodyguards, not commanders.¡± Ah, that¡¯s right. The Hewther kingdom had a deficit of powerful bloodlines, so anyone with one decent enough to buy a mana battery for wouldn¡¯t be here.


    To his surprise, Sir Thomas handed him a mana battery that was half-full. ¡°You¡¯re not that bad, Mage. Besides, I think you¡¯d use it better than I can.¡±


    Rhodovus paused. ¡°Commander Thomas, don¡¯t you need it?¡±


    The commander chuckled. ¡°My bloodline¡¯s nothing special. Sure, it¡¯s strong, but it¡¯s a pretty common Leadership bloodline that produces an aura around me that strengthens allies and curses foes. You know that¡¯s not exactly prized.¡±


    Rhodovus nodded. He had noticed that his rune-enhanced strength and speed had surpassed what was expected for a fifth rank rune, approaching a sixth rank enchantment and nearly doubling his natural stats. It seemed the commander had almost tripled in both traits as well. Clearly, an aura had been at work.


    He muttered, ¡°Thanks.¡± The commander patted his shoulder and returned to the fray. With another mana supply, Rhodovus felt confident enough to begin casting some more complex spells. He would use his mana to guide the mana out of the battery and into the rune spell by forming a ¡°path¡± that the battery mana would follow like electricity flowing along a metal guide wire. While less efficient than using ambient mana, it was still better than using his own mana to replace the mana deficit in the dead zone.


    Splattering a trio of fireballs, Rhodovus yelled, ¡°Guard me. I¡¯m going to clear the way to the Dungeon.¡± The demons noticed Rhodovus fueling ridiculous amounts of mana into a black sheet of paper covered in runes. Pointing at him, they hurled themselves at the line, struggling to end the mage before he unleashed whatever it was he planned to do. Sir Thomas and a few of his bodyguards circled him while the rest of the army gathered around in a loose circle, the demons closing ranks as the Dungeon finally recognized a credible threat.


    Sir Thomas worried, ¡°Damn it! Hurry up, Mage! We¡¯re losing men by the second!¡±


    Rhodovus took out a small clipboard from his bag of holding and kneeled on the ground. Concentrating on his work, he yelled, ¡°Give me space. I just need to complete the final steps!¡±


    Sir Thomas shouted, ¡°Why the hell didn¡¯t you take care of this before we marched to battle?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t let me! And more importantly, it¡¯s rather unstable because I haven¡¯t quite mastered it yet.¡±


    The soldiers around him shifted uneasily, and many stabbed ever more ferociously at the demons surrounding them, trying to increase their distance from the mage. No one wanted to receive the brunt of an out of control spell. A man fell, gurgling blood out of his ripped out throat. A new soldier quickly replaced the fresh corpse, but the reinforcing ranks were quickly thinning. Swords rang out, even as several demon blades broke due to their inferior make, but demon blades were just as quickly switched out with demon claws: natural weapons that, though shorter, were far more durable than a common blade.


    Balancing the half-complete rune on the clipboard to have a stable writing surface, Rhodovus tapped his lip, looking up to make sure the line was holding. What spell to use? Pulling out his quill, Rhodovus took a deep breath and drew.

 Chapter 10: The Woman in the Maze

    Ignoring the curses, Bob pointed toward a table near the back where a woman calmly read a book. While the room was dim, she seemed to be reading perfectly fine, turning a page every couple dozen seconds. She glanced up when we sat down, revealing that she had a nearly perfectly symmetrical face. I did a double take, since she was the first person I¡¯d seen in the Dungeon who could have been called beautiful, even by modern Earth standards. Most of the other humans I¡¯d seen along the way had looked a bit gruff, wearing ruffled medieval tunics, but I supposed that most of them had also given off a working peasant type of vibe, and that a Dungeon avatar wouldn¡¯t have to do that type of work.


    Bob the Dungeon Orc grinned at me. ¡°Clayton, I¡¯d like you to meet me, Bob the Human.¡±


    The woman in a blue gown gently smiled at me. She laughed, and it sounded a bit like the chime of Christmas bells. ¡°Why, hello Clayton. Don¡¯t worry, I know all about you. Bob already shared a bit about you on the Dungeon Mind Link.¡± She winked at me, and I realized a few seconds later that I had embarassingly blushed.


    ¡°Between you and me, I really prefer to be called Bobette, unlike my rather useless brothers¡­¡±


    Bob frowned and snapped, ¡°Bob the Human, you don¡¯t have the qualifications to call yourself by a different name yet.¡±


    Bobette frowned. ¡°Would you like to test that, Bob?¡± She hissed her own or her brother¡¯s name. I was a bit confused by all this. Why did the difference between Bob and Bobette matter so much?


    They glared at each other for what seemed like a whole minute before the ogre blinked. Bob coughed, glancing away. Like that the invisible tension that had filled the space between them dissipated as quickly as it had come. ¡°Well actually, I was just going to introduce you to this new denizen. He has a bit of an interest in magic, and he¡¯s one of yours anyway.¡±


    With a slight grimace, Bob trailed off, awkwardly glancing at the stone-faced humans trying their best to eavesdrop while pretending to be completely focused on their drinks. Turning quickly, Bob edged out of the room. Bobette frowned, about to call him back. For what reason, I hesitated to guess because their relationship seemed rather antagonistic.


    She hummed, watching me squirm as her gaze lingered on my frame beyond a few seconds. In my experience, being stared at for over a few seconds quickly approached a spectrum that ranged from uncomfortable to downright creepy. Finally, she nodded. Twirling a wand that she seemed to have pulled from behind her ear, she muttered, ¡°So you¡¯re interested in magic, ay?¡±


    I gulped, shifting my feet and digging my nails into my palms. How much interest was safe to show? ¡°Yes¡­ I guess. If it wouldn¡¯t be too much trouble, would you please show me? Obviously, if you need to conserve mana or something, you don¡¯t have to. It¡¯s just I¡¯ve never seen¡±


    She interrupted, ¡°Woah, woah! Slow down. I already know a bit about where you come from. I just wanted to know what type of magic you wanted to see.¡±


    I thought for a moment before requesting, ¡°I think I¡¯d like to see something flame like.¡± Surely, that would prove this wasn¡¯t all some elaborate hoax if I saw actual pyrokinesis right in front of me.


    Bobette looked a bit disappointed before sighing and putting away her wand. She gently breathed out, only for her exhale to transform into a blast of fire. I yelped and jumped back at the sudden heat. She smirked, ¡°That¡¯s just the beginning.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Flicking her fingers, she pointed toward me, and the flames coalesced into a ball that zoomed around me. At first, I could warily watch the ball¡¯s path, but quickly, it accelerated until I was surrounded by rings of flames. A drop of sweat rolled down my neck, although I couldn¡¯t say for certain whether it was due to the rolling waves of heat or my fear. Too afraid to step out, I pleadingly looked toward Bobbette. She smirked and the lethal balls of light winked out. She asked, ¡°Impressed?¡±


    I nodded frantically. Best to always keep the lady with magical fireballs happy. ¡°How did you do it?¡±


    She stared at me closely. ¡°You¡¯re interesting, unlike the meek human commoners or arrogant nobles. You remind me of that one human mage before he tried to escape and committed suicide before we could recapture him.¡± She pouted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t leave me alone like that, would you?¡±


    It seemed that guy had valued his freedom over his life. I shook my head even as my stomach soured. ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°I think we¡¯ll get along great! It seems like you were already given the ability to speak Common Avish when you came here. If you don¡¯t mind can I hear your original language?¡±


    Concentrating, I carefully listened to what I was saying and realized it wasn¡¯t English. A bit surprised, I asked, ¡°Wait, I didn¡¯t even realize I wasn¡¯t speaking English. How do I switch languages?¡±


    She giggled. ¡°Ha! You know, some humans don¡¯t notice for months. The trick is you just focus on your original language. It helps if you imagine the characters as you say them.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you mean you aren¡¯t talking in English?¡±


    ¡°Oh. No, one of the many functions provided to Dungeon denizens is automatic language translation. A very useful perk. Another is that creatures not native to the dungeon will emit a red aura to your eyes. Anyway, back to the point, speak your language!¡±


    Envisioning English letters, I said, ¡°Hi, my name¡¯s Clayton. I¡¯m not really sure how I came here, but it is nice to meet you.¡±


    Clapping her hands, she announced, ¡°Delightful. Analytic with little inflection. SVO word order. It sounds almost like some High Goblin tongue.¡±


    ¡°Uh, what were all those things you just said?¡±


    ¡°Oh, one of my hobbies is learning more about the world unlike my brothers who just study how to kill or build things for the most part. I think that¡¯s why I¡¯m the furthest ahead in being Individual, although there have been one or two other Individuals before me.¡±


    ¡°What is being Individual? Bob, the other Bob, the Orc one, mentioned it as well.¡±


    Bobette said, ¡°Please, call me Bobbette, remember? I¡¯m different from them. Anyway, Dungeons populate themselves by mitosis. However, to become distinct and evolve, every Dungeon produces mini-dungeon entities or Avatars. While these are originally identical copies, these Avatars are kept in safe areas until they evolve to become unique Individuals who think for themselves and can then become a Dungeon on their own.¡±


    ¡°You mean Bob can¡¯t think?¡±


    Bobette replied, ¡°Not quite. Did you have mechanical clocks in your world? Big sets of gears that tell the time? You definitely had those. You¡¯re too smart for your world to be that far behind. Basically, all of us Bob avatars function on the same principle, but on much more complex scale. Imaginary countless gears working in tandem to produce a myriad of outputs depending on the situation. Eventually, if they can handle enough situations successfully, they almost seem to be thinking. That¡¯s all we are. Automatons designed to learn.¡± Trailing off wistfully, Bobette turned toward the center of the Dungeon, which I could almost instinctively identify, not to mention that I knew the human quarters were more inward compared to the orc ones.


    I nodded, before summarizing, ¡°So almost like a machine learning algorithm.¡±


    She looked at me in surprise. ¡°Hmm¡­ you actually understood all that. I think you might enjoy visiting our library! Humans from advanced worlds are so much more interesting to talk to. I¡¯ll take you there after we get you a bite to eat. You must be famished with all this strange business going on about you.¡±


    And like magic, my stomach gurgled to prove her words true.

 Chapter 11: New Tastes; New Gear

    Giggling at my growling stomach, Bobette explained, ¡°Well, it¡¯s typical that we offer new travelers some delicacy from their old world. Helps them calm down. So, do you know how to make any dishes? Extra points if I¡¯ve never seen it before!¡±


    Thinking a bit, I hesitated. What was something easy to make that she would probably have never eaten before? Then, it hit me. ¡°Well, my world has this sugary treat called ice cream. It¡¯s made from freezing cream or milk from cows that¡¯s sweetened. Does this world have anything like that?¡±


    She frowned before yelling at the bartender to bring some milk. Passing the mug to me, she motioned for me to drink it. She asked, ¡°Is this the milk of your world?¡±


    It tasted cool and creamy, definitely higher in fat then my usual 2%. Nodding, I tried to remember how I had made ice cream back on Earth for a science project. I had mixed milk and sugar¡­ Something seemed off about that. I asked, ¡°Do you have a container or bag?¡±


    She flicked her fingers at an eavesdropping human who jerked upon realizing he¡¯d been caught. I wondered how he had thought in the first place that he could escape the gaze of a nearly omniscient Avatar considering that even I had noticed his blatant intrusion. Handing him a few silver coins, she whispered something in his ear. With a shrug, the human pocketed the coins and went out the door. I tapped my feet waiting for his return.


    Bobette glanced at me. ¡°Are you that impatient to try some of your world¡¯s food? You¡¯ve been here, what? A few hours.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m just hung-¡± I cut myself off, remembering the chopped up insects that Bob had claimed were enchanted into food.


    Quirking an eyebrow, Bobette smirked. ¡°You¡¯re hung? I¡¯d like to test that out.¡±


    Fortunately, before I could be molested by what I supposed was my inherent superior, the man returned, slightly panting with a woven cloth bag. Bobette inspected it, fingering the cloth. ¡°You got it from Malek¡¯s General Store?¡±


    The man straightened before nodding his head. ¡°Yes, Mistress Avatar.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not quite the quality of bag I was hoping to give our new guest¡­¡± The man paled.


    Shrugging, the woman dressed in blue passed it to me. ¡°Will this suffice?¡±


    I apologized, ¡°Sorry when I said I needed a bag, I meant I needed to pour a liquid mixture into it.¡± Scowling at the man who quivered beneath her gaze, she tapped her lip. Based on the fear exhibited by the humans surrounding us, I never ever wanted to make Bobette mad at me.


    Suddenly, she smiled. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll get to show you another type of magic then!¡± Clapping her hands, she whispered something beneath her breath, and the bag I was holding suddenly felt like ice. I shifted my grip to hold the top where it hadn¡¯t been frozen over. Taking a glance inside, I realized the bag had been frozen stiff, the inside glazed with frost.


    Bobette looked at me expectantly.


    ¡°Wow! That¡¯s so cool! How¡¯d you do it?¡± I wasn¡¯t quite sure whether I said that out of true amazement or a desire to please her.


    Preening her nails, Bobette casually remarked, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just some simple ice magic.¡±


    ¡°Did you remove the heat or did you do something with ice? I¡¯m confused.¡±


    Bobette blankly stared at me. Finally, she seemed to be unable to hold in her curiosity and asked, ¡°What do you mean? Why would I do something that ridiculous? I just summoned ice, and it came.¡± A frown formed on her lips. ¡°That¡¯s how it always is and always will be. I command the world, and it obeys. It¡¯s that simple, like how the sun returns each morn. Leave such questions for those fool scholars hiding within the Towers of Fyorin who know naught about war.¡±


    I stared blankly at her.


    Deciding to leave exploring the physics behind magic on this world for another day in case I activated her ire, I focused on making the ice cream. I poured the mug of milk inside the frozen container before asking for some sugar. She looked at me blankly before asking, ¡°What is this solid sugary thing you speak of? Is it crystallized honey?¡±


    I frowned. Would honey do? Sighing, I mixed in a few teaspoons that the barman handed me. One of the people in finer looking clothes in the back of the room stammered, ¡°Miss Avatar, in my lands, I¡¯ve heard of such a thing.¡±


    We both turned to stare at him in surprise since he was the first of those within the bar that had dared to interrupt our conversation.


    Bobette scoffed, ¡°And what would a silly noble know of things from another world?¡±


    Grimacing, the man bowed before saying, ¡°Miss Avatar, I believe some of my servants knew how to turn beets into a type of sugary crystal that could sweeten things.¡±


    ¡°A useful tidbit. You shall be promoted to join my crew. One of my assistants will be along shortly to help you.¡±


    The man practically glowed in joy, getting down on his knees to bow before us.


    Ignoring him, Bobette asked, ¡°So your favorite dish tastes of milk and honey?¡±


    I stared blankly at the scene before me of a grown man bowing to this beautiful woman ten years his senior. Then, I hit my forehead. That¡¯s what I had forgotten! ¡°Actually, no, I just remembered it needs flavoring. Do you have any vanilla?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t been a great cook in my homeworld and realized I couldn¡¯t even begin to describe how vanilla tasted. I hesitated. ¡°I think it can be used as a perfume to make things smell good.¡±


    A few minutes later, I held a bottle of what smelled distinctly like lavender. Bobbette apologized, ¡°I suspect that what you¡¯re looking for actually exists according to what I heard from the other humans, but this is the only such thing we have in the Dungeon.¡±


    I shifted gears. ¡°Do you have strawberries? They¡¯re these red cone-shaped sugary things grown on plants.¡±


    She paused. ¡°Are you talking about Tyrosil Berries? Those are poisonous.¡±


    ¡°Uh, no. I¡¯m pretty sure strawberries are safe to eat. Do you have any other tasty berries then?¡± I figured at this point I would probably end up with a milkshake rather than ice cream, and that was being generous, but Bobette¡¯s expectant look reminded me that I really ought to produce some delicacy or she might become very upset, which was something I was certain I did not want to experience. I did not want to be anywhere near an upset mage with enough power to roast me alive using just one of those fireballs from her earlier display. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    A minute later, Bobette had found something or rather several somethings. Sampling each berry, I finally settled on one. Using my hands, I ground the red almost raspberry looking fruits called Polkyfruit that had tasted like a mix between lemons and strawberries. They had been the closest to what I¡¯d expected. Of course, there had been that one group of black berry-like Izmuth fruits that had tasted like chocolate... Pausing to reconsider, I reached out with my sticky, red hands and also grabbed those. I smiled. Now, I could make something reminiscent of chocolate-covered strawberries, a sure pleaser even for the pickiest of eaters. Grinding the two fruits by hand, I poured the juice that I¡¯d gathered into the bag, which had basically solidified into a cylindrical bowl. Vigorously shaking it all together, I eventually reached a light brown consistency that satisfied me.


    ¡°Bobette, could you please freeze this enough for water to ice over.¡±


    I shook the bag as it became noticeably colder. After several minutes of periodic stirring, I looked inside the bag and found a purplish creamy substance. It was a bit more liquidy than ice cream but based off memories from eighth grade, I figured it worked. Using a wooden spoon to offer a portion to Bobette, I ate the rest. Her eyes wide in delight, Bobette commented, ¡°It¡¯s so cold¡­ and sweet! That¡¯s so marvelous. I¡¯ll have our chefs start preparing it from now on.¡± She handed me a menu. ¡°Tell me what else you want to get.¡±


    The menu was covered in weird dishes from hog flies, blue fin jaguars, and Papyrus leaves to Crayton juice. I quickly realized I didn¡¯t recognize any of these dishes although some of them did seem rather interesting...


    Noting my confusion, she gestured toward a human waiter picking up orders around the tavern, ordering, ¡°My friend and I would like some of your meat and bread.¡± She looked apologetically toward me. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯d enjoy yet, so I took the liberty of ordering something simple for you. I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    I shrugged. At least, I wouldn¡¯t have to think about it any longer. She continued, ¡°Well then, I guess it¡¯s only fair if I tell you a bit about this world. Welcome to Cespes, but it probably won¡¯t really matter to you. For all intents and purposes, you¡¯ll be living in the Dungeon! Its shape is a square with sides of seven kilostrides.¡±


    I asked, ¡°Whose stride?¡±


    She paused. ¡°Oh, I forgot you wouldn¡¯t know. A stride is the distance left as the legacy of the Elvish Archmage Yuliper. In his honor after winning some battle around ten thousand years ago, they called each of his steps a stride. Anyway, back to where I was. As you¡¯ve probably noted, this Dungeon is pretty organized. The demons guard the area around the Core because they¡¯re the most trusted race.¡±


    Bobette paused as the dishes arrived in wooden bowls. The meat looked a bit like a steak, and there were some dryish, black stalk-like and orange bead-like vegetables along the side. In the center was surprisingly normal bread. Picking up the provided wooden fork and the wicked-looking dagger, I hesitantly stabbed at the steak, queasily remembering the heap of insects I had seen before arriving. Raising a slice to my mouth, I found it tasted reminiscent of a particularly juicy filet mignon.


    Pushing the food to the back of my mouth so it wouldn¡¯t be unseemly, I asked, ¡°Why are they more trusted?¡±


    Swallowing her food, Bobette turned to face me and continued, ¡°Demons are the only natural inhabitants of Dungeons. They are the only race with absolutely zero risks, at least pertaining to their loyalty to the Dungeon.¡±


    Made sense. Perhaps I¡¯d see this species later, then again, it¡¯d probably take some time for the Dungeon to let me anywhere near its core. I asked, ¡°So why are the Orcs toward the outside? And why are the denizens split into settlements?¡±


    Bobette laughed. ¡°I believe that was my brother trying to convince you that the Orcs were the best defenders. It seems he has grown more Individual, allowing his race to influence his thoughts. However, no, while he is right in that they guard the outer perimeter of the Dungeon¡¯s core, there are certainly not enough of his race to guard the whole Dungeon border¡­ despite the rather prodigious reproduction rate of his race. Can you imagine living next to those warmongering brutes? The whole race would kill itself off in a decade if it wasn¡¯t for how many of them there were.¡±


    I assumed that had answered my second question. ¡°So which settlements are the real outer settlements?¡±


    ¡°All of them really. If you imagine the Dungeon to be a square, each race occupies a sector attached to the perimeter. Toward the center is where the true defenses and resources lie. The orcs just happen to take up a larger proportion of the perimeter due to how quickly they¡¯ve reproduced.¡±


    ¡°Wait, then what prevents someone from slaughtering all the humans stuck on the perimeter?¡±


    She frowned. ¡°That¡¯s where I disagree with the Dungeon. To the Dungeon, most of the weaker, non-warlike people kept on the outer sectors are useless and anyway replaceable. The Dungeon doesn¡¯t really care about outer sector breaches, so we¡¯re mostly left to fend for ourselves once enemies get past the external defenses. However, anything that can get past the demon settlements outside of here is bound to crush us. Pah! The dungeon just treats us as an early warning radar.¡±


    I avoided her angry glare. It seemed as if I had asked the wrong question. Hurriedly finishing my meal, I was surprised by how decent the food was for a seemingly uncivilized place. As we ate our food in silence, she seemed to slowly brighten. ¡°Still, you were quite enjoyable to talk to. Why don¡¯t I grab you something special?¡±


    I looked up. Was this something special something that I wanted or something that would kill me?


    Reaching into a small bag hanging from the rope belt around the waistline of her robes, Bobette pulled out a spear and a buckler. Well, that just broke some laws of physics¡­ Setting aside the plates, she lay both on the table.


    Pointing at the spear, she said, ¡°This is a pretty standard third level enhancement of Piercing Cold. It is a bit sharper than your average spear and will leave a slight chill when it strikes something. Most of the enchanted weapons made by Dungeon denizens don¡¯t need mana to work, which makes them quite valuable.¡± She looked at my arms. ¡°If you get the right amount of force and form, this spear can give a little bit of extra oomph!¡± She winked. ¡°It¡¯ll take some practice to get that though.¡±


    She picked up the shield. ¡°This is another rank three gear. It¡¯s gifted with deflection and electric jolts that will make anything it touches experience a slight shock. The effect can be quite unexpected in battle. Just saying, this is pretty generous.¡± She smiled at me. ¡°Most elite soldiers get rank two gear at best.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what any of that meant, so I nodded my head and expressed my gratitude. She paused, ¡°You know that if you display the necessary loyalty and talent, I might even be able to arrange for you to gain a connection to the Dungeon¡¯s Mana Source.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry. I forgot you didn¡¯t know about such things. Basically, you¡¯ll be able to learn magic.¡±


    ¡°Wow! I¡¯d love that. What do you mean by show my loyalty though?¡±


    She patted the sword and shield. ¡°Well¡­ Just because the dungeon is relatively safe, doesn¡¯t mean that we don¡¯t get threatened by some idiots once in a while¡­ Then again, being a mage isn¡¯t safe either, so it¡¯ll be good practice for you to experience some danger.¡±


    I gulped, touching the two pieces of gear. ¡°So you want me to fight? Like up close¡­ against warriors who¡¯ve trained and are similarly armed?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so panicked. You¡¯re a dungeon denizen. You just have to hang around in the forts a bit and hunt some stray monsters or soldiers. It¡¯ll be easy! ¡±


    I compared myself to Krugrar; I didn¡¯t even bother considering the flame-wielding Bobette. Easy to find my head on the ground¡­


    I bit the sides of my tongue, focusing on the slight pain to prevent myself from panicking. ¡°Do I get training or a suit of armor or something?¡±


    She grinned. It contained a trace of sadism accompanied by the vision of my death. ¡°Nope. You¡¯ll get the hang of it though. In fact, why don¡¯t I take you to your first guard post? It¡¯ll be easy because you¡¯re new. There¡¯s an infestation of Moth Bats in the Library; the stupid cleaners refuse to take care of them, so it¡¯s up to you!¡±


    Moth bats don¡¯t sound too bad. I can take on a bat.


    She placed the spear and shield in my hands. ¡°Just don¡¯t let one land on your body for too long. They¡¯ll drill through to your bones and lay their eggs in you. Don¡¯t worry though, you¡¯ll probably notice them when they land on you. It¡¯ll feel like a brick; they¡¯ve got the subtlety of an elephant.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Actually, that¡¯s my nickname for the buggers, the elephants of the sky.¡±


    I shuddered. Great, parasitic lethal flying elephants. Bobette grabbed my hand. Normally, I¡¯d be a bit surprised, or perhaps pleased, by a strange attractive woman dragging me out of a pub, but all I felt was terror snaking up my spine. I curled my toes as if the sensation of my shoes¡¯ soles could take away my fate.

 Chapter 12: The Library

    Note by Clayton: Rhodovus got jealous that I was only writing about myself, so he stuck in a bit about himself¡­ with rune magic. The thing somehow imprints itself every time I tear it out, so I gave up after the tenth try¡­ Damn elves. Damn magic, or well, paper magic at least.


    Fwoosh! Rhodovus collapsed from exhaustion. He¡¯d burnt through most of his mana reserves and completely emptied the commander¡¯s mana battery. Still, the results had been worth it.


    He dazedly watched the flame that pierced the demon lines, branching off into embers that would cause further collateral damage. In all, he cleared a path almost six men across through the demon horde that guarded the last hundred meters. Sir Thomas, hefted him and charged with his remaining five hundred men. Laughing madly, a tinge of sorrow laced within, Sir Thomas cheered, ¡°Now that¡¯s magic!¡± After all, the men who¡¯d died to get them this far would never return, or if they did¡­ Well, Sir Thomas didn¡¯t want to think about facing down a Necromancer.


    Rhodovus weakly smiled, pale from expending all his mana. ¡°I¡¯m out of mana. We¡¯re doomed.¡±


    Sir Thomas paused, hoarsely asking. ¡°You mean, you can¡¯t crack the dungeon¡¯s shell?¡± They¡¯d be doomed then. Ordinary swords would have little effect on the thick blubber that could regenerate within a minute.


    Rhodovus hesitated, ¡°I can try.¡±


    The army formed a loose circle, their backs to the demon¡¯s shell as they warded off the waves of demons, who had doubled in number as nearby settlements joined in upon sensing how close the human army had approached. In the distance, Rhodovus could sense powerful sources of mana that rivaled or even superseded his own as the true demon chieftains mobilized. Everywhere, there was the clank of metal striking metal, of claws scraping through armor and puncturing bodies. Dropped next to the wall, Rhoduvus winced.


    Sir Thomas shook him. ¡°Get to it. There are men dying!¡±


    Rhodovus waved him off. ¡°Give me peace, or we¡¯ll all die.¡±


    He snatched off a blank paper engraved with gold pasted into the back of his rune book. ¡°This is a delayed fire. When I say, ¡®Go,¡¯ you need to get your army to run as fast as possible.¡±


    Sir Thomas nodded. ¡°And you?¡±


    Rhodovus pulled out a stylus pen and took out his clipboard. ¡°Go tell your men.¡±


    With a grim nod, Sir Thomas saluted the pale elf.


    Switching to a blood cartridge for his stylus, Rhodovus hoped it would contain enough blood magic for them to survive. Sir Thomas began yelling at the captains to assemble their men.


    Rhodovus shorted a mana line, so the mana would simply be trapped inside the black paper instead of escaping as an inferno. Then, he opened the power source so that it could collect unfiltered power directly from his mana battery. Usually, mages prevented this as it allowed runes to spontaneously explode, but that was exactly what he wanted. Desperate times called for certain measures.


    He sniffed the paper. This had been his fourth elvish wood sheet, a final trump card that approached upper fifth level magic. Holding it for a second, the page shifted to black. Sir Thomas, who had been watching, remarked, ¡°Useful bloodline for a mage. What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    Rhodovus turned, placing his personal battery pack directly on the rune paper. ¡°Nobility must maintain a certain grace. I finish my duties, Commander.¡±


    Guiding an initial stream of mana into the rune, Rhodovus coughed up a bit of blood. That small trickle had been tortuous in this mana drained environment like he¡¯d cut his veins for the magic inherent to his blood, which wasn¡¯t far from the truth since he¡¯d used his own blood to power the stream. By now, the mana fatigue had reached the level of a burning sensation, and he felt too exhausted to care. Truly, he¡¯d pushed the very limits of his mana usage. He rasped, ¡°Go! Go! God Damnit!¡±


    Sir Thomas glanced at him after announcing the retreat to his army. The knight stepped closer. Rhodovus growled, ¡°Get away! Someone has to control the flow of mana, and distractions can break the path.¡± The rune started shaking.


    Sir Thomas stared at the frail lord and saluted. ¡°I was wrong. You¡¯re a good man, Lord Thossolorian.¡± The commander retreated several paces back with his small army.


    Rhodovus spared a wry grin. The Commander¡¯s opinion would soon change. For the Great Rhodovus had other plans¡­


    <hr>


    As we walked toward my doom, even if I didn¡¯t know where it was, I focused on the bustling crowds, the medieval cobblestones, the putrid stench that came from people dumping waste on the street¡­ Luckily, the passing human civilians parted for us, so I didn¡¯t have to figure out whether the smell came from unwashed human bodies or the pervasive odor of a medieval town. Nodding at some of the wealthier looking individuals, Bobette turned toward me. ¡°Perks of being an avatar.¡± This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I nodded dumbly before asking, ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Just past Main Street. Take a left on Iulo Avenue. Then down until we pass the barber¡¯s shop. All in all, we¡¯re just heading toward the inner edge of the city where we store the Human library.¡± She paused. ¡°Well to be fair, it¡¯s pretty much the only library in the Dungeon. The orcs can¡¯t be bothered, and most of the other races are too rare or secluded for them to organize anything. Besides, it¡¯s not like there¡¯d be much point in a bunch of libraries because they¡¯d each be only a few hundred books, with maybe twenty or thirty books actually worth using to learn magic. Magic spellbooks aren¡¯t that common, you know. Instead, we bunched together like thirty or forty of those types of libraries and gathered them in one spot.¡±


    I felt a spike of awe. In just moments, I would have a chance to see books of magic containing feats like what Bobette had performed before the meal. I imagined it, Clayton the Mage. Sure, I¡¯d probably be a mindless slave of the Dungeon, although even that was questionable given the apparent autonomy of the individuals I¡¯d seen, but I¡¯d be so impressive compared to that scrawny being who had slaved away at college hoping for some middle-level job in order to live the rest of his days in peace. Maybe being in a Dungeon wasn¡¯t so bad? I felt a flicker of unease swell in my stomach at the thought, but I was distracted before I could try to delve into why.


    We turned into a darker alleyway; the street lamps were sparser than they were on Main Street. Bobette grunted, ¡°Only thing the Dungeon refuses to invest in is an artificial sun, but it can invest in a bunch of complicated siege weapons. Celestial bodies use up too much mana and aren¡¯t as efficient as magic lights, the main one claims.¡± I nodded, agreeing with her disgust. How were people supposed to get Vitamin D down here?


    Finally, I voiced my concern, ¡°Uh, Bobette. I¡¯ve never really fought before. I don¡¯t think I can kill anything.¡±


    She grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Everyone thinks that. Just listen to what the Dungeon tells you. It¡¯s been ingrained into your instincts. Besides, I¡¯ll be getting people to watch out for you to make sure nothing too bad happens. Most you¡¯ll get is a bite or two.¡±


    I shuddered. What would a moth that weighed as much as a brick do to my unarmored body?


    A turn later, we stood in front of an unassuming building squished between a paper shop and another pub. It seemed that dungeon denizens really enjoyed their drinks. I guessed that was all the entertainment that could be found for the brainwashed souls whom I¡¯d soon join.


    She pointed downward. ¡°The rest of the library is underground. It¡¯s actually pretty large. It goes down five floors underground and takes up space beneath the buildings surrounding it. Over the years, the Dungeon¡¯s grown it a fair bit.¡±


    ¡°Just wondering, how many years has the Dungeon been around?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Not too long. It¡¯s pretty young. It was technically born around a century ago, but it only plopped down in its dungeon form a couple of decades ago. I think maybe thirty human years?¡±


    ¡°Wait, I just realized I don¡¯t know whether the years you¡¯ve been referring to are the same as the ones I¡¯m used to.¡±


    She cocked her head. ¡°Well, the typical human lives about 100 years. Hmm¡­ how would I give you more clarity? Actually, do you happen to have any time-keeping devices from your world? I know it¡¯s a far off chance, but you did say you were from a pretty advanced world...¡±


    I pulled out my iPhone from my backpack¡¯s front pocket. I shrugged. ¡°Well, unless it¡¯s really important, I¡¯d prefer to keep it off because it uses its battery pretty quickly.¡±


    She stared at it. ¡°Wow! How does the brick produced by your world work? I¡¯ve only heard rumors that other worlds have bricks that can transform into different objects. This is so exciting!¡±


    ¡°Uh, well, I turn it on, and it tells me the time. It also has a stopwatch function.¡±


    Bobette poked the phone curiously. ¡°It doesn¡¯t react to mana?¡±


    ¡°No, it runs on electricity.¡±


    Grinning, Bobette held up a buzzing finger. ¡°I can take care of that!¡±


    Jerking my phone away, I hastily explained, ¡°Not like that! It uh, needs controlled electricity. I¡¯ll show it to you later?¡±


    Pouting, Bobette slowly returned the bolts of electricity orbiting around her finger to¡­ somewhere. ¡°Well then, I guess it must be pretty complicated. After this then, you can show me!¡±


    Helplessly nodding, I turned to face the doors. Best to get this over with sooner rather than later, and hopefully before Bobette destroyed my only lifelines to my old world.


    Clutching my spear and shield, I carefully opened the door, surprised to see several humans running through the shelves and looking for books. I turned toward Bobette. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say there was some type of flying elephant infestation?¡±


    She giggled. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, Clay. There¡¯ll be plenty of fighting to do. I can see your Dungeon instincts are already roaring! The first floor is where anyone can go. The further down you get, the more exotic it becomes.¡±


    I gulped. Exotic, sure. That¡¯s what I wanted to fight.


    She laughed. ¡°Okay, well, I should tell you the moth bats form a third level infestation, which means you¡¯ll be surrounded by mostly mundane spellbooks and various semi-secret tidbits.¡± I stared at her.


    She continued obliviously, ¡°Trust me. You¡¯ll be fine. The monsters only get remarkably lethal at the bottom where we store the grimoires and a few hidden artifacts. You¡¯ll probably never see them though because the guardians there would probably kill you some time on the fourth floor.¡±


    I coughed. ¡°Okay. How about on the third floor specifically? Is there anything else I should know about?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Nah, you¡¯ll know them when you see ¡®em. It¡¯s a pretty simple mission, stab them before they land on you and use your shield to block any of the acids they spit as well as their needle tongues.¡± With a gleeful wave, she walked out of the library.


    I hesitated, wondering whether I could escape from this mission without being caught. Then, something poked me from behind.

 Chapter 13: Death By and For Falling Words

    I let out a brief, although eminently masculine yelp before I overcame my panic. Whirling around, I raised my spear, preparing to face some deadly guardian who would claim my meddling life. Instead, a stout four and a half foot tall man placatingly raised his hands. ¡°Woah, there! Now, I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re a new recruit and don¡¯t know how things work around here, but I¡¯m a librarian¡­ not a monster.¡±


    He tapped the tip of my spear. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll kindly point that rank three weapon away from me, the visitors, and the books, I¡¯ll be guiding one of your guides to the third level.¡± I hurriedly shifted my spear, trying to ignore the blush that had spread across my cheeks.


    Coughing, I mumbled, ¡°I¡¯m supposed to take care of the bats.¡±


    Without even bothering to look at me, the librarian started walking away. ¡°Yes, yes. I know. I issued the request.¡±


    Meekly following behind him, I listened as he pointed out each section of the library we passed. Nodding at a few curious bystanders, I politely asked, ¡°How¡¯d you get here? And, how do you know so much about this library?¡± I decided to ignore the question of whether he was even human because it seemed rude to assume a squat, short person would be a dwarf or something of the sort.


    The man smirked. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a curious fellow. Keep it up, and you¡¯ll either piss off someone powerful enough to roast you alive and depending on their nature, eat you, or end up literally sticking your nose into something capable of turning you into a pile of ash. However, since you ask, I am a dwarven librarian. If you must, you can refer to me as Polkin. I came to this dungeon in order to further my research and was granted this position based on my accomplishments in academia.¡±


    I paused, incredulous. ¡°Are you saying you voluntarily entered this place?¡±


    The dwarf nodded. ¡°Unlike you lower-class denizens, some of us have contracts in place where we donate our expertise for a few decades to the Dungeon and obtain rare resources in return.¡± He sneered. ¡°Although most humans live far too short lives to ever hope to take advantage of such benefits.¡± I adjusted my spear. I wasn¡¯t even sure whether to be offended. I¡¯d never been told humans had short lives before¡­ We passed through an archway and walked down a flight of stairs. After around twenty steps, the staircase ended at yet another arch.


    ¡°Wait, aren¡¯t there supposed to be five floors?¡±


    Polkin huffed in annoyance. ¡°Stupid, think for a bit. Why would the library have the fifth floor be that easily accessible? Each floor beyond the first is carefully isolated and guarded, requiring its own separate gateway.¡±


    ¡°How was I supposed to know that?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re clearly well-liked by the upper echelons.¡±


    ¡°Wait, who¡¯re they?¡± I asked, a bit nervous. Since when had I met these people and how did this dwarf know they liked me? Well, I figured it couldn¡¯t be too bad if I was well-liked.


    He turned around to carefully look at my gear. I met his gaze, trying to discover some clue from his expression. Finally, it seemed like he was unable to resist his curiosity, and he asked, ¡°So, how do you have that gear¡­ and who¡¯d you offend?¡±


    I gaped at him. ¡°What? Uh, Bobbette gave it to me. Is it that good? I mean, she gave me this mission, but I don¡¯t think I upset her or anything.¡±


    Polkin paused before regaining his shorter stride. ¡°Well, I¡¯d ask for your name, human, but it doesn¡¯t matter. I believe this¡¯ll be the last I see or hear of you.¡± Humming to himself, he reordered a pair of errant books. Glancing back at me, he explained, ¡°They weren¡¯t in sequential order.¡± I nodded.


    At least, one thing hadn¡¯t changed despite the difference in worlds and cultures. Library systems were still as ornate and exacting as they were on Earth. I¡¯d honestly half expected a collage of books littering the floor and unstable towers of spellbooks lying about the place surrounded by dangerous beasts willing to kill in order to protect the priceless magic when Bobette had mentioned a Dungeon library. With a little snicker, Polkin pointed through a dark hallway of bookshelves. ¡°We¡¯ll just walk through there, and then, we¡¯ll be right on the third floor. Be wary of the bookworms! They like innocent warriors for dessert.¡±


    With a gulp, I tightened my grip on the spear and edged into the darkness.


    Fortunately, or unfortunately, I never ventured past the first bookshelf as the entire Dungeon quaked for a brief second. Polkin turned to face me before noticing the shaking bookshelves. ¡°Ogre¡¯s balls!¡± Before I could ask him what was wrong, he sprinted toward the stone doorway.


    Then, I saw what had made my librarian guardian, who had weathered shelves of man-eating monsters and survived legion of hostile book-eating pests, flee. From above, glowing books rained down. It made for a pretty sight, like fireworks on the fourth, and like many glowing fireworks, they came with a healthy torrent of explosions, flames, and magic, but not the awesome ¡°woah¡± kind. Scratch that; it would have been pretty cool had I not been in the range where witnessing such a spectacle was lethal. From dozens of sources, a single voice formed that seemed to blare throughout the whole Dungeon as it echoed through the maze of shelves, ¡°Sector E7 is under attack. Please report to battle stations. Initiating System Lockdown.¡±


    Wow, what an uneventful first day of work. I glanced back at the stone doorway, only to find it was no longer a doorway; instead, it had transformed into more of a wall decorated with an out-of-place arch. Polkin hadn¡¯t been kidding about crazy safety measures. Tilting my head up, I shielded most of my face with the blue shield and tried to dodge the most glowy books since I assumed those would have the most magic. Well, at least the bookshelves began a fair bit away from the arch, so I¡¯d only gone a few in. Coming up with a desperate plan, I copied what Polkin had done¡­ except far too late.


    I scuttled forward like some diminutive crab, my trusty shield hoisted above my head. Thump! I nearly dropped the shield as a book literally exploded on it. Edging around a few burning books I crept toward the end of these lethal books. Yelping as a glowing tome burst into flames by my feet, I hopped toward the end. Wait, no, that¡¯s not what happened. [Note by Rhodovus: Clayton is full of sh!^] I heroically stabbed through a falling tome, deactivating the brilliant swirl of mana around it. Knocking a book out of the air with my shield, I jumped over an explosion, the concussive force blasting me forward. Stumbling and barely catching my balance in time, I ducked and rolled beneath a cloud of lightning, adjusting my shield to catch the aftershocks that struck toward my back. Jabbing another grimoire out of the way, I slid to the side as another book slammed in front of me before ending my perilous adventure. Upon reaching the now-wall, I kicked at it, trying to figure out the mechanism to open it. [Note by Rhodovus: This is more like Clayton, giving up at the first wall] Finally, I sank against the wall, feeling the weight of the truth finally sink in: I had been abandoned in a room filled with falling words of death.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    -----


    Rhodovus was tired. The soldiers streamed in through the five-person wide gap he¡¯d created in the Dungeon¡¯s grey hide, but the mana exhaustion had really gotten to him. While mana batteries could provide much of the mana he needed for a spell, the last bit had had to come from him, and without ambient mana, that last bit grew exponentially. At least, he¡¯d met the conditions required to declare his Graduation Quest complete by successfully bringing the army into the inside of the Dungeon. Sure, there was a huge bonus for assuring they got out and a colossal treasure for actually defeating the Dungeon, but he¡¯d already passed.


    Captain Thomas reached out to pat his shoulder before following his men inside. He gruffly said, ¡°Thanks. You saved us out here. Take a well-deserved rest before heading in with the other mages to support the main infantry. Give those buggers a run for their money, eh?¡±


    Rhodovus concealed a smirk. As if he were going to risk his life any longer on this foolish quest. Instead, he simply solemnly nodded his head and took a swig from his waterskin. Pulling out his sword he said, ¡°Don¡¯t fear, Commander. I¡¯ll join the vanguard as soon as I shake off this mana burn.¡± Inwardly, he praised his acting skills: he¡¯d very nearly convinced himself that he truly was some fearless hero. Guffawing, the commander roared, ¡°Get in there suckers! Prove that Rhodovus¡¯s heroic effort was not in vain!¡± Unfortunately, the knight ruined it by finishing, ¡°He may be an elvish prick, but he¡¯s a damn brave one!¡±


    Charging through, Sir Thomas left the weary elf behind as his reinvigorated men poured into the Dungeon¡¯s gaping maw. In fact, Rhodovus could find no other words to describe this hall surrounded by dome-shaped buildings manned by fearless warriors who sniped at the intruders and fought to the last man. Dungeon denizens were natural warriors who could exert strength far beyond what their natural race and body type would suggest. While the Hewther Kingdom¡¯s soldiers were on average rather formidable third level qi users, the Dungeon denizens still successfully left an equal number of armored corpses adorned in Hewther¡¯s crimson uniform due to their ferocity and home-field advantage. Even after several minutes, the soldiers had only penetrated into a score or so of the guard domes as they tried to secure their footing within the hostile Dungeon. Leaning on his sword¡¯s pommel, Rhodovus trailed after the group in relative safety, slowly gaining distance from the commander at the forefront before surreptitiously pasting a small rune paper onto his war robes. The focused soldiers never even noticed when he blended into the shadows like some Krishig assassin trained in the shadow arts.


    Standing behind one of the conquered forts, Rhodovus took out the sensing Artifact the Academy had given him. According to his research, this Dungeon ought to have some rare tomes and materials stocked nearby because several Demons around the outside of this part of the Dungeon had been observed carrying books inside. To be fair, Rhodovus hadn¡¯t been completely certain about his reconnaissance since Demons simply merged through the Dungeon¡¯s walls and were impossible to track once inside. Nevertheless, elvish archmages had long noted that Demons avoided entering the Dungeon unless they had an explicit purpose to do so. While it wasn¡¯t an exact prediction, Dungeons liked organizing their internal components in specific ways, so Rhodovus desperately hoped that they¡¯d been bringing tomes for a burgeoning library.


    Still, his earlier mana exhaustion had not been faked. He massaged his temples as he sent a tendril of mana toward the shadow concealment rune on his robes to check how long he had. Even though he had calculated that he still had 90% of its charge left, a single mistake at an inopportune time could easily cost him his life. Although there was more ambient mana within the Dungeon, it also meant that his opponents too could wield the powerful resource, not to mention that he was already in a mana fatigued state from channeling so much impure battery mana and had already depleted his personal mana storages. All the ambient mana in the world wouldn¡¯t mean a damn if he were too exhausted to make use of it. If he wasn¡¯t careful and met a difficult opponent, well, he wouldn¡¯t have much of a chance. He carefully scanned his surroundings, using the same meticulousness that he applied whenever he made a spell.


    Once again, his teacher Firenze¡¯s words echoed in his head: there¡¯s no such thing as bad luck, just carelessness. A small squad of humans wearing cheap-looking iron armor wandered past him. Hidden in the shadows behind a dome fort, Rhodovus stood still so as to avoid their attention. His heartbeat quieted to an imperceptible murmur as he hypercharged the concealment part of his rune.


    Dungeon inhabitants were dangerous, fearless soldiers who would swiftly eliminate any invaders, but all that wouldn¡¯t matter if they couldn¡¯t find him. The soldiers started turning left at the crossroad a few domes ahead when one of them stumbled. To his surprise, the soldiers paused as one and seemed to glance at each other in confusion before scanning their surroundings. Rhodovus crouched into the shadows while gritting his teeth to force more mana through his rune. Could they have found him already?


    Finally unable to bear the tension, he peeked around the corner, only to find the group charging at him!


    Rhodovus cursed. Despite all his various attempts and shadow concealment magic, it had all been for naught. Did that group have a mage of some sort? Reaching into his bag of holding, he grabbed a smoke potion and threw it at the group before switching hiding spots by sprinting toward the next corner. The hacking coughs from within assured his anxious mind; he¡¯d gotten the drop on them!


    In that brief moment, he examined the tracking Artifact again. If he stood at various positions within the Dungeon, the Artifact would pinpoint the exact location of the nearest collection of Artifacts through triangulating its position. Looking back at the cloud of smoke, he really wished that the tracker would¡¯ve worked outside as he could¡¯ve spared himself this perilous ordeal, but something about Dungeons tended to mess with spells that involved space, and time, only further proving that these abominations that had formed only a few decades before him were truly not something that belonged in their dimension.


    Unfortunately for him, although he knew his exact position in comparison to the Artifact collection, he had gotten lost in these dim misty alleys while fleeing from the Dungeon squadron. While he could hear a clash to his right that was no doubt Sir Thomas¡¯s army, he had little desire to join an even more noticeable target surrounded by a literal horde of Dungeon denizens. Caught at a fork, he glanced at the tracking Artifact again. However, before he could figure out which path led more directly to the trove, another squad of humans solved his conundrum for him. No doubt planning to join the fray against the invaders to their home, a second squad was jogging in from the left, and just like the squad lost in the smoke bomb at the entrance to the alley, they instantly discovered him despite his shadow cloaking rune. Diverting their course, the soldiers hefted their spears and charged straight for him. Rhodovus cursed. Was his luck really that bad? Perhaps the only fortunate piece of news for him was that the Artifact trove was only two alleys away, and based on what his sensitive elvish ears told him, smack dab between himself and Sir Thomas¡¯s army, so any passing denizens would probably ignore him in favor of the greater threat.


    Dashing behind a third building, the Artifact beeped, meaning that it had finally locked onto his target. Just as a wave of excitement welled inside him, he heard some shouts and clanking armor behind him. The annoying Dungeon humans had already found him through the smoke bomb! Rhodovus remained calm, remembering all the lessons his etiquette teacher in the Summer Court had taught him so long ago. Rule one of the hunt: whether you be prey or predator at the moment, always be the predator in the end. While dashing around a corner, Rhodovus cast a glance over his shoulder at the two chasing groups and decided he wasn¡¯t confident about his chances against even these poorly armored squads with his current mana reserves. Luckily, he was already quite close to the Artifact storage point, and the path to it was relatively clear since both squadrons were chasing him from the direction opposite his goal. Feeling a rush of elation propel him forward, Rhodovus barely controlled a whoop of glee.


    Wait! Rhodovus paled. He¡¯d let his greed get the better of him! A decade and a half of training had systematically stamped out uninhibited joy, that alone could kill. His life was not worth any Artifact! What was he doing here?


    Also, how come the only free path was toward the valuable collection of Artifacts? A sick feeling rose in his stomach, had he been enthralled by some spell? He rallied his mental reserves and released a three-stride radius ring of mana, but found nothing, meaning that there were no magics he was capable of detecting at work within touching distance of himself. Panting as his mind raced for a solution even as his legs, unused to extreme physical exertion, sought to keep him out of the clutches of the chasing Dungeon humans, Rhodovus realized this Dungeon would probably be his grave.