ã€ŠThe Intelligent Dungeonã€‹


 i. A Violet Gem

    Erin couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had seen light.

    He tried to open his eyes, tried to move his fingers and curl his toes, but against all odds, Erin was met with no response; no stimuli at all.

    That¡¯s not good. Erin thought to himself.

    With his thoughts scattered, Erin attempted to scan his surroundings once more.

    Erin focused. He concentrated.

    It was dark ¡ª he knew that ¡ª but what was actually in the dark? That¡¯s what Erin focused on.

    And focus he did. For minutes. Hours. Perhaps even days.

    In the darkness that engulfed Erin, time meant very little.

    So, after an unmeasured amount of time, a change finally occurred.

    Light! Erin rejoiced.

    So much light, in fact, that a tunnel of it appeared before Erin. Streaks of white cut into the dark space, rays of gold and silver; dust particles mingled amongst the air and sank to the stone floor underneath.

    The floor stood rough and ragged; uneven chunks of rock split from the ground and erupted like spires into the open space.

    The air was thick with the stench of mildew and the weight of stillness. From beyond the tunnel of light, a thin, unsettling current of wind swirled into the gloom, picking up dust along the way, until it settled upon the grime that too coated the floor.

    Erin approached the tunnel of light; or rather, he attempted to approach it.

    The light, much like the inner-workings of a magnet, rejected him.

    It pushed against him ¡ª a force both unfamiliar and unnatural ¡ª it coated his form and seeped into his very being; it pushed against him and kept him within the confines of the dark space.

    Odd. Erin thought.

    Why would the light reject him?

    How could the light reject him?

    Erin stepped up to the tunnel of light one final time. He stretched his palm forward in an attempt to grapple the light delicately ¡ª but then it struck him.

    Erin looked down.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    No feet.

    No legs.

    No arms, torso, chest or head.

    Erin looked high then low. He turned around and flipped upside down, but no matter how hard he try ¡ª Erin could not find himself.

    Erin could not see himself.

    I¡¯ve become a ghost! Erin shouted.

    For a split second, an unsettling tinge of something regrettable crept into Erin¡¯s mind, but just as it had appeared, it too disappeared.

    The panic and worry that should have sprouted within his being simply didn¡¯t. On the contrary, Erin felt calm and level.

    Unnaturally so, Erin was sure, but what could he do?

    It stood to reason that ghost¡¯s lacked emotion.

    Sure makes sense to me. Erin accepted the fact rather readily.

    Too readily, to be sure ¡ª but again, what could Erin do?

    His ability to give a f-

    Pause. Erin chimed in.

    His ability to care and practice human emotion had been stripped of him, or so it seemed.

    With that thought out of the way, Erin¡¯s attention returned to the tunnel of light and what its newfound presence meant for the sea of darkness that surrounded him.

    Then, Erin tried the light once more and was once again repelled.

    Valid. He thought.

    He casted his gaze behind him. Surely the light had illuminated something in the depths that he had missed before.

    Erin turned around and, to his delight, discovered something new.

    A podium, neither grand nor imposing, but standing nonetheless ¡ª stood in the center of the darkness. The podium was constructed of the same gray stone as the floor.

    It was rectangular with a bowl finish and amidst its faces of columns, strange runes covered the podium, etched into the stone itself.

    The carvings were aggressive. Deep gnashes defined them and black streaks of liquid seeped from some of the most pronounced ones.

    Atop the podium''s bowl sat a single gem. The gem was neither large nor small, roughly the size of an orange?

    It glowed violet while loose filigree of black and gray swirled from within. Like a solar system, tiny sparks of light flickered from the center of the gem.

    Holy sh-. Erin stared at the gem.

    It was exquisite. Most definitely the most gorgeous gem he had ever seen. For a moment, all Erin did was gaze into the violet orb, entranced by its swirling mass of black fog and sparkling embers.

    Again, Erin conjured forth his imaginary hand and coaxed the beautiful orb before him.

    Unlike earlier, however, this time Erin¡¯s ¡®palm¡¯ succinctly sank into the gems depths. Erin¡¯s ¡®fingers¡¯ merged with the gem and, as a result, unfiltered warmth surged into Erin¡¯s core.

    The miraculous energy poured into Erin, it was egregiously sucked into him like a violent whirlpool; and with each passing moment, the heat grew hotter.

    The energy burned brighter.

    The tunnel of light behind the darkness paled in comparison.

    Darkness? Erin scoffed.

    For when he looked now, with the strange purple orb ignited like wildfire, a sun amongst the void; all Erin could see was light.

    ¡­

    Time passed and with it the light retreated.

    Darkness returned. It coated the walls sticky and surged into the deepest cracks and narrowest crevices.

    Erin blinked his imaginary eyes as he tried to peer around the dimly lit cavern. He saw the tunnel of light again.

    The grimey floor and the unsettling podium too. The room was left unchanged. The light had done nothing to its visage.

    Wait. Then, Erin checked the gem.

    And like a beating heart, a pulsing energy surged from within the violet orb. Even without touching it, Erin felt warmth rise from within his chest.

    He inhaled deeply and held onto the breath. For a mere moment, Erin simply enjoyed the feeling of fullness.

    Then, Erin exhaled; and whatever warmth he had breathed in cooled alongside him.

    But beyond his narrow scope, outside of his limited understanding of his ghostly form, Erin noticed something concerning.

    He breathed in again.

    The purple orb subtly grew brighter.

    He exhaled.

    The purple orb dimmed.

    ¡­

    Fuck. Erin realized.

    I¡¯m the goddamn orb.

 ii. Magically-Inclined Beggars

    Days passed.

    Or maybe it was months?

    Erin had no clue.

    Regardless, however, time continued.

    In that mysterious and unidentifiable amount of time, Erin messed and fiddled with all that he could; the results?

    First and foremost, Erin could not leave the cavern he found himself placed in.

    This caused him to sigh.

    No. No. Let¡¯s be honest with ourselves. Erin urged.

    First and foremost, Erin could not leave the dungeon he found himself placed in.

    That¡¯s right.

    After incessant amounts of trial and error, brainstorm galore, and doing everything and anything in his power to move the beautifully vibrant crystal orb that was his main body ¡ª Erin came to the unfortunate conclusion that he was a dungeon core and thus could not leave his own dungeon grounds.

    What, then, are Erin¡¯s dungeon grounds?

    And, if he really couldn¡¯t leave as he had said, then how was Erin able to contend against the light?

    To summarize¡­ Erin confounded his thoughts.

    Dungeon¡¯s are entities of mana. As such, they are famed for both absorbing ambient mana and for producing it.

    In other words, whenever Erin breathes in, he absorbs mana.

    And whenever Erin breathes out, he expels mana.

    Furthermore, the mana from beyond the tunnel of light, the mana that is absorbed ¡ª it felt convoluted to Erin.

    Like sludge in the sewers or an oil spill amongst a river ¡ª the mana that came from the outside world felt inexplicably dirty.

    Meanwhile, on the other hand, the mana that Erin produced himself, that pervaded his dungeon and the caverns yet to be claimed ¡ª it felt pure and clean.

    In addition to identifying the two forms of mana, Erin also discovered what he was able to do with the mana that he was endlessly spewing out into the world; he could create.

    Could he create anything? Perhaps.

    All Erin had gathered was that he is able to turn pure mana into matter. The form and type of matter created was wholly dependent upon Erin¡¯s wishes; the only caveat is the amount of pure mana available to work with.

    For example, Erin had tried to conjure a mouse.

    Simple, right? He thought.

    Wrong.

    When he attempted to conjure the tiny beast, light flickered before him; particles of illuminated sparks appeared like snowflakes and converged in the air, then swirled in front of Erin.

    The particles coalesced, they formed the rough shape of a miniature mouse, but amidst the conjuration ¡ª Erin¡¯s mana extinguished.

    The particles tumbled apart and burst in the air before they ultimately faded out of existence.

    Failure. Erin observed.

    Unfortunately, moments after he exhausted his mana, Erin entered a slumber.

    ¡­

    Time passed.

    Unrecorded and unknown.

    Erin breathed in. He felt warmth.

    Mana surged into his core and condensed.

    Erin felt something... something different.

    In his chest ¡ª his core ¡ª he felt the warmth expedite.

    As if his heart grew larger, doubling in size, the mana in the ambient air flew towards him and sank into the crystal orb.

    Within the orb, a new star birthed.

    Another flash of light. Another deep slumber.

    Erin awoke to even more mana; he near burst at the seams. His chest felt tight. His breaths were ragged.

    Pure mana continued to gush out of him and Erin had no clue what to do with it.

    I have to use it. He realized.

    So, Erin directed the mana into the earth beneath him. He slammed it into the stone walls and the hanging stalactites.

    Slowly but surely, the mana conjoined with the cavern and Erin¡¯s knack for sight expanded.

    He was in a cavern, although not a particularly large one and beyond the tunnel of light stretched the outside world.

    He was on the edge of a cliff with a view of the sea. Puffy white clouds shifted overhead, filling the blue sky with pudgy marshmallows and blurring the brilliant sun that beamed high above.

    Ivory-colored birds trekked across the horizon; some dove into the depths of the sea, catching fish and crab alike, whilst others continued on their journey: some headed away into the falling sunset, some breached the shores and ascended the mountain.

    Erin saw lizards and ladybugs, bees and beetles; all standard variants of life filled the outer world. Meanwhile, waves gently cascaded along the sandy shores of the beach further below.

    For all intents and purposes, the outside world was ¡ª

    Is beautiful.

    ¡­

    For a time unrecorded and unknown, Erin simply watched the world.

    More specifically, he watched the sunset.

    His first sunset.

    Technically. Erin added.

    First in this life.

    While Erin basked in the sun¡¯s setting glow, a ship appeared on the horizon: a hulking galleon, a behemoth of a beast. As it drew closer, Erin noticed that the ship''s once-proud sails were torn and flapping like wounded wings; as a result, the galleon struggled to maintain its course.

    She tore through the sea, bulldozing through salt-infested waters with a course set directly to crash into the mountain¡¯s base; an amalgamation of rock and coral, a brilliantly lit up and colorful reef packed to the brim with schools of fish and other various forms of sea life.

    Erin, naturally, continued to watch.

    From beyond the edge of the planet, more ships cut through the sunset, all in tow of the first mighty galleon.

    The pursuers darted through the foamy water with ease, each vessel propelled by gusts of wind summoned by mages who stood at the prow, their hands alive with arcane energy.

    In response, the galleon¡¯s cannons thundered and the very air itself shook, sending plumes of water skyward, but the smaller ships weaved through the barrage of cannonballs; their wind mages expertly manipulated the environment to avoid the massive orbs of stone and lead that headed their way.

    The galleon cracked as a furious wave lifted its bow, which hurled the wooden beast forward, towards the looming and jagged silhouettes of mountainous coral ¡ª their peaks jutted above the surface like rows of teeth, ready to devour.

    The coral reef, displaced by the galleons approach, was illuminated under the setting sun which revealed a vibrant tapestry of colors beneath the waters surface; fiery reds, brilliant purples, and shimmering golds intermingled in the alien, underwater landscape.

    Beauty, however, turned to peril as the galleon¡¯s hull scraped against the sharp coral. The wood groaned under the strain and splintered with a sickening crack. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Then, the galleon lurched forward violently, its masts snapped as they tipped to one side, crushing the delicate coral formations beneath its weight.

    Sea foam surged onto the deck as water rushed through the breached hull. The foam mixed with the vivid glow of the submerged reef, casting ghostly colors across the galleon¡¯s ruined interior.

    As the onslaught of waves thrashed the ship, the pursuing vessels circled and kept their distance from the razor-edged outcrop.

    Amidst the chaotic crash of wood and coral, the air crackled with tension as one of the mages from the smaller ships raised their hands towards the galleon; a barrier formed and contained the wreckage in a shimmering dome of emerald.

    The pursuing vessels approached the shore and docked along the beach. Men, and some women, stepped onto the sand.

    Most of them wore loose, baggy clothing: robes, jackets, and peeling bandages to name a few. Their colors were muted as well, as the people¡¯s garments were mostly shades of brown and black with shimmering specks interwoven within; silvers and golds and gems ¡ª they were adorned in gold yet dressed like beggars.

    Erin, meanwhile, continued to observe the scene unfold.

    The magically-inclined beggars stormed across the sand and arrived before the coral deposits. The men and women gathered around the barrier, some peered past its green hue, trying to see the results of their chase; whilst others prepared bags, satchels, and cages ¡ª presumably for whatever lay inside the sinking galleon.

    Minutes passed until the dome-shaped barrier dropped, and the moment it fell ¡ª all-hell broke loose.

    ¡°INCINERATE!!!¡± A deep, raspy voice exploded from within the galleon¡¯s wreckage.

    In tandem, a glowing beam of fire exploded from the dilapidated ship. The beam rushed forth, ignited orange, and radiated untethered heat as it melted the coral spires that erupted from the sea.

    Steam rushed the area as the sea evaporated by the liter.

    *BOOM*

    The beam of heat veered to the left, a gust of wind from the mages manipulated its path, spiraling the monstrous source of heat into the mountainside yonder.

    Earth and stone melted. It dripped from the mountain¡¯s base and pooled down its slope. It ignited the trees and flowers in bursts of erratic flames all while molten rock continued to flow further below.

    The wind mages retaliated immediately. From their fingertips, blades of wind cut towards the reef. The blades of wind, near-invisible to the naked eye, ravaged the sea.

    In moments, the galleon was cut into pieces; strips of wood and iron flowed onto shore, the masts along with their sails were sucked beneath by the water and slammed into the ocean floor.

    As the galleon fell apart, more bursts of magic exploded from within. A black squirrel leaped off of the destroyed deck, its back lit aflame and smoking; the small mammal spread its gliders and maneuvered around the wind blades ¡ª oftentimes riding them across the air, using them like some sort of boost among its flight path.

    In addition to the black squirrel, more magically adept creatures revealed themselves: a white deer with icy, crystalline antlers, a fox shaded yellow with three, striped bushy tails, and a falcon ¡ª silver with a scarlet beak and accents to match.

    The very moment the magical beasts revealed themselves the pursuing beggars exploded with newfound vigor; their blades of wind grew both larger and faster as the personalities of the men launching them deteriorated into slews of perverted howls and insidious laughs.

    By the time the magical beasts touched land, the crew members of the sinking galleon had already been slain ¡ª the last of them gurgled blood and foam as they sank to the bottom of the fractured sea¡¯s hidden garden; their flesh and extremities bloomed along the razored-coral and painted the sea a dastardly red.

    In little to no time at all, the escaped magical beasts were rounded up and captured; they were forced into cages all too small for them and were beaten into submission until they ceased resisting.

    Counting the beasts, however, Erin noticed that one was still missing: the black, smoke-infused flying squirrel.

    Although not pertinent, Erin considered himself invested in the unfolding play. As such, he collected his drifting thoughts and focused on the form of the black squirrel.

    Black¡­ Erin thought.

    Smoky¡­

    Suddenly, an autonomous ¡®ping¡¯ sounded within Erin¡¯s mind. Without thinking too much, Erin accessed the ¡®ping¡¯ and opened his eyes.

    Revealed before him, still ascending the rocky mountains which held Erin¡¯s core, the squirrel fled from the beach and continued its ascent until it passed Erin¡¯s dungeon¡¯s entrance.

    As if drawn to him, however, the squirrel barreled down, spiraling like a bullet, and glided directly into the maw of Erin¡¯s home.

    Immediately, another ¡®ping¡¯ scratched the back of Erin¡¯s mind; although this time, the ¡®ping¡¯ remained active and while the squirrel meandered through the caverns, Erin knew ¡ª perpetually ¡ª where the squirrel lay at any given moment.

    I guess that¡¯s helpful. Erin nodded.

    For a while, Erin studied the black-lit creature. It was no larger than any typical squirrel and although smoke readily peeled off of the mammal¡¯s fur ¡ª it behaved and moved in much the same fashion as any other mundane creature.

    Hey little guy. Erin thought.

    He envisioned himself scratching beneath the squirrel¡¯s chin and nuzzling up against its soft, raven-esque fur.

    And, against all odds, the squirrel reacted.

    It leaned into Erin¡¯s nuzzling and purred as its chin rumbled with glee. The next moment, Erin felt something in his chest spark.

    Similar to the pinging sensation and yet not at all, Erin felt a piece of him displace. A small fragment of warmth broke off and meshed with the squirrel itself ¡ª it sank deeper into the mammal¡¯s own core until it was swallowed and absorbed.

    From that moment onward, Erin could feel the beast in a manner he had never before experienced.

    Jump. Erin willed.

    The squirrel jumped.

    Sit! Erin commanded.

    The squirrel sat.

    ¡­

    Can you hear me? Erin asked.

    The squirrel did not nod its head, unfortunately, but it did react to the question itself. In other words, the squirrel looked around the bleak cavern in search of the voice or will that had condemned it.

    ¡­

    Roll over!

    For time unrecorded and unknown, Erin played with the smoky squirrel. It provided him a means of escape, a momentary breath from the insanity of his situation.

    I realized it earlier, but¡­

    This was not Earth, nor was it a planet familiar. Erin had known, of course, from the moment he saw himself in the radiating violet core ¡ª but he hadn¡¯t truly accepted the fact until now.

    Magic! A rush of warmth brushed against Erin¡¯s heart.

    Mimicking excitement, perhaps?

    Nevertheless, Erin¡¯s memories betrayed him; he retained no semblance of who he was or where he came from other than the fact that he was Erin ¡ª not in the flesh as he presumably once was ¡ª but in the form of a glowing, purple rock.

    Likewise, Erin knew things.

    He couldn¡¯t exactly explain how he knew things, other than the fact that he simply knew them.

    For example, Erin knew what a pencil was.

    A number 2 pencil, yellow, made of wood and graphite¡­ Erin recounted.

    But he had no memories of using a pencil himself, of stabbing it into erasers or gnawing at the thin film of metal at the pencil¡¯s end ¡ª and yet he still knew.

    ¡°I think I saw the little bugger fly off up there!¡± A voice echoed.

    ¡°Aye ¡ª bugger must be drawn to the mana.¡± He rambled.

    Erin, drawn by the beggars conversation, shifted his gaze unto them.

    Two men climbed the mountain.

    The first was an aged man with squared shoulders and a firm gaze. His demeanor contrasted greatly, however, with his tattered, grimy cloak that hardly hung from his body.

    His clothes appeared to be barely more than rags, patched and threadbare, scarcely enough to stave off the ocean cold, yet his stance suggested a strength that defied his appearance.

    His eyes were sharp and intense, hidden behind a tangled mess of white hair that fell around his face like a wild mane; in addition, his long and unkempt beard brushed against his exposed chest, but did little to hide the scars that were etched into his weathered skin.

    Behind him, an adult man followed a few paces back. He shifted uncomfortably in clothes that echoed the same helplessness as the older man¡¯s ¡ª patched trousers with a cloak frayed at its edges.

    Despite the similarity in their attire, the second man seemed ill at ease; his posture was hunched over and his hands were clenched underneath his cloak ¡ª as if trying to shrink away from the filth that clung to the fabric.

    His face was cast down, pale and gaunt, with lines of tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. He brushed a loose hair off of his face, white, whilst his hands continued to shake.

    ¡°The mana is concentrated in that there cave.¡± The older man said. ¡°Little bugger must be in there!¡±

    The two men spotted Erin¡¯s dungeon and confidently approached it.

    At present, the cave entrance was bland and bare; a gaping maw into the cliff-side of a rocky, spiky mountain. Spires of stone jutted out from the cave¡¯s entrance, like teeth ¡ª prickly and protruding ¡ª and eager to rip into any available entails of flesh.

    The two men followed the narrow path that led to the dungeon¡¯s entrance. In the meantime, they remained cautious of the mountain¡¯s steep ledge.

    On the other end, whilst the two men walked along the path, Erin similarly tried to garner their attention; he called out to them, but to no reaction.

    Then, the two men stepped over the spires of stone that barred the cave''s entrance and plunged into the dungeon.

    When they did, something happened to Erin.

    The warmth in his chest, it caught a second wind.

    It lit ablaze!

    Erin¡¯s core burned with intensity! Like a raging fire, Erin''s senses heightened and his thoughts accelerated; his attention snapped to the two people¡¯s presence ¡ª against his own will ¡ª as Erin¡¯s senses screamed at him that something was wrong!

    He was in danger!

    Erin didn¡¯t know why! Erin didn¡¯t know how!

    Something in his chest, in his core, burned with an intensity that screamed ¡°KEEP THOSE TWO AWAY!¡±

    So that¡¯s what Erin did.

    Acting on instincts that weren¡¯t his own, emotions he thought had been stripped of him, Erin began to create.

    First, the visual.

    Erin had to see his creation before he could create it.

    How did Erin know that? He didn¡¯t.

    Instincts.

    In his mind¡¯s eye, Erin saw it: he saw the stalactite hanging from the corner of the cave¡¯s ceiling. He saw it lengthen and sharpen while a disguised gleam reflected off its newly shiny exterior. Erin saw it harden and constrict.

    Come to a fine point! He demanded.

    But Erin wanted more; he didn¡¯t want to just push the two men away. No!

    His blood screamed at him to cripple the two men; to prevent them from ever coming back!

    Erin visualized the metallic stalactite spinning as fast as possible. Why?

    Rotation propels penetration! Erin thought.

    But how did he know that?! He didn¡¯t!

    But he did.

    The two men took another step into the cave.

    Then, upon the tip of the spinning stalactite, a soft orange glowed.

    The orange glow, an ember in the darkness, yet light nonetheless.

    From the corner of his eye, the older man caught sight of the glimmer.

    His demeanor contorted into one of rapt seriousness.

    His eyes bulged out of his eye sockets!

    FIRE! Erin roared.

    In the blink of an eye, the old man¡¯s palm shifted backwards. From his hand ¡ª an enormous gust of wind slammed into the other man¡¯s chest!

    *BOOM!*

    The stalactite ¡ª NO ¡ª the iron javelin detonated off the ceiling, a loud explosion followed suit, and the spinning piece of metal tore through the older man¡¯s chest, eviscerating his heart and shattering every bone in his chest.

    The javelin then hit the stone floor beneath the man and sank into the ground as if it were water.

    A second later ¡ª

    *BOOM!*

    The dungeon floor exploded! Millions of pieces of stone and rock rained down the mountainside; some of them propelled with such vigor that the still-waiting beggars among the beach below were sliced apart like tofu ¡ª with pieces of their flesh peeled off their figure and littered amongst the shore.

    Meanwhile, the iron javelin continued.

    It razed into the sea and disappeared under the ocean, likely about to obliterate the seabed in much the same fashion as it did the mountainside.

    Thus far, three seconds had passed: in the first, the javelin tore through the man; in the second, the javelin tore through the mountain; and in the third, the javelin tore through the sea.

    In the fourth second, Erin was mercilessly assaulted by an impending sensation of coldness.

    Frost griped at his heart, its touch brought alongside a venomous sting that ironically burned greater than any amount of mana-burn Erin had experienced before.

    In the fifth second, the mana from the older man¡¯s corpse burst apart; it quickly spread throughout Erin¡¯s dungeon ¡ª throughout him ¡ª before it was violently thrashed into Erin¡¯s core, sucked in by a ravenous vortex that fed upon mana itself.

    In the sixth second, Erin collapsed; his senses vanished and all that was left was black.

    ¡­

    The story may have paused for Erin ¡ª but for the man blown out of the dungeon ¡ª the young Noble in disguise ¡ª who skipped across the ocean¡¯s face like a pebble and sank into its depths¡­

    The barely-staying-afloat man clung to his life. He paddled his arms with every last ounce of vitality in him.

    He churned through the water whilst foam impeded his view and clogged his lungs; he eventually breached the shore where he tumbled over thick chunks of rock that exploded from the mountainside.

    He stumbled onto the dry sand, what was left of it anyway, as large sections of the once glistening sands were now muddied red, soaked in the freshly spilled blood of the man¡¯s eviscerated crew.

    The man¡¯s eyes locked wide. He saw a woman in the sand, hunched over face-first. Her hips protruded outwards ¡ª a piece of stone impaled her to the beach where she drowned in her own blood.

    Molly¡­ He recognized her.

    He saw a man with dark brown skin, a full beard but a bald head ¡ª a much smaller stone, although just as deadly ¡ª pierced through his left eye and nailed his skull to the hull of one of their ships.

    Isaiah¡­ The man clenched his fists, but they were no longer shaking.

    He stood up and stepped through the marsh of his comrade¡¯s blood.

    He walked along the beach to the furthest of their vessels; there, three men had already gathered in addition to a single woman.

    They were all that was left of the minor fleet of beggars.

    With their captain returned, the men hoisted the sails and prepared for departure; meanwhile, the woman double-checked the cages aboard the ship.

    Each cage contained its own magical beast: the white deer, the yellow fox, and the silver falcon.

    With their loot gathered and their mission a technical success, but an otherwise overwhelming failure ¡ª the group of four men and one woman left.

    They sailed into the night, illuminated by the gigantic full moon above, and returned to the horizon.

 iii. Bram Moor

    Bram Moor stormed through his father¡¯s castle; his once white hair now gray from days worth of sweat and soot.

    He just returned from his voyage overseas ¡ª an insufferable disaster ¡ª where not only the vast majority of his personal guard was slaughtered, but also where his father¡¯s brother ¡ª his uncle ¡ª died for him.

    Bram¡¯s footsteps echoed like thunder off the freshly polished marble floors. He stormed through a Victorian bastion underneath grand halls of vaulted ceilings adorned with exuberant chandeliers.

    Bram walked quickly; his face newly twisted, his jawline taut as he grinded his teeth. His eyes were unfocused, they scattered around the illustrious halls stopping, if only for a second, to recognize the tapestries of intricate woodwork that he had seen millions of times already.

    The flickering candlelight that adorned the halls glinted off of his eyes. Then, Bram slammed open a heavy oak door; the sound echoed throughout the castle¡¯s quiet corridors.

    *THUNK*

    The behemoth door closed behind him.

    Bram approached a desk carved of lightwood decorated with intricate designs of sea star¡¯s; turtles spanned across its legs, and upon its face ¡ª a mess of paperwork in the form of unfurled scrolls sat helplessly.

    The man behind the desk looked up; his eyes sharp and intense ¡ª they bore into Bram¡¯s scarlet irises, as if they saw through him ¡ª but then suddenly, the venomous gaze softened.

    ¡°My son, so you¡¯ve returned.¡± The man from behind the desk gently placed down his quill.

    He was an older man, perhaps somewhere in his sixties? He had long wild hair and an unorganized beard. Like a mane, his long black hair meshed with his peppered beard and the two fully encapsulated his face.

    He had sharp eyebrows and red eyes. A scar horizontally cut through his nose and the man wore what could only be described as royal regalia: a thin and brittle crown of gold, jewels of topaz and ruby across his fingers, and he wore a thick, fur-lined coat that hung down past his ankles.

    He cupped his hands together, bringing them closer to his chin, while he analyzed his fourth born¡¯s current demeanor.

    ¡°It is as you say, Duke Moor.¡± Bram clenched his right fist and bashed it into his hip in salute.

    ¡°Please, my son-¡± the Duke gestured to his boy, ¡°no need for airs in my chambers.¡±

    Bram¡¯s body flinched; every muscle in his being constricted into boiling rage, but then he released and his palms started shaking.

    ¡°Speaking of, I sent my brother with you, did I not? Where is the old drunkard?¡± Duke Moor asked.

    ¡°Father, I-¡± Bram looked down, ashamed of himself, ¡°Uncle Tiam has met his end.¡±

    ¡­

    ***

    Erin awoke to the sound of teeth clattering within his dungeon.

    He blinked his eyes in an attempt to adjust to his heightened senses; he could suddenly see further, deeper, and higher.

    Erin could see a mile out into the sea ¡ª all the way to its depths ¡ª in addition to five miles into the ground, and another mile inland.

    The beggars had left; two of their ships remained, washed up on the shore, destroyed and dilapidated by the constant onslaught of sea water. The ships, however, had been destroyed long before the sea could claim them ¡ª Erin could attest to that.

    In the two vessels that remained, large obelisks of stone pierced their hulls; their sails were torn and stripped, and above all else ¡ª there remained no one alive to sail them.

    Blood and guts intermingled amongst the sand, but their bodies of origin had vanished. All along the seashore, stains of blood were abundant, but no corpses remained to justify the carnage.

    Meanwhile, the clattering from within the dungeon continued.

    Erin focused his attention.

    The smoky squirrel appeared within his vision.

    The small mammal sat in the corner of Erin''s core room, an acorn in its teeth, a full belly exposed; and while it ate, the magical beast also absorbed Erin¡¯s ambient mana.

    Since last Erin saw it, the squirrel had grown larger and more smoke bellowed off of its back, thicker, and more viscous than before.

    Erin shifted his gaze then studied himself. His violet core still sat upon the podium. It still pulsed in tandem with Erin¡¯s breaths and, as it did so, the solar system of sparks within it twirled and danced to his rhythm.

    It¡¯s bigger. Erin noticed.

    Or I guess¡­ I¡¯m bigger.

    At some point during his slumber, Erin¡¯s size had tripled. What was once an orange was now a watermelon: large, thick, and dense.

    Mana greedily surged into Erin. From beyond the cave and beyond the dungeon, the tides of mana in the air swirled around the mountain¡¯s peaks and coursed through the earth underneath ¡ª all fed directly into Erin¡¯s core.

    Erin¡¯s pull, his reach, his breadth ¡ª had vastly increased.

    Why? Erin wondered.

    Did it have something to do with his slumber?

    Was Erin¡¯s slumber a form of evolution?

    In which case, would he get stronger with every slumber?

    Why must an orb rest anyway? Erin wondered.

    Lost in his thoughts, Erin¡¯s vision meandered around his dungeon, from the loose rocks randomly strewn about to the hanging stalactites above¡­

    Wait.

    Stalactites?

    A flashback assaulted Erin.

    Beggars with white hair appeared. They chased a fleeing ship and sank it in the reefs. Then, they poached the escaping magical beasts and locked them into cages too small for their comfort.

    The flashback continued.

    Two men ascended the mountain. They breached Erin¡¯s dungeon and ¡ª

    RAGE.

    Stop! Erin felt his mind return.

    He controlled his vision and shot it to the dungeon¡¯s entrance. There, he studied the stone, but not a single drop of blood remained nor was there a single rock out of place.

    Where¡¯s his body?! Erin panicked.

    He stretched his senses and engulfed the rocky peaks in their entirety, and yet still, no human¡¯s revealed themselves.

    Thus, Erin thought back to the flashback, thought back to the two men who had entered him and his reaction thereafter.

    I was enraged. Erin thought.

    And scared.

    ¡­

    Scared of what? Erin didn¡¯t know.

    Regardless, his senses had warned him and they had likely warned him for a reason.

    The reason?

    Humans were dangerous.

    Often self-serving and prideful, the lot of them would trade a new-born for a glimpse at benefits; and the benefits spanned greatly.

    From riches to possessions, sex to influence, power to status ¡ª humans desired all.

    More than anything, however, human¡¯s desired control. They craved it.

    Without control, they fear their world might collapse.

    Pretentious. Erin thought.

    But wait¡­ am I human?

    Was¡­ I human?

    Erin didn¡¯t know. He couldn¡¯t remember.

    It doesn¡¯t matter. Erin decided.

    What matters, at least at present for Erin, was experimenting with mana; his sole means of interacting with the rest of reality.

    First, Erin¡¯s reach obviously extended; he could see further, after all, but what did that really mean?

    Erin focused on the edge of his vision. Instantly, he appeared a mile off shore on the bottom of the sea.

    Erin looked around.

    It¡¯s dark here too. He noticed.

    Then, he focused his vision towards the peak of the mountain.

    In the next moment, Erin was there. He stood atop peaks of snow and overlooked both the massive breadth of water before him and the endless expanse of land that stretched beyond him.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Next, Erin searched within himself, within the confines of his domain rather than along its borders.

    He felt the bugs and the insects, their minuscule mandibles scraped across wild leaves and fruits.

    He felt larger beasts too; predators that lingered behind bushes and kept to the shadows.

    He felt birds of prey and schools of fish.

    If it existed within Erin¡¯s domain, within his borders, then Erin was acutely aware of its existence.

    *crack*

    The acorn bound by the squirrel¡¯s teeth burst.

    The sound pulled Erin¡¯s attention away and instantly, Erin was there.

    He watched the smoky squirrel devour its nut.

    Then, a thought occurred to him.

    Erin reached forward. He wrapped his fingers around the piece of nut waiting to be devoured in the squirrel¡¯s grasp.

    Erin felt its smooth texture, but he also felt a simmering heat from within it.

    A fading warmth just barely out of reach.

    Erin grabbed the warmth; he took hold and pushed more heat into the acorn.

    The acorn started shaking and warping. Its smooth texture bubbled, ripples of mana traveling across its surface, as it molded and shaped into the acorn its wielder desired.

    Bigger. Erin thought.

    Stronger. He willed.

    Then, the acorn grew.

    It doubled, no, quadrupled in size in the squirrel¡¯s paws. The acorn¡¯s dark chocolatey exterior shifted, it grew more light ¡ª more gold ¡ª and from its crown, spikes protruded, like thorns, to guard the acorn¡¯s new visage.

    Upon its transformation, the squirrel dropped the acorn and leaped back. It prostrated on the ground a few feet from the evolving acorn, worshiping the acorn and its flow of mana as if it were some god in disguise.

    What? Erin thought.

    The new and improved acorn ¡ª bigger, stronger, and better ¡ª was made for the squirrel¡¯s sake; so that the squirrel could eat something new, unique, and ¡ª hopefully ¡ª flavorful.

    With his metaphorical hands of mana, Erin tried to push the acorn towards the smoky squirrel.

    But the wisps of mana, like ghosts, curbed around the acorn and brushed off its exterior like mere wind.

    The mana, at least in its rawest form, could not move the acorn.

    Thus, Erin had another idea.

    Instead of moving the acorn with mana itself, what if he infused the mana into something else, and then used that to push the acorn?

    So, Erin guided his mana into the cave¡¯s grounds; and, with just a little extra push, the stone floor liquified into a stone puddle.

    Erin willed its form.

    An arm of liquid stone, tentacle-esque, birthed from the stone puddle and writhed amidst the air. The tentacle¡¯s tip scoped the dungeon¡¯s core room ¡ª not that it had any eyes to see with ¡ª Erin was merely loosening his joints, practicing a mana technique newly developed, one he had never considered until now.

    The stone tentacle lowered its tip beneath the acorn and swatted it into the air.

    The golden acorn flew towards the squirrel and interrupted its prostrating; as the squirrel naturally caught the nut.

    The beast looked back and forth between the gray fluid tentacle and the near-illuminating, golden acorn.

    Inevitably, the squirrel devoured the acorn.

    One bite. Two. Then three.

    Drool licked the squirrel''s lips clean before plummeting onto the dungeon floor.

    The squirrel looked satiated; its belly poked outward and a mirror-glaze was cast over its eyes. The smoky squirrel was indeed satisfied.

    In the meantime, Erin continued to exercise his mana.

    Surely he could do more than a writhing tentacle?

    ***

    ¡°Are you out of your goddamn mind!!¡± Duke Moor slammed his desk.

    His pot of ink spilled and his unfurled scrolls and parchments rolled onto the floor.

    ¡°But father-¡±

    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± The Duke¡¯s voice bellowed and shook the finely crafted glassware that filled his overhead cabinets.

    ¡°Not only did your foolishness kill your Uncle and all your subordinates, but Bram-¡± Duke Moor clenched his jaw, ¡°this could start war.¡±

    Bram jumped out of his seat.

    ¡°War?!!¡± He repeated.

    ¡°No, no, no, no, no! I told you the land was uninhabited!¡± Bram pleaded.

    But his father ¡ª the Duke ¡ª did little to listen

    ¡°UNINHABITED?!!!!¡±

    A vein bulged between the Duke¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°Did you search the land?! Did you map its location?! Did you do ANYTHING other than waste lives and throw away my money!!!¡±

    ¡°But fath-¡±

    ¡°I forbid you from ever returning to that dungeon!¡±

    Bram¡¯s eyes widened. His knees buckled and he collapsed back.

    ¡°Now get out!¡± Duke Moor said. ¡°Your incompetence has spoiled my mood.¡±

    ¡­

    *bang*

    The oak door slammed behind Bram. Now, he stood alone in a magnificent hallway.

    He walked along velvet carpet beside walls adorned with beautiful paintings of fantastical landscapes.

    For some time, he roamed the castle aimlessly.

    What went wrong? The question rattled within his mind, over and over again.

    He replayed the events in his head, all the way back to the beginning.

    Bram Kite Moor, fourth born, son of Duke Moor and third in line for succession.

    He had two older brothers; the first born, Malric, first in line of succession, and by far the most dangerous of his siblings.

    Malric carried a greed for strength unrivaled and he worked himself tirelessly, often to the bone. He excelled in two schools of magic, light and fire, which only ever aided to fuel his uncouth obsession with destruction.

    From a young age, Malric had been systematically trained to take over the Dukedom. He studied agriculture, law, psychology, cartology, biology, and so, SO, much more.

    But most of all, hidden behind closed doors and tucked away from the voyeurs of the outside world, Malric fed off punishment; whether it be the maids, the cooks, the scholars, the siblings ¡ª or even his own subordinates ¡ª Malric had a temper like dynamite: a short fuse before a big blast.

    Following Malric, there¡¯s Bram¡¯s second brother ¡ª Cassian ¡ª third born and second in line for succession. Unlike Malric, Cassian lacked personal strength of his own; he studied a rare form of life magic, chloromancy, the antithesis of necromancy.

    Through chloromancy, Cassian is able to manipulate and conjugate plant life. He could alter the growth time, stimulate evolution, combine species and flat-out control all flora.

    But as stated earlier, Cassian was a weak man. A well-respected researcher and scholar, a powerful voice in science and botany ¡ª but vines and flowers could only get you so far in a real fight.

    To make up for it, however, Cassian enlisted many powerful people: from top-grade warriors to elite mages, all Cassian ever had to do was sprinkle a little bit of his plant magic around and the world¡¯s best apothecary¡¯s would come running.

    And naturally, the world¡¯s best apothecary¡¯s worked for the world¡¯s most powerful people.

    Shocker.

    Beside Cassian¡¯s seemingly infinite list of friends, the man was cunning, illusive, and most of all, patient. If it weren¡¯t for Malric¡¯s overwhelming presence, Bram was positive Cassian¡¯s intellect alone could garner him sole-succession of the Dukedom.

    To Bram, Malric was like a lion; king of the jungle, loyal, protective, and vicious; whilst Cassian was like a snake.

    Both predators in their own right and both significantly more successful than Bram.

    Bram had two sisters too, the second born and the fifth born, but in the patriarchal duchy that their father led, the two girl¡¯s were not permitted to enter the succession battle.

    And quite frankly, Bram was thankful for that; as his eldest sister, the second born, was too significantly greater than him in considerably all aspects.

    So then, what was Bram to do?

    He studied wind magic from a very young age, even excelling in it, and was thus granted permission to study under his father¡¯s brother ¡ª Tiam Moor, a world renowned adventurer famed for his wind magic.

    Paired with his uncle, Bram traveled the world as an adventurer. The two conquered dungeons, slayed monsters, and rescued damsels in distress at every opportunity.

    Bram quickly adopted a knack for drinking; a pastime of his uncle¡¯s.

    Over the years of adventuring with Tiam, Bram realized something.

    His eldest brother, Malric ¡ª he possessed strength.

    His second brother, Cassian ¡ª he possessed connections.

    What could Bram obtain that could grant him both strength and connections?

    Bram needed resources.

    The type of resources that granted him both power and connections.

    Resources he had seen his uncle possess.

    Resources that made the world go ¡®round.

    Resources that came from dungeons, i.e. mana-infused resources.

    The thought process was actually remarkably simple, Bram was livid he hadn¡¯t gleamed it years in advance.

    All he needed to do was control a dungeon.

    As Dungeon Master, Bram would have strength and connections.

    Because every powerful family in the world operated around the dungeons; although, on the surface, it may have seemed like the families ruled the dungeons, either by restricting their access or by taxing their exports, but behind the scenes ¡ª  the families were at the mercy of the dungeons.

    So Bram set out with a plan.

    He sent his subordinates around the kingdom with an order of espionage. The description?

    Report back with anything and everything that had to do with dungeons.

    Two months later, Bram received a report detailing an underground auction-house in the heart of the capital. What made the report worthy?

    The auction-house advertised magical beasts.

    Although magical beasts were plentiful beyond the borders of mankind, hence the need for adventurers ¡ª or let¡¯s be honest, free colonialists, men and women who vied for riches and land yet to be claimed ¡ª magical beasts were not commonly seen within the kingdom; and better yet, for them to be transported all the way to the capital of the kingdom¡­

    Well, there could only be two possibilities.

    One: the caravan of bandits who planned to sell the magical beasts possessed the strength necessary to subdue the most-likely-rampaging magical beasts. In this scenario, Bram hoped to inquire with these bandits ¡ª these adventurers ¡ª the location of their hunting grounds.

    Thus, Bram accepted a bet whether the location ripe with magical beasts was local to a collapsed dungeon; or in other words, a dungeon that¡¯s gone unthinned for too long. In such cases the floors within effectively ¡°collapse¡± and the mana and magical beasts therein surge to the surface.

    If Bram¡¯s bet pays off, and of course the stars-align and the moon is in retrograde, then he could find the collapsed dungeon, conquer it, and thus bind it.

    Furthermore, if Bram discovered that the bandits themselves had already claimed the dungeon for their own, he would report them to the Guild of Adventurers; as per Royal Law i-iv: ¡°All dungeons, whether private or commercial, must be registered and monitored by the Guild of Adventurers; submitting to annual thinning and appropriate reports on newly discovered mana-enriched entities.¡±

    Basically, dungeon¡¯s were public knowledge. They had to be, by law. And succinctly, by law, their status of ¡°conquered,¡± ¡°collapsed,¡± or ¡°restricted¡± must also be made public knowledge.

    ¡°Conquered¡± ¡ª the dungeon and all of its floors therein have been completed and the dungeon has been bound to a Dungeon Master; thus eliminating the dungeon¡¯s growth by effectively killing the soul of the dungeon.

    ¡°Collapsed¡± ¡ª the dungeon has been left to grow untethered, but not all dungeons are created equal; scholar¡¯s called them limiters, a mysterious force that restricted the infinite evolution of dungeons, a planet-wide phenomenon that equalized the amount of dungeons scattered across the globe. In other words, there could only be so many S-rank dungeons, A-rank dungeons, and so on; and once a dungeon reached its limiters peak, if left unthinned, the dungeon would implode on itself and all that occupied it would be released to the surface.

    ¡°Restricted¡± ¡ª a dungeon under the scrutiny of the Guild of Adventurers or a prominent governing body; under this classification, the dungeon must either be accessible to appropriately leveled adventurers or, in the instance of privatization, must be thinned on a monthly-basis and a report of proof of further exploration must be submitted to the Guild of Adventurers on an annual-basis.

    If the bandits who were delivering the magical beasts to the underground auction-house had conquered a dungeon themselves, then it would not have been reported to the Guild; because if it had, the bandits wouldn¡¯t be selling their goods underground ¡ª they¡¯d be selling it over the counter.

    That is a lot to say, especially since there is a second possibility afloat.

    Two: the magical beasts smuggled into the capital are not ferocious at all; they are in fact infants, newly-born creatures of mana fresh from a dungeon. This possibility can only exist if the bandits have direct access to an illegally-operated dungeon; either a supplier or a direct connection, it didn¡¯t matter, since the end result was Bram discovering a dungeon ripe for exploitation.

    With the decision made, the operation began.

    Bram ¡®borrowed¡¯ three of his father¡¯s navy ships. He sent one of his subordinates to the slums to collect rags and apparel ¡ª the least expected disguise for a noble.

    He ordered his subordinates to adopt the drunken-southern accent of his uncle; another layer of deception that would hopefully buy them some time if the operation went haywire.

    Then, the fated night arrived.

    Nothing went to plan.

    The desperate noble and his gaggle of pawns weren¡¯t patient enough; the bandits caught sight of them amidst the seas, prior even to their arrival in the capital.

    So with no other clear option available, Bram initiated the hunt. He and his pawns chased the galleon of bandits far West ¡ª towards the Empire ¡ª until they cornered them in a rocky coral reef underneath a nightmarish spire of stones so imperious they had to be called mountains.

    But when the galleon crashed, the magical beasts escaped, and the white deer contorted the waters rushing the galleon and used it to drag the crew members under the sea and into the blades of coral beneath.

    Bram¡¯s access to information vanished.

    *snap*

    Like that.

    To salvage his broken heart and to soothe his colossal failure ¡ª he at least wanted to capture the magical beasts; they could make exceptional familiars or simply be sold for a fortune, much like the dead bandits had attempted to do themselves.

    Little did Bram know that ¡ª to his horrors ¡ª one of his escaped magical beasts sensed a local dungeon and, in order for an infant magical beast to further mature, they must feed off a dungeon¡¯s mana.

    So the little black squirrel did what evolution had programmed it to do; it flew to the closest place that felt like home.

    ¡°GODDAMNIT!!!¡± Bram slammed his fist into the hallway wall.

    He had come a long way across the castle after all that thought. Now, he stood in his sister¡¯s quarters; he could tell because the drapes that covered the windows were enchanted to change color with the sunset.

    At present, the drapes were violet.

    Nearing dusk. Bram recalled his eldest sister¡¯s ridiculous tendencies.

    How could such a genius be so¡­ Bram hesitated.

    Crazy?

    Bram rubbed his forehead. It had been a long day. He had effectively lost everything: his Master, his followers, and essentially his dreams too.

    He was forbidden from returning to the dungeon.

    Sure, Bram liked to play around with the rules, but his whole plan had been to privatize the dungeon within the family. He would use the dungeon and his newfound status as Dungeon Master to rope in the families Elder¡¯s, using their vote to elect him successor.

    In short, Bram couldn¡¯t bribe his family with the dungeon if he was banished from it! By his family!!

    Honestly, Bram needed a drink.

    ¡°HEY MUSCLE-HEAD MALRIC!¡± Bram heard his sister¡¯s voice echo through her quarters.

    ¡°I TOLD YOU IF YOU LAY ONE MORE FINGER ON-¡±

    Bram¡¯s eldest sister, Alice Moor, choked on her words as she neared the corner and caught eyes with Bram.

    ¡°B-Bram??¡± She looked at her brother shocked.

    Bram pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a second to see just-what-exactly his sister wore today.

    Alice Moor, second born, jewel of the duchy, and also one of four humans in the past millennia to successfully contract with a fairy. She had long, silky black hair that fell just above her hips and black eyes to match ¡ª but deep within her irises laid sparks of color, like fireworks, a feature of her unique fairy-contracted magic.

    Her skin was smooth and supple and alabaster, graced by the moon, yet her vibrance radiated warmth. She wore a full smile, cheeks flushed pink, as thin transparent wings sprouted from her bare back.

    In the next moment, Alice rushed into the air and flew into Bram¡¯s chest. While afloat, her wings shifted through colors, glowing across every pigment imaginable ¡ª just like her eyes.

    Here we go¡­ Bram thought.

    ***

    In another part of the Moor castle¡­

    The Duke collected his fallen scrolls. He carefully rolled his carpet, wary of the ink, as subtle droplets continued to fall with each of the Duke¡¯s steps.

    He placed his stained carpet in a wooden chest in the corner of his office; his attendant¡¯s would clean it later.

    Then, the Duke picked up a silver bell from off his desk.

    *ding*

    The sound of the bell traveled through the Moor castle.

    Within five seconds ¡ª the duration of the bell¡¯s hum ¡ª from no matter where the bell was rung, a member of the Duke¡¯s personal guard would answer its summons.

    As expected, in the next moment, the Duke¡¯s wooden door gently cracked open.

    A man stepped in. He wore a dark uniform with black shoulder guards and matching leather boots. A sword hung from his waist and an eyepatch strapped around his head, concealing his left eye.

    He had dark brown hair, a stubble-covered face, and his visible eye was hazel. In addition to his eyepatch, a scar ran through his cheek down to his exposed neck.

    ¡°So you¡¯re on shift tonight, Kuzo.¡± The Duke said.

    ¡°It¡¯s as you say, sire.¡± Kuzo spoke respectfully.

    ¡°I have a mission for you.¡± The Duke said.

    ¡°My son¡­¡± The Duke sighed.

    After the passing of his wife, the Duke lost his sole source of emotional support. As a result, he slowly grew into the habit of ranting about his personal ordeals with the members of his private troupe.

    ¡°I had such high hopes for him.¡±

    ¡°The fourth born, sire?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°Yes, Bram. He¡¯s a bit of a show-off, but underneath all his bravado... he¡¯s kind. He treats his subordinates well and can oftentimes talk his way out of most of his trouble; a silver-tongue that one has.¡±

    The Duke paused his rambling.

    He walked to the back of his office where a large, stained glass window overlooked the city-scape below. From up in the castle, his subjects looked no larger than ants.

    A necessity, of course, to be able to prioritize the masses over the few, but his Dukedom was flourishing; more people enrolled in the academy every year which meant more people were born every year.

    Their crops were taking off thanks to Cassian and they were seeing increased returns in foreign trade; the Moor Dukedom was prospering.

    The Duke knew that his successor couldn¡¯t be his first born ¡ª the boy was built for war, not for peace. If given the reins, Malric would surely run this duchy into the ground.

    Then, there was his third born, Cassian.

    Goosebumps suddenly traveled down the Duke¡¯s back.

    The Duke loved his son¡¯s ¡ª all of them ¡ª but he saw a glint in Cassian¡¯s eyes that left even him uncomfortable. There was just something in his gaze that unnerved him; he looked at life like it was a mere plaything.

    A trait unfit for the spotlight. The Duke concluded.

    Cassian¡¯s potential lied in the family''s shadow, away from the prying eyes of the orderly world.

    That left Bram, fourth born, cheeky, ill-mannered, and newly drunkard Bram.

    But also kind Bram.

    A kind Bram that led all his followers to death¡­ The Duke argued with himself.

    Sweet retirement, my love¡­ wait for me.

    The Duke scratched his temple.

    Malric should be married soon¡­ perhaps a grandson will catch my eye? They¡¯d be young, but¡­

    ¡°Sire?¡± Kuzo spoke against the silence.

    ¡°Hm?¡± The Duke said.

    ¡°You spoke of a mission?¡±

    ¡°Ahh, yes. Thank you, Kuzo.¡± The Duke gently lowered his head.

    ¡°Sire!¡± Kuzo exclaimed. ¡°You mustn¡¯t prostrate yourself!¡±

    ¡°Kuzo!¡± The Duke snapped.

    ¡°Sire!¡±

    ¡°The fourth born discovered a dungeon due West. He insisted it wasn¡¯t the Empire¡¯s land, but it¡¯s a risk I¡¯m unwilling to take.¡±

    ¡°Four of his subordinates survived. Take one of them, along with a Guild Representative, and scale the Empire¡¯s coast in search of a wrecked galleon amidst a coral reef. If nothing is discovered along the Empire¡¯s coast ¡ª have the fourth¡¯s subordinate navigate you to the dungeon.¡±

    ¡°You are to return in three weeks. Any questions?¡± The Duke waited.

    ¡°The wreckage?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°Eliminate all traces.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave immediately, sire!¡±

    Kuzo turned towards the door.

    ¡°Oh. And Kuzo. Be careful of the dungeon. It killed Tiam in an instant.¡±

    Kuzo stopped in front of the door.

    ¡°Yes, sire!¡±

 iv. The Acorn Halls

    Where does one find inspiration?

    It¡¯s a question Erin had spent a lot of time pondering as of late, in conjunction with his daily mana exercises, of course.

    Over the past two weeks, Erin had learned a lot about mana; the most important? The difference between creation and alteration.

    For example, when Erin tried to create a mouse.

    What exactly did Erin try to create a mouse with?

    He tried to create the mouse with mana itself; that¡¯s about as good as trying to alter the air itself into a mouse.

    In other words, creation is an extremely wasteful and mana-hungry practice. Possible nonetheless, but for creating life especially, it takes an enormous amount of mana to facilitate that level of spontaneous creation.

    On the other hand, there¡¯s alteration or the modification of existing matter to better suit Erin¡¯s desires.

    Alteration costs about a million times less than creation and although it slightly limits his creative freedom; Erin discovered it wasn¡¯t by much.

    He had experimented a lot, after all.

    A lot more than liquifying stone and splashing it around his dungeon.

    I mean, what was I thinking? Erin thought.

    When it came to alteration, Erin already considered himself an expert; with just the stone found in his cave, Erin could effectively modify it to match the form of any other solid matter.

    Erin also discovered that creating life ¡ª pretty much across the board ¡ª was difficult. With the stone he had laying around, the closest thing Erin could simulate was golems.

    The golems, however, were far from living creatures. In order to operate autonomously, Erin had to first condense mana until it solidified into a crystal ball, and by thus planting it into a stone-shell, Erin could meticulously distribute the stored mana, from the artificial-core, to the premade joints and ligaments of the golem.

    It was tedious as fu-

    Simply isn¡¯t worth my time. Erin concluded.

    But if this rule of mana that Erin had discovered holds true, then how do dungeons populate their floors?

    Good ol¡¯ fashioned fuckin¡¯! Erin yelped.

    Oh so he can say it?

    Moreover, the best method to populate the dungeon ¨C from what Erin could gander ¨C was to facilitate artificial-ecosystems throughout its many floors. By utilizing this method, Erin not only did not have to trapify every inch of his dungeon, but he also did not have to artificially recreate every slain creature in his dungeon.

    Erin could only imagine the mana cost of respawning every monster. The thought alone caused him to shiver.

    By raising a general population in his dungeon, presumably somewhere secluded from the main path, Erin would have back-ups for his back-ups.

    It was truly a win-win case-scenario.

    Back to alteration, however, the obvious caveat here was that in order to start life Erin must already possess life.

    Meaning, he must tame the outer world¡¯s life first; then he could modify it, evolve it, and shape it into the magical beast Erin dreamed it could be.

    Alteration also meant that in order to begin a new species within the dungeon, Erin needed two compatible members of the original species ¨C so that he could evolve them both accordingly.

    It was this stipulation that somewhat proved a problem for Erin.

    Put simply, Erin only had one squirrel, Smoky himself.

    Over the past two weeks, Erin also decided upon a definitive name for his squirrel companion, Smoky; and Smoky, like the dungeon, received a similar mana-treatment.

    Smoky stood twelve feet tall and he was everything Erin had envisioned: bigger, stronger, and better.

    Smoky¡¯s black fur tapered off into thick layers of smoke. His eyes shone like embers, brilliant orange, and his claws grew razor-sharp and golden.

    Three golden stripes lined Smoky¡¯s back ¨C each traveled down one of his three tails. Smoky¡¯s tails, meanwhile, were six-feet-long and covered in thick, bristled, thorn-like spikes.

    From a distance, Smoky looked fluffy, but in reality ¨C he was anything but.

    In addition to his overwhelming new size, Smoky also carried around with him a giant, golden acorn; the acorn sat like a pot in Smoky¡¯s paws ¨C it was huge ¨C weighing more than a ton, and along its crown-like cupule black spikes protruded towards the acorn¡¯s stem like the hilt of a blade.

    Smoky wasn¡¯t the only representation of change, however.

    He also no longer resided within the dungeon¡¯s core room; instead, Smoky had his own room.

    The Boss room.

    Major discovery number two, brought to you by the past two weeks, Erin could not move his core, yes; but he could move the podium that his core sat upon.

    Without further ado, Erin presents the first floor ¡ª the Acorn Halls.

    The dungeon sprawled beneath the earth like an ancient tomb. Immediately upon entering, the dungeon space opened up; vaulted ceilings stretched high into the rocky mountain supported by grand columns that rose from the stone floor, each carved with intricate patterns of oak leaves and winding vines.

    The Romanesque architecture was unmistakable, to Erin¡¯s eyes at least, as every aspect of the design was infused with an acorn motif which gave the space an almost otherworldly, naturalistic twist.

    The columns that held the ceilings were not smooth marble as tradition, but were instead etched with lifelike leaves, curling around the column¡¯s length as if they grew naturally from the stone itself. Amidst the foliage, acorns appeared in meticulous detail, their smooth forms embedded within the carvings, their golden sheen¡¯s caught in the dungeon¡¯s torchlight.

    Where traditional Roman symbols may have appeared, the acorn¡¯s cupule ¡ª its crown, as Erin called it ¡ª replaced them, a clear emblem of status and reverence. Each cupule varied slightly: at the start of the dungeon the design was minimal, but further in, closer to the Boss¡¯s room, the acorn¡¯s cupule twisted and erupted with thorn-like spires, spikes to ensnare its wielder.

    The stone floors appeared worn from centuries of use, yet the acorn theme continued in the patterned mosaics beneath each step. Small tiles formed elaborate spirals of leaves which radiated outwards from larger, centralized acorns, creating a sense that the dungeon was rooted deep into the earth like an ancient oak.

    Needless to say, Erin had invested a lot of thought into the dungeon¡¯s bells and whistles. For all of the architectural design and intricate detailing Erin committed to, the first floor of his dungeon¡­ wasn¡¯t exactly the largest.

    Erin had tried to expand it, but just like the light from whence he awoke ¡ª there was something that repelled his expansion, it pushed him back and kept him holed up in a nice and tight little space confined within the mountain.

    This repelling force naturally provided Erin with a lot to experiment with. For instance, why could Erin see a mile out into the sea, but he could not touch anything out there?

    When he had first awoke a couple of weeks back, Erin had simply assumed his newfound vision coincided with newfound reach¡­ but he was mistaken.

    So after a few days of testing, Erin discovered his limitations; he could ¡®touch¡¯ everything within his dungeon¡¯s grounds with no problem, that meant everything from the cave¡¯s entrance to Erin¡¯s core room, to further beneath.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Further beneath?

    Erin found it odd too when he first discovered it.

    For some reason, Erin was specifically guided downwards. As previously mentioned, Erin could already see further into the depths than any other direction ¡ª and that sight, for whatever reason, came with increased reach.

    But why was that?

    Well, Erin believed it had something to do with the surface¡¯s ambient mana. Put simply, the outside air contained super dirty mana whilst the air that was underground, perhaps untouched for hundreds of years, felt cleaner and was easier to bulldoze through.

    Easier to collect and absorb too. Erin added.

    Precisely, so with this understanding, Erin came to another revelation. It wasn¡¯t that he couldn¡¯t touch the outside world, it was just that his connection was convoluted.

    Erin could touch the outside world, it was just laggy.

    Something that Erin could do instantly within his dungeon could take an hour on the surface; and depending on the desire, the task that Erin is attempting to complete, work on the surface could potentially take as long as weeks to get something useful done.

    Just like the golems, it simply wasn¡¯t time/cost effective.

    Unfortunately, Erin did want to make one edit to the surface. He needed someway to get another goddamn squirrel in there, after all.

    ***

    Following his audience with the Duke, Kuzo left the castle grounds and headed into the city below. He set off in one of the Moor¡¯s carriages, an illustrious hand-crafted carriage constructed of maple and accented with splashes of silver and streaks of white.

    Within the carriage, the seats were lush black-velvet, soft to the touch, and above, adorned on the roof of the carriage, a myriad of colors were painted to depict the world¡¯s annual star-fall; an event that occurred every decade, a shower of stars plummeted from the sky with each trailing a vibrant color of its own.

    Kuzo, on the other hand, was more interested in the Moor¡¯s quick horses than he was their luxurious carriages. Thanks to that, Kuzo arrived in the city of Moorndell before nightfall.

    He strode towards the city¡¯s northern Guild branch and rapidly bound his horses to their available stables.

    Kuzo stormed inside.

    The residents within gave him curt stares and hawty attitudes, but nobody dared say something. Everybody in there knew who Kuzo was ¨C he had a reputation that preceded his noble employment, after all; recognized as ¡°White Flash¡± Kuzo.

    He ignored their stares and stormed towards one of the Guild¡¯s secretaries; a woman, cute, short, bubbly, blonde.

    ¡°Get me Hyzen.¡± He told the girl.

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± She chirped.

    Not ten minutes later, Kuzo sat across from Hyzen in a private room. The room was luxurious, of course; it had to be since the Duke sponsored this branch.

    Meanwhile, from across the glass coffee table, Hyzen wore a dreadful expression; his eyelids drooped heavily over his eyes, wide dark bags sagged underneath, and the parts of his eyes that were visible were clearly bloodshot.

    He was, however, a meticulous man: neatly combed brown hair, a tidy mustache, silver spectacles. He kept himself clean and presentable which coincided well with his high-end attire; he wore a homburg hat with a gray vest and a white undershirt, gray pants, a maple belt, and black leather shoes.

    ¡°You know that¡¯s not how the Guild operates.¡± Hyzen groaned.

    ¡°I don¡¯t work for the Guild anymore.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°But I do!¡± Hyzen argued. ¡°You can¡¯t ask me for an inspection and claim I¡¯m only coming with you for personal reasons; the inspection inherently makes it the Guild¡¯s matters!¡±

    Kuzo didn¡¯t speak. Instead, he crossed his arms and looked at Hyzen.

    Hyzen tried to match Kuzo¡¯s stare, but under the scrutiny of Kuzo¡¯s single eye, Hyzen began to crack.

    He shook his head back and forth, but even still, he opened his mouth.

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t do an inspection without my apprentice.¡± Hyzen argued.

    ¡°Send her somewhere else. She doesn¡¯t even need to know you were gone.¡± Kuzo pushed back.

    ¡°For three weeks?¡± Hyzen countered. ¡°Are you out of your mind!¡±

    ¡°Hyzen!¡± Kuzo¡¯s voice sparked. ¡°I came to you for a reason and I¡¯m telling you to send her somewhere else.¡±

    Hyzen bounced his knee up and down. He continued to shake his head no, but just like before, his mouth betrayed him.

    ¡°Fine.¡± He said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send her on a quest tomorrow morning. I¡¯ll meet you at the docks at two past dawn.¡±

    Kuzo smirked. He leaned his hand over the glass table between them and grabbed Hyzen¡¯s.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you there, partner.¡± Kuzo shook his hand.

    He stood up to leave, but before he could open the door¡­

    ¡°And so help me god, Kuzo, if you are even one minute late, I will walk.¡±

    Kuzo grabbed the room¡¯s door handle and pushed it open. At the same time, a grin spread across his face.

    He never changes. He thought.

    ***

    Two weeks later¡­

    Adrift at sea.

    Kuzo, Hyzen, and Bram¡¯s generic follower looked at a map unfurled across a wooden chest. Fresh markings and routes littered the map in addition to notes written by Hyzen ¨C details of the sea¡¯s patterns, the wind¡¯s currents, and other important information useful for the Guild.

    Their vessel neared the end of the Empire¡¯s border. In one more day of travel, they¡¯d reach as North as they could travel ¨C the end of the western continent.

    If they didn¡¯t discover the galleon¡¯s wreckage soon¡­

    ¡°There!¡± The generic man shouted.

    ¡°Those are the mountains! I¡¯m positive!¡±

    Kuzo and Hyzen both ran to the edge of the ship. They followed the generic man¡¯s finger and spotted an eruption of rock that superseded the very clouds, its spires were treacherous and snow-tipped, and beneath its long and near-vertical slopes, a colorful seabed of protruding coral surrounded the mountain¡¯s lagoon.

    Strewn around the lagoon in various places, strips of wood and ruptured barrels floated amongst gentle waves.

    Beneath the clear waters, the galleon¡¯s sails were ripped into strips and intertwined with the sharp coral that pervaded the reef.

    Along the coast, two ships ¨C identical to the very vessel they rode upon ¨C were abandoned and left to rot in the ocean¡¯s salty tides.

    Two hours later¡­

    Kuzo, Hyzen, and the generic man jumped off of their ship and onto the Empire¡¯s land. First, they explored the beach.

    The large splotches of blood that had once painted the shores had long been removed by the tide. As a result, there wasn¡¯t much red left to be found.

    Kuzo collected a few stray body parts: a few fingers, a toe, a handful of teeth, and a whole leg. Additionally, the man who had been nailed to the side of one of the ships?

    He was still there, although large chunks of his flesh was missing, particularly around his neck and thighs, and his body had begun the process of decomposition; he practically already looked like a zombie.

    Kuzo approached the coral reef. He had planned to destroy the galleon past the point of recognition, but the deed had largely already been done.

    There simply was no more galleon; instead, what took its place was nothing more than scattered planks and ripped fabric. Even the corpses of the galleon¡¯s sailors had vanished from the sea, likely sucked away by an undercurrent invisible to the naked eye.

    Either way, with the body parts collected and the two ships in tow ¡ª there lay not a speck of the Duke¡¯s patronage on the Empire¡¯s land.

    Kuzo inwardly sighed in relief.

    Next order of business then, Kuzo cast his gaze skyward, towards the outcropping of stone that extended over the shore; a cliff above the sea and their next destination.

    In front of the dungeon¡¯s entrance, the three men gathered around a bowl of stone. The bowl was built embedded into the ground, molded from the stone floor itself, but it was what lay inside the bowl that stumped the three men: acorns.

    Golden, slightly enlarged, acorns.

    Hyzen furiously scribbled in his notebook.

    Meanwhile, the generic man bent over and picked up one of the acorns.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°No! No! Let him, Kuzo! Let the boy be curious!¡± Hyzen smacked Kuzo on the shoulder with his notebook.

    Kuzo ignored him.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what these acorns are. And they weren¡¯t mentioned in the fourth born¡¯s report, which means this bowl and these acorns-¡±

    ¡°Appeared within the past month??!!¡± Hyzen scribbled.

    Hyzen knelt down beside the unassuming stone bowl and began measuring the creation.

    At the same time, the generic man eyed the acorns.

    Their crown was sinisterly dark and spiky; an odd evolution to say the least.

    The generic man wriggled an acorn¡¯s crown and, unexpectedly, the black top popped off.

    *pop*

    The crown gently flew into the air before it subsequently fell to the floor. Then, a small serving of mist rose from the acorn¡¯s golden cusp; and the smell was divine.

    It tugged at the three men¡¯s nostrils incessantly: fruity, salty, malty, savory, snappy.

    The scent was monstrous!

    Before he realized his own actions, the generic man plopped the acorn into his mouth and tried to chew.

    To his surprise, however, his teeth could not dent the golden exterior beholden to the acorn; instead, a viscous liquid drooled out of the acorn¡¯s shell and flowed down the back of the generic man¡¯s throat.

    The man, ravaged by bestial desire, stuck his tongue into the acorn and swirled it around; he was damn sure to get every last lick of the incredible nectar before he spit out the golden shell like it was a cracked sunflower seed.

    Immediately, the generic man¡¯s face flushed.

    He swayed backwards slightly, almost losing his footing, then plopped down and crossed his legs in a meditative pose.

    ¡°Tell me, boy! What are you feeling?!¡± Hyzen pleaded.

    Beside him, Kuzo rummaged through his satchel in search of a life potion ¡ª just in case.

    A few minutes later, the generic man¡¯s eyes shot open. Sweat dripped from his forehead and steam bled from his skin. He was undoubtedly hot, but they were in northern waters; there was snow among the mountain¡¯s peaks, for crying out loud!

    ¡°It¡¯s like a high-tier mana potion!¡± The man shouted.

    He quickly crawled across the ground towards the stone bowl. There, he his pockets with the golden acorns.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna be rich!¡± His eyes glossed over in euphoria.

    To the side, Hyzen continued to write in his notebook. He flipped to a new page and drew the acorn itself, he even included little notes to specify the change in the acorn¡¯s cupule along with its shift in color and sturdiness.

    ¡°This is truly fascinating¡­¡± Hyzen muttered to himself whilst recording the data.

    ¡°What does this mean, Hyzen?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°Is this some sort of offering? Or a trap? Why would the dungeon do this?¡±

    Hyzen snapped his notebook shut.

    ¡°Well, for starters, I believe what we have here is a lure.¡± Hyzen said.

    ¡°You mentioned that when the fourth born stumbled upon this dungeon, a smoke-attuned squirrel fled to its depths, yes?¡± Hyzen recalled.

    Kuzo crossed his arms.

    ¡°You¡¯re not seriously suggesting that the dungeon did all this just because an infant squirrel found its way here a month ago?¡± Kuzo prodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s precisely what I¡¯m suggesting.¡±

    ¡­

    ¡°And why the hell would it do that?¡± Kuzo simmered.

    ¡°You might not know this, Kuzo, but squirrels are native to the East. It¡¯s likely that the dungeon had never seen a squirrel before, let alone an elemental squirrel like the one that escaped.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s more concerning to me, and by association the Guild, however, is these mana-infused acorns.¡±

    Hyzen picked one up.

    ¡°How much mana do you suppose it took to fill this whole bowl? Exactly how many acorns are even in here? Fifty? And if we go off of the boy¡¯s words, that¡¯s fifty high-tier mana potions? Can you fathom that?¡± Hyzen noted.

    Kuzo¡¯s expression immediately fell.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying it¡¯s high-rank?¡± Kuzo jumped straight to the point.

    Hyzen snickered.

    ¡°Highest rank I¡¯ve ever inspected ¨C probably.¡±

    ¡°Hyzen!¡± Kuzo barked. ¡°This is serious!¡±

    ¡°It might be A-rank.¡±

    At this, the generic man¡¯s back stiffened. He slowly retreated from ransacking the dungeon¡¯s bowl and then stood up to face Kuzo and Hyzen.

    ¡°Look who¡¯s decided to join us.¡± Hyzen quipped.

    ¡°A-rank?!!¡± The generic man spasmed.

    ¡°We can¡¯t conquer an A-rank dungeon!¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself, boy! Just let eyepatch over here handle it!¡± Hyzen said.

    Kuzo simply glared at him.

    He had bigger concerns to consider as of this moment.

    ¡°We¡¯ll conquer the first floor, and the first floor only.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°Then, we¡¯ll report back to the Duke. A dungeon of this caliber won¡¯t go unnoticed for much longer.¡±

    ¡°Begs the question how it¡¯s gone unnoticed for so long to begin with. Although unoccupied land, the Empire must have extensively searched its borders before. How wasn¡¯t this dungeon discovered then?¡± Hyzen said to no one in particular.

    ¡°Another concerning fact we must momentarily forgo. Enough dilly-dallying. We enter now.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s so serious. And it¡¯s all the time!¡± Hyzen complained to the generic man, but the man did not acknowledge Hyzen, for he was far too occupied shivering in his boots.

    An A-rank dungeon. He thought. I¡¯m as good as dead!

 v. The First Boss

    What are you doing!?? Erin roared.

    In front of his dungeon, three men gathered around his most recent creation; an architectural piece meant to sooth over the locals and invite some new blood into his dungeon.

    The new blood was supposed to be squirrely! Erin protested.

    Instead, some half-wit moron bagged his entire supply of enhanced acorns! And the two mature men next to him, who were supposed to lead by example, allowed him!

    Who just trusts dungeon food?? Erin couldn¡¯t understand.

    It was made with the understanding that only non-intelligent beasts would be dumb enough to fall for the lure. Erin had intentionally boosted the acorn¡¯s attractive scent for that very purpose.

    Unfortunately, Erin¡¯s understanding of the highs and lows of human stupidity was lacking. As it turned out, greed triumphed over common sense any day of the week!

    Meanwhile, Erin, like the three men, was surprised to discover that the inside of the acorn¡¯s shell was liquid.

    It wasn¡¯t meant to be liquid. Erin overheard when the generic man told the two others.

    Erin¡¯s plan had simply been to attract the local squirrels, the ones that presumably occupied the oak forest beyond the shoreline, but upon overhearing the three men¡¯s conversation; Erin¡¯s dreams were succinctly and thoroughly crushed.

    No squirrels in the West¡­ The words echoed between Erin¡¯s ears.

    If that were true, then what the hell was Erin supposed to fill his first floor with? Squirrels had ¡ª quite literally ¡ª been the only piece of inspiration Erin had clung to while formulating its design!

    It¡¯s the Acorn Halls for crying out loud!

    Erin digressed.

    His attention was split between squirrels, mana crafting, acorns, and the three men in front of his home; and Erin¡¯s brain could only keep track of so much.

    First, he had to figure out a way to prevent hooligans from stealing every acorn from under the sun; since that would likely be a problem from now on.

    Then, Erin had to not only figure out how to lure another beast into his dungeon, but it had to be one that relatively matched the theme of his first floor!

    Why?

    Because Erin said so! That¡¯s why!

    It should still be a small mammal¡­ Erin was already lost in thought.

    At the same time, the three men entered the dungeon and, immediately, Erin felt something gross within him.

    Erin didn¡¯t know if it was their aura, their mana, or if they authentically smelled bad because, either way, Erin retracted at the presence of them.

    His control over mana deteriorated near them.

    His acute senses, the ones that allowed him to tell a speck of dust from another, grew muted.

    Like manipulating mana in the outside world, where the mana was ¡®dirty,¡¯ Erin found it was equally difficult to move the mana around the men too.

    And again, it wasn¡¯t that Erin couldn¡¯t control the mana around them; it was just that the process was exponentially harder.

    The further Erin was from people, the smoother grasp he had over mana. Similarly, the closer Erin was to people, the more chaotic the mana felt.

    It was especially so when Erin came into direct contact with people.

    Although Erin felt inexplicable fear at the mere prospect of grazing his mana tendrils across the men, he forced himself to attempt it in the name of science.

    So, in the name of science, Erin brushed his mana against the generic man¡¯s chest. Within no time at all, Erin¡¯s mana exploded backwards.

    It violently ricocheted back and scattered along the dungeon¡¯s halls. Erin reeled within his mind, for some reason, he felt pain.

    Unimaginable pain, like a bolt of thunder; Erin¡¯s senses shook wildly then froze, electrified then paralyzed.

    His grip on the mana within his surroundings weakened and as it did so, so too did Erin¡¯s vision of his surroundings.

    I can¡¯t touch them?! Erin realized.

    Then why had it worked before?!

    When Erin struck the previous man who had entered his dungeon, what had he done?

    He molded a piece of the dungeon¡¯s ceiling, a stalactite, into a finer point and then accelerated it as fast as his mana would allow him.

    But the release!

    By the time Erin had launched the iron spear, his grasp over its mana ¡ª and by extension its matter ¡ª was undone.

    Erin wasn¡¯t manipulating the stalactite once it had been fired, but was it really such an easy fix?

    Erin focused. The three men had just finished their walk through the cave¡¯s final natural touches; an extended strip of cavern left untouched by Erin so that the outside world could not peer directly into his dungeon.

    In a few more steps, the men would turn left down an open corridor. The stone floor would immediately shift, from natural stone to a meticulous spiral pattern embedded with oak leaves and acorns.

    The cave¡¯s ceiling would suddenly triple, three story¡¯s worth of height all held afloat by wide, massive columns that lined the corridor and greater dungeon beyond.

    In other words, Erin¡¯s dungeon would go from simple to overbearing at the drop of a hat.

    There was only one problem.

    I don¡¯t have any monsters¡­ Erin realized.

    ***

    Party of three, Kuzo¡¯s Addendum.

    ¡°Hey!¡± The generic man screamed.

    ¡°Something just touched my chest!¡±

    He stumbled onto the cavern wall beside him and wildly flared his shirt as if a spider were encroaching upon him.

    ¡°Nothing touched you.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°No, man! I¡¯m serious! Something brushed against me!¡±

    From behind the generic man¡¯s head, Kuzo saw Hyzen¡¯s gleaming face.

    Before he could comment, however, the cavern abruptly ended and Kuzo¡¯s Addendum was forced to take a sharp left.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    They turned the corner and it was as though they had entered a portal.

    Immediately, rows of bronze sconces fashioned to resemble acorn caps lit up with yellow, flickering light. The lanterns hung from the corridor¡¯s walls and illuminated the path forward, but the path forward was inexplicable; hyper-realistic leaves were imprinted in the stone everywhere they looked: the ground, the columns, the walls.

    Apart from the leaves, golden acorns fully engrossed their vision; they sat in the hearts of the lanterns, in the hearts of the patterned floor, even in the hearts of the bricks that fashioned the walls.

    Based on the entrance alone, Kuzo and his team maximized their vigilance. Their walk slowed as they passed through the corridor, wary of what may be lurking beyond.

    ¡°Well I think I figured out what the acorns were about.¡± The generic man said.

    Beside him, Hyzen scribbled in his notebook like a madman.

    ¡°Hyzen?¡± Kuzo called. ¡°What¡¯s your opinion on all of this?¡±

    ¡°My opinion?!!¡± Hyzen spoke in bated breaths. ¡°This is unprecedented!¡±

    ¡°What does that mean, Hyzen!?¡±

    ¡°I mean just look at the architecture!¡± Hyzen ran his finger across the wall.

    ¡°This detail is excruciatingly precise! I¡¯ve only ever seen something like this past the fiftieth floors, and even then, the seamlessness of this architecture ¡ª it¡¯s breathtaking.¡± Hyzen said.

    ¡°Hyzen! What¡¯s the rank?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to tell!¡± Hyzen threw up his hands.

    ¡°One step in and all I can tell you is that this dungeon is unique. None of the predisposed patterns are expected to work here.¡±

    ¡°Unique?¡± The generic man asked. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°It means the dungeon ¡ª for one reason or another ¡ª diverged from its typical evolution; you can also consider it a type of mutation.¡±

    ¡°Like the dungeons formed underwater?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°Not quite. The underwater dungeons still follow a pattern; rather, it¡¯s their own pattern. Unique dungeons seem to follow no pattern at all. For example, if we consider this mere corridor a representation of the dungeon beyond, then we could probably conclude that this dungeon is meticulous with its mana usage. This level of detailing simply requires that level of precision, but now let¡¯s return to the entrance; the manacorns.¡±

    ¡°Manacorns?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Hyzen countered. ¡°It¡¯s the perfect name!¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not corn.¡± The man said.

    ¡°Hyzen!¡± Kuzo snapped.

    ¡°Okay! The manacorns at the entrance. Not only were they used as a lure ¡ª an arguable waste of mana in of itself ¡ª but the egregious amount of mana stored within them? That behavior completely contradicts the precision we see laid out before us now.¡±

    ¡°Which means what? This is an S-rank dungeon?!!¡± The man asked near exacerbated.

    ¡°Oh no! Nothing like that!¡± Hyzen patted him on the back.

    ¡°Unique dungeons appear in every rank. They¡¯re just so rare that-¡±

    ¡°Wars are fought over them.¡± Kuzo interrupted.

    ¡°Now can we please continue?¡±

    Hyzen gestured forwards.

    ¡°After you.¡± He said.

    Kuzo¡¯s Addendum walked further down the corridor and arrived at another turn. As they passed the corner, the corridor immediately opened up into a grand hall.

    The ceiling was domed and across its surface a magnificent mosaic connected the space. The mosaic was of an oak tree, mighty and vast, its branches sprawled across the ceiling and touched every corner of the room.

    The room, meanwhile, was square and erected within its center stood a fountain that spat water into the air. From the grand hall, three hallways branched off: one to the right, one to the left, and one proceeded forward.

    The three men first explored the two adjacent rooms before they gathered around the fountain. There, Hyzen bottled some of the water for testing whilst Kuzo eyed their surroundings.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± The generic man asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s too quiet here.¡± Kuzo replied.

    ¡°Maybe the monsters are further in.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Kuzo shook his head. ¡°The two rooms we just cleared were empty. Dungeon¡¯s are beings of instinct. They would not make two extra rooms just for the hell of it.¡±

    ¡°So what? You¡¯re saying the monsters should have been in there?¡± The man said.

    ¡°Probably.¡± Hyzen replied instead. ¡°And Kuzo¡¯s not too happy about it because it likely means that somebody else cleared this floor not too long ago; and if somebody else was here before us-¡±

    ¡°Then they saw the ships!¡± The man¡¯s eyes widened as realization dawned upon him.

    ¡°Keep it down!¡± Kuzo said. ¡°They could be in the deeper floors for all we know. Let¡¯s continue.¡±

    From the grand hall, Kuzo¡¯s Addendum continued onward. They passed the cupule-tipped fountain and entered another hallway.

    At the end, a wall disrupted their path while an entrance appeared on each side. Around the corner, the room opened up once more; although, this second grand hall was round. Another dome adorned its ceiling, beautifully constructed with a flare for natural design.

    Grand columns lined the oval space, each adorned with their own unique spiraling of vines and flora. The room¡¯s floor was a design of intricate tile formed in the shape of leaves; connected to one another, the leaves spiraled around the room before they reconnected in the center where a brilliantly lit acorn glowed gold.

    The golden glow hummed throughout the wide-open space as each acorn embedded within the walls and along the ceiling joined in its soft, warm light.

    At the opposite end of the arena, an iron gate barred the stairs that led further below.

    Kuzo¡¯s Addendum entered the final chamber and spread out.

    From the dome-ceiling high above, a massive, cracked acorn protruded from its center. Wrapped around the acorn, Smoky clung to it like it were a chandelier.

    Strips of his fur melded into shadow and conjoined with the dark spots littered around. Smoky¡¯s nails gleamed off the torchlight and his three tails cascaded down the chamber and hung just above the center of the room.

    *BOOM*

    Smoky dropped from the ceiling. His massive paws slammed into the ground and cracked the elegant tile, displacing its leaves of stone.

    The massive squirrel faced away from Kuzo¡¯s Addendum; his back arched skyward, three golden stripes illuminated, as Smoky dragged his nails across the stone, he etched his markings on its surface, before he stood on his hind legs where he towered above the humans.

    Smoky stood as tall as the columns; about as wide too. He reached above and wrapped his paws around the golden-acorn-chandelier. Then, Smoky plucked the ornament from the ceiling.

    The acorn shattered.

    And the light was cracked.

    In the dimly lit chamber, Smoky¡¯s golden irises glistened; they pierced through the dark and penetrated Kuzo¡¯s Addendum.

    ¡°What the fu-¡±

    ¡°SCREEEEE!!!!¡± Smoky¡¯s screech shook the walls.

    Dust rained from above and the tiles underneath shuttered from the vibration of Smoky¡¯s roar.

    Smoky raised the giant acorn above his head, spit and steam bellowed from his throat, and the raven-painted beast jumped.

    Smoky leaped into the air and crossed the chamber¡¯s width in an instant.

    Then, Smoky plummeted to the earth and slammed his giant acorn onto the stone.

    *BOOM*

    Debris exploded out.

    Parcels of stone, sharp and unruly, ricocheted off the chamber¡¯s walls in a violent explosion.

    Before the impact, Kuzo and Hyzen leapt to opposite sides of the arena.

    Kuzo drew his blade from its hilt; the silver broadsword gleamed underneath the shadows.

    Meanwhile, Hyzen tip-toed around the arena with his notebook open and his pencil active; he was sketching Smoky!

    The dust settled and Smoky lifted the acorn from the ground. As it lifted, it released a wet, sticky sound.

    The generic man¡¯s organs, his intestines especially, clung to the underbelly of the golden acorn.

    *snap!*

    His flesh tore apart. His intestines snapped back like rubber.

    Smoky looked first at Hyzen, then at Kuzo.

    He decided it would be Kuzo.

    Smoky gripped the stem of the giant acorn and flung it towards Kuzo. The acorn barreled across the air like a freight train and Kuzo was in the middle of its course.

    Kuzo¡¯s eye widened. He dropped his body to the ground and lay flat on the floor.

    *WOOSH!*

    The giant acorn soared above him.

    *BOOM!!*

    And slammed into one of the massive columns that surrounded the room. The acorn stuck in the stone, lodged into the column itself.

    By the time Kuzo picked himself up, Smoky was already upon him.

    With his paws curled into fists and his arms held high, Smoky slammed his paws down in an attempt to crush Kuzo.

    Before that, however, Kuzo ran two fingers along the shaft of his broadsword; suddenly, symbols ignited within the metal ¡ª eight to be exact.

    ¡°First Form: Quick Slash!¡± Kuzo shouted.

    His sword blurred.

    In an instant, Kuzo¡¯s arm¡¯s swung diagonally; his sword then thinned and extended.

    *BOOM!*

    Smoky¡¯s paws hit the ground. No!

    Correction!

    One of Smoky¡¯s paws hit the ground; his other, meanwhile, his left paw, was severed at the wrist.

    No blood splattered into the air, though.

    The cut was so clean, so precise, that Smoky¡¯s paw slid off the wrist moments before the impact; thus Kuzo¡¯s life was saved.

    ¡°RRAAAAAAAAAA!!¡± Smoky¡¯s wails filled the dungeon.

    His vocal cords cut through the air as he curdled in agony.

    Kuzo¡¯s ears bled. Hyzen¡¯s too, but they persevered.

    Kuzo leapt back. His sword was still longer than it had been; thin like paper yet sharp like razors.

    Smoky ground his hind legs into the tile and exploded into the air. He crashed into the column that held his acorn and tore it from the stone.

    Then, Smoky charged at Kuzo.

    In a frenzy, Smoky repeatedly slammed the cracked acorn into the ground over and over; whenever Kuzo¡¯s figure appeared, Smoky used all of his strength to bludgeon him like a mere ant.

    But Kuzo proved too fast.

    He weaved around the bombardment with ease and, with each step, he drew closer and closer to Smoky¡¯s center.

    *BOOM!*

    Smoky¡¯s acorn hit the ground.

    Kuzo slipped around it and arrived underneath Smoky.

    He ran two fingers along his blade; the symbols reignited.

    ¡°Third Form: Blade Storm!¡±

    Kuzo¡¯s sword transformed once more; it broke into about ten pieces, then the pieces spun incessantly.

    Kuzo sprinted into Smoky and slid underneath his legs.

    Behind him, the pieces of his blade got to work.

    They flew towards Smoky and eviscerated his fur. The pieces of metal spun around Smoky and engulfed him in a blade vortex.

    Meanwhile, Kuzo leapt to his feet and sprinted towards Hyzen, but suddenly, he froze stiff as a board.

    Kuzo looked behind him.

    Smoky revealed his bloodied teeth.

    The two made eye contact.

    And Kuzo could have sworn he saw Smoky grin.

    Kuzo looked down and found his shadow restrained by Smoky.

    From his tendrils of smoke, Smoky¡¯s form intertwined with the darkness beneath him. His own shadow shot forward in a line, it pierced Kuzo¡¯s shadow and immobilized him in the process.

    By now, Smoky was covered in blood; his raven-esque fur blurred crimson and scarlet, meanwhile, a river of blood flowed down his claws and pooled amongst his own enriched shadow.

    Kuzo was stuck; he could not move.

    And for some reason, it seemed as though Smoky could not move either; although not as restricted as Kuzo.

    Kuzo could barely force himself to move his neck.

    Smoky, on the other hand, could move his limbs readily.

    His three tails slowly inched forward. Smoky raised them into the air.

    Then, they fired.

    Thick spines of black erupted from Smoky¡¯s tails and tore across the arena!

    The needles slammed into the tile, punctured the columns, and ravaged the mural amongst the ceiling.

    Even Kuzo could not get away unscathed.

    A thick, onyx needle ran through his abdomen; it tore through his stomach and slammed into the stone behind him, thus he was mercilessly pinned to the floor against his will.

    Blood dripped from the corner''s of Kuzo¡¯s mouth.

    He grabbed the black spine that struck through his stomach.

    *snap*

    And ripped it clean in half.

    ¡°Goddamnit, Hyzen! How long does it take?!!¡± Kuzo sneered.

    ¡°I¡¯m done! I¡¯m done!¡± Hyzen snapped his notebook shut.

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ finally!¡± A wicked grin spread across Kuzo¡¯s face.

    With the bladeless hilt of his sword in his hands, Kuzo declared with burning animosity, ¡°Silver¡¯s Fall: Execution!¡±

    The pieces of Kuzo¡¯s sword simultaneously lifted off of the ground and coalesced in the air; they formed back together in the shape of an executioner¡¯s blade.

    Then, the blade flashed across the chamber.

    White light exploded out.

    A white flash then-

    *thud*

    Smoky¡¯s head hit the ground.

    A few seconds later.

    *BOOM*

    Smoky¡¯s body followed.

 vi. Bats and Opportunities

    After Kuzo¡¯s Addendum slayed Smoky, the trio left the dungeon.

    Although Smoky had tragically been vanquished, the iron gates that barred the adventurers continued descent did not open.

    Instead, Hyzen gathered their deceased party member¡¯s supplies ¡ª what hadn¡¯t been crushed, at least ¡ª then tended to Kuzo¡¯s wounds.

    With a visible hole in Kuzo¡¯s gut, an average life potion wouldn¡¯t cut it. Hyzen wrapped Kuzo¡¯s abdomen, he applied a translucent paste and wrapped it again.

    Then, Kuzo gulped down a life potion ¡ª it wouldn¡¯t seal the wound, but it would temporarily act as a magical blood bag.

    By the time they returned to the beach, Kuzo was already moving better.

    Meanwhile, Hyzen scribbled in his notebook; he drew a picture of a cloud then tore the page from his booklet.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Miniature Nimbus.¡±

    The torn piece of paper ignited with light. From the light, a small cloud sprung to life. The cloud lacked facial features and a voice, so it instead communicated with its shade and occasional zaps of lightning.

    The cloud maneuvered itself to the forward ship¡¯s sails. It blew a massive gust of wind that propelled the line of ships into the sea.

    Normally, Erin would have watched them go.

    The sunset had become his favorite pastime, after all, but there were now more urgent matters at hand.

    Smoky was dead and Erin had no clue what to do.

    He sat in Smoky¡¯s Boss room, beside the beheaded creature. Blood pooled underneath him, and due to the flickering torch light from the column¡¯s sconces, Erin still saw depth in Smoky¡¯s eyes.

    Can I revive him? Erin thought.

    But how?

    Erin sat beside Smoky¡¯s head, but then, he suddenly felt warmth radiate from Smoky¡¯s chest.

    Erin¡¯s attention snapped accordingly.

    His mana tendrils sank into Smoky¡¯s fur and penetrated his being. Erin¡¯s fingers delicately caressed Smoky¡¯s core, a bowling-ball sized orb, black as night, embedded directly underneath Smoky¡¯s heart.

    From the center of Smoky¡¯s black core, an ember sparked, small and fleeting.

    The warmth projected from his core was diminishing, Erin could feel it.

    So Erin did what he had done to everything else in his dungeon thus far; he pumped more mana into it.

    The mana¡¯s tides around the lagoon shifted. The currents in the air as well, that slithered through the spires of rock above, changed course if only by a millimeter.

    It shifted from Erin¡¯s core to Smoky¡¯s.

    Then, the embers ignited.

    From ember to flickering flame, a spark of light, then a smoldering flare; Smoky¡¯s core turned brilliant, white and black coalesced within ¡ª shadow and light.

    Smoky¡¯s core burned bright. The pools of blood beneath boiled and steamed; red mist surged into the air as goops of hemorrhaging blood clots flopped unceremoniously across the cracked tile floor.

    The thrombi slithered, then reconnected.

    Smoky¡¯s head flowed upon the burbling river of blood; his paw too.

    Then, from bubbles of blood, spires of red liquid rose from the pool. It spanned across the air, from Smoky¡¯s body to his head, before it merged with the others.

    Slowly, Smoky¡¯s body was put back together again; his torn muscles and sliced apart skin healed, the scars vanished, and from just above his core ¡ª his heart beat.

    Holy shit¡­ Erin watched in awe.

    Although he had been the one to enact it, resurrection ¡ª or whatever the hell had just happened ¡ª was a sight Erin was not prepared for.

    Before he even knew what he had done, Smoky stood before him again.

    The behemoth squirrel trudged across his arena and reclaimed his cracked golden acorn. Then, Smoky leaped into the air. He jammed the giant acorn into the ceiling once more and then returned to the arena¡¯s floor; where he laid on the cracked tile and promptly succumbed to sleep.

    Meanwhile, Erin¡¯s vision faded. The light which penetrated his eyes dimmed; his connection to mana was no longer as intense as it had been.

    Is it exhaustion? Erin pondered.

    Perhaps from Smoky¡¯s resurrection, Erin¡¯s grasp on the world¡¯s mana lessened; as it did his own.

    Mana exhaustion had Erin even weaker, but how could Erin exhaust his mana when he pooled it from the world itself? Surely, Erin hadn¡¯t used that much in comparison.

    So what had happened?

    What exactly caused Erin to be so tired?

    He thought back to the adventurers.

    Adrenaline? Erin considered.

    Am I exhausted simply from stress? From the fear of the adventurers finding me?

    Something about the thought unnerved Erin, he didn¡¯t want to feel that way towards the adventurers¡­ but he did.

    And Erin had to accept it.

    He was scared.

    Scared of what people might do to him if they found him. And again, although Erin couldn¡¯t explain it, he knew.

    He knew the human¡¯s would experiment upon him, would take away his freedom, enslave him, hurt him.

    Visions scattered around Erin¡¯s mind: men in white lab coats, scalpels and needles, syringes and gauze¡­ and pain.

    Eternal and unyielding pain.

    Of course, in his visions, Erin saw good too. He saw ice cream at the park and ducks at the pond, but for some reason those memories were fleeting.

    They seemed¡­

    Further away. Erin thought.

    Erin didn¡¯t want to hate humans.

    He didn¡¯t hate humans.

    But maybe I have to? Erin thought.

    To survive¡­

    Or at the very least.

    I can¡¯t show mercy. Erin decided.

    Not anymore.

    With the death of his compatriot, and thus his resurrection, Erin¡¯s tone of mind shifted. It was about time for him to get serious. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    As a result, Erin compiled a list of things he needed to get done.

    At the top of the list ¡ª make his dungeon a living nightmare.

    ***

    Kuzo and Hyzen returned a day early.

    During their travel, Hyzen copied his notes; a gift to the Duke and a thank you for sending Kuzo instead of one of his other, less-approachable mutts.

    By dusk, Kuzo returned to the Moor castle.

    He pervaded through the castle¡¯s corridors and hallways before he arrived at the Duke¡¯s main office.

    Kuzo entered and gave the Duke his report; in addition to Hyzen¡¯s notes.

    Duke Moor paid close attention.

    ¡°You did good.¡± The Duke said after a long streak of contemplation. ¡°How sure are you that someone was there before you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not very sure at all, sire.¡± Kuzo replied.

    ¡°Oh? Elaborate.¡±

    ¡°There were no footsteps; not in the dungeon or on the beach, nor on the way up the mountain. The two abandoned vessels still contained their rations and emergency funds, and the mana enhanced acorns in front of the dungeon ¡ª the bowl was still full. Any adventurer from one of our local Guild¡¯s would have looted the fourth born¡¯s men and ransacked the acorns, just as the fourth born¡¯s boy had done. Yet the dungeon¡¯s first floor was cleared¡­ separate its Boss.¡±

    The Duke scratched his chin.

    ¡°The only adventurers who wouldn¡¯t loot are high-ranking ones¡­ but if they were high-ranking, why wouldn¡¯t they clear the first floor?¡± Kuzo continued.

    ¡°If they were in a rush?¡± The Duke said.

    Kuzo¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°You think they sensed us, sire?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s possible, but there exist alternatives.¡±

    The Duke paused.

    ¡°Did Hyzen tell you what rank he¡¯d report the dungeon as?¡±

    Kuzo nodded.

    ¡°Yes sire, he said he would suggest B-rank.¡±

    ¡°B-rank?¡± The Duke raised his brows.

    That was remarkably high for a first floor evaluation.

    Kuzo noticed the Duke¡¯s reaction and offered his input.

    ¡°The first floor was not B-rank; rather, Hyzen felt it had the potential to quickly reach the B-rank threshold. He believes even before its tenth floor.¡±

    ¡°A new dungeon starting at B-rank¡­ and unique to top it all off. How could the Empire have overlooked it?¡± The Duke racked his brain.

    There were too many questions surrounding this dungeon. In his gut, the Duke knew to stay away; from the Empire¡¯s property, from the unique dungeon ¡ª but the merits probable were exquisitely vast.

    Unique dungeons, regardless of their rank, consistently withheld the most worthwhile of treasures. Why?

    Because unique dungeon¡¯s formed as a result of a change in their inner-workings of mana. In other words, unique dungeons mold, create, and infuse mana into the world in ways no other dungeon could mimic.

    Loot from unique dungeon¡¯s are one of a kind; the manacorns, for example.

    Their abilities and their enhancements are those that push the magical world forward because they inherently do something different from the rest; and where human experimentation consistently fails ¡ª the dungeon¡¯s consistently succeed.

    But is the timing even appropriate? The Duke thought.

    Does the Moor Dukedom have the resources to invest in something like this? An across the sea dungeon raid?

    Even worse, under the nose of the Empire?

    The Duke paused and considered his pieces.

    Was there any way for him to stake claim to the dungeon?

    ¡°The galleon¡¯s wreckage?¡± The Duke spoke. ¡°How far gone was it?¡±

    ¡°Strips of cloth and tattered boards, sire.¡±

    That could work¡­ Duke Moor thought.

    ¡°Kuzo, get me Bram.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire!¡±

    ***

    First, Erin needed more animals.

    Since creating flesh and blood from mere mana was not an option, Erin¡¯s only solution was to herd the animals already local to his dungeon.

    For example, Erin noticed that bats lived on the backside of his mountain. There were also the pelicans and the urchins that lived along the shore.

    Ants, beetles, dragonflies, starfish, rabbits, and of course, the worms that squirmed underneath the soil.

    Erin noticed a few other species of life that lingered around, but they were lone instances; most likely predators that traversed alone and frequented Erin¡¯s sphere of influence.

    And I need pairs of everything¡­ Erin could not forget.

    With these beasts in mind, however, Erin got to work.

    He decided upon bats; not only were they mammals ¡ª like squirrels ¡ª but they also paired nicely with Smoky¡¯s black fur coat.

    One might be convinced to go with rabbits as they certainly looked the most like squirrels, but Erin had to consider his available space too. Since the first floor of his dungeon was already about as large as he could make it, Erin needed some other place to herd his new species.

    Since the second floor was the only readily available space, the bats that will inhabit the first must be born on the second. In doing so, Erin must also ensure that the bats have an available path from the second to the first; one that the adventurers could not take themselves and that did not impede the bats.

    It is due to this requirement alone that Erin felt that the bats were superior to the rabbits; as the bats could fly.

    First, however, he needed to catch them.

    Erin snapped his attention to the rear-peaks of the mountains above him. A short mountainous cave appeared; on the ceiling, the bats hung.

    They were small, only about a hand''s length, and their head¡¯s were covered in thick, black fur. Their wings wrapped around them, tucked tightly in an effort to resist the bite of the cold mountaintops.

    The bats had black eyes, small hands, and short snouts.

    Erin¡¯s gaze sifted through the bats, he searched for the thickest one.

    His attention stopped. Erin had found him; a bat that triumphed over his brethren ¡ª twice the size ¡ª with fangs that hung from his lips and talons that decorated his nails.

    Then, Erin willed his mana. The invisible tendrils of pure energy moved unseen through the air; it slithered underneath the bat¡¯s skin and coursed into the small mammal¡¯s heart as a core had not yet been formed.

    Erin¡¯s first obstacle.

    So he narrowed his scope of attention. Erin directed his stream of mana slightly ajar from the bat¡¯s heart ¡ª underneath it ¡ª then focused on pooling it together.

    The mana surged, it spiraled over and unto itself. It formed the shape of a ball and condensed. After a few minutes, the mana grew physical and a black core formed within the bat.

    As more mana flowed into the bat¡¯s lightless core, color surged and sparks of light, like solar systems, grew into being. The sparks collided, explosions of energy burst in sequence as the bat¡¯s fresh core came to life.

    The core intertwined itself with the bat¡¯s flesh. It surged with mana that spread throughout the bat¡¯s being, strengthening and enhancing its already prevalent features.

    But with the core developed, and Erin¡¯s imprint left upon it, he set out to further evolve his newly acquired pet.

    Bigger! Erin thought.

    Always bigger!

    The bat¡¯s flesh expanded. Its little arms protruded out, muscles encircled its flesh while tendons snapped together. Then, its teeth lengthened and its skull widened.

    The bat underwent a metamorphosis.

    It grew to the size of a toddler, but much wider and thicker than any human child could hope to achieve.

    The bat walked on its forearms, like a gorilla, and its once thin, rubbery wings transformed to that of steel: hard, resistant, and metallic.

    The bat''s fangs hung below its chin and its eyes sparked with newfound vision; deep red irises hid behind a veil of dark sclera.

    The bat beast plopped onto the cave floor. It pranced around the darkness and stretched its newly formed features.

    Then, the bat felt something click within its brain; a calling, a command ¡ª something willed the bat down the mountain¡¯s rocky slope towards the beach¡¯s shores.

    Shortly after, whilst the beast bat traveled to his dungeon, Erin scouted the others in search of a mate.

    Naturally, Erin searched for the biggest female bat there was. Once he found her, Erin enacted similar changes: bigger body, bigger arms, bigger teeth, and most importantly, red eyes.

    The eyes were special because they translated light itself; meaning, the bats were capable of sight in pitch darkness and in brilliant light, an important aspect for what Erin had in mind for his second floor.

    In addition to the basic evolutions, Erin also added minute details to his bats; strips of gold fur grew around their ears and down their spine. He gave the males wider ears and the females darker claws. Erin also made the female¡¯s slightly smaller than their male counterparts, not by much, but by enough to notice.

    While the two bats-

    Bat-Apes! Erin corrected.

    While the two Bat-Apes traveled down the mountain, Erin began construction of his second floor.

    First, he emptied the space beneath the Acorn Halls; he willed the stone to become thin and brittle ¡ª into dust ¡ª then conjured a breeze to sweep it yonder.

    With the second floor hollow, Erin cut crevices into the earth. He created extremely long, thin ravines that disappeared into the depths below.

    The ravines littered the floor, any misstep could spell certain doom as Erin erected spikes and blades between the pitfalls.

    The ravines themselves, however, were too simple. Erin needed to complicate his second floor; he needed the adventurers to spend a lot of time down there.

    He needed them to get lost down there.

    Erin overlapped many ravines. He stretched some of them into canyons and added walls around them; by day¡¯s end, a ravenous maze had taken shape.

    Alongside every step of the maze, ravines and canyons coddled the path; one step away from perilous death, one step away from disappearing into the void.

    At the bottom of the crevices, the ravines connected and formed one, massive canyon. This canyon was where Erin planned to herd his bats.

    They would colonize the depths of the second floor, surviving in utter darkness, multiplying like fiends, until the second floor was overrun with them. They''d scour the depths of the crevices with the aid of their ravenous, iron-clad claws.

    In the dark, they¡¯d be predators; and from the depths, they''d latch onto adventurer¡¯s limbs and ankles and drag them down into the treacherous void.

    And if the unlucky adventurer¡¯s in question survived the fall ¡ª they¡¯d be thrown into a festering nest of Bat-Apes; never to be seen by the light again.

    After a few days of work, the second floor¡¯s rough draft was complete; the canyon was formed, the crevices split the earth, and the maze was coming along smoothly.

    For light, Erin found it in the form of algae. First, he copied the algae that grew among the coral reef.

    He layered it throughout the second floor, near the corners of cliffs and along particularly daunting pathways; he made them glow green-blue, just light enough to see rough silhouettes in the distant dark.

    At the end of the second floor, Erin constructed a bridge of stone. The bridge led nowhere yet, but Erin would find a purpose for it soon.

    During this time, Erin also revisited the first floor. He trapified it to the gills and spread his Bat-Apes throughout its corridors.

    With the traps, however, a new issue presented itself; how exactly to automate and replenish them?

    For example, Erin could create a simple arrow trap. He could link it to a tripwire and forge it so that when someone pulled the wire, an arrow was fired; but what about the second person, or an hour after, a day after?

    Erin needed to consolidate his workings of mana, he needed to compute it, so that he could spit it back out in a pre-functioning form.

    Erin needed to devise runes.

    Or do I? Erin thought.

    In the first corridor of the first floor, Erin created an arrow trap. He drew wires underneath the tile and linked them to specific pieces. Then, hidden behind the dungeon¡¯s walls, Erin created a rotary for the arrows: an automatic-arrow-loading-system, if you will.

    At the base of the arrow rotary, Erin enacted his will.

    Form a steel tipped arrow when this space is vacant.

    The mana reacted to his pleas.

    It stuck to the stone like ink and formed miraculous geometric patterns, all inner-linking, until the final stroke was set and an arrow birthed into form.

    The rotary spun and the arrow docked.

    Then, another arrow formed.

    The rotary spun.

    Luckily, when the rotary met its max capacity, the mana stopped forming arrows and the complex geometric patterns dulled; a sign that mana no longer flowed through them.

    With that success, Erin expanded. He added more traps to the first floor, some more dangerous than others.

    Then, Erin continued onto the second.

    He constructed a rune array to reconstruct the stone bridge an hour after its collapse. Erin also created a slew of stalactite traps that would hopefully fall from the ceiling and impale whomever was below them.

    By the time Erin felt satisfied with his second floor, two weeks had passed. The first generation of Bat-Apes had been born and were already proliferating the second floor.

    The traps all worked automatically; Erin had tested them.

    Moreover, Erin also decided to move the manacorns further within the dungeon; post the first floor Boss, Smoky.

    Erin designated them as a sort of ¡®drop¡¯ for defeating the first floor. Erin wasn¡¯t sure where he had learned the term from, but it felt eerily appropriate nonetheless.

    The way it worked was simple; Erin created a podium at the back end of Smoky¡¯s Boss Room. There, beside the gated exit, Erin placed a single manacorn.

    In addition, Erin formed a rune underneath the podium''s base.

    When Smoky is vanquished, replenish the manacorn and lift the gate.

    Meanwhile, on the edge of the horizon across the sea, a galleon appeared. It cut through the sea with a trajectory set for Erin¡¯s shores.

    In an instant, Erin felt their mana cross into his sphere of influence. He snapped his attention to the open sea, then upon the deck of the ship.

    ¡°Are we sure this is a good idea?¡± Fourth born, Bram asked.

    Kuzo stood beside him. The two men overlooked the sea. Their eyes were glued to the horizon. They stared at the approaching land, at Erin¡¯s shores and at the coral lagoon that surrounded him.

    ¡°Good or not. You¡¯ve been granted another chance. If I were you, I¡¯d do everything in my power to seize this opportunity.¡± Kuzo said.

 vii. C-Rank?!!

    A man in knight''s garb ¡ª pieced of gold metal and strips of black fabric ¡ª burst through overarching doors into a compound that was reminiscent of war; men and women adorned in posh, medieval-style armaments hurried around a square room constructed of clay brick.

    In the center of the room stretched a long, wooden table. More men and women sat sprawled around the table; many of whom hurriedly scribbled upon scrolls whilst stealing glances around the room.

    All around the walls of the room, maps and routes littered the space. Depicted across the maps, arrows directed to and fro¡¯ ¡ª and atop each arrow sat distinct emblems.

    One emblem triumphed above all the others in the compound, however; the emblem of the five-pointed-crown. The crown was golden with black gems adorned beneath each of its spires and, behind the crown, the emblem¡¯s background bled scarlet.

    ¡°Minister!¡± The knight who burst into the compound rushed towards a man who stood beyond the ruckus.

    The Minister turned towards the knight, revealing his face: blonde and steel-eyed, sharp featured, short hair with a thin nose. He was aged, but not gray; not yet.

    ¡°Minister! I present a letter from Duke Moor of the Kingdoms!¡± The knight bowed and stuck his arms forward with scroll in-hand.

    The Minister unfurled the scroll.

    ¡°Duke Moor?¡± The Minister¡¯s deep voice reverberated through the box-like compound.

    His steely-emerald eyes razed through the Duke¡¯s letter; at its end, the Minister¡¯s eyebrows rose.

    ¡°Shipwrecked?¡± He muttered.

    ¡°Oxford ¡ª dispatch a regiment of the Scout¡¯s to the North-Eastern border, to the monoliths. Duke Moor¡¯s son appears to be shipwrecked there; attempt to rescue him, but more importantly, discover his father¡¯s intentions; and report back to me by month¡¯s end.¡±

    A knight posted along the compound¡¯s walls stepped forward. He saluted the Minister and departed without a word.

    Still in the compound, the Minister gestured for one of the scholars beside the center table to approach.

    ¡°What do you make of this?¡± The Minister¡¯s voice bellowed into the scholar¡¯s ears.

    The scholar read the Duke¡¯s letter.

    ¡°It certainly is odd.¡± The scholar adjusted his glasses.

    ¡°The Duke wants to drive us North-East, but why? There¡¯s nothing of value along that coast.¡±

    ¡°Could it be a trap?¡± The Minister asked.

    ¡°A trap?¡± The scholar thought for a moment, ¡°No. Duke Moor is undergoing a succession. The last thing he¡¯d want is war.¡±

    ¡°Then why send us there? The Kingdoms have ships too. Do they not?¡± The Minister sneered.

    ¡°Perhaps we¡¯re meant to discover something?¡± The scholar theorized. ¡°And if not ¡ª we can still demand compensation for our troubles.¡±

    The Minister didn¡¯t reply. Instead, his sharp, emerald eyes returned to the central map depicted behind him. There, the entire continent of the West lay sprawled; with the Empire¡¯s grasp domineering over half of its breadth.

    In the top right corner of the map, rocky spires spread along the coast; it was the tip of the Western continent, where the coral erupted from the sea like the mountains above them.

    A difficult place to navigate to in the sea and an even further distance from the Empire¡¯s nearest city. By carriage, the Minister gandered it would take over a month of travel to arrive.

    That was why he had sent the Scouts; they were fast, after all.

    They traveled light; the Empire¡¯s reconnaissance division.

    With them, they could reach the shores in two weeks.

    Now, all the Minister had to do was wait.

    ***

    Erin watched the two ships anchor along his shores, but it¡¯s what happened next that left him utterly baffled.

    The man who had entered his dungeon prior, Kuzo ¡ª from what Erin had gathered whilst eavesdropping ¡ª split the two ships in half; literally.

    He unsheathed his blade, his broadsword, then held it in the air above him. He muttered something to himself, a chant, an incantation, one-or-the-other; then his sword magnified.

    The steel stretched into the air, longer and taller than the width of the two ships.

    Kuzo¡¯s arm struck down in a rapid burst of speed. Like an execution, his sword severed the two ships.

    It took only a few minutes for the ships to sink into the sea where the unruly tide ravaged their form and picked them apart ¡ª piece by piece ¡ª until no more than loose planks and torn cloth remained.

    Like the first galleon, any trace of the two ships would be gone by dusk.

    By nightfall, the group of twenty men and three women made camp. They set up tents around the lagoon, brought firewood from the oak forest behind, and were proven successful fishermen as they had quickly caught enough to eat their fill that night.

    During this process, Erin watched closely.

    He meticulously took note of the details provided by the camp: the seasonings used, the tents, the craftsmanship of the blankets, pillows, slippers, etc.

    For this excursion, the women proved more than helpful; they carried makeup, lotions and pastes, and tools unfamiliar to Erin¡¯s fictitious eyes.

    In addition to mundane stalking, Erin also discovered a rare piece of intellect amongst the campers; a grimoire.

    A book of magic.

    Of spells.

    Of the properties of mana and whatnot.

    The grimoire was, unfortunately, very basic.

    An Introduction to the Process of Molding Flame. Erin read.

    A beginners guide to fire magic, in other words: Fire 101.

    Although not strictly useful, as conjuring flame did not prove difficult for Erin, the grimoire did provide Erin with a rough understanding of what society had unearthed about mana.

    Or their interpretation of it, at the very least.

    And from what Erin could glean¡­

    It¡¯s useless. He remarked.

    Nothing but hodgepodge; details that described the process of mana and how it interacted with the human body ¡ª with the human¡¯s core ¡ª and with the mana veins their core provided. A piece of the puzzle that Erin simply did not utilize: mana veins.

    As such, the grimoires of man proved useless for Erin. They were but a manipulation of mana beneath what Erin could accomplish with his own will.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    On the second day of the camper¡¯s self-made-abandonment, Kuzo led a small group up the mountain to the dungeon''s entrance.

    Kuzo brought along Bram, the fourth born, and three other men.

    They stopped just shy of Erin¡¯s entrance, where the manacorns used to be presented. Kuzo made note of the change before the party of five delved into the dungeon¡¯s depths.

    They followed Kuzo¡¯s lead and rushed through the seemingly untouched cavern that led to the Acorn Halls¡¯ first corridor.

    As they approached, they heard the grunts and sniffles of the beasts ahead.

    Kuzo shot his arm out and the party halted.

    He removed a mirror from his breast pocket and gently pushed it into the dungeon¡¯s corridor, in order to glean at the occupants further within.

    Four Bat-Apes patrolled the illustrious, acorn-themed hallway. They pandered around the corridor with their heads just shy of waist-level.

    Their behemoth arms protruded out of them and, as they lurched around, their knuckles scraped across the acorn engravings embedded into the floor.

    Kuzo pointed at Bram.

    The fourth born son turned the corner. He shook his fist as if he held dice.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Cluster Bomb.¡±

    Just as Bram recited the spell, three orbs of wind appeared in his balled fist.

    He threw the orbs forward.

    The first orb hit the ground-

    *BOOM*

    It exploded into three more-

    *BOOM*

    That exploded into three more.

    Small holes littered the dungeon hall. The ceiling dripped blood.

    The Bat-Ape¡¯s form was razed and hollow.

    Tiny holes penetrated every inch of their black flesh and from each hole a stream of thick blood oozed onto the floor and into its crevices.

    Kuzo and the rest stepped into the hallway.

    One of the Bat-Apes twitched, but before a second could successfully pass ¡ª Kuzo¡¯s sword beheaded the beast.

    Then, he flicked the blood off of his blade.

    ¡°There should be a fountain up ahead.¡± Kuzo said.

    He took a step forward.

    *clink*

    The acorn-tile sank an inch into the floor.

    In the next second, a barrage of arrows exploded from the corridor¡¯s walls.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Revolving Dome!¡± Bram shouted.

    He slapped his open palms together and, from his enclosed hands, a burst of wind spiraled outward.

    The wind ruffled Bram¡¯s cloak as it expanded around him.

    It took shape, thickened, then exploded.

    The arrows all but reflected off of the wind. They ricocheted around the corridor and slammed into the stone tile, but not before claiming one victim.

    One of the men, large, burly ¡ª he carried an ax and a wide shield ¡ª an arrow cut into the back of his hamstring.

    He kneeled onto the ground; his ligaments torn.

    He leaned into his ax as he tried to lift his large body, but to no success; blood continued to pool around him.

    ¡°Nobody move!¡± Kuzo shouted.

    But to no avail.

    Another man ¡ª short and hairy, pot bellied and pig-nosed ¡ª ran to his brother¡¯s aid. He stormed across the corridor.

    *clink*

    His foot sank into the tile.

    Another volley of arrows burst from the walls.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Bram dropped to the floor.

    Kuzo followed.

    An arrow slammed into the ear of the kneeling giant; his body hit the ground shortly thereafter.

    Another arrow pierced the neck of his foolish brother; his body lunged forward from his momentum and slammed into the ground ¡ª his neck snapped backwards.

    Two men dead.

    Three alive.

    The third man crept along the edge of the wall; his thin frame worked in his favor as he hugged the mosaics and miraculously escaped the kiss of the arrowheads.

    ¡°You said there were no traps!¡± The man shouted.

    ¡°I said remain vigilant too!¡± Kuzo fired back.

    ¡°Now follow me.¡± Kuzo readied his sword.

    With his blade¡¯s edge, Kuzo gently tapped the surface of each tile. When a tile moved ajar ¡ª it was a trap. Simple.

    Quickly thereafter, they exited the corridor and stumbled upon the open hall with a fountain in its center.

    In the two rooms adjacent, Bat-Apes flooded out.

    More than ten of the beasts rushed towards the group of three.

    Kuzo held his sword. Bram incanted a spell, and the third man steadied his crossbow.

    Kuzo dashed ahead. With his blade held low, he swiped skyward in a beautiful arc. The arc burned brilliant ¡ª a reflection left in its wake.

    Kuzo slipped through the Bat-Ape¡¯s heavy claws; he narrowly dodged their ruthless attacks and took advantage of every glaring opportunity the beasts provided him.

    Kuzo¡¯s sword blurred. It severed an arm, a leg, nails, ears, heads.

    Blood dripped from his sword''s edge.

    Meanwhile, Bram conjured the winds.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Vacuum Sphere!¡±

    An orb of wind lifted off of Bram¡¯s fingertips. The orb was large ¡ª it barely fit within Bram¡¯s palm.

    Bram rocketed the Vacuum Sphere across the room. It tore through the chest of one Bat-Ape, eviscerating its insides ¡ª mincing its flesh into paste ¡ª then exploded upon the form of another beast.

    Mangled body parts ricocheted thereafter.

    Blood splattered along the columns and seeped into the fountain.

    The third man fired an arrow. Then, he charged ahead with his dual daggers in-hand; he grappled one Bat-Ape, pinned it to the ground, and succinctly slit its throat.

    Saddled atop the beast, he reversed his grip on his dagger ¡ª he held the blade¡¯s tip ¡ª then flung the blade across the room where it then slid into the carotid artery of the last standing beast.

    *thud*

    The Bat-Ape¡¯s body hit the tile.

    *tick*

    *tick*

    In the silence that followed the slaughter, a faint tick repeated alongside a smell that reminisced of rotten eggs.

    *tick*

    ¡°Get to the fountain!!¡± Kuzo yelled.

    Then.

    *BOOM*

    Fire erupted throughout the Acorn Halls. An implosion of gasoline, a sonic wave shook the columns and sloshed the adventurers'' organs.

    Kuzo had made it to the fountain; his body sank beneath its water.

    Bram too; he propelled himself across the hall with a gust of wind and crashed into the fountain.

    The third man, however; he burned ablaze.

    ¡°AAAHHHH!!¡± His screams echoed throughout the halls.

    Fire clung to his flesh. His clothes burned. His hair readily turned to ash.

    ¡°HELP MEEEE!!!!¡±

    His vocal chords melted. They drooped along the floor, no more than mush, all while blood clogged his esophagus and fire ate at his eyes.

    ¡­

    Minutes passed as the embers burned and the flames flickered off of his remains. In the meantime, Kuzo and Bram held their breaths underwater.

    After a hundred counts, they breached the surface and returned to the air.

    The air was thick with smoke and a nasty odor. Burnt carbon scratched at their nostrils and the rotten smell of singed hair tugged at their gag reflexes.

    ¡°What the FUCK was that?!!¡± Bram exploded.

    He splashed the water around; he kicked and screamed.

    Kuzo, meanwhile, wiped the water from his face.

    ¡°An ignition trap¡­¡± Kuzo muttered, ¡°but what set it off?¡±

    His brown eyes scanned the Acorn Halls. He saw the charred corpses of the Bat-Apes, their flesh molded in bark. What he didn¡¯t see, though, was a mechanism.

    Some way to activate the ignition trap.

    Kuzo and Bram dragged their wet self¡¯s out of the fountain. As puddles dripped onto the floor, they discussed their circumstance.

    ¡°The Floor Boss is just down this corridor.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°A goliath squirrel attuned to the shadows. Be careful of the acorn embedded in the ceiling, it¡¯s his weapon.¡± Kuzo noted.

    Bram, on the other hand, spent some time fixing his white hair. He squeezed out the liquid from his coat and dumped the water out of his boots.

    ¡°What rank were those three?¡± Bram asked.

    ¡°The men?¡± Kuzo replied. ¡°Gold. They¡¯re the most readily available along the ports.¡±

    Bram looked at the charred human corpse on the ground; then, at the Bat-Apes around.

    ¡°The Gold¡¯s didn¡¯t stand a chance¡­ I thought Hyzen¡¯s report said this dungeon was C-rank.¡± Bram said.

    ¡°The Guild refused his previous B-rank recommendation; according to their requirements, a dungeon¡¯s inhabitants must exhibit mana-enhanced capabilities to qualify for B-rank.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°What?!!!¡± Bram shouted, again.

    ¡°But the fire trap-¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t use mana.¡± Kuzo interrupted.

    He pointed towards his nose.

    ¡°What?¡± Bram complained.

    ¡°You can smell it you fool!¡± Kuzo barked.

    ¡°The dungeon used gasoline, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Where the fuck did it learn about gasoline?!!¡± Bram shouted once more for good measure.

    ¡°Would you shut up!!¡± Kuzo fired back.

    ¡°Let¡¯s fell the Boss quickly and inspect the second floor¡¯s entrance ¡ª we¡¯ll return thereafter.¡± Said Kuzo.

    ¡°And hopefully bring along someone more useful next time¡­¡± Bram said under his breath as he eyed the corpses of embers beneath him.

    ***

    At the end of the day, Kuzo slayed Smoky; skewered him, actually.

    By the time Smoky¡¯s heartbeat quit its drum, Kuzo discovered the podium and the manacorn.

    *click*

    Something unlocked from beyond the dungeon¡¯s walls. Then, the metal bars rose into the ceiling.

    A stairway revealed itself; it descended in a spiral.

    For more than ten minutes, Kuzo and Bram walked in circles ¡ª in the dark.

    Bram fell, twice.

    At the end of the staircase, turquoise light welcomed them. They were spit out into an enclave with algae blooming all around ¡ª from the ceiling above to the underside of the cliffs beyond.

    From the hanging stalactites, water dribbled onto the floor. It grew a small stream; one that led out of the enclave and off of the cliff ¡ª into the void.

    The algae, meanwhile, barely lit their surroundings. Kuzo and Bram could see the floor beneath them, as that was where the algae grew, but the walls and their surroundings ¡ª the colors were unaware.

    The world was shrouded in darkness: colorless and absent.

    Kuzo led. He stepped out from the light and into the dark. He followed the stream of water out of the enclave.

    The path before him, however, never expanded.

    It remained a single, thin pathway.

    Two shoulders¡¯ in width, the area was narrow.

    To the left, the floor retreated entirely; it disappeared underneath the guise of shadow, a pit potentially bottomless.

    Kuzo looked left and then right, but walls marred his vision.

    All he could see was the luminous algae behind him and the limitless fall beside him.

    Kuzo took another step into the dark, but then froze.

    From the corner of his eye, Kuzo saw something move.

    A figure in the dark.

    A shadow reincarnate.

    Kuzo drew his sword. As the blade slid from its sheath, a crisp ¡®shing¡¯ accompanied it.

    The subtle glow of the algae reflected off of the silver; Kuzo¡¯s sword burned teal.

    He steadied his breath and narrowed his eye.

    Now! Kuzo swung.

    His sword snapped across the air and slammed against the ground, but before it did so, it split a wrist in two.

    A Bat-Ape that clung to the underside of the cliff reached overhead.

    Kuzo¡¯s sword was too swift; however.

    His blade intercepted the Bat-Ape¡¯s meaty wrist.

    ¡°REEEEE!!¡± The Bat-Ape howled.

    Its severed arm retreated over the cliff ¡ª into the void ¡ª and out of sight.

    A puddle of blood laid on the path, the only remnants of the beast¡¯s existence.

    After that, the duo retreated to the surface.

    And Erin began to make more changes.

 viii. Near Celestial

    On the first delve, the dungeon claimed three lives.

    Kuzo and Bram returned empty-handed.

    They slept through the night; the waves kept them company.

    On the second delve, Kuzo and Bram entered with three more men.

    They returned with one, but with their sacrifices Kuzo and Bram explored even more of the second floor.

    They meandered through thin pathways all whilst thick black arms lunged at their legs.

    Kuzo walked with his sword drawn; it sailed through the air at the ankle-biters beneath him.

    Bram, meanwhile, clung to Kuzo¡¯s back like a wet dog.

    And the third man ¡ª well ¡ª he survived didn¡¯t he? A few toes were lost in the process, sure, but alive nonetheless.

    Their party of three made it about a quarter way through the second floor.

    On the third delve, and thus the third day, they made it halfway through the second floor.

    It was then that Erin started to panic.

    They¡¯re advancing way too fast!! He thought.

    So he returned his attention to the mountain¡¯s peak where the bat¡¯s originated from.

    His presence slithered through their ranks: studying, analyzing, inspecting.

    Erin found two bats that he liked; he poured his mana into them, forged their cores, and directed them to his dungeon.

    On the fourth night, whilst Kuzo and the others slept, the two bats slipped into the dungeon unnoticed.

    They flew straight into the depths of the second floor, into the canyon, where they underwent a transformation.

    Unlike almost all other instances, Erin did not make these bats bigger; rather, he made them faster.

    Erin spent a lot of time focused on the bat¡¯s pelt; he wanted them to glide through the air like oil in water: slippery, illusive, almost impossibly so.

    But how does one do that?

    Within the air, a multitude of elements existed: various gasses that each weighed a different amount, each rose and fell a different amount, each responded to temperature a different amount.

    Erin¡¯s logical brain could not find a solution.

    His core could though.

    The mana in the air, in response to his will ¡ª his desire ¡ª was able to accomplish it.

    The bat¡¯s pelt darkened; more than black, as if their fur itself absorbed the light.

    It cast a shadow-effect on the bats; their visage twisted into something darker, as even in the light they remained among the shadow.

    In addition to their rapt change in color, their fur also grew greasy. From the bat¡¯s pores, miniscopic driblets of a mucus-like-substance started to fall.

    Slippery to the touch, Erin was confident no net or cage could entrap these bats. From there, Erin provided them with the appropriate tools for slaughter.

    He sharpened their wings and extended their reach. With wider wingspans, Erin hoped to grant the bat¡¯s more aerial mobility; he envisioned them cutting through the wind, using large bursts of air to quickly maneuver around his dungeon.

    Along the edges of their wings, Erin formed a single, elongated talon. The talon mirrored silver; it was sharp, reflective, and deadly.

    But Erin wanted more.

    He directed his attention to the coral reefs. There, he searched for the sea urchins.

    He slid his mana into one; then another.

    Erin¡¯s mana coursed through their blood, their limbs, and their being. Inside and out, Erin studied the sea critters.

    In no time at all, he retreated back to his dungeon ¡ª to the venomous bats to be.

    Erin sharpened their fangs, but more importantly, he developed a second-hand pedicellaria just behind the bat¡¯s fangs.

    The pedicellariae, or the part of the sea urchin that produces venom, was the perfect fit for Erin¡¯s new species. The venom acted slow, with a life cycle of twenty-four hours.

    In the first four hours, numbness assaulted the victim.

    First their finger-tips and toes, then their wrists, their joints, and by the time the numbness grew concerning, the pain would flare.

    After four hours ¡ª the hot zone ¡ª the venom ignited within the victim, it attacked their nervous system, much like the sensation of burning alive; it started in the hands, but very quickly spread to the victim¡¯s chest.

    Although no real harm befalled the victim until this point, the pain would certainly be excruciating; and if the unlucky victim was still alive after twenty hours, only hell awaited them.

    Erosion; or disintegration.

    The nerves themselves, after prolonged torture, would begin to erode.

    Erin couldn¡¯t even imagine what that would feel like.

    There was an antidote; of course, Erin wasn¡¯t a sadist.

    He even made the antidote fairly abundant; it practically lined the second floor.

    The antidote for the bat¡¯s venom grew within the floor¡¯s algae ¡ª but the algae could not be consumed raw ¡ª no ¡ª that would be too simple.

    Instead, Erin concocted a simple rune around the inner-ring of the first floor¡¯s fountain. As such, new patterns emerged upon the fountain: ancient, geometric, all-connected.

    To purify the algae, it could be dipped into the water found on the first floor. When dipped, the water would shine and the once turquoise algae would instead ignite orange ¡ª an indication that the antidote had been activated.

    The goal of the venom and the antidote, much like the cat and the mouse, was to entrap the adventurers in an endless loop.

    Erin hoped that these changes would slow down the adventurer¡¯s descent, which would allot him more time to experiment with his mana

    In addition to the new bats, Erin also began to work on his dungeon ecosystems; thus far, the second floor was populated with Bat-Apes, the new bats, the algae, and water. From there, Erin invited bugs and flora.

    Along the canyon¡¯s riverbed, Erin formed a miniature stream of water ¡ª about a foot deep. He stole some of the moss from the coral bed along the shores. He invited some translucent, tiny shrimp too ¡ª but in order for this to happen ¡ª Erin first had to dig a tunnel from his dungeon to the sea.

    The tunnel was small ¡ª for now ¡ª just large enough to pass a cannonball through.

    Erin also planted some weeds along the canyon; he selected a berry bush from the surface and modified it to produce mist, effectively moistening the bottom of the canyon whilst simultaneously obscuring its presence.

    Worms, dragon-flys, spiders, two species of lizard, one species of snake, and a bed of seaweed later; Erin finally moved onto other things.

    For example, throughout the week of constant raids, Erin discovered a feature among his dungeon that he had overlooked prior; what happened to the people who died?

    When the white haired man from long ago perished, Erin had fallen into a slumber immediately thereafter.

    Many times, in fact, Erin¡¯s ability to observe and learn from the world had been stripped of him due to spontaneous bouts of rest.

    Erin figured it was stress or adrenaline; something internal ¡ª within him ¡ª that caused the slumbers, but Erin no longer believed that.

    Instead, he thought it was a type of evolution.

    Erin had noticed that when humans died within his grounds their mana returned to the environment; it burst out of their limited bodies of flesh and converged with the tainted mana among the air ¡ª but before it faded entirely ¡ª Erin could direct it towards himself.

    Like a whirlpool, Erin directed the bursts of mana unto his core; and whenever Erin¡¯s core had absorbed enough mana ¡ª slumber struck him.

    If that¡¯s not an evolution, I don¡¯t know what is. Erin thought.

    From this realization, however, Erin had more to learn; did this effect apply to magic beasts, for example?

    To begin with, Erin excluded the beasts of his own modification. He believed that, since the beasts were molded from his mana, their mana would not so succinctly return to him upon their deaths ¡ª as Erin had to expend mana to create them, he did not think the dungeon would reward him with an infinite cycle of create and return. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    He tried it, of course.

    Or rather; he acutely observed the inner-workings of his mana upon Smoky¡¯s seventh death.

    Poor guy.

    And upon his seventh death, like the six others, when Smoky died his ambient mana retreated back into his core ¡ª the core Erin had manipulated to stimulate various forms of evolution.

    This occurred to all of the beasts within Erin¡¯s halls; when slaughtered their mana returned to their core¡¯s.

    But when the human¡¯s were slaughtered, however, their mana returned to the world.

    Moreover, if that happened to be within a dungeon, the mana instead flowed to the dungeon¡¯s core.

    Does this prevent humans from being resurrected? Erin thought.

    As in order to resurrect Smoky for the umpteenth time, Erin required his core and mana therein to be intact.

    An impossibility, at least from what Erin had seen, for humans.

    The Batarangs, meanwhile, (the new species of venomous bat) settled into the dungeon¡¯s second floor. Their first batch of offspring had been born and hopefully, by the next day¡¯s dawn, Erin could implement them into his dungeon.

    On the fifth day, however, Erin¡¯s dungeon was not raided. When the sun rose and cast its light upon the world, Erin cast his gaze towards the adventurer¡¯s camp.

    Kuzo stood alone in what appeared to be the camp¡¯s central-most tent. It was the largest tent amongst them and unlike the rest, a large table had been constructed within it.

    Kuzo stood over the table. He studied a map; a map of Erin¡¯s dungeon. It fully encapsulated Erin¡¯s first floor. The map included the type of enemy, the number, and the locations and details of all of his traps.

    For the second floor, however, there was much left to be discovered.

    The map of the second floor was incomplete; it resembled a maze, it had a slew of thin pathways that converged around one another, each a step away from plummeting into pitch blackness.

    Upon the map, Kuzo had marked each section of algae. He marked the deadends too and the pathways yet to be fully extinguished.

    There were three left; three pathways that hadn¡¯t been explored. One traveled east, one north, and one west.

    Thus far the maze of the second floor followed no preset pattern; Kuzo had already walked along the left and right sides respectively with his hands permanently stuck to each wall.

    The maze, unfortunately, proved too great; that was the only real reason they hadn¡¯t explored further, after all.

    Kuzo and Bram were simply lost. The beasts of the second floor, although deadly, were not so much for Kuzo and Bram.

    Kuzo¡¯s reaction time, regardless of light or dark, was too keen for the Bat-Apes. Some sixth sense seemed to guide him as he effortlessly side-stepped and beheaded Bat-Ape left and right.

    It was so severe, at one point, that Erin had to manually regrow many of the Bat-Ape¡¯s hands as they were often left with nothing more than stumps.

    In addition to Kuzo¡¯s intense deliberation over Erin¡¯s second floor, the day off more so manifested as thanks to Bram¡¯s request.

    Bram laid sprawled on the beach.

    He was shirtless on the sands and as he stretched, his core muscles glistened underneath the sunlight.

    His white shaggy hair was greasy and loose.

    His hands behind his head, Bram exhaled leisurely.

    Nobles. Erin scoffed.

    On the sixth day, Kuzo and Bram entered again ¡ª although with a woman this time.

    That¡¯s new. Erin noticed immediately.

    Not the woman part; Erin noticed that Kuzo and Bram entered with a woman ¡ª alone.

    For all other raids, apart from the initial inspection with Hyzen ¡ª Kuzo had entered with five people. Erin assumed it was tradition, simply the way adventurers adventured: in party¡¯s of five.

    Today, however, proved otherwise.

    The woman, meanwhile, was different.

    She wore gray robes with black boots. Her hands were covered in leather gloves and a hood guarded her face, but she was petite.

    She stood a head beneath Kuzo and even more underneath Bram. Luckily, Erin¡¯s senses transcended mere vision.

    He saw underneath the woman¡¯s hood; she had dark skin ¡ª not dark brown as was typical for southerner¡¯s ¡ª her skin was gray; the same as her robes.

    And her eyes¡­ Erin was lost in them.

    Violet.

    Indescribably, remarkably violet; near celestial.

    Erin directed his attention to the party¡¯s conversation. From eavesdropping, he discovered her name.

    Lyra. Erin said to himself.

    With Lyra in tow, the party of three quickly made it to the second floor; Smoky didn¡¯t stand a chance.

    Then, they stepped into the second floor¡¯s caverns and the air stilled; a tinge of wetness pervaded the area and a soft light buzzed from the corners of the enclave.

    Kuzo led. Then Bram. Lyra followed.

    Kuzo¡¯s sword was drawn; Bram¡¯s hands were raised; Lyra though ¡ª she continued nonchalant.

    She kept her hands in her robes, her head down.

    Erin looked closer.

    Her eyes are closed. He realized.

    Lyra moved through the dungeon without sight.

    Then, a howling shriek pierced the air and an arm exploded out from the dark.

    *shing*

    Kuzo¡¯s blade flew across the air and cut through bone.

    ¡°EEEEE!!!¡± The Bat-Ape wailed.

    Another claw burst from the darkness on the right. Without batting his eye, Kuzo pulled a throwing knife from his jacket and launched it towards the beast.

    The knife cracked against the Bat-Ape¡¯s skull and the beast rolled back, plunged into darkness.

    More Bat-Apes emerged. Bram casted a spell.

    The winds tore through the cavern, ruffling their clothes and assaulting Bram¡¯s hair; the wind blasted like a gale and slammed into the side of the pitfalls.

    The Bat-Ape¡¯s along the walls dug their nails into the stone, but the gale winds proved too ferocious.

    The Bat-Ape¡¯s fell into the abyss; their shrieks and howls echoed until void.

    For a few hours, scenes like this unraveled; Bat-Ape¡¯s attacked, but to no blaring success. In the same light, in the time that Erin observed the trio ¡ª Lyra hadn¡¯t made a single move.

    She never casted a spell or drew a weapon; she did nothing apart from follow Bram¡¯s back.

    Soon, though, the trio would arrive at the halfway point.

    There, the Batarangs would make their debut.

    ***

    ¡°The impasse is just ahead.¡± Kuzo¡¯s stern voice traveled far.

    ¡°Finally!¡± Bram commented. ¡°And here I thought we were lost again.¡±

    The trio approached an intersection within the underground maze. From their vantage point, three pathways emerged.

    They stood on a circular stone spire; all around them, the pit consumed. Three thin bridges of stone broke off from the stone center ¡ª explored-pathways-to-be.

    In the center of the spire, darkness engulfed them. Some algae grew along the ceiling, but for the most part, the trio stood in darkness.

    Kuzo turned towards Lyra.

    ¡°You¡¯re up.¡± He said.

    Finally, Lyra opened her eyes; she pulled her hands from her robes and with them, she pulled down her hood.

    Ears! Erin noticed immediately.

    Lyra¡¯s ears were long and pointed and bedazzled with silver rings.

    She was bald and along her smooth scalp, geometric runes covered her head and slid down her spine.

    Her irradiant eyes peered through the darkness. In fact, she easily spotted the three pathways, Erin watched as her eyes juggled between them.

    ¡°I sense mana from-¡± Lyra began.

    ¡°GET DOWN!!¡± Kuzo bellowed.

    He sprinted across the stone pillar and crashed into Lyra. The two slammed to the ground.

    Meanwhile, Bram recited an incantation.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Revolving Dome!¡±

    A stream of wind surged towards Bram and blew around him. From the eye of the storm, Bram poured his mana into the spell, further enhancing its strength.

    The winds tore at their robes.

    Bats, miniature little creatures, flew into the impasse and rushed towards the center spire.

    The Batarangs dove from the air like fighter pilots, and like kamikaze¡¯s, they crashed into the revolving winds unceremoniously.

    The Batarangs entangled with the winds.

    They spiraled around the air and plummeted around the cavern; some slammed into the walls, others caught their bearings and returned to the dark: hiding, waiting, hunting.

    Bram¡¯s spell weakened.

    Sweat dripped from the fourth born¡¯s forehead; he unclasped his hands and slid his hair back into place.

    ¡°Get off of me!¡± Lyra pushed Kuzo.

    ¡°I can take care of my-¡±

    Kuzo drew his sword and thrust it towards Lyra. His blade slid past her cheek.

    *ting*

    It collided with one of her earrings, but upon his sword¡¯s edge, a bat twitched its final movements.

    Lyra caught her breath. Seconds after the fact, she dodged to the right.

    ¡°Th-thanks.¡± She said.

    Kuzo brought his sword to his face. He inspected the small bat impaled upon it.

    ¡°These are new.¡± Kuzo stated.

    ¡°Now¡¯s really not the time!!¡± Bram shouted.

    From beyond the veil of black, shrieks and sonic howls grew louder.

    A flock of Batarangs emerged from the North; they blotched the cavern¡¯s ceiling and snuffed out the algae¡¯s soft glow.

    For a moment, the only light therein burned from within Lyra¡¯s eye sockets.

    Kuzo lit a match.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Revolving Dome!¡± Bram repeated the spell.

    The winds surged forth; a momentary shield from the tide of Batarangs.

    From within the storm, a single match lit, a flicker of flame.

    All around, the bats entangled with the wind; they fought and screeched, they dove from the ceiling, they tore against the winds ¡ª but their mass proved too little to pierce the storm.

    *thump*

    *thump*

    The ground quaked.

    *thump*

    From the East, something shook the very dungeon itself.

    ¡°Bram!!¡± Kuzo shouted.

    He threw his match into the storm.

    Then, with intense precision, Bram used his winds to send the match skyward ¡ª East.

    The match¡¯s light flickered in the wind; it casted shadows along the cavern¡¯s walls: beasts dancing and nightmares warped.

    The burning match hit the stone floor.

    *thump*

    The foot of a beast emerged from the veil above; it plummeted through the air and crushed the match beneath its meaty paw.

    ¡°WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!!¡± Lyra shouted above the intense winds.

    ¡°SOMETHING NEW AGAIN!!¡± Bram roared back.

    Kuzo lit another match; in fact, he lit the whole pack.

    ¡°We¡¯re switching to plan B!!¡± Kuzo said.

    He ripped a throwing knife from his vest and launched it into the storm.

    ¡°Bram!!¡± Kuzo yelled.

    ¡°I GOT IT!!¡± Bram whipped the dagger around and shot it due East.

    Kuzo slapped his palms together; he pressed his thumbs to one another then interlocked his knuckles.

    ¡°Silver¡¯s Fall: Mirrored Steps.¡±

    Kuzo vanished.

    His figure appeared beyond the storm ¡ª in the dark ¡ª beside the dagger he had thrown moments ago.

    As he hung in the air, Kuzo grasped his dagger and threw it once more; it sailed through the air and plunged into the thick back of the beast.

    Then, Kuzo steeled himself. He gripped his sword with both his hands and rapidly spun his torso.

    ¡°Second Form: Whirlwind!¡±

    Kuzo¡¯s figure struck like lightning. He plummeted from above, spinning incessantly as he descended.

    His sword struck something thick. It sank into it while Kuzo¡¯s momentum kept him going.

    He razed down the edge of the beast like a whirlwind. He eviscerated its right arm into sashimi.

    ¡°RREUOOOOO!!¡± The monster¡¯s roar penetrated the air.

    Meanwhile, the winds slowed down.

    Bram stumbled forward heaving. He clutched his chest. His expression was grim.

    Lit by the flickering flames of the matchbox below, Bram¡¯s demeanor did not look good.

    He looked at Lyra.

    Lyra¡¯s eyes were closed.

    Her hands were clasped.

    She mumbled to herself ¡ª an incantation ¡ª but one much longer than what Kuzo and Bram were used to.

    Finally, she opened her violet eyes.

    ¡°Will Of Omen: Skyfall.¡±

    As her words fell from her lips, Lyra¡¯s eyes shone brighter.

    A wave of mana exploded with her at the epicenter; her robes displaced wildly, her runes ¡ª her markings ¡ª burned teal.

    As the wave of mana spread through the caverns, it infected the Batarangs and Bat-Apes; it clung to their flesh and weighed heavily upon them.

    The Batarangs among the air¡­ began to fall.

    They plummeted from above like meteors in the night sky.

    Their meek voices screamed and echoed throughout the void until a symphony of thuds played one after the other.

    The Batarangs crashed onto the floor; a pressure held them down ¡ª it cracked the stone underneath them ¡ª and killed many of the beasts under the pressure. Their organs popped, their eyes bulged, and their brains splattered.

    As the Batarangs fell, the behemoth Bat-Ape engaged with Kuzo kneeled.

    The weight pressed down on its shoulders; it dragged him to the ground and pinned him there.

    The large Bat-Ape resisted. Its veins bulged with ferocity as it pressed its powerful forearms into the stone and against the pressure.

    But while it fought against the added pressure, it could no longer resist Kuzo¡¯s onslaught.

    ¡°Silver¡¯s Fall: Execution.¡±

    A flash of white light.

    Kuzo¡¯s sword slashed across the air.

    The beast¡¯s head slid off its shoulders and plummeted to the ground.

    Bram¡¯s eyes widened out of their sockets.

    His vision scattered along the mess of bat corpses that littered the spire.

    Most of them were dead and the ones that weren¡¯t, they twitched and heaved disgustingly ¡ª as their bones were likely broken, their organs likely pierced and leaking.

    Bram looked at Lyra.

    ¡°Holy shi-¡±

    ¡°Ouch!¡± Lyra yelped.

    She jumped to the side. Beneath her, a barely-breathing-Batarang nicked her ankle with its fangs.

    Lyra angrily stared at the beast. Her eyes ignited.

    *squish*

    The Batarang¡¯s flesh slammed into the stone so thoroughly that its bones and muscles turned to mush.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Kuzo approached.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Lyra remarked.

    ¡°Kuzo did you see that?!¡± Bram lit up.

    ¡°She killed them all!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± Kuzo replied. ¡°Which means her rate just went up.¡±

    ¡°It sure did.¡± Lyra commented.

    ¡°Five hundred gold coins ¡ª or I walk right now.¡±

    ¡°Five hundred!!¡± Bram exacerbated.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Kuzo didn¡¯t miss a beat, ¡°but you¡¯ll need to return to Moorndell to collect the additional four hundred.¡±

    Lyra paused.

    ¡°Fine,¡± She said, ¡°but you¡¯re going to escort me there.¡±

    Kuzo¡¯s eyebrow twitched.

    ¡°Then, we have a deal.¡±

 ix. The Scouts

    Erin watched as his army was obliterated.

    He had planned on it being a show of force; a deterrent to the repeated raids, but now¡­.

    Erin had lost all two-hundred and thirty-four Batarangs that he had rushed overnight; only the two breeders remained.

    What the fuck¡­? Erin''s eyes wandered onto Lyra.

    A runic-dark-Elf with what ¡ª gravity magic? Erin guessed.

    He recalled the words Lyra had spoken.

    Will Of Omen. Erin repeated.

    Who the hell is Omen?

    Regardless, Erin¡¯s attention fixated unto Lyra; she had just put a target on her back.

    Against his better judgment, Erin simply could not let her live. For if she lived, they¡¯d advance.

    And if they advanced, they¡¯d stumble upon Erin.

    There was no other choice.

    Erin had to do something.

    He could feel panic begin to enshroud him; as the trio advanced further within his dungeon, Erin¡¯s instincts instilled in him desperation.

    His presence appeared among the newly born Batarangs.

    Erin had yet to make a Boss for the second floor; he had wanted to make them special ¡ª he had wanted to grant them magic ¡ª but it seemed Lyra had other plans in store for him.

    Erin returned to basics.

    Bigger!!! He commanded.

    Among other things, Erin created a bringer of death.

    The Batarang grew monstrous; its wingspan stretched twice the length of man, with membranous wings reminiscent of a bat¡¯s but layered with onyx scale-like skin that glinted in the dark.

    Its form mirrored a wyvern¡¯s ¡ª a creature that appeared in Erin¡¯s memories ¡ª but its anatomy still closely reflected the eerie, angular silhouette of a bat with its rib cage slightly ajar as if born for endless flight.

    The creature¡¯s head was a grotesque blend between mammal and reptile; it was bat-like, with oversized, pointed ears that twitched at the faintest of sounds; yet reptilian, with the long snout of a wyvern lined with jagged, venomous teeth.

    The beast had beady eyes that glowed an unsettling red alongside bony, backward-curving horns that arched from behind its skull.

    Its clawed feet were webbed, which allowed for agile movement within the air and it had talons that dripped with the thick, urchin-born toxin that Erin had concocted prior.

    At the end of the creature, a bony club-like tip adorned in the same venom swung back and forth.

    Erin basked in the creation of his Boss.

    Vesperclaw! Erin named the species.

    He poured mana into the Vesperclaw¡¯s core ¡ª he marked it for resurrection as he had done with Smoky¡¯s.

    What? Erin asked.

    Once he had figured out that he could translate his desires into runes, Erin was damn sure to automate the resurrection process.

    He merely willed for the effect to be upon the beast¡¯s core and voila ¡ª the runes inscribed themselves upon the crystal walls of the core.

    Therefore, upon the deaths of Smoky and the Vesperclaw, readily available mana ¡ª or in other words straight from Erin¡¯s core ¡ª would henceforth rush to their aid and resurrect them; after one hour, of course.

    The resurrection did cost Erin more mana than if he were to evolve another Batarang into a Vesperclaw ¡ª but he could not do the same for Smoky; and with tradition set, Erin would be damned if he didn¡¯t keep it.

    Always treat the boss better than the laborer¡­ right? Erin thought.

    Anyway, Erin released the Vesperclaw into the caverns and while it harassed the approaching trio ¡ª Erin started construction of the second floor¡¯s Boss Room.

    A Boss needed its own throne, right?

    Erin returned to the stone bridge at the end of the floor. First, he expanded the space.

    He raised the ceilings and pushed back the walls. Then, he eliminated the floor all around the bridge until nothing remained.

    It was the bridge and it was the void.

    There was nothing else for a multi-mile wide radius.

    This feeling of infinity extended to the ceiling as Erin had pushed it as high as it could go; whilst stood upon the bridge, especially due to the darkness, nothing could be seen.

    No ceiling. No floor. No land in the distance.

    The stone bridge was completely isolated.

    Along the pillars that kept it afloat, algae bloomed ¡ª the only source of light within the bottomless canyon.

    The small clusters of light glowed every ten meters ¡ª just enough to see the form of the bridge itself as without it, who¡¯s to say the bridge even existed at all?

    Beyond the darkness, however, Erin built into the stone. He carved a cave from the walls and constructed a nest.

    He built pillars surrounding a center bed, where he softened the stone to sand for the Vesperclaw¡¯s comfort. Upon the pillars around the bed, Erin concocted runes.

    He added a warming array between the pillars ¡ª for the Vesperclaw¡¯s comfort.

    Erin decorated the cave walls as well. He made the cuts into the stone smooth and sleek. He added small intricate details here and there: the Batarang emblem, for example.

    He molded sconces upon the pillars, lanterns anew ¡ª light in the dark.

    The lanterns hummed softly. They produced warm, gentle light and could be seen from halfway across the bridge.

    It was the bridge¡¯s light at the end of the tunnel ¡ª it marked the end of the second floor.

    Erin built the floor¡¯s exit too, but he wanted to wait for the adventurers to discover it themselves ¡ª he was quite proud of his ingenuity this time around, after all.

    ***

    After multiple hours spent in the dark, Kuzo and his addendum stumbled upon a landmark unrecognized.

    They stopped before it, a bridge that crossed the perilous void.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    It was a stone bridge, thinner than any they¡¯d walked upon to get here, and it continued on forever.

    Or at least, it seemed that way.

    As even with Lyra¡¯s unique eyes, even she could not peer past the darkness. The bridge stretched into the void ¡ª it got lost in it ¡ª was consumed by it.

    Kuzo stepped onto the bridge.

    The others followed.

    Although made of stone, the bridge wobbled unsteadily. The pillars beneath swayed under the trio¡¯s weight, but alas they continued.

    Then, from the sea of black that surrounded them, an echo sank into the trio¡¯s eardrums.

    It rattled their hearts and struck at their chords.

    The trio stopped. They looked around.

    Lyra¡¯s eyes pierced the veil of night.

    For the past few hours or so, her toes curled cold. Her fingers numbed underneath her gloves and her demeanor gradually grew shaky.

    In the distant dark, two beady eyes emerged red.

    The Vesperclaw parted its maw and thick goops of green venom spilled out. The drool dripped from the sky like bird droppings and landed upon the bridge; its toxicity ate away at the stone.

    Slowly, smoke rose into the dark.

    ¡°SKREEEE!!¡± A high-pitched screech rocked the air.

    The Vesperclaw swooped down. It plummeted from the black sky and barreled towards the trio.

    It spread its webbed feet as it shot towards Lyra.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Gale Palm!¡± Bram shouted.

    A gust of wind tore across the bridge and slammed into the Vesperclaw. The beast¡¯s trajectory was shot; it crashed into one of the stone pillars below, bricks exploded out, and the bridge rumbled.

    The Vesperclaw returned to the dark, however.

    Pieces of loose stone and rock accompanied it.

    Kuzo and Bram, Lyra too, they barely heard the pitter-patter of the stones hit the ground.

    Then, the bridge swayed violently.

    Kuzo stood unbothered; Bram and Lyra though, they succumbed to their knees ¡ª their balance distorted and unsteady.

    The Vesperclaw¡¯s howl returned.

    Like a wraith, its horrendous pitch summoned blood from the adventurer¡¯s ears. Goosebumps bombarded their skin all whilst their hairs stood on ends.

    The beast swooped down again. It dove from the shadowed cliff¡¯s above as its leathery wings snapped apart. It angled diagonally, thus the Vesperclaw violently spiraled towards the adventurers.

    Lyra shouted a warning. Then, Kuzo drew his blade just as the Vesperclaw hurled towards him, claws extended.

    Kuzo ducked and narrowly evaded the beast¡¯s venomous claws, but the force of the Vesperclaw continued; its thin silhouette slammed into the bridge beyond him and more stone debris exploded into the air.

    *BOOM*

    The beast crawled upon the bridge, its crimson eyes glowed with predatory intent.

    The pillars beneath cracked underneath the pressure.

    The bridge wobbled.

    It toppled to one side then crumbled to pieces.

    ¡°Shaped Wind: Gale Stride!¡± Bram clapped his palms together.

    Then, wind rushed behind him.

    The winds coalesced behind the group, it propelled them forward. The spell enhanced their speed and granted them an unfamiliar sensation of weightlessness.

    With it, the three ran for all hell.

    They charged across the bridge ¡ª each step another aid in the process of the bridge¡¯s demise.

    Then, Lyra screamed out.

    ¡°Ahh!! Fuck!¡± She gritted her teeth.

    Lyra¡¯s toes and fingers ¡ª all of a sudden ¡ª burned with a scourging intensity.

    She squeezed her fist¡¯s tight; she bludgeoned her toes into the ground and yet still ¡ª the pain could not be ignored.

    Her nerves lit aflame.

    Lyra bit her lips until they bled; she dragged herself across the stone.

    Meanwhile, echoes sounded beyond them.

    The Vesperclaw still hunted.

    Bram ran to Lyra¡¯s side. He put his shoulder underneath her armpit and dragged her to her feet, but that seemed to only inflame the pain.

    ¡°AHHHH!!! STOP!! STOP IT! JUST WAIT!!¡± Lyra pleaded.

    Tears welled in her eyes.

    Blood ran from her lips.

    Her irradiant, beautiful eyes ¡ª they were marred by her tears.

    ¡°SKREEE!!!!¡± The Vesperclaw¡¯s shrill shriek pierced the air.

    As it did so, momentarily, the trio¡¯s figures froze.

    Another volley of goosebumps assaulted their flesh.

    Then.

    *smack*

    Kuzo slapped his cheeks with both his hands.

    He pulled another gadget from one of his vest¡¯s many inner-pockets ¡ª just how many did he have?

    He pulled out what could only be described as a talisman; a rectangular piece of white paper with bold, red lettering imprinted within its center.

    For this particular talisman, the character¡¯s read ¡®light.¡¯

    Kuzo tore the talisman in half.

    Light!

    An uncontrollable and incessant blast of white light exploded out from the talisman¡¯s paper.

    It eviscerated the dark.

    *BOOM*

    Something big slammed into the stone yonder, but Kuzo couldn¡¯t see it; nobody could see, for that matter.

    Bram saw white light and pretty colors.

    Lyra saw nothing but gold.

    And Kuzo covered his eye with his portable mirror.

    After what felt like an eternity, Kuzo saw splotches of black appear within his vision.

    He blinked repeatedly.

    He looked around as he dug at his eye and after some time ¡ª Kuzo could finally make out his surroundings.

    Bram huddled over Lyra; the two hadn¡¯t moved since before the light.

    The Vesperclaw, on the other hand, its eyes bled.

    The beast dragged itself across the stone floor, towards the cliff perched over the void.

    Its eyes bled profusely; they were carved and severed.

    The beast must have clawed at them to repel the light, but to no success.

    Kuzo made his way to the Vesperclaw.

    He held his broadsword between his hands; he stood above the beast, admiring its form ¡ª for it was a beast unlike he had ever seen.

    It clearly resembled a bat like the other monsters that crowded this dungeon, but within this particular monster there existed more.

    It was the scales along its wings, the shape of its jaw and teeth, the tail that loomed behind it ¡ª these were not natural traits found in bats.

    These were reptilian.

    The dungeon had changed what a bat was meant to be.

    What Kuzo couldn¡¯t figure out, however, was why?

    ¡°Are you gonna kill that thing or what?!!¡± Bram¡¯s annoyed tone pulled Kuzo from his thoughts.

    In the next moment, Kuzo¡¯s sword flashed and the Vesperclaw¡¯s head rolled.

    Lyra, meanwhile, continued to whimper on the dungeon floor.

    The pain had ¡ª unfortunately ¡ª just begun for her.

    ***

    ¡°Are we there yet?¡± A teen¡¯s voice echoed between oak trees.

    A party of five surged through dense, mountainous oak forest. Their silver armor gleamed underneath beams of sunlight that pierced through the canopy of trees above.

    Dark, flowy capes billowed behind them. The black fabric blended into the deep shadows cast by the towering oaks.

    Each of the five members moved with urgency; their armor rhythmically clinked as they traveled, their steps calculated and swift as they maneuvered the forest floor.

    The woman at the front of the party raised her hands, a faint shimmer of energy spread out and ¡ª like a wave ¡ª coalesced around the bodies of her party members.

    At her command, the magic took hold. It burned yellow and wrapped around them; then, their figures blurred between the ancient oaks ¡ª they moved faster than humanly possible.

    The other woman darted forward with newfound ease. She leapt over roots and rocks as if the ground itself were guiding her steps.

    One man, with his helmet tucked underneath his arm and his hair streaming back, nodded in gratitude as the magic enhanced his senses and strengthened his reflexes.

    He was the leader of the group ¡ª a tall, broad-shouldered man ¡ª he signaled for them to spread out; his black cape whipped around him as he picked up his pace, his gaze fixed forward with steely determination.

    The final two moved like shadows in sync. They adjusted their stances and their movements became lighter and quicker as the spell took full effect.

    With each stride, the party of five drew closer to their destination. They could hear the sound of waves in the distance. The noise melded with the rustling of the oak¡¯s and the hum of their magic, but the waves were growing louder.

    Together, all five rushed forward, their formation tight, as each was driven by a shared purpose. In their wake, they left behind only a whisper of magic and the fading scent of iron as they descended the mountainous forest towards the coastline below.

    Finally, after just a week of travel, the Scouts laid eyes upon the eastern coast; it stretched far and along its sands, ragged tents peppered the beach.

    The tents were made from canvas, their fabric was patched and fraying ¡ª each of them bore the marks of the sea, with salt stains and seaweed marks all around them.

    Smoke rose from a few remaining embers, it drifted lazily into the pale morning sky. More than a handful of men ambled about, most rough-looking and dressed in simple, travel-worn garb. Their faces were weathered by the sun and their hair was stiff from the salt.

    Two women moved among them; their hair tied back and their sleeves rolled up. The women¡¯s eyes were sharp and watchful as they tended to a small fire and stirred a simple pot.

    Nearby, a man tightened the rope of a fishing net whilst another sharpened his dagger ¡ª the scrape of metal against stone filled the otherwise quiet camp.

    The gentle crash of the waves against the shore was constant, it mingled with the hush murmurs of camp alongside the cawing of the seagulls above.

    ¡°Is that it?¡± The teen¡¯s voice returned.

    ¡°It sure is!¡± A chirpy woman replied. ¡°Anyone wanna place bets on where we find this guy?!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s on the tallest mountain.¡± A dull man¡¯s voice pointed out.

    ¡°Goddamnit, Sten!!¡± The woman barked.

    Sten didn¡¯t acknowledge Viv¡¯s outburst. Instead, he cast his apathetic eyes towards the camp upon the beach

    ¡°The fourth born is not on the beach.¡± Sten said.

    ¡°What is he doing up in the mountains?¡± Another woman, not Viv, asked.

    ¡°Sten, Viv ¡ª you two go to the camp. Tell them what¡¯s happening. In the meantime, the twins ¡ª you¡¯re with me. We¡¯re going to locate the fourth born son, Bram Moor. Clear?¡± The leader barked.

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±

    ¡°Roger, sir!¡±

    ¡°What?!! With him!!¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ***

    Erin spotted them from the moment they crossed into the oak forest.

    So while the Vesperclaw continued to hunt the trio, Erin snapped his attention across the land above and appeared among its trees.

    Five knights adorned in silver armor, with black capes at their backs, rushed towards his dungeon.

    There were three men and two women; the center-most man held his helmet in his arms, he had a chiseled face ¡ª a scar ran through his cheek ¡ª and his navy eyes hung beneath thick, bushy eyebrows.

    In the front, a light and joyous woman bounced along; she kicked off the ground as if it were a trampoline. She tumbled high in the air, above the trees, then she clapped her hands.

    ¡°Physical Enhancement: Stamina Surge!¡±

    Yellow light burst from her palms and coated her party. The petite woman ¡ª blonde and rosy-cheeked ¡ª exploded with speed uncouth.

    In the next instance, all five of them blurred.

    Beside the man in the center, another man crept ahead; he was freakishly tall, stood twice the size as the rest, and he had buzzed gray hair, dull eyes, and a squared face.

    In the back of the pack, two more followed suit; one man and one woman.

    Or should I say one boy and one girl? Erin thought.

    As the two in the back resembled mere kids ¡ª teenagers. They shared the same hair and eye color ¡ª gold ¡ª but their demeanors contrasted wildly.

    The boy was lean and quick, golden strands of hair hung past his eyes and tickled his nose. He carried two swords, one on each side of him, and his expression exuded seriousness.

    Meanwhile, the girl next to him tied her golden hair behind her ¡ª a black bow held it back; although adorned in the same armor as the rest, she grasped a thin, silver wand between her fingers and as she surged through the forest ¡ª her eyes could not hold still. They constantly flickered about, from the oaks to the berry bushes ¡ª fascination engulfed her inside and out.

    Erin watched them for some time.

    Then, the five split up; three to Erin¡¯s doors¡¯ and two to the camp beneath him.

    Erin split his attention ¡ª it wasn¡¯t perfect ¡ª but with it Erin could vaguely understand what both parties were doing at the same time.

    One he observed actively, while the other more so played in the background; Erin could ¡®hear¡¯ it and ¡®see¡¯ it, the information was in his peripheral and there were many things he could gleam from that snapshot ¡ª but he still needed to concentrate on one or the other to truly perceive it in its entirety.

    An hour later, the duo arrived at the camp.

    Viv stepped forward immediately; her small frame lost in a sea of tents.

    ¡°EVERYBODY LISTEN UP!!¡± She roared.

    ¡°By order of the Minister, your safety and passage to the Moor Dukedom has been secured; in four days, an Empire¡¯s brig will dock on these shores. You are all to board; your possessions will be stripped of you; and by month¡¯s end ¡ª you will all be back on your own land!¡± Viv shouted.

    ¡°Hey! Wait a minute!!¡± A man shouted.

    ¡°There will be no questions!!¡± Viv fired back.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just take our-¡±

    *BOOM*

    Sten clapped his hands together. A sonic cannon erupted and the sands beneath him exploded out.

    ¡°YOU MOTHER FU-¡± Viv clutched her ears.

    As did the rest of the camp. Nobody could hear. Not anymore.

    Sten despised haggling.

    After that, the camper¡¯s stopped their grumbling.

    Viv barged into their camp; she sat upon one of the logs placed around a campfire and crossed one leg over the other, and with her chin rested upon her palm, she waited.

    Erin, meanwhile, swapped his attention to the others.

    ¡°That must have been Sten.¡± The man in front said.

    ¡°Does he just hate talking?¡± The girl asked.

    The man rubbed his chin.

    ¡°No¡­ that¡¯s not it. Sten¡¯s just¡­ unique.¡±

    ¡°Unique¡¯s one way to put it.¡± The boy commented.

    ¡°Hey! Weylin!¡± The girl snapped.

    ¡°What?¡± Weylin said. ¡°Has he ever even spoken to you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡±

    ¡°Alright you guys, that¡¯s enough. We¡¯re here.¡± The man interrupted.

    In front of their party of three, jagged rocks protruded out from a ravenous maw that disappeared further into the mountainside.

    ¡°Amara ¡ª watch over your brother. Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± The man said seriously.

    ¡°But Kai!¡±

    ¡°No buts!¡± Their leader, Kai, said.

    He smiled at his pupils; his grin was wide and genuine.

    Kai grabbed the black sash around his wrist and tied back his long, wavy hair. As he did so, he released his polearm from his back.

    He twirled the long staff around his shoulders until it comfortably lay rest in the pit of his palm. Upon the edge of his polearm, a swift glaive severed the wind.

    Weylin drew his dual swords and Amara gripped her wand.

    Then, they entered the mountainside¡¯s maw; into a dungeon they never knew existed.

 x. Red vs Blue

    The trio of knights moved in formation through the acorn-themed dungeon. Their silver armor reflected the dim glow of the cupule shaped sconces adorned along the walls.

    Kai walked forward, leading at the front, his presence ever commanding. His armor was polished to a mirror-like gleam; a seasoned warrior with deep-set eyes and a scar across his cheek.

    Kai¡¯s every movement radiated confidence and precision. In his hand, he wielded a glaive etched with ancient runes, their divots molded from sapphire, his blade black-steel.

    Kai¡¯s gaze flickered over the carved columns, their acorn cupules were crowned with jagged thorns and their surface was etched with the precise imprint of oak leaves.

    Behind Kai strode Weylin, Kai¡¯s most promising pupil; though, Weylin¡¯s once youthful enthusiasm had long been tempered by a weight of responsibility.

    His slightly dulled armor bore scratches and dents, evidence of hard-fought battles and lessons learned. He held a calm demeanor, a bright contrast from his sister. Weylin moved with practiced grace, his form and steps instilled into him over years of monotonous training.

    Amara, meanwhile, kept to the rear. She bore a striking figure, her silver armor fresh and pristine. Atop her wand, an emerald gem hushed green.

    The magic in the air coursed through it, radiating, pulsating ¡ª the green light illuminated the curling vine motifs that wound up the dungeon¡¯s columns.

    Amara¡¯s eyes wandered nervously between the creeping vines etched into the dungeon¡¯s walls, as if expecting them to come to life.

    She muttered an incantation and her emerald-tipped wand shone brightly; a shield of miraculous green energy formed around the group ¡ª protection from the earthy grandeur of the ancient acorn-carved dungeon.

    All throughout the first floor, Kai led, but Weylin fought.

    The golden-eyed teenager cut down the Bat-Apes without remorse or hesitation. His dual blades blurred amongst the air, they cut and slashed, pierced and prodded.

    Weylin was quick. His fighting style relied upon burst movements, fast steps, and extended lunges. He rolled across the tiled floor, his swords severed the achilles of each beast he encountered.

    Blood left in his wake.

    Then, their gaze crossed paths with Smoky¡¯s.

    The behemoth squirrel plummeted from the dome ceiling, its cracked-acorn in hand.

    Smoky impacted upon the arena and cracks spread across the tile; dust billowed from the ceiling.

    ¡°Weylin-¡±

    ¡°I can handle it.¡± Weylin interrupted.

    Amara looked at Kai with worry in her eyes.

    Smoky was big. That much was an understatement.

    Large beasts, especially of Smoky¡¯s caliber, were not typical for first floor excursions.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Kai asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll keep me safe if I¡¯m not.¡± Weylin said dryly.

    Amara rolled her eyes and slouched away. Her idiot brother would be the death of her one day ¡ª she was certain.

    Kai just smiled. He gestured towards the arena where Smoky lay waiting.

    ¡°Be careful.¡± He said.

    At that, Weylin exploded.

    His iron boots pressed into the tile and his figure burst forward.

    Weylin sprinted across the arena towards Smoky; his dual swords in his hands, a glint in his eyes.

    Smoky loomed over Weylin ¡ª a behemoth with a hulking, fur-covered frame rippled with muscle. Within his eyes, a feral intelligence gleamed.

    Smoky hefted his weapon of choice above his shoulders ¡ª a massive, cracked golden acorn ¡ª its jagged edges were worn from countless battles.

    In the next moment, Smoky let out a guttural growl and lunged towards Weylin.

    Weylin dove to the side just as the golden acorn smashed into the stone tile.

    *BOOM*

    Shards of rock exploded out in every which way, but Weylin weaved through their onslaught.

    Weylin¡¯s swords flashed across the lantern light. They lashed out with a flurry of strikes aimed at Smoky¡¯s flank.

    The dual blades cut into fur and flesh, but the beast barely flinched, as its thick hide absorbed most of the blow.

    Smoky twisted at an alarming speed. His bristled tail whipped around like a battering ram and slammed into Weylin¡¯s chest-plate. The teenager ricocheted back and slid across the arena.

    Weylin¡¯s chest heaved in and out. He scrambled to his feet whilst blood dribbled from his cheek.

    Then, Smoky advanced. He dragged his golden acorn across the tile like a wrecking ball ¡ª his every step shook the floor of the arena.

    Weylin feinted left which drew Smoky into another wide swing, then the boy bolted right. He took advantage of Smoky¡¯s unbalance and sliced along the beast¡¯s forelimb.

    Smoky roared in pain.

    Weylin seized the moment. He dashed towards the nearest column and leapt onto its surface. Weylin used the carved vines as footholds and launched himself into the air above Smoky.

    He crossed his swords into an ¡®X¡¯ and shouted.

    ¡°Twin Style: Severance!¡±

    Immediately, a glowing energy exuded from Weylin¡¯s blades. They burned white, erasing the shadows of the arena and blinding Smoky.

    Weylin cut down; and a crescent-shaped beam of white energy exploded from his sword''s intersection and plummeted down unto Smoky.

    The crescent blast cut into Smoky¡¯s neck. It ignited his fur to flames and eviscerated his flesh. Meanwhile, the scorching heat produced from the blast singed the wound as it cut deeper into Smoky.

    Smoky¡¯s head rolled.

    Not a drop of blood spilled, however ¡ª the wound cauterized ¡ª the blast like plasma.

    Weylin dropped onto the floor.

    His armor clanked against the tile.

    Weylin kneeled as he gasped for breath.

    ¡°Weylin!!¡± Amara ran to him.

    In the meantime, Kai inspected Smoky¡¯s corpse. He poked at the beast¡¯s razor-edged nails and prodded at the fine bristles along Smoky¡¯s tails.

    Kai pocketed a bristle and nail respectively ¡ª weapons to be, perhaps?

    Then, his eye caught a glint from the edge of the arena. He walked to the onyx podium where the manacorn lay.

    Kai¡¯s eyebrows rose.

    He picked up the manacorn.

    *rattle*

    Suddenly, the iron gates beside the podium lifted off of the ground. They raised into the ceiling, pulled by some mysterious force until the pitch-black staircase revealed itself.

    *clank*

    The sound of metal against stone pulled Kai¡¯s attention.

    Amara pulled Weylin¡¯s breastplate off ¡ª it had been dented during the fight and was most likely protruding into Weylin¡¯s chest.

    Kai walked over.

    ¡°You did well, Weylin.¡± Kai said.

    A slight smirk tugged at the edge of Weylin¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°How are you?¡± Kai asked.

    Amidst their conversation, Amara treated Weylin¡¯s wounds. She started with the cut across his cheek; she patted it dry with a clean cloth then, with another cloth, dabbed alcohol.

    ¡°Ssssss!¡± Weylin winced at the burn. ¡°A couple broken ribs¡­¡±

    Amara punched him in the shoulder.

    ¡°And a sprained wrist.¡± Weylin spat out.

    Kai nodded his head along as if he had expected it.

    He raised his finger in the air, his eyes shut.

    ¡°When fighting a beast that big ¡ª you especially, Weylin ¡ª need to take advantage of your mobility. Your first attack, the beast¡¯s flank ¡ª that was the correct approach. Due to your size difference, you have a shorter range of motion than the beast, meaning you will always have to move less to achieve the same result. Instead of competing against the beast head-on, like you did when you received each of your injuries, you should have continued to maneuver around it to strike at the beast¡¯s obnoxiously large blind spots.¡±

    ¡°Its flank was too thick, my sword barely-¡±

    ¡°Severance made quick work of the beast¡¯s spine, Weylin; it would have cut through any part of it.¡± Kai interrupted.

    Weylin¡¯s brows fettered. He didn¡¯t respond.

    Twenty minutes later, the trio began their descent to the dungeon¡¯s second floor.

    ***

    Meanwhile¡­

    Kuzo, Bram, and Lyra finally caught sight of the second floor¡¯s entrance.

    Lyra held her eyes closed. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists.

    Her nails dug into her palms, but she couldn¡¯t feel it. She couldn¡¯t feel anything. Not really. Not anymore.

    Her chest heaved in inflammatory pain; every breath, every inhale and exhale ¡ª burned alongside the fire¡¯s of Hell.

    She couldn¡¯t feel her throat, hands, or feet as they all burned with the same intensity as her lungs.

    At the start, hours ago by now, tears streamed down Lyra¡¯s face ¡ª but even her eyes had long since dried up.

    Her hope long since extinguished.

    Kuzo and Bram dragged her along; they each held up one side of her as her ankles dragged across the stone, now cut and bruised.

    Not to mention that every once in a while Kuzo and Bram had to spontaneously drop Lyra, as when the bat creature¡¯s approached ¡ª so her forehead, hips, shoulders ¡ª Lyra was bruised and battered worse than ever in her life.

    It was a miracle she was even alive, let alone conscious.

    Her will must be made of steel! Erin thought as he observed.

    He was the most surprised of them all, after all. He knew exactly what he had willed into the venom ¡ª a burning so intense it should lead to comatose ¡ª a struggle in of itself to live as taking a mere breath became the devil in disguise.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there¡­.¡± Bram wheezed.

    He was more exhausted than ever too. Due to carrying Lyra all this way, not only did Kuzo and Bram move slower than ever before, but they had to fight more than ever as well.

    Bram was completely mana exhausted. He had nothing left in the tank.

    It was, in fact, negative in the tank.

    For Bram, he was fighting just to stay awake.

    Kuzo, on the other hand, still had some mana ¡ª but he was mostly a physical fighter; his joints creaked, hypertension assaulted him, and one of his ligaments was either torn or about to be.

    ¡°Hey! I see light!¡± A girl¡¯s voice suddenly echoed throughout the caverns.

    Kuzo and Bram stilled. They both looked towards the entrance, then at each other.

    ¡°Holy fuck¡­¡± Bram muttered.

    ¡°It just had to be now¡­¡±

    ¡°Kuzo!!¡± Bram whispered. ¡°I¡¯m not ready!¡±

    Kuzo, however, was still in his own stupor.

    ¡°Even if we were in the dungeon overnight¡­ it¡¯s been what? Eight days? It took them only eight days¡­?¡±

    The sound of voices coming from the spiral staircase increased.

    ¡°Kuzo!!!¡± Bram pleaded. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do it!!¡±

    ¡°With the amount of mana I have left¡­¡± Kuzo continued absentminded.

    *thud*

    *smack*

    Bram dropped Lyra onto the ground and smacked Kuzo. He grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

    ¡°Kuzo!! I can¡¯t do it!¡± Bram said with as much seriousness as he could muster.

    Kuzo¡¯s gaze hardened. His attention returned to him.

    ¡°But you must!¡± Kuzo said. ¡°It has already been decided!¡±

    Bram looked at Kuzo shocked.

    ¡°Kuzo!!¡± Bram pleaded.

    On the other end of the commotion, Kai, Weylin, and Amara stepped out of the staircase and onto the cavern¡¯s floors. Their black capes molded perfectly with the floor¡¯s darker depths, casting them into the shadows behind their armor¡¯s silver gleam.

    Although the dark pervaded egregiously ¡ª at the second floor¡¯s entrance, more algae bloomed than anywhere else.

    So from across the thin edge that distanced the two parties, each could see the other¡¯s silhouettes ¡ª it was the details they lacked.

    Kai, Weylin, and Amara; they immediately stopped upon noticing Kuzo and Bram¡¯s presence. Their dark forms scuttled in the distance, the two seemed to be at odds.

    Bram, meanwhile, pointed to Lyra on the floor; who could not be seen by the three Scouts.

    ¡°We can¡¯t use her like this!!¡± Bram argued.

    ¡°There is no other choice!!¡± Kuzo stated.

    ¡°Pick her up!!¡±

    Bram scurried around the woman and lifted her head.

    Then, Kuzo pulled a vial of red powder from his inner-breast pocket. He uncorked the small, glass vial and the pop echoed throughout the cavern.

    ¡°Huh? What was that?¡± Kuzo and Bram overheard Amara¡¯s comment.

    Instantly, the two men stifled.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?!!¡± Bram shouted as quietly as he could.

    Kuzo tipped the red powder into the back of Lyra''s throat ¡ª although she was conscious ¡ª her limbs and chest hurt so much that most of her feelings had gone numb at this point.

    Kuzo closed her mouth and chucked the glass vial over the edge. He looked at Bram.

    ¡°We have ten seconds until she goes berserk!¡± Kuzo looked Bram dead in the eye.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°You WHA-¡± Kuzo slammed his palm over Bram¡¯s mouth.

    Bram struggled against Kuzo; he was a wind mage for crying out loud, he couldn¡¯t compete with the old sword master!

    The two wrestled along the floor.

    Meanwhile¡­.

    ¡°What the hell do you think¡¯s going on over there?¡± Weylin asked, his eyes squinted.

    ¡°Are they¡­ fighting?¡± Amara peered through the depths.

    Kai shook his head.

    Adventurers! He sneered.

    Kai pointed his glaive forward and, in an imposing manner, he addressed the uncouth adventurers.

    ¡°This is Commander Kai ¡ª Leader of the Third Regiment of the Scouts ¡ª by tutelage of the Minister, I command thee; identify yourselves immediately!¡±

    Kai stood with his glaive drawn.

    Seconds passed.

    Bram and Kuzo continued to ragdoll across the ground.

    Kai¡¯s veins bulged.

    ¡°By order of the-¡±

    ¡°AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!¡± Lyra¡¯s warped scream pierced the caverns.

    Her runes blasted with red light. Her body twitched, it rose from the ground, blood dripped from her lips and ran down her cheeks ¡ª her eyes curled back behind her, only the whites remained.

    The blood pooled down her arms and dripped from her fingertips. She levitated in the air, glowing red, dripping blood ¡ª she looked like a monster.

    Kai didn¡¯t hesitate ¡ª not after recognizing those runes.

    ¡°Water Style: Kraken!¡± Kai shouted.

    A tentacle of water surged around Kai¡¯s form. It traveled around his legs and up his torso, then wrapped around his shoulder and glaive.

    The tentacle coated his outstretched glaive and with it, Kai snapped it forward.

    The tentacle exploded across the cavern, it struck fierce, aimed directly at Lyra¡¯s heart.

    But in her uncontrollable state, Lyra raised her palm in the air before her. She reached forward and curled her fingers.

    As if squeezing the very air itself, suddenly, the massive tentacle approaching her exploded into a burst of mist.

    Water droplets ricocheted around the cavern and the air filled with a dense fog.

    Kai could not afford to be docile, however; he lowered his center of gravity and pushed off the stone. He disappeared from his place next to Weylin and tore through the fog.

    Lyra sensed him through space.

    She dabbled her fingers along the air above her and the stalactites responded to her call; they severed themselves from the ceiling and began to fall until Lyra caught them.

    The stalactites froze in the air, manipulated by Lyra¡¯s pull, then began spinning.

    ¡°DIE!!!¡± Lyra screeched.

    She dropped her bloodied arm and the stalactite projectiles cut through the air. They moved like missiles and zipped through the fog, homing in on Kai¡¯s position.

    Kai readied himself. He brought his glaive up and slashed down, splitting one stalactite in two ¡ª then he spun the polearm around his back and kicked into the air.

    Kai somersaulted over one stalactite and whilst he landed, his glaive intercepted another.

    The stalactites burst apart. Rocks and jagged stones exploded into the air and rained down.

    Within the chips of stone, therein lied potential.

    Lyra clapped her palms. The loose rocks and stones froze once more. She directed them around the room, pooling them into a vortex, then brought them down unto Kai¡¯s head.

    ¡°Water Style: Bubble Shield!¡± The mist condensed rapidly.

    Its form solidified around Kai¡¯s body until waves cascaded around him.

    Kai stood in a prison of water; the liquid surged around him in a sphere and continued to compress.

    Then, the avalanche of rocks and stones slammed into Kai¡¯s bubble. The rotating waves clashed with the rocks, drawing many of them away, sucking them into the shield¡¯s powerful currants.

    Kai successfully defended against the attack.

    He laid his glaive upon his shoulder. Kai stepped back; then leapt forward.

    He hurled his glaive into the air. It burst through the bubble and popped the shield, but continued on through the fog.

    A foot away from Lyra¡¯s chest ¡ª the glaive froze amidst the air.

    ¡°KHAHAHAKHAA!!!!¡± Lyra cackled uncontrollably.

    The glaive could not pierce her.

    Kai clasped his hands.

    ¡°Spear Style: Piercing Shot!!¡±

    The tip of Kai¡¯s glaive ignited with energy.

    Kai¡¯s mana, perhaps due to being a water mage, ignited blue. It contrasted with Lyra¡¯s red runes ¡ª a battle between good and evil ¡ª Kai¡¯s blue energy clashed against Lyra¡¯s red onslaught.

    From the tip of his glaive, a beam of energy rushed forth.

    It pierced through Lyra¡¯s chest and into the cavern wall behind her. The beam continued unperturbed, completely hollowing the stone that stood in its path.

    Lyra¡¯s red runes dimmed.

    She slowly fluttered towards the floor, like a piece of discarded paper ¡ª she cascaded down.

    Within her chest, a hole pierced her heart. It ran through her body, the size of a fist ¡ª her heart was no more.

    Blood spilled from her mouth.

    Kai picked up his fallen glaive and cut off Lyra¡¯s head.

    Only then did he curb his nerves.

    ¡°Master!¡±

    ¡°Kai!¡±

    Weylin and Amara ran up beside him.

    ¡°That was awesome!¡± Weylin said.

    ¡°Is she dead?¡± Amara asked.

    Kai nodded. ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡±

    He scanned their surroundings. There were two people here earlier, Kai was sure of it.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Kuzo¡¯s voice startled the trio.

    Kai spun around. He arched his glaive outwards and precisely pressed it against Kuzo¡¯s neck.

    Kuzo raised his hands.

    ¡°My apologies!¡± Kuzo said very quickly.

    ¡°My name is Kuzo and I personally attend Duke Moor! I ask that you spare my life!¡± Kuzo pleaded.

    Kai ran his eyes down Kuzo¡¯s appearance. He was an older man, in his forties maybe, with dark brown hair and a leather eye patch. He wore a black outfit with a blue, military style vest. Adorned across the breast pocket of his vest ¡ª Duke Moor¡¯s emblem lay stitched finely.

    Kai exhaled. He removed his glaive from underneath Kuzo¡¯s chin and turned his attention back towards the slain Dark Elf.

    ¡°Can you identify this woman?¡± Kai asked immediately.

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Kuzo stood at the ready.

    ¡°Her name is Lyra Spire ¡ª we discovered her among the ports of Moorndell and hired her to aid in our search for the Duke¡¯s fourth born, but¡­¡± Kuzo hesitated.

    Agitation momentarily flashed across his face, but before he could reply.

    ¡°And let me guess ¡ª she turned on you the moment an opportunity arose?¡± Kai spoke with a venomous intensity.

    Although he spoke with Kuzo, his eyes still preyed upon Lyra¡¯s figure. His gaze was sharp and unruly, he refused to blink, and Kai¡¯s grip around his glaive only further intensified.

    The man appeared consumed with rage.

    ¡°Kai¡­¡± Amara tugged at his armor.

    Kai exhaled.

    ¡°I apologize for my hostility.¡± Kai acquiesced.

    In response, Kuzo bowed towards Kai.

    ¡°I am to blame, sir! It was my first time encountering a Dark Elf¡­ I didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± Kai stopped Kuzo from speaking any further.

    This whole fiasco had already put a dent in Kai¡¯s day ¡ª his mood was already well and ruined.

    ¡°Weylin ¡ª dispose of her; and let¡¯s get out of here. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s much to learn from sir Kuzo here.¡± Kai determined.

    Without questioning, Weylin muttered an incantation and set Lyra¡¯s corpse ablaze.

    After that, the party of four returned to the surface. They set up camp alongside the others and prepared for a night in.

    They¡¯d explore the dungeon properly tomorrow.

    ¡­

    Erin watched all along, of course. How could he not?

    But instead of following the others out of his dungeon and eavesdropping upon their current conversation; Erin¡¯s attention directed towards the bottom of his canyon.

    Within the bold darkness, a glass cube rested upon the stone.

    Like a snow-globe, the glass cube depicted a miniature landscape within: it had a few pine trees, a log cabin, a small running stream with fish jumping in and out, and an outhouse posted behind the cabin.

    But what attracted Erin¡¯s attention more than anything¡­

    Bram opened the cabin¡¯s front door. He stepped out onto the grassy hill and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air.

    He walked around the fireplace and picked up an ax that was leaned against one of the many barrels of grain.

    One, two ¡ª after an hour, Bram had stacked up quite an impressive pile of firewood for himself. He threw a couple onto the already lit campfire, then returned to within the cabin.

    Erin, meanwhile, coaxed the glass cube with his mana.

    *zap*

    Erin¡¯s mana tendrils quickly retreated.

    I can¡¯t touch it¡­ Erin muttered.

    What even is it? Erin wondered in awe more than anything.

    Bram currently stood at no greater than an inch in height!

    Erin replayed the events in his mind.

    Again, what the fuck just happened?!

 xi. Fork In The Road

    Seconds after Lyra went berserk, Kuzo used the last of his mana to activate an Artifact given to him by the Duke.

    The Artifact, known as ¡°Pocket Space,¡± was an S-rank Artifact from a dungeon long defeated. During the days of Duke Moor¡¯s youth ¡ª when he traveled all the East ¡ª the collapse of an A-rank dungeon awarded him with Pocket Space.

    Over the years, the Duke and his late wife inhabited the private, little space; they decorated it to their tastes ¡ª ¡°a home away from home,¡± she used to call it.

    It was one of the Duke¡¯s most-prized possessions; and also the only wild card he had left to play in this across-the-sea-dungeon-debacle.

    The plan was fairly straight-forward, really ¡ª use Bram¡¯s life as collateral to obtain unfettered access to the dungeon, regardless of whose land it occupied.

    The Empire was, of course, aware of the existence of Pocket Space ¡ª all S-rank Artifacts were subject to inspection under Guild Law, but it simply did not matter if the Empire knew.

    The crux of the matter still pertained; Bram was alive in the dungeon ¡ª the shady details aside ¡ª his rescue must be ordained as a member of nobility.

    What the Duke hadn¡¯t planned on, however, was the existence of Erin interfering with the Artifact.

    For the moment Erin realized he could not manipulate the glass cube directly ¡ª he sealed it in stone.

    Something to research later! Erin thought.

    Then, he shifted his attention to the shores above.

    ***

    On the Western front, far removed from the mundane life of the Empire¡¯s common folk, the Minister paced to and fro¡¯ in his bunker.

    The knights still aligned the walls.

    The scholars still scribbled amongst their scrolls.

    Then, a scuffle broke out from beyond the bunker¡¯s doors.

    ¡°You can¡¯t enter right now!¡±

    ¡°The Minister is not accepting visitors!¡±

    Ironically, the bunker¡¯s doors burst open anyway.

    The crack of wood against the walls stunned the scholars. All in the bunker, in fact, looked up from their work and cast their gaze towards the bunker¡¯s doors.

    An old man casually strode in. He carried a crooked posture, his wiry frame draped in a ghostly cloak ¡ª iridescent patterns along his sleeves.

    His face held a roadmap of wrinkles, framed by a beard that cascaded down like smoke, but held deep within his irises ¡ª a sharp, twinkling light displayed a glint that betrayed his aged exterior.

    A warped hat perched precariously atop his head, as if daring gravity to snatch it away, and a gnarled staff rested in his palm ¡ª carved of lightwood ¡ª a soft glow emitted off the staff¡¯s tip.

    As he casually strode through the bunker, no knight stopped him. His stride was off-kilter, his smile sly, he moved quicker than what was expected of a man his age and before anyone could respond ¡ª he stood beside the Minister.

    ¡°Must you spend your days wallowed away in this dastardly place?¡± The old man looked around.

    ¡°Tell me, Drake ¡ª where is the rest of your family at a time like this?¡±

    The Minister stared coldly at the old man. There weren¡¯t many men in this world who could openly call his name like that ¡ª and if the Vice-Guildmaster were here ¡ª it meant Minister Drake was about to receive some not so fortunate news.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± The Minister replied.

    ¡°I believe you meant to say, what do you want, Master?¡± The old man corrected.

    The Minister wiped his face with a damp towelette and plopped down into his seat amongst the others.

    The Minister didn¡¯t speak. Instead, he continued to stare at the old man.

    The old man, meanwhile, cast his gaze around the room; he looked at the maps adorned along the walls, the knights gathered around ¡ª he even studied some of the documents displayed across the bunker¡¯s center table.

    ¡°To what do I owe this gracious visit of yours, Master?¡± The Minister spat out.

    The old man immediately tossed out a bundle of scrolls from beneath his cloak. The scrolls unfurled along the table beside the Minister.

    ¡°This is?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Guild¡¯s full report detailing the new dungeon discovered along your coast.¡± The old man said.

    ¡°Dungeon? Why are you-¡±

    ¡°The dungeon will be under the Guild¡¯s jurisdiction.¡±

    At this, the Minister¡¯s interest was piqued. The Guild wouldn¡¯t send out their Vice just to appease him, Drake knew better than that.

    ¡°Are you going to inform me wh-¡±

    ¡°The Empire currently has dominion over two unique dungeons: The Library and the Hallowed Halls. One is exclusively reserved for your Royal Academia while the other is too high-ranked for the mundane fellow to access.¡±

    The old man continued.

    ¡°Furthermore, once this little crusade of yours is over ¡ª the Empire will gain access to the Uncanny Valley, yet another unique dungeon.¡±

    ¡°You fear our consolidation of power that much?¡± Minister Drake smirked.

    ¡°Oh yes. I am simply shivering in my ol¡¯ knickers.¡± The old man rolled his eyes unscrupulously.

    For a split second, Minister Drake and the Vice-Guildmaster shared a moment from the past, but just as quickly as it had appeared ¡ª the Minister¡¯s new responsibility cut it short.

    ¡°And why would I allow that?¡± Drake¡¯s gaze sharpened and whatever chemistry was there before had raptly been severed.

    The old man, unperturbed, answered whilst picking his ear.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°The Guild is willing to completely sponsor the creation of a fledgling city around the dungeon for a five year control period.¡±

    Suddenly, the real negotiations began.

    After an intense back-and-forth and an official write-up from one of the scholars seated below ¡ª the contract was signed and the deal was made.

    The Adventurer¡¯s Guild was granted dominion over the unique dungeon, temporarily tagged ¡°Oakroot Catacombs,¡± for the duration of ten years; in exchange of, the Adventurer¡¯s Guild must construct a city befitting a Viscount around the dungeon; and must also construct roads to and between the new city and the Empire¡¯s nearest city and capital.

    For order of completion, the Guild must complete the city within one year and the two roads within the next year. Within that time frame, the Minister must appoint a Viscount to the newly developed region; and must designate state funding for the region''s military and navy (as the city will have a port; seaside dungeon¡¯s be damned).

    In addition to dominion over the dungeon itself, the Adventurer¡¯s Guild will be warranted rights to establish its own branch within the city; both main and subsidiaries depending.

    And finally, the Empire must receive a 20% discount towards any goods ¡ª magical or mundane ¡ª that therein originate from the Oakroot Catacombs.

    ¡°Construction starts in a month.¡± The old man said.

    With that, the Vice-Guildmaster strolled out of the bunker and passed the knights who once barred him. His objective here was complete.

    Meanwhile, Minister Drake returned his attention to the war-effort. In all honesty, he was glad the Guild took the dungeon off of his hands; and they were even paying for it?

    In ten years, when the war was over and the Empire stretched along all the West ¡ª from coast to coast ¡ª then he could care about things like dungeons. And lucky him ¡ª in ten years ¡ª it¡¯d be his anyway.

    ***

    Upon the shores above, Erin eavesdropped.

    Kuzo laid a map across a wooden table.

    The map depicted Erin¡¯s dungeon ¡ª first and second floors included. It showcased the entirety of the first floor; and now, even the second.

    The map highlighted the path to the end, to the mile long bridge where the Vesperclaw roamed.

    Within the tent, Kuzo and the Scouts gathered around.

    Kai and Weylin studied the map. Amara and Viv spoke amongst themselves and Sten¡­ he stood in silence.

    ¡°The third floor?¡± Kai asked as his fingers roamed the parchment.

    ¡°We¡¯ve yet to breach the third.¡± Said Kuzo.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ And the fourth born?¡±

    Kuzo sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve yet to locate Bram as well.¡±

    ¡°His traces roam among you.¡± Sten said loudly, interrupting the conversation.

    Kuzo shot Sten a glare, but before the others could notice ¡ª it vanished.

    Kai, meanwhile, continued none the wiser.

    ¡°For his traces to be among us, the fourth born must have spent a lot of time on the second floor ¡ª or is perhaps still on the second floor¡­¡±

    Kai looked towards Kuzo.

    ¡°The second floor Boss¡­ what did you call it¡­ a small bat dragon? Could the fourth born have defeated it alone?¡± Kai inquired.

    Kuzo scratched his chin.

    ¡°Bram would certainly have an advantage against something in the air¡­¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s a possibility.¡± Kai stated.

    ¡°Tomorrow morning, we¡¯ll raid the dungeon once more. If we can ¡ª we¡¯ll explore the third floor and share our discoveries ¡ª if not¡­¡±

    ¡°We get to go home?!!¡± Viv shouted.

    ¡°What? No. We-¡±

    ¡°I am hungry.¡± Sten said.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Meanwhile, Erin memorized Kuzo¡¯s map.

    He had just shy of ten hours until they raided the dungeon once more. Within that time span, Erin needed to either create a third floor or modify the first two.

    Naturally, Erin chose the ladder.

    He snapped his attention to the dungeon¡¯s grounds. With Kuzo¡¯s map memorized ¡ª Erin changed it all.

    He rerouted the second floor in its entirety, but even more than that ¡ª he created secret pathways.

    Erin willed moving walls into existence, their weight moved by sheer fantasy ¡ª mana in action.

    Furthermore, every hour, on the hour, the second floor would now switch between four preset configurations. One configuration would lead the adventurers nowhere ¡ª every path and junction within it led to deadends; it was a configuration built solely for trickery.

    From there, Erin created three more; two of which led to the final bridge ¡ª one of which led around the canyon, or in other words, another deadend.

    The path that led around the canyon was the longest; it had the adventurers scale the floor¡¯s outskirts, a twelve hour round-a-bout ¡ª nothing but a waste of time.

    But Erin wanted more; he meticulously added runes to the surroundings of the second floor that produced endless fog. Thus, with a horde of Batarangs assaulting them ¡ª the adventurers would get lost in the fog, wasting even more of their precious time.

    The two working and effective configurations, meanwhile, were reminiscent of the floor¡¯s original design.

    One was quite simply the original pattern but reversed; Erin added more traps, he boosted the Bat-Apes and Batarangs breeding cycles, and he also dispersed some of the fog over the maze; so that ¡ª during certain periods of the day ¡ª some paths would be considerably more dangerous than others, even further reinforcing the adventurers to choose the wrong path.

    For the second ¡®working¡¯ configuration, Erin planned something new.

    He installed spike traps and arrow traps and a few wobbly floors that led into the abyss ¡ª the standard.

    Then, Erin created a reward, like the manacorns. Erin figured that, if he wanted to delay the adventurers one way or another, what better way than to instead direct their attention elsewhere?

    Why descend when you can get everything you want up here? Erin grinned maniacally as he built his treasure.

    Somewhere on the second floor, hidden behind a wall that only revealed itself during this particular configuration ¡ª a room adorned in silver light waited.

    The room had stone walls and a stone floor ¡ª it wasn¡¯t too glamorous ¡ª but within its center sat a pool of water just large enough to fit two bodies.

    The water boiled over; it steamed and bubbled from the runes inscribed underneath. All along the pools outer-edge, small, shiny pearls illuminated the dark with clean, white light.

    Steam filled the air.

    On the bottom of the pool¡¯s floor, in the direct center of the water ¡ª one, large pearl stood out from the rest.

    Not only was the pearl ten times larger than the others ¡ª Erin also scribed a rune upon it.

    ¡°Clean.¡± It read.

    In whatever geometric, ancient language Erin¡¯s mana wrote in.

    With this ¡°treasure,¡± Erin was interested in discovering two things; first, if Erin could not manipulate human¡¯s directly ¡ª could he manipulate them second-handedly?

    As in, with the laundry pearl? Would the pearl¡¯s clean-effect work on the human¡¯s who enter the water or would it only work after they¡¯ve left?

    Second, Erin was curious as to how the adventurers would react to such a visible, and albeit useless, rune. To be more specific, this would be the first rune revealed; all the others that Erin had created before existed behind the scenes.

    How would the adventurers appraise the rune?

    Is the language that mana is written universal or is Erin doing something completely new?

    The reactions to this laundry pearl meant a great deal, surprisingly ¡ª and it¡¯s also the reason Erin chose something as mundane as ¡°clean.¡±

    Erin didn''t want to appear too dangerous, after all. He needed to balance the line in between ¡ª strong enough to not be conquered, but not too strong as to invoke fear and urgency.

    And who doesn¡¯t like clean clothes? Erin thought.

    By the time Erin finished, dawn broke.

    The Scouts rose from their slumber alongside the rising run.

    They ate a hearty breakfast ¡ª meat and beans ¡ª then trekked up the rocky spires.

    The first floor hadn¡¯t changed much, as such ¡ª it proved no issue.

    In under an hour, Smoky lay dead.

    As the party of five descended the abyssal staircase, Kai led with Weylin on his flank.

    Sten stood behind the two; his body so large the width of his shoulders nearly reached each of the walls.

    In the back, Amara and Viv remained vigilant.

    Their party of five stepped into the enclave and immediately, Kai halted.

    Before him stretched three individual paths, a fork split before him ¡ª three paths emerged when historically, there had only ever been one.

    Even Viv, who became familiar with Kuzo¡¯s map overnight, spotted the difference.

    ¡°So I don¡¯t mean to point out the obvious but-¡±

    ¡°We go left.¡± Kai decided quickly, interrupting Viv in the process.

    Their party of five veered left and the assault of the Bat-Apes and Batarangs began.

    For hours, the black-charred beasts poured out of the dark and into the dim light.

    With his glaive, Kai split heads and severed wrists; Weylin, meanwhile, tore across the floor and cut into flesh and bone.

    Viv enhanced the group with her support spells. Her brightly lit magic even fought against the dark for them.

    Sten, on the other hand, dealt with the beasts that slipped past the vanguard. He crushed them between his palms ¡ª large and meaty as they were ¡ª the forms of the Bat-Apes and Batarangs mangled in his grasp.

    While the rest fought, Amara silently observed. She stayed protected between Sten and Viv and occasionally casted a spell or two ¡ª but her presence remained minimal for the duration of this delve.

    Six hours in ¡ª hundreds of slain beasts later ¡ª whilst roaming the dark and decrepit halls of the underground labyrinth ¡ª the Oakroot Catacombs ¡ª fog began to consume the path ahead.

    The fog encroached upon the floor, it ensnared the Scout¡¯s ankles and drifted up their legs ¡ª across their chests ¡ª until it blurred their vision.

    Alongside the heavy drapes of fog, the temperature plummeted. Their breath spewed thicker than the fog and their exposed skin prickled with goosebumps. At some point ¡ª the party of five stopped.

    They gathered together in the black-lit fog, careful of the edges, and sat upon the stone floor.

    Sten removed his satchel. From its depths, he retrieved a cast-iron pot, some grass, herbs, a can of spices, and a tightly-bound slab of cured meat.

    ¡°Water.¡± Sten¡¯s voice was deeply monotone.

    He pushed the gargantuan pot towards Kai, who muttered an incantation and brought forth water, filling the pot.

    Sten mixed the ingredients. He lit his Ember Stones ¡ª a unique gem from another dungeon, one that burned forever ¡ª or at least until it was intentionally snuffed.

    The pot boiled over, aromatic smells filled the air and meshed with the fog, and the Scouts ate their fill.

    Amidst the momentary calm, the party discussed the delve.

    The map proved useless; the pathways diverged and moved unexpectedly, and the horde seemed near endless.

    Ten hours in, the party of five stumbled upon a hole in the ground; the hole was large ¡ª more than enough to fit through ¡ª and surrounding it, no other detail of note stood out; just stone and black.

    Kai dropped a loose stone down the hole.

    After a few seconds, the stone hit the ground.

    Their party of five met eyes and nodded unanimously; then, Kai plunged into the hole.

    Followed by Weylin, Sten, Amara, then Viv.

    They dropped into an enclave encased in a turquoise hue; algae bloomed along the ceiling and upon the underside of the canyon¡¯s ridge. The algae enchanted the dark and illuminated the space.

    Just beyond the party of five, a stairway of steps ascended ¡ª all too familiar.

    Opposite the steps, three paths diverged.

    Weylin looked at Kai.

    Amara at Viv.

    Kai at the diverging paths.

    ¡°Are we¡­¡± Amara¡¯s soft voice hesitated, unsure of herself. ¡°¡­back at the start?¡±

    And indeed, they were.

 xii. Cassian Moor

    A month later¡­

    In Duke Moor¡¯s office, the Duke sat behind his desk; Kuzo stood before him ¡ª straight-postured ¡ª meanwhile, the Duke¡¯s door parted and another man entered.

    The man had pale, alabaster skin and long straight black hair. His hair was tied loosely and rested upon the cusp of his shoulder; he wore a white kimono ¡ª plain, without any patterns or illustrations ¡ª alongside a pair of wooden sandals.

    He casually strode into the Duke¡¯s office ¡ª unperturbed ¡ª and sat leisurely upon the mini-sofa to the left of the Duke¡¯s all-encompassing desk.

    ¡°Cassian,¡± the Duke greeted his second born, ¡°precise timing as always.¡±

    ¡°And to what do I owe this pleasure?¡± Cassian smiled.

    ¡°I presume you¡¯ve read the most recent Guild Report?¡±

    ¡°You jest, father, surely; of course I¡¯ve read the Report, but what does-¡± Cassian stopped.

    His scarlet eyes narrowed and he leaned forward ¡ª out of the leisurely position he was in moments prior.

    ¡°You want me to travel to the Empire?¡± Cassian surmised. ¡°And why exactly would I want to do that?¡±

    The Duke cut to the chase.

    ¡°Bram is sealed on the second floor. He¡¯s in Pocket Space. We wanted to-¡±

    From the seat beside him, laughter interrupted the Duke. Cassian snickered hysterically.

    ¡°And what exactly did that buffoon do to get himself trapped down there?¡± Cassian said as he reigned himself.

    ¡°It was Bram who discovered the dungeon.¡± Kuzo offered.

    Cassian¡¯s glare whipped onto Kuzo.

    ¡°Interesting. And why can¡¯t you get him out? Hmm? White Flash?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t want him out.¡± The Duke cut in.

    Now this ¡ª this caught Cassian¡¯s attention.

    For the next hour, Cassian absorbed information like a sponge. Around two months ago, Bram washed upon a shore, killed their Uncle, coveted a unique dungeon ¡ª and was thus sealed within it; perhaps the literal antithesis to his original ambition.

    Beside Cassian¡¯s overt amusement, he listened to the debrief intently. In short, the Guild went out of their way to secure rights to the dungeon ¡ª effectively making everything Bram did, and the Duke¡¯s almighty plan, an utter waste of time and resources.

    But the Duke¡¯s hand had been played. The Scouts bore witness ¡ª the request to the Empire was genuine; the Duke was now forced to follow through.

    If word spread that a Duke besmirched the Empire ¡ª especially a duchy that dealt so much in trade ¡ª profits would plummet; damn near a third of the Dukedom¡¯s exports sailed West unto the Empire.

    In the worst case-scenario, since the Minister was already a famed prick ¡ª Duke Moor would be sanctioned and tariffed off of the continent entirely.

    So what else could the man do but continue with the facade?

    Meanwhile, on the other side of things, Cassian was a scholar; during the debrief, Kuzo had informed him of all the details pertaining to the dungeon ¡ª that was his very purpose in attendance.

    Thanks to that, Cassian found the dungeon¡¯s evolutionary habits more than fascinating. Miniature bat to veiny behemoth ¡ª it was an atypical evolution to say the least.

    The Batarangs, on the other hand, made much more sense. They stuck with the bat¡¯s original theme, for lack of a better word; the Batarangs were small, quick, agile ¡ª and deadly. They were an overall bump to the bat¡¯s natural capabilities.

    The Bat-Apes, however, conflicted with their natural design; and of course, magic occasionally made this process tricky ¡ª there¡¯s no telling how magical elements might physically alter a being ¡ª but that only applied to magical beasts.

    The Batarangs and Bat-Apes, although monsters, were not magical.

    Therefore, the standard dungeon could have produced Batarangs given the appropriate stimuli¡­ but the Bat-Apes?

    The Vesperclaw?

    Now that¡¯s what really caught Cassian¡¯s eye.

    The cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me ¡ª a bat evolution, yes ¡ª but one inspired.

    A cross-breed between a bat and something reptilian.

    Innovation! As Cassian viewed it.

    In addition to personal interest, Cassian had been pleading with his father for permission to leave the Dukedom ever since his eighteenth birthday. He had solved their crop shortage, produced enough grain and wood to last decades, and personally trained and guided many of the duchy¡¯s botanists and alchemists.

    All of his efforts, however, had been done under the scrutiny of his father ¡ª the Duke. Cassian was not resentful of this fact; he knew it was his father that egregiously hoarded the chloromancy grimoires on the market.

    All that Cassian is, is due in part to his father.

    But his job was done; his role complete.

    He had a burning passion to conduct his own research, to put his own theories to the test ¡ª to innovate.

    This proposition, it seemed, was the answer to his years of pleading.

    The Duke ¡ª now miserably intertwined with the Oakroot Catacombs ¡ª must make the best of what has been given.

    As such, the Duke decided to sponsor Cassian as he resided within the Empire; he¡¯d construct him a lab, hire him assistants, and provide him funding to research and toy with whatever he may like: on one condition.

    ¡°Bram must not be discovered; not yet, at the very least.¡± The Duke said.

    ¡°The boy could use some introspection. We¡¯ll leave him there for a year ¡ª at minimum.¡±

    ¡°Hehehe-¡± Cassian snickered.

    He had gotten everything he ever wanted; whilst Bram received nothing at all.

    As expected! Cassian thought.

    ¡°Kuzo will be your guard on the surface, but consider him earnestly. I trust his judgment.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, sire. I understand.¡± Cassian readied himself.

    ¡°Now I must go, father. I have packing to do.¡±

    With that, Cassian left.

    The Duke looked at Kuzo.

    ¡°I think it went well, sire.¡±

    ¡°It did, didn¡¯t it?¡± The Duke stroked his peppered beard.

    ¡°Is something the matter, sire?¡±

    ¡°I expected him to ask for more; or to make some unreasonable demand, as he normally does.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps he¡¯s happy to go.¡± Kuzo suggested.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The Duke replied. ¡°And that is the very reason why I¡¯m worried.¡±

    ***

    A rapid surge of water erupted.

    It tore through spiked coral and ravaged across stone.

    The water surged endlessly; roaring rapids.

    Like a lazy river ¡ª Erin¡¯s third floor was a single stream. The catch?

    The stream fed into itself. Over and over. An endless loop of charged, enraged, and deadly water.

    The water surged aggressively, manipulated by mana-currents and occasional bursts of pressure ¡ª all due to runes constructed along the river¡¯s bed.

    In addition to the water, Erin invited the coral from beyond his halls.

    It grew from the stone floor ¡ª large, branch-like pieces of coral ¡ª sharp, sturdy, and colorful.

    The branches of coral beneath the roaring rapid¡¯s ranged from enchanted pinks to royal blues, warm reds, and brilliant yellows.

    Swimming between the coral, various species of fish tossed about.

    From the ocean, Erin modified five different species: three breeds of fish, a starfish, and a sea turtle.

    The first fish was average in length ¡ª the size of an adult¡¯s palm. It had silvery, mirror-like scales that reflected the sun¡¯s light, camouflaging the fish amongst its own glint.

    Erin molded the fish sharper. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    The Bladefish! Erin dubbed it.

    He stretched them more angular ¡ª more eel-like ¡ª and saturated their scales with a razored touch.

    The Bladefish, silver and reflective ¡ª near mirrored the form of a dagger in disguise.

    Then, there was an even smaller fish that mingled among the coral ¡ª blood red with black stripes ¡ª a fish reminiscent of a clownfish.

    Erin bestowed the red fish fangs and a wider tailfin. He modified their mentality ¡ª they now traveled in schools of over ten.

    Erin darkened their complexion.

    He instilled in them a berserk-ness akin to piranhas and granted them the blood-thirsty trait thought to be beholden by sharks.

    The Madfish! Erin boasted.

    For the third fish, Erin modified a puffer; instead of piercing spines, however, Erin replaced the pufferfish¡¯s spines with a liquid poison.

    The poison ¡ª an active paralytic ¡ª exploded in a cloud of purple mist underwater. When consumed, paralysis contracted within minutes, thus the adventurers would be sentenced to drown.

    For the paralytic pufferfish, Erin dubbed the species Cloudfish ¡ª for obvious reasons.

    Beyond the three nightmarish fish, Erin also breeded starfish and sea turtles.

    The starfish ¡ª Erin had the most fun with them.

    He wanted them to behave like projectiles.

    First, Erin reinforced their flesh. He made them denser ¡ª heavier ¡ª which meant Erin also had to make them bigger and stronger.

    The starfish ballooned.

    They grew larger than a man¡¯s head all while thick arms jutted out from their core, laced with tiny, firm bristles. The bristles were like chainmail. They¡¯d redistribute heavy impacts and curt slashes alike, a natural armor against mankind¡¯s tools of war.

    Meanwhile, Erin modified the starfish¡¯s behind. He graced them with a powerful jet, a means to explode in rapid bursts of succession.

    On the other end of the starfish ¡ª Erin added a spike.

    Cannonfish. Erin thought.

    The black cannonfish curled its arms together. Its new size was far greater than a cannonball ¡ª but with its explosive propulsion ¡ª the creature would be able to shatter adventurer¡¯s bones through steel, just like a real cannonball.

    Finally, the sea turtles ¡ª Erin molded them into underwater tanks.

    He removed their pesky lungs; no need for a sea creature to breathe air anymore, right?

    Then, Erin reinforced their shell.

    Then, Erin reinforced their shell.

    After that, Erin reinforced their shell.

    When Erin was done with the sea turtles, they had become Sea Tanks; they were a dark, chocolatey brown ¡ª their shell blended into wood tones ¡ª and their scales turned a dark gray after Erin¡¯s meddling.

    The Sea Tanks didn¡¯t possess any means of attack, in fact; they were created simply to exist, to take up space in the roaring rapids ¡ª to collide with the adventurer¡¯s amongst the wild currents.

    The Sea Tanks ¡ª after their evolution ¡ª rivaled the size of large dogs. They reached upwards of two hundred pounds and thanks to their incredible defense ¡ª immune to most physical incursions ¡ª the Sea Tanks fed upon the Bladefish and the Madfish, as the Sea Tank¡¯s resistance triumphed over the fish¡¯s sharpness.

    Beyond the turbulent waters that stretched miles round-a-bout, Erin created three points of interest along the loop.

    First, Erin added a single oak tree on the side of the roaring rapids. Its branches hung above the water from which manacorns grew ¡ª three to be exact, each in a more treacherous position than the other.

    Able to be snatched by adventurer¡¯s facing the violent waters ¡ª it was merely another point of greed offered on Erin¡¯s behalf.

    For the second stop, Erin formed a whirlpool that just barely kissed the edge of the roaring rapids; that kiss although ¡ª no matter how little ¡ª manipulated the rapids in more ways than one.

    First, it was the whirlpool that led to the breeding grounds of all the floors sea life; beyond the whirlpool, a massive reservoir of ocean water occupied the true size of the third floor.

    This was also the source of the roaring rapids itself ¡ª Erin could not infinitely generate water, that would be ridiculous.

    Second, the whirlpool led to a grinder. The grinder ¡ª an amalgamation of beautifully colored, yet extremely dangerous coral ¡ª had holes and gaps within it large enough for the fish to pass through, but for the common man and his DIY raft?

    Shredded. To bits.

    Fish food for the fishies.

    Past the second point of interest, Erin created a hole.

    In the ceiling.

    Where does the hole go?

    How does one get up and into the hole when there is no floor beneath it?

    These were questions that Erin did not have to sort himself, thankfully; the adventurer¡¯s on the other hand, they sure had to figure it out.

    Within the hole within the ceiling, Erin created the floor¡¯s exit.

    Not only the floor¡¯s exit, but also the floor¡¯s Boss Room.

    Unfortunately, Erin wasn¡¯t quite sure what to make of the third floor¡¯s Boss yet; all of the floor¡¯s other occupants lived within the sea, after all.

    As he had nothing readily available to slot into the position, Erin decided it was a task better suited for another day.

    Back to underneath the hole.

    The beauty of the third floor resided within its loop; for if someone missed it on the first go around, they could always ride the roaring rapid¡¯s again and again and again.

    Until they succeeded¡­ or until they were dead.

    In the meantime, whilst Erin designed his third floor, the surface above him mirrored his expansion.

    Ever since the dawn of the new month, ten galleons appeared on Erin¡¯s horizon. They dropped their anchors along his shore and unloaded their wares: stacks of wood, piles of gravel, and slabs of marble ¡ª all sorts of materials appeared ¡ª new and familiar to Erin¡¯s constant watch.

    Around two hundred bodies unloaded with the ships. On the first day, they set up tents and temporary lodges, but soon thereafter ¡ª construction began.

    And construction be damned ¡ª Erin thought he was fast.

    With magic in the mix, construction completed almost unnoticed; above Erin, a five mile radius of oak trees had been cut to the ground.

    The tree¡¯s stumps were removed and the ground was tilled. The earth mages sculpted the land to their will; they flattened the mountainous regions; they lowered the slopes and raised the divots.

    After a day¡¯s work, a wide flatland stood between a sea of oak trees. Come the third day and real construction began.

    The town hall was the first to be completed.

    Then, the living facilities. Twenty-five percent of the cleared land, in fact, was set aside specifically for residency. Most of the living quarters resembled condos; either single room or dual room accommodations with a single bathroom and functional kitchen.

    Nearest to town hall, however, more luxurious residences were built; homes laid with brick and granted marble flooring: some were two-story, some came with a backyard enclosure, some with servant¡¯s quarters.

    Once everyone had a place to comfortably sleep, more stylized facilities took shape: a bank, a market, they began construction of the docks alongside a pier that stretched into the sea.

    After two weeks of work, the port was finished, the townsquare was formed, and the market was flushed and flourished; from nothing ¡ª a sprawling miniature town formed in the blink of an eye.

    By the time Erin finished his third floor, more ships appeared on the horizon ¡ª galleons, brigs, even a few privately owned barques sailed towards his reefs.

    On the fleet''s forward-most ship, atop its deck, Cassian¡¯s black hair fluttered over his shoulder. Kuzo stood to his left adorned in the official uniform of the Duke¡¯s Navy ¡ª a black suit with gold engravings, black gloves, and a navy cap.

    Cassian still wore his white robes and sandals, however.

    Meanwhile, behind the two men in service of the Duke, Hyzen and a slew of other Guild officials huddled around the deck and peered over the open sea.

    They talked amongst themselves, murmurs in the ocean¡¯s breeze.

    Due to the personal discovery of the dungeon ¡ª Hyzen was chosen to lead its delegation. He was to report to the newly constructed Guild Hall, where he would then be promoted Guild Master overseeing the unique dungeon, temporarily tagged Oakroot Catacombs.

    It would be Hyzen¡¯s job ¡ª moving forward ¡ª to thin the Oakroot Catacombs when needed and to continue its exploration; and to report to the Guild of Adventurers on the first of each month.

    In addition to the Guild¡¯s forces, the fleet of ships beyond them belonged to other nobles, adventurers, and private parties alike.

    With the deal between the Guild and the Empire solidified, news of a newly discovered unique dungeon spread around the world ¡ª and like moths to a flame ¡ª the world¡¯s opportunists responded in-kind.

    Shy of dusk, the Duke¡¯s galleon anchored alongside the newly constructed dock. Cassian and Kuzo departed ¡ª alongside a teenage girl on Cassian¡¯s right and an aged gentleman on his left.

    The gentleman, a silver-haired elder with an equally silver mustache and goatee, dressed in a black and white suit ¡ª carried all of the party''s luggage, nine bags in total, yet the silver gentleman remained unstrained.

    The girl, on the other end, also had silver hair. She kept it in a ponytail behind her; she appeared neat and professional; she wore a black and white uniform as well ¡ª same as the gentlemen¡¯s, although more feminine.

    In addition to their similar clothing, the two silver-headed servants also shared eye color ¡ª teal. Their eyes were deep and enchanting ¡ª as vibrant as the coral reefs beneath them.

    ¡°Dublow. Find us a place to stay. Seven. Scour the market in search of these items. If you find them, buy them.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± The gentleman, Dublow, graced his palm over his heart and obliged.

    ¡°As you will.¡± The girl, Seven, curtsied beside him.

    Cassian then glanced towards Kuzo.

    ¡°And what exactly do you plan to do?¡± Cassian asked.

    ¡°I am going to the Guild Hall with Hyzen. I¡¯m interested in what information the Guild has gathered on the dungeon; if the Scouts gleamed something new since we departed.¡±

    ¡°Then I shall accompany you!¡± Cassian invited himself alongside Kuzo.

    Kuzo ignored his antics and searched for Hyzen¡¯s hat amongst a sea of heads that flooded the docks.

    All of a sudden, Erin¡¯s shores were incredibly busy.

    ***

    Martha never expected to one day cross the great sea.

    Likewise, she never expected to permanently move across it either.

    She had just moved to Moorndell nine months ago; a journey she¡¯d never forget ¡ª one as perilous and blood curdling as any other adventure she¡¯d been on.

    Martha grew up in a dungeon town; it sprawled around her, into the economy, the culture, the public eye. From a young age, she worked with beasts; she skinned them, gutted them, and processed them from the moment her father let her hold a blade.

    When Martha turned fifteen, she registered as an adventurer ¡ª her life¡¯s calling she thought, and how could she not?

    Her parents were adventurers.

    Her friends were adventurers.

    Her income ¡ª her livelihood ¡ª was built upon the back of a dungeon: something magical, something extraordinary, something more.

    Martha was fascinated with all things dungeon so she learned everything she could from them. So when her Master ditched her just over a month ago ¡ª to explore an unexplored unique dungeon, at that ¡ª Martha damn near cried.

    Then, on the gloomy night when she finally returned ¡ª her Master met her with her bags packed and her belongings stored.

    That night ¡ª she boarded one of the Duke¡¯s galleons and sailed off into the great sea.

    Lo and behold, yet again, before he could even show her to her room ¡ª her Master ditched her again. He instantaneously fled across the deck of the galleon towards a party of four ¡ª an eye-patched man, a pale noble in bath robes, and two servants; one suspiciously young and the other concerningly old.

    A real band of cuckoo clocks¡­ Martha thought.

    Two weeks later, blue skies stretched above Martha as salty currents swept past her.

    Martha stepped onto the docks and the winds rustled her hair, threatening to blow away the pointed black hat that cradled her head. She clutched her hat, nuzzled her spectacles, and stuck to her Master¡¯s side.

    Her Master, an eccentric fellow, led them off of the docks and onto the shore where, immediately, a market unfurled.

    Stalls and vendors lined the forest¡¯s ridge. From her vantage point, Martha saw kids playing in the forest, parents haggling with merchants, and carriages and couriers jumbled all in between.

    There were stalls barbecuing meat.

    There were stalls deep frying dough.

    Martha heard the clang of metal echo. There was a blacksmith at the end of the road.

    She heard a bell chime. In the background of the landscape, the Guild Hall stood upon the only hill left within the townscape; it housed a lighthouse for the port alongside a bell tower for the city.

    The street beneath her boots was cobblestone, freshly laid, and in the backdrop of the scene ¡ª Martha could still see construction underway; homes were still under construction, towers and warehouses, most of the cityscape was incomplete according to her Master; and yet so much stood already.

    Nevertheless, her Master ensured her that the Guild¡¯s Employee residences were complete ¡ª thank the lords above.

    As he buttoned his gray vest, Martha¡¯s Master strode through the market and followed Main Street due West; after nine blocks, he turned right.

    Another two blocks.

    Their group rounded a corner and sprawled before them stood a bastion constructed of polished marble. Towering columns surrounded the mighty structure, each adorned with a beautiful buttress inlaid with carvings of foliage and wood.

    Between the columns, two imposing oak doors spanned the length to the ceiling ¡ª a height outlandish and unnecessary in Martha¡¯s eyes ¡ª but breathtaking nonetheless.

    Her Master led them indoors where an even more enchanting interior greeted them: illustrious chandeliers, stained glass windows, ribbed-vault ceilings.

    The Guild Hall was massive, far larger than the facilities Martha was used to in Moorndell. She looked to her Master, but he appeared unperturbed by their future glamorous home.

    Instead, he proceeded in even greater stride.

    At the other end of the Guild Hall, a ceremony appeared to be underway.

    A mass of aristocrats gathered ¡ª most newly promoted nobles sent alongside the city¡¯s new Viscount.

    Speaking of the Viscount, the man was present. He stood upon an elevated platform overlooking the crowd of well-dressed people.

    The Viscount appeared a robust man. A southerner with dark skin and tribal tattoos that spanned across his chest and up his neck.

    He was a bald man with dark eyes. He wore a tailored black suit with a fur-lined coat. His shoulders were broad and his stance firm ¡ª the man seemed oppressive.

    ¡°IT IS I ¡ª¡± Martha¡¯s Master bellowed above the aristocrats'' hushed conversations. He interrupted the Viscount¡¯s proceedings and turned all heads unto him.

    Her Master removed his homburg. He bowed strictly at his waist. Ninety-degrees. No more and no less.

    ¡°Newly appointed Guild Master Hyzen, at your service!¡±

    ¡°Make way!¡± The Viscount responded in kind.

    The gathered nobles shifted amongst themselves. With small steps, they scurried across the marble floors and revealed a path down the center.

    Hyzen returned his homburg neatly atop his head. Then, he proceeded down the line.

    He grabbed a woman¡¯s hand: mature, elegant, eastern.

    ¡°It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± Hyzen kissed the back of her palm.

    He moved down the line.

    He grabbed a man¡¯s wrist: hairy-armed, thick, dressed in a dark blue coat.

    ¡°This watch, sir¡­¡± Hyzen polished it with his breath, ¡°exquisite craftsmanship, indeed. A fine piece of mechanics.¡±

    ¡°Madam, your earrings¡­¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, sir¡­¡±

    ¡°My! What exquisite taste¡­¡±

    Hyzen stopped and introduced himself to every Dick and Mary in the Guild Hall.

    Meanwhile, Martha noticed a distinct pair hurrying around the gathered crowd. It was two faces she newly recognized ¡ª the people her Master had been chummy with on the galleon ride over.

    The pale one in robes led. He stepped up onto the raised platform and casually approached the larger-than-life Viscount.

    To Martha¡¯s surprise, however, it was the Viscount who seceded to the pale one.

    The pale one smiled and laughed. He appeared at ease in the presence of the Viscount ¡ª a man who tripled his stature.

    The pale one pulled a scroll from the inner-mechanisms of his robes. He handed it to the Viscount ¡ª bright smiles and warm greetings extended ¡ª then proceeded to leave the Guild Hall.

    He and the eye-patched man left even before her Master finished his greetings.

    In the meantime, Martha¡¯s eyes followed the pale one¡¯s back as he left the Guild.

    For some strange reason, the pale one drew her eye. He had an air unlike the rest. He carried himself in a manner above ¡ª as if the voyeurs'' stares brought him no malaise.

    It was like her Master; he too seemed to possess little care for the world¡¯s opinions, but the pale man was somehow different.

    Master Hyzen was explosive, loud, and unpredictable.

    The pale man, though; he appeared steadily calm; some might say calculated, even.

    His mannerisms, his smile, his gaze ¡ª it was different from Master Hyzen¡¯s. It felt cold in comparison; distant.

    ¡°Martha?!¡±

    ¡°Marthaaaaaa!!!¡±

    The black-haired girl abruptly turned around. Master Hyzen stood upon the podium beside the Viscount. He beckoned her desperately.

    ¡°Pay attention!¡± Martha could envision him yelling.

    Thankfully, they were in public.

    Martha sighed.

    Even in the Empire ¡ª work never stopped.

 xiii. Master and Apprentice

    For the first time in what felt like forever, someone entered Erin¡¯s dungeon.

    Due to the construction upon the surface, the adventurers who arrived were all hands-on-deck. Affiliates of the Guild, they accepted temporary quests to work alongside the earth mages and the Viscount¡¯s architects.

    Most of them, in fact, put their skills to use in clearing the oak forest. Their blades, often enchanted or crafted from magical beast, severed the thick oak¡¯s without contention.

    Once the forest was cleared, they moved onto sorting the gravel. Men and women alike carried tons of gravel to and fro¡¯, wherever they were directed ¡ª the adventurers obliged.

    Anything for the quest. Erin supposed.

    In the meantime, Erin of course observed the construction above him. Although it wasn¡¯t his primary focus, his senses naturally grappled with the changes upon the surface.

    He was appreciative of the architecture ¡ª something to rip-off and use for himself later ¡ª but the Guild Hall, its marble columns, its flying buttresses, its ribbed-vaults...

    Had Erin not seen these things before?

    The buttresses adorned upon the columns of the Guild Hall ¡ª were they not the same buttresses Erin had designed for the Acorn Halls?

    They were covered in vines and foliage and acorns hid among them, thankfully though ¡ª they could not copy all of Erin¡¯s tricks.

    The marble floor that Erin had designed for one, the complex puzzle of leaf-sized tiles that rotated in a circular pattern¡­ it seemed that was too difficult for the earth mages to mimic.

    Or they simply found the practice unnecessary or too complex ¡ª either way ¡ª Erin dubbed it a personal victory over humanity.

    The act of copying Erin¡¯s design, however, was interesting in of itself.

    Would the entire cityscape mirror his Roman-acorn theme? If so, why?

    For what purpose would man do that?

    Through his inspection of the Guild Hall, Erin also discovered the temporary name granted to his dungeon: Oakroot Catacombs.

    Catacombs? Erin questioned.

    Aren¡¯t catacombs reserved for skeletons?

    Should I add a skeleton floor now?

    ¡­ how the hell do I even animate skeletons?

    Are they just bone golems? But that doesn¡¯t sound right¡­

    Erin ultimately decided to ignore the ¡®catacombs¡¯ portion of his name. Maybe one day, but that day surely would not be this one.

    The day after Hyzen arrived, he trekked to Erin¡¯s dungeon.

    According to the paperwork littered around Hyzen¡¯s office, it was now his job to get to know Erin on a personal and deep level ¡ª figuratively and literally.

    Monthly reports, quests all-encompassing of Erin¡¯s resources, rating Erin¡¯s floors, rating his creations, discovering applications of Erin¡¯s unique flora ¡ª Hyzen was in-charge of all things Erin.

    And to be quite frank, Erin appreciated it.

    How convenient for Erin to have a local file-room dedicated to himself, one that he himself did not have to organize? It also provided Erin with access to everything the Guild had on him ¡ª invaluable intel to say the least.

    ¡°Did you pack the butter-berries?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    ¡°With the ice crystals? You know they must be stored with the ice crystals.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master. With the ice crystals.¡±

    ¡°Did you remember to bring my square pillow?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    ¡°And my-¡±

    ¡°Master?¡± Martha interrupted.

    Hyzen shifted his gaze from the dungeon¡¯s entrance unto her.

    ¡°What is it, my apprentice?¡±

    ¡°May I ask a question?¡±

    ¡°For what is a Master if not to answer their apprentice¡¯s inquiries ¡ª please, by all means, my apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Have I ever forgotten to pack something, Master?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    Hyzen looked at Martha with a single eyebrow ajar.

    ¡°Very well, then. Let¡¯s get going, shall we?¡±

    Hyzen walked ahead with his notebook in hand.

    Behind him, Martha skipped along with a backpack strapped to her shoulders. A notebook hung from her waist, beside a darkwood wand with a single rune inscribed upon its handle.

    Familiar with the layout, Hyzen and Martha made quick work of the Bat-Apes meandering about. For all of the kills, Hyzen subdued them whilst Martha finished them.

    Hyzen was incredibly quick on his feet. He moved with a practiced grace around the dungeon and easily slipped past the Bat-Ape¡¯s large forms. Their wide swings and slow blows cascaded around the man, unable to reach him.

    Meanwhile, Hyzen attacked their pressure points. Once he got behind them, Hyzen pressed the tips of his gloved-fingers against the Bat-Ape¡¯s necks.

    He applied pressure to their napes, their shoulders, and their thighs ¡ª and within moments ¡ª the beasts collapsed onto the ground like wet noodles.

    They squirmed and howled, trapped in a body that would not listen to them, until Martha severed their lights.

    ¡°Hoarfrost¡¯s Circle: Icicle.¡±

    From the tip of Martha¡¯s wand, a small icicle formed ¡ª two inches in length, small but dense ¡ª then exploded with unmatched ferocity.

    The icicles slid between the Bat-Ape¡¯s brows and penetrated their brains, instantly killing them. The icicles did not completely penetrate the Bat-Ape¡¯s skulls, however, so each of them were left with an ice spike drilled into their foreheads ¡ª and like the sap of a tree, their blood dribbled slowly.

    Due to the previous reports, Hyzen and Martha also knew of the gasoline trap; thus the two hopped into the fountain long before even slaying the final Bat-Ape.

    For the water, Hyzen sealed his notebook within an enlarged waterskin. Martha did the same.

    Post the dungeon shaking explosion, the duo encountered Smoky; and like the last time he was here, Hyzen did nothing more than bob and weave Smoky¡¯s attacks.

    Left to Martha¡¯s discretion, she unstrapped her backpack and chucked it far away from her.

    Whilst Hyzen distracted Smoky, Martha searched for a specific page in her notebook; unlike her Master, she could not draw and fight at the same time so she¡¯s instead filled her notebook with an onslaught of various useful conjurations.

    ¡°Oh! Here it is!¡± Martha chirped.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Pyromaniac!¡±

    Martha tore the page from her notebook then tossed it into the air.

    The piece of paper burst into a brilliant display of flames.

    From the flames, a devilish smile formed.

    The flames fluttered to the ground and molded together. An imp formed: small, red, plump, and with flames emitting from its tail and tongue.

    The fire imp howled excitedly as a look of absolute intoxication warped its tiny face.

    Meanwhile.

    ¡°Hoarfrost¡¯s Circle: Freezing Touch!¡±

    Martha cast her spell unto the fiery imp. Immediately, its once bright yellow and orange flames turned opaque white.

    Frost trickled off of the flames and shades of blue and violet erupted off their edges.

    ¡°Now go, Pyromaniac!¡±

    The devilish imp need no more.

    Drunken on power, the toddler-sized beast stormed across the arena and charged towards Smoky.

    The imp ¡ª smaller than one of Smoky¡¯s nails ¡ª showed no fear in the face of the beast.

    Instead, the imp laughed maniacally.

    Smoky naturally noticed the little creature¡¯s approach and promptly swung his cracked acorn down onto the imp. The acorn¡¯s razored edge slammed into the imp and crushed it beneath its weight.

    Yet the laughter continued.

    The flames flickered.

    The white flames of frost raptly spread across the golden acorn and unto Smoky¡¯s paws.

    The flames consumed.

    They covered Smoky head-to-toe, but instead of ash and soot ¡ª Smoky¡¯s movements slowed.

    His black lips turned purple.

    His breaths stilled.

    Smoky shut his eyes. He swayed back and forth and then¡­

    *BOOM*

    His massive figure collapsed to the ground; cold.

    Dead.

    Hyzen and Martha stepped past Smoky¡¯s still corpse; they were not here to collect hide and fur, but to adventure further beyond.

    They descended the spiraled steps and arrived at the so-called catacombs.

    Three forks split the road.

    According to the Scouts intel, the second floor¡¯s pathways now changed; the map Kuzo recorded was null.

    Nevertheless, Hyzen chose left.

    ***

    At the same time, Cassian began construction of his lab.

    He picked an outcropping of land cush against the mountain; its rear kissed the mountainside, allowing Cassian to potentially build into the mountain itself.

    It was a large outcropping of land, but not one egregious, a few acres worth at best.

    Cassian divided it into three buildings: the greenhouse, the testing facility, and the laboratory.

    The greenhouse sprawled across the territory¡¯s left, along the tree line of oak¡¯s that enclosed the land. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The testing facility was in the back against the mountainside; so that if anything were to go wrong, such as an explosion, the mountainside could absorb some of the damage.

    The laboratory, meanwhile, sat in the front of Cassian¡¯s land; it stood before the testing facility, slightly adjunct to its right.

    The greenhouse was the smallest, the testing facility was the largest, and the laboratory was the tallest ¡ª the only two-story development on the land.

    The first floor of the laboratory was just that, a laboratory. Beakers and test-tubes lined the walls, metal tables filled the space, and two cauldrons sat on opposite ends of the lab.

    Beneath the cauldrons, Cassian drew runes. The runes encircled the cauldrons and when Cassian was finished, the runes ignited and an intense, although tiny, red flame flickered to life.

    The flames tickled the underbelly of the cauldrons, and soon thereafter, the cauldron¡¯s bottoms lit orange.

    Above the laboratory, Cassian¡¯s personal space occupied the second floor; a large bed sat against one wall, a lightwood desk across another, and an obscenely large bookcase rested upon the final available wall.

    The bookshelf was empty now, but soon, Cassian believed he would fill it with his discoveries.

    After he tidied his bed, Cassian returned to the ground floor where Dublow was hand-laying bricks from the laboratory¡¯s entrance to the entrances of the other buildings.

    Meanwhile, Seven occupied herself with the topography. She planted flowers alongside the edges of the buildings and hung bird-feeders from the oak¡¯s around the land.

    In under a day, Cassian¡¯s compound was complete; hollow, but complete.

    From underneath his robes, Cassian retrieved a scroll. He unfurled it and read its contents.

    ¡°Manacorns and glowing algae¡­¡± Cassian muttered to himself.

    He handed the scroll to Dublow.

    ¡°Get me these things.¡±

    ¡°As you will.¡± Dublow pocketed the scroll and left.

    ¡°Seven.¡± Cassian called out.

    The teenage girl popped her head out from over a bush.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The Viscount is throwing a ball soon. Get him a gift befitting my father.¡±

    ¡°It shall be done!¡±

    Seven hurried into town.

    Cassian, left alone at his compound, strolled its grounds.

    He walked with his hands clasped behind him, his chest forward, and his chin held high.

    While he walked, Cassian chanted aloud.

    ¡°Bed of thorns, of blood and ichor,¡±

    ¡°Alight the night, brood come hither,¡±

    ¡°Ignite the scorned, drink meat and wither,¡±

    ¡°Dead by light, curse man and flicker.¡±

    ¡°Book Of Willow: Bed Of Thorns.¡±

    From behind Cassian¡¯s stride, roses bloomed. Each step he took, a flower grew.

    The roses grew large and their thorns sharp. From the thorn¡¯s tips, an eerie black sap dribbled down its stem.

    As Cassian walked along the perimeter of his compound, the roses followed. By the end, a ring of rose bushes surrounded Cassian¡¯s land.

    When he was finished, he returned to his laboratory.

    He had a ball to prepare for, after all.

    ***

    To Erin¡¯s surprise, Hyzen chose the correct path; the easiest of the two, as well.

    It took the duo a meager six hours to reach the bridge. In the dark, they stood just beyond its first steps.

    Turquoise algae grew from the ceiling above in addition to small patches underneath the bridge with most concentrated around the pillars.

    Hyzen peered into the abyss. He counted the bridge¡¯s columns, yet still, he knew they continued passed the dark.

    A Batarang plunged from the sky and Hyzen caught its slimy embrace between his gloves.

    *pop*

    Hyzen dropped the corpse.

    ¡°What should we do, Master?¡±

    Ironically, Hyzen had the same question.

    Bridges were already a point of contention within dungeons; they almost always spelled bad news.

    And the bridge that spanned before him ¡ª well ¡ª Hyzen didn¡¯t know bridges could be so long. For a length of this distance, wouldn¡¯t it be wiser to simply scurry across the ground? Or go around all-together?

    Hyzen looked down unto the abyss, into the canyon of shadows.

    Was it even possible to survive down there? Hyzen had no way to know.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Sun¡¯s Grace.¡± Hyzen ripped a page from his notebook.

    He flicked it into the air. The page burned brilliantly.

    A sun hovered, born from the page, an orb of light pushed back against the dark.

    ¡°Go.¡± Hyzen commanded.

    The orb of light drifted across the bridge.

    It passed the first column and continued.

    Ten minutes went by.

    The orb of light grew smaller and smaller as it floated further and further ¡ª until it stopped.

    The orb froze in the vast distance.

    Hyzen cursed.

    That was the limit of his magic¡¯s range ¡ª 1,000 meters.

    Yet still, the orb of light revealed nothing special upon the bridge thus far; so Hyzen recalled the miniature sun.

    Then, he sent the light down into the abyss.

    The light sank further and further.

    It revealed some Bat-Apes clung to the walls, but once more, the light stopped and continued no more.

    Both the canyon and the bridge exceeded 1,000 meters.

    Just wonderful. Hyzen thought.

    More minutes passed in silence.

    Given the free time, Martha redrew the Pyromaniac in her notebook. She also sketched the Bat-Apes and the Batarangs ¡ª an assignment from her Master.

    ¡°Martha?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master?¡±

    ¡°How long do you think you can maintain Lunar Petals if that¡¯s all you cast?¡± Hyzen asked.

    ¡°Um¡­ a few hours? Four, at best ¡ª two and a half, at worst.¡±

    ¡°Cast Lunar Petals and drop a handful every two minutes. Stay behind me and stay close. Consider this an A-rank encounter.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master!¡±

    Martha flipped through her notebook. She tore a page.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Lunar Petals!¡±

    From her palms, iridescent flower petals materialized; they glowed soft, gentle, and pure.

    Hyzen, meanwhile, directed the orb of light in front of them. He maintained its position five hundred meters ahead.

    Then, Hyzen stepped onto the bridge.

    Two minutes later, Martha dropped some petals.

    They continued on.

    They passed one column then another.

    Ten minutes later, a shrill cry struck the air.

    *BOOM*

    The orb of light ahead of them popped. It vanished without a trace alongside a loud crash and a rumbling that shook the bridge.

    ¡°It¡¯s here¡­¡± Hyzen said quietly.

    ¡°According to the reports, it should return to the sky.¡±

    ¡°Be ready.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±

    Hyzen closed his eyes. He focused through his ears.

    He listened to the breeze. To the change in the currents.

    He listened for large gusts of wind displaced by the beast¡¯s wings.

    Martha, on the other hand, bore into the abyss.

    With glowing petals in her hands, she could faintly see her immediate surroundings, but there was a clear cut-off.

    Following the Lunar Petal¡¯s glow, there was a ring of darkness that surrounded her and her Master.

    She stared at the ring ahead of them ¡ª at the wall of black ¡ª she strained her eyes in an attempt to peer past it and into the dark.

    While she gazed into the abyss, Martha soon saw something gaze back.

    She saw beady, red eyes.

    She saw a curled smile decorated with razored teeth.

    For a moment, Martha went cold.

    ¡°NOW!¡± Hyzen roared.

    Blood rushed through Martha¡¯s veins. Adrenaline surged.

    Her and her Master dove to the ground.

    *BOOM*

    The Vesperclaw slammed into the stone beside them and slid across the bridge.

    Her Master was already to his feet.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Stone Giant!¡± Hyzen yelled.

    He crumpled his piece of paper and threw it towards the Vesperclaw.

    Mid-air, the crumbled paper hardened and expanded. In a matter of seconds, it grew to the size of a boulder.

    *BOOM*

    The boulder crashed unto the Vesperclaw.

    From the boulder¡¯s form, two arms and legs spread out and clamped around the Vesperclaw.

    The Stone Giant pinned the Vesperclaw to the ground. It slammed its mouth into the stone and tore at the beast¡¯s wing.

    ¡°SKAAAAAA!!¡± The Vesperclaw wailed.

    It squirmed in the Stone Giant¡¯s clutches, but the giant proved sturdier than the beast.

    The Stone Giant wrapped its hands around the Vesperclaw¡¯s neck and squeezed.

    *CRACK*

    The sound of the Vesperclaw¡¯s neck snapping echoed throughout the underground cavern.

    Then, for good measure, the Stone Giant tore the beast¡¯s head off and rolled it along the floor towards Hyzen.

    Hyzen stopped it beneath his boot.

    ¡°Excellent work, Rocky!¡± Hyzen gestured a thumb¡¯s up.

    Then, he squatted beside the beast¡¯s head.

    ¡°Unfortunately a new specimen does call for samples¡­ how annoying¡­¡±

    Hyzen drew his butcher¡¯s knife from his belt. He harvested the Vesperclaw¡¯s eyes, a tooth, saliva, blood, fur, nails, and its heart.

    By the time he stuffed it all into Martha¡¯s backpack ¡ª Martha nearly toppled over from the added weight.

    That was the issue with larger beasts, all of their parts were too damn big!

    The Vesperclaw¡¯s heart ¡ª alone ¡ª weighed upwards of thirty pounds!

    Not to mention, Hyzen and Martha still had to travel to the dungeon¡¯s third floor where, presumably, even more new beast¡¯s roamed!

    Hyzen would need to pack even more!

    Make me the damn Guild Master! Hyzen puffed.

    While he carved out the beast¡¯s heart, Hyzen naturally stumbled upon its core as well.

    The Vesperclaw¡¯s core was smaller than its heart, but still rivaled the size of an adult man¡¯s head. It was pitch black with minuscule splotches of red blooming throughout.

    Hyzen was thankful the cores couldn¡¯t leave the dungeon; if he had to carry those heavy things out too¡­ he might have to quit the Guild altogether.

    Cores could, of course, leave a dungeon¡¯s grounds eventually ¡ª but only once the dungeon had been conquered.

    When conquered, a dungeon¡¯s soul dies and its influence over the cores within itself is removed; thus allowing for the cores to leave ¡ª dead or alive.

    This is also the reason why a dungeon¡¯s inhabitants cannot leave the dungeon itself ¡ª their cores are strictly bound to the dungeon¡¯s core.

    For as long as the dungeon core remains, the beast¡¯s within cannot escape.

    What about collapsed dungeons, you say?

    A collapsed dungeon is a dead dungeon.

    It simply died as a result of excess mana load instead of its own defeat.

    Nevertheless, Hyzen and Martha discovered the end of the bridge.

    It led to a pathway of stairs that hugged the edge of the canyon¡¯s walls. The staircase descended into the abyss, and past the bridge, there were no more splotches of algae to provide light amidst the dark.

    Martha still had her petals, luckily.

    She dropped one on each descending step and after an unnecessarily long time ¡ª they arrived at the Vesperclaw¡¯s nest.

    Four towering columns surrounded a center-bed of gray sand. Pinned to the center of each column, dim torches flickered delicately.

    The torchlight illuminated the walls where unfamiliar runes and depictions graced their surface. Martha saw stick figures gathered en mass; they surrounded a fire that burned taller than a house.

    Within the flames, other stick figures were bound.

    Martha¡¯s eyes scanned the next image.

    The stick figures danced around their burning brethren. They threw flowers both into the air and onto the flames.

    They held hands as the flames turned to ash.

    Shivers travelled down Martha¡¯s spine.

    Could a dungeon have history?

    Well of course they had a history¡­ but these were depictions of man¡­ no dungeon had ever recreated man.

    In any form.

    Sapience was a gift granted by the Gods ¡ª as such ¡ª only the races with Gods possessed it.

    So the dungeon could not be immortalizing its own history ¡ª but one of man¡¯s.

    But this was an undiscovered dungeon until recently.

    For these types of depictions to appear on the third floor¡­

    ¡°Ignore it.¡± Master¡¯s voice was the first sound to be heard in a while.

    Martha pulled her eyes away from the depictions.

    She looked at her Master.

    Hyzen stood in the center of the Vesperclaw¡¯s nest, his boots nestled in the sand.

    ¡°Come here.¡± He said.

    Martha obliged.

    The Master and apprentice stood together in the center of the gray sand.

    ¡°Origami Arts: Sun¡¯s Grace.¡±

    The miniature sun returned.

    Its light illuminated the cave and upon the ceiling above the nest ¡ª a small crystal ball sat entwined within the stone.

    The crystal ball captured the light and lit on its own.

    *rumble*

    The sand beneath them quaked.

    As it shook, the rough shape of stairs revealed themselves.

    After a few more moments, the sand had all but retreated and another spiral staircase stood amongst their path.

    ¡°H-How did you know, Master?¡±

    ¡°The ritual on the wall is certainly concerning, but it gets the message across: start a fire.¡±

    Martha¡¯s eyes glowed as she looked at her Master. He was ¡ª without a doubt ¡ª the best Master there was.

 xiv. Oakroot Catacombs

    ¡°Can you freeze it?¡± Hyzen asked.

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Martha squatted down beside the roaring rapids.

    ¡°Look how fast the water is moving. Anything I freeze will probably shatter before we get any good use out of it.¡±

    Hyzen scratched his chin.

    ¡°Rocky might be able to carry us through.¡±

    Martha shook her head.

    ¡°I doubt Rocky is tall enough, but even if he was ¡ª I still think the water is moving too fast.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Hyzen replied.

    ¡°What if we had a kayak?¡± He asked.

    ¡°A kayak?¡± Martha repeated. ¡°In the dungeon?¡±

    ¡°We can hire someone to carry it down here. Make it a D-rank quest. It¡¯s essentially another porter, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Martha scrunched her brows.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the worst idea in the world¡­ but we don¡¯t even know what the kayak will be facing yet.¡±

    ¡°Well obviously, my apprentice, it is only an idea, after all. On the flip side of things, it looks like our delve this time around has come to an early end.¡± Hyzen said.

    ¡°Good.¡± Martha replied instantly. ¡°My back is starting to hurt.¡±

    ¡°Your back will grow stronger.¡± Hyzen said as he turned towards the staircase.

    Before she left, Martha took one last look at the roaring rapids. The water was violent. It thrashed around and clapped against the dungeon¡¯s walls like thunder.

    But even when the thunderous bangs were absent, the sound of the surging water itself drowned out the third floor. Like gravel constantly pouring, the third floor was remarkably loud.

    With her last look goodbye, Martha followed her Master up to the second floor. She ignored the wall¡¯s depictions and followed her trail of Lunar Petals up the canyon¡¯s steps.

    Soon, she¡¯d see daylight again.

    She wished she could sleep in, but with the preliminary delve out of the way ¡ª her Master would open the dungeon to the public tomorrow.

    The Viscount would probably be there. Alongside his chessboard of more-than-likely-paid-off aristocrats.

    And since her Master would be there; she had to be there.

    Martha sighed.

    Work. She thought.

    When does it end?

    ***

    Erin was disappointed that Hyzen didn¡¯t full-send it into the river.

    He knew it was idiotic ¡ª just look at the water for Christ¡¯s sake ¡ª but he would have loved to see it regardless.

    The mental image of one of his Sea Tanks barreling across the water and absolutely obliterating some poor soul¡¯s vessel¡­

    Erin couldn¡¯t wait.

    Although the massive influx of adventurer¡¯s soon to come meant that Erin was in more danger than ever before ¡ª he surprisingly found himself more excited than not.

    His confidence was misplaced, perhaps, but he felt he had a good basis to stand upon.

    Between Kuzo and Hyzen, the two men who had raided his dungeon the most, neither treated it like some stroll in a park.

    Take Kuzo, for example ¡ª Erin had seen the man split vessels in two; he¡¯d decapitated Smoky in under a second and he¡¯d shown himself to possess extraordinary reflexes, oftentimes evading the clutches of the second floor¡¯s shadows with mere millimeters to spare.

    Then, there¡¯s Hyzen ¡ª a man who, like Kuzo, wielded unnaturally adept reflexes; he consistently toys with Smoky and is able to run laps around the Bat-Apes; and none of that even shines a light compared to the mere fact that he¡¯s exposed himself using three different elemental types: wind, light, and earth.

    Yet still, between the two more-than-qualified men, neither were able to simply walk through Erin¡¯s dungeon.

    And the reason, Erin concluded, was due to their builds.

    Kuzo was a high single-target melee damage dealer. Excellent in his role, but his abilities lacked width; the Vesperclaw, for example ¡ª an opponent amongst the skies ¡ª Kuzo¡¯s sword couldn¡¯t reach the beast if it hadn¡¯t descended of its volition.

    Hyzen, meanwhile, was a utility-support mage. Due to his vast number of expressed affinities, he is able to appropriately respond to a multitude of situations ¡ª both advantageous and disadvantageous.

    But both men ¡ª Erin believed ¡ª were susceptible to instant death; neither wore armor, neither received any attack head-on ¡ª they were fighters, not defenders.

    And Erin had a sneaking suspicion that was the case for most adventurers ¡ª they were men and women who sought personal power.

    Strength. Authority. Autonomy. Wealth.

    Power.

    That was an adventurer''s dream, wasn¡¯t it?

    All of them, Erin believed, would likely lack the tools necessary to conquer his dungeon; hell ¡ª it¡¯s the third floor and there¡¯s already talk of kayaks.

    Needless to say, Erin felt confident going into tomorrow.

    He felt even better when he thought about the rapid influx of mana he was about to receive.

    There¡¯s no risk without reward! Erin hollered.

    Regardless, Erin accompanied the Master and apprentice all the way out of his home. Once they left, Erin prepared some gifts for his new guests.

    He wanted it to be a real welcoming party for them, much like the one currently taking place at the Viscount¡¯s estate.

    Erin wasn¡¯t eavesdropping or anything crude like that ¡ª he was simply aware of it. With so many people gathered in one spot ¡ª with so many mages gathered in one spot ¡ª the Viscount¡¯s estate appeared like a major blip in Erin¡¯s radar.

    Perhaps one of these days I might be able to crash their little party¡­

    ***

    Cassian and Kuzo arrived fashionably late; a choice more than an accident.

    Kuzo still wore his Navy garb: black suit, gold cufflinks, navy cap.

    Cassian, on the other hand ¡ª he finally removed his silky robes. In its place, however, he wore a black suit with green accents.

    He held a darkwood cane, a forest green sash ran across his chest, and his hair ¡ª that was normally lazily tied behind him ¡ª was brushed and conditioned.

    His raven locks cascaded down his back and rustled in the coast¡¯s breeze. In addition to his cane, Cassian carried a small box ¡ª a gift for the Viscount.

    Upon their arrival, the two were led into the estate. It was a compound just shy of a castle; three stories tall with a central tower that overlooked the port.

    The Viscount¡¯s estate was crafted of gray brick and had wooden floors. The floors were oak from the forest nearby, they had been polished to a mirror-like glaze and reflected the light of the many chandeliers that dangled above them.

    The chandeliers appeared molded from crystal ¡ª most likely some mana-enhanced stone from a dungeon beyond. They glowed a soft, opaque white; ghostly.

    The Viscount had gothic taste; that much was obvious.

    He had skulls encased in glass all along his halls and empty suits of armor lined his extended corridors.

    In the very forefront of his estate, gargoyles guarded the entrance; they were molded from stone into shapes of birds of prey: eagles, griffins, phoenixes, to name a few.

    Carriages lined behind one another; they arrived in droves, all parked and bound to the Viscount¡¯s newly constructed stable.

    Cassian and Kuzo were led through the estate¡¯s halls until they were spit into a ballroom; a massive enclosure of space, adorned with spectacular chandeliers, stained glass, and of course ¡ª a domed ceiling.

    Men and women in luxurious attire mingled about; some danced, some ate, but most socialized.

    The aristocrats stood around tables flushed of meats and greens. They held cocktails ¡ª bright and vibrant ¡ª stuffed to the brim with colorfully sliced fruits and sparkling liquids.

    The Viscount danced among the center; his wife danced with him ¡ª a woman half his age with hazel hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin.

    She wore a blue dress that complemented her eyes ¡ª a slit in her dress revealed her inner thigh ¡ª and she danced in stilettos, black, like her husband¡¯s suit.

    Her husband, meanwhile ¡ª the Viscount ¡ª wore a black suit with blue flair. White gems adorned his fingers and a thick, sterling necklace brushed against his bare chest ¡ª the Viscount wore a suit, yes, but his undershirt had gone astray. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The two were obviously made to complement one another, their outfits made to match.

    ¡°From the House of Moor ¡ª second born Cassian Moor enters alongside his retainer ¡®White Flash¡¯ Kuzo!¡± The party¡¯s herald announced.

    Although the music continued to play and the Viscount continued to dance, the announcement pulled heads away from the ball.

    Eyes and ears, attention and interest ¡ª when Cassian and Kuzo entered the Viscount¡¯s ball, glares akin to a predators¡¯ welcomed them.

    As if the music stopped, a wave of tension fell on deaf ears.

    Cassian ignored it.

    He pervaded across the polished floor to a table reserved for the Moor¡¯s; a gesture of necessity more than of

    good will.

    The table was desolate.

    It was cornered in the back of the ballroom, beside the lavatory. The lights were dimmer there, the music quieter; from the lavatory¡¯s doors, an unacceptable odor wafted out.

    It crept around the ballroom table ¡ª whispered to it like a lost lover; the foul stench was soft, hush, and nearly unrecognizable¡­ for the laymen folk, that is.

    For the mana-enhanced, however ¡ª for the mages and knights of society ¡ª the smell was clear and obnoxious; as was the message it conveyed.

    ¡°It seems we¡¯re not welcome here.¡± Kuzo said as he pulled out his seat.

    ¡°Their loss.¡± Cassian replied curtly.

    Kuzo eyed the box in Cassian¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Seven bought it.¡± Cassian said.

    ¡°If it were up to me, though¡­¡± Cassian leaned over the table.

    ¡°I wouldn''t get him more than a ¡ª¡±

    ¡°Gentleman.¡± A man interrupted Cassian.

    He approached from the lavatory¡¯s exit ¡ª from behind Cassian and Kuzo.

    He was an elderly man: gray thin hair, a sagging face, and a small frame. He wore spectacles, carried a cane, and although he was dressed appropriately ¡ª he was by far the most underdressed of the gathered aristocrats; he wore a plain tuxedo ¡ª slightly bedazzled with an intricately folded pocket square ¡ª just enough to make him stand out from the Viscount¡¯s personal servants as they wore something much the same.

    ¡°May I?¡± The gentleman asked.

    Cassian eye-balled Kuzo.

    Kuzo shrugged.

    ¡°You may.¡± Cassian replied.

    The gentleman pulled out a chair and sat amongst the Duke¡¯s table.

    ¡°Your cane appears exquisitely crafted. May I?¡± The gentleman reached.

    Cassian obliged and handed over his darkwood cane.

    The old man studied it intently. He tested its balance, he inspected its craftsmanship, he even coursed some of his mana into it ¡ª Cassian was only able to tell due to the runes he¡¯d inscribed along the cane¡¯s shaft.

    The runes didn¡¯t ignite like crazy, but they sparkled. Gently. Softly. Weakly.

    ¡°Marvelous¡­.¡± The elder muttered to himself.

    Growing perturbed, Cassian butt in.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve had the pleasure of meeting¡­ I am Cassian Moor, second born son of Duke Moor and ¡ª¡±

    ¡°Did you know?¡± The elder interrupted as though Cassian hadn''t spoken at all.

    ¡°The Willows weep this time of year. Their blood runs thin, I fear.¡± The elder returned Cassian¡¯s cane.

    Then, he left.

    He disappeared amongst the crowd of aristocrats. He became nothing more than just another bobbing head in the ever moving crowd that mingled among the ballroom.

    *ding* *ding* *ding*

    The Viscount tapped a knife against his glass.

    The music stopped and the aristocrats quieted.

    ¡°First, I would like to thank you all for gathering on such short notice. Just twenty days ago ¡ª I was a Captain in the Empire¡¯s Garrison, but before even then ¡ª before many of you knew me and before I became the man I am today ¡ª I was a lost soul down South¡­¡±

    ¡°My mother was a barmaid. My father a banker. Life was slow. Life was more grueling than many of you know; so on my fourteenth birthday, I fled. I fled my home, my country, and my people¡­ all for a chance at something more.¡±

    ¡°Twenty days ago ¡ª I believe I finally achieved what my fourteen-year-old-self had sought after so long ago; I now have a beautiful wife, beautiful land, beautiful friends, and a beautiful home. Let tonight mark the change in our lives ¡ª like that fateful night so long ago when I decided to fight for more ¡ª let tonight be our rally; let tonight be our fight for more.¡±

    ¡°For tomorrow ¡ª the Oakroot Catacombs will open. Men and women from far and wide will seek us out; they will come for the dungeon ¡ª yes ¡ª but they will reside upon our land, eat our food, and purchase our wares. Ladies and gentlemen ¡ª let tonight be our last night as captains, barmaids, and bankers ¡ª for come morning ¡ª we will rise as nobles.¡±

    ¡°Now let us cheers! Not for me and my appointment, nor for my beautiful wife and our immaculate home; let us cheers for each other; may we all find success in this uncharted land. Cheers!¡±

    ¡°Cheers!¡±

    ¡°Cheers!¡±

    *ding*

    *ding*

    ¡°I digress! I digress! I apologize, my guests ¡ª for I forgot one important detail.¡± The Viscount turned his hulking body towards the back end of the ballroom.

    He raised his now empty glass towards the lavatory.

    ¡°To my friends from across the sea¡­¡± He began.

    ¡°I hope you find our hospitality to your liking. I would hate for us to get off on the wrong foot. With that said, once again ¡ª cheers to new friends and new opportunities!¡±

    ¡°Cheers!¡±

    ¡°Cheers!¡±

    ¡°Cheers!¡±

    Cassian, however, did not cheers.

    Neither did Kuzo.

    The aristocrats surrounded them. They glanced at them. They spoke under hushed tones.

    The message was evident.

    The Moor¡¯s were outsiders and they were to be treated as such.

    It was a political move ¡ª of course ¡ª all moves were.

    A newly appointed Viscount with a Duke¡¯s son marching around; the hierarchy was already muddy.

    Cassian had showed up the Viscount once before, at the grand opening of the Guild Hall. In a public setting, with not only his servants and supporters around, but his subjects around ¡ª Cassian blatantly disregarded him.

    The nobles played chess, however, not checkers.

    An eye for an eye.

    In a public setting ¡ª the Viscount¡¯s own ball ¡ª he struck back.

    The Moor¡¯s are to remain on the sidelines.

    Cassian received the message loud and clear.

    There was only one miscalculation, however; Cassian no longer spoke on behalf of his father.

    Unfortunately, his public image could not sour now.

    It was checkmate tonight.

    But tomorrow night?

    Cassian grinned.

    He loved a game of back and forth.

    And now he had an excellent reason to play.

    ***

    ¡°Come on! We¡¯re gonna be late!¡± A boy¡¯s voice shouted above the wind.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming! Wait! Hold on!¡± A girl replied.

    The two children sprinted down Main Street; they blew past carriages and horses and stumbled through back alleyways and through gardens.

    The boy ran ahead.

    His shoes kicked rocks as he ran and he waved and smiled to all the new locals: Miss B just opened a bakery, Mrs. T finally achieved her dream of opening an apparel shop, and Mr. S had been grinding in his smithy for upwards of three days now.

    Meanwhile, the girl followed.

    She stumbled her way through town like a wrecking ball; in just two weeks she had become famous ¡ª or perhaps infamous ¡ª as both the adventurers and the locals knew of her growing reputation.

    She crashed into the cabbage wagon yesterday.

    Stumbled into a bushel of apples the day before that.

    She even managed to lock herself in a pig pen ¡ª not for too long, thankfully ¡ª as the butcher¡¯s apprentice discovered her and released her back into the wild.

    But today ¡ª today she could not afford to be late or lost or distracted.

    Today was the big day, after all.

    ¡°Hurry up!¡± Her brother shouted from the shoreline.

    He raced across the sand past stalls and booths that had been set up overnight.

    Performers lined the streets; there were men swallowing swords and women breathing fire ¡ª tricks to entertain the laymen.

    The children¡¯s focus, however, persevered past such things.

    They were interested in real magic, not the cheap and finicky performances reserved for the cobble streets.

    ¡°Hey!¡± She heard her brother shout.

    ¡°I see it! I see it! Amanda, I see it!¡±

    Amanda squeezed her small frame through the crowd.

    She couldn¡¯t see anything; not the sky or the clouds nor the sea or the sands. She saw people¡¯s waists. She saw their dangling swords and their tightly bound daggers.

    She saw repeaters and crossbows, satchels stuffed to the brim with potions and sharpening stones alongside preserved rations for the delves to the come: dried fruits, meats, grains, and legumes all encompassing.

    She pushed through the crowd to the front of the line where she assumed her brother would be; he was a real attention hog ¡ª through and through.

    And like she thought, when Amanda breached the crowd¡¯s suffocating enclosure, she saw her brother at the forefront of it all. Even worse ¡ª he was clung to a noble man¡¯s silk robes.

    ¡°Are you an adventurer???¡±

    ¡°Do you know magic???¡±

    ¡°Are you gonna kill all the monsters in there???¡±

    ¡°Are you ¡ª¡±

    ¡°Jeremy!!!¡± Amanda roared.

    The boy was damn near kneeled over on top of the noble man¡¯s robes. Behind the young noble, a teenage girl with white hair glared at her brother ¡ª but the old man beside her restrained her.

    At the same time, the young noble himself entertained her brother.

    ¡°I¡¯m not an adventurer but I certainly know a little magic.¡±

    The noble reached into his robes and retrieved something tiny ¡ª no larger than a thumbtack.

    ¡°Would you like to see?¡± The noble asked with a warm smile that clashed with his pale appearance.

    ¡°YES!!¡± Jeremy screamed.

    The noble chuckled.

    He ruffled Jeremy¡¯s uncut brown hair and reached behind his ear.

    ¡°Book of Willow: Bloom.¡± The noble recited.

    From behind Jeremy¡¯s ear, a vibrant red rose grew into shape. It pushed through the strands of his hair and parted his bangs.

    When the noble was done, a crown of roses sat atop Jeremy¡¯s little head.

    Within the boy¡¯s eyes ¡ª stars sparkled.

    Suddenly, the rambunctious crowd quieted.

    The adventurer¡¯s parted and a procession led by the Viscount and his wife arrived in front of the dungeon¡¯s entrance.

    Adjacent to the dungeon¡¯s cavern, the city constructed a goblet of stone. Etched into the stone, the words ¡®Oakroot Catacombs¡¯ were bare for all to see.

    Hyzen was part of the procession. He stood just behind the Viscount¡¯s wife. Beside him, Martha tugged on her hat.

    A few other Guild workers stood behind them, but the vast majority of the procession was made up of knights adorned in silver armor; the sound of their steel-tipped boots resonated off the cobble path that led up the mountainside.

    In the center of the procession, a knight larger than the rest carried a burning torch.

    The procession stilled.

    The air quieted.

    Eyes shifted unto Hyzen.

    He stepped out of the procession and stood beside the goblet.

    He cleared his throat.

    Hyzen delivered a speech written by Martha. No one noticed, of course, but if anyone paid any attention ¡ª Martha lip synced along to the speech better than Hyzen delivered it.

    ¡°On behalf of the Guild of Adventurers, in tandem with the Empire, I ¡ª Guild Master Hyzen ¡ª officially declare the Oakroot Catacombs open for subjugation, exploration, and innovation; may your lives find its weight in gold and may your hearts be filled with glory!¡±

 xv. Day One

    Outside of Erin¡¯s doors an army of adventurers waited with bated breaths. Most of them blended with one another; an amalgamation of leather armor, steel blades, chainmail, and potions.

    The adventurers were organized into groups of five with most parties consisting of a warrior, a cleric, a mage, a rogue, and an archer. In addition to the standard five, many of the parties rented an additional member: a porter from the Guild.

    From what Erin could gather, the roles were not mandatory. Some parties had two warriors and two clerics, some didn¡¯t have an archer or a rogue, whilst others consisted solely of mages.

    The parties were unique; and yet at the same time, they were the same.

    The warriors carried axes, swords, hammers, maces ¡ª they were typically big guys with even bigger weapons. The warriors also wore the most armor, but even then, their armor was a far cry from that of the knights.

    The warriors were adorned in chainmail and leather garb. The chainmail rested beneath their leather chest plates and shin guards and most of them did not wear a helmet ¡ª a universal bad habit, it seemed.

    The clerics wore robes of white with either yellow or blue accents. They held staffs crafted of lightwood, carried satchels stuffed with potions, and kept on their persons herbs and botanicals that could be used for emergency treatments within the greatest depths of an unexplored dungeon.

    The mages, meanwhile, varied the most in Erin¡¯s eyes. From his perspective, there were mages, witches, warlocks, and magi ¡ª which is to say that the mages followed no pre-set configurations; some wore a witch¡¯s hat like Martha, some wore robes like the clerics, and others carried enchanted weapons and tools ¡ª alchemists, perhaps?

    Battle alchemists?

    Erin wasn¡¯t sure.

    The rogues, on the other hand, were typical rogues: dual blades and crossbows or kunai and shurikens. They wore lightweight armor of dark colorations and tied to their waists they carried rope, chalk, smoke bombs, and incendiaries, lock picking kits, and bandages.

    The archers ¡ª like the rogues ¡ª were typical. Most kept a standard bow with a quiver or two of arrows strapped to their backs and ¡ª like the rogues ¡ª they too carried rope and lock picking kits, but the archers specialized in trapping; they were the hunters of the group.

    Bear traps and grappling hooks, snares and sharpening stones, compasses and fishing line ¡ª the archer¡¯s were the most prepared to survive the unknown.

    Lastly, beyond the standard five, the Guild offered porters for hire. The porters carried a backpack.

    A huge backpack.

    Furthermore, if the dungeon required it, the porters could also carry pickaxes, ice crystals, and chains for mining, preserving, and entrapping respectively.

    Outside of Erin¡¯s doors, the adventurers gathered.

    The sun had just risen. Birds chirped and the seagulls above dove and splashed into the water.

    The first party of adventurers was ready.

    The leader, a bearded man clad in plate armor, checked the straps of his shield with meticulous care. His brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath.

    ¡°Always the darkest holes that hold the brightest treasure.¡±

    Nearby, a lithe elf with a bow slung across her back crouched low and traced a map on the dirt with her finger. Her keen eyes darted between the dungeon¡¯s entrance and the makeshift map beneath her.

    ¡°Be mindful of traps. Stay sharp.¡± She said.

    A young mage, wrapped in flowing emerald robes, adjusted the straps of his bulging satchel. His hands trembled slightly as he double-checked the vials and potions tucked within.

    ¡°I-I can set up wards if we need to retreat!¡± He stammered.

    At the edge of the group, a rogue dressed in black leather stretched and yawned theatrically. He flipped his dagger through his fingers with practiced ease.

    ¡°I¡¯ll head in first, of course.¡± He said with a smirk. ¡°Don¡¯t want you lot trippin¡¯ over the first trap and gettin¡¯ us all killed.¡±

    The party¡¯s cleric, an ashen haired fellow with a golden sunburst emblazoned on the behind of his robes, stepped forward and clasped his hands.

    ¡°We stand together,¡± he said firmly, ¡°and if the Gods are kind, we¡¯ll walk out together too.¡±

    A soft light spread from the cleric¡¯s hands around the group. The light calmed the party¡¯s nerves and steeled their resolve.

    A gust of wind swept through the party and the adventurers exchanged one last look ¡ª some determined, others masking their trepidation ¡ª then the bearded man raised his axe.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He growled. ¡°Into the dark we go.¡±

    ***

    The first party entered Erin¡¯s dungeon without any further pretense.

    The rogue led.

    He stepped carefully through the Acorn Halls, wary of the traps further within. Thanks to the dungeon report offered by the Guild, he and his party were well aware of the arrow traps and ignition trap waiting for them.

    Similar to Kuzo, the rogue gently tapped each of the dungeon¡¯s leaf-shaped tiles. After twenty minutes of careful proceedings, they arrived at the fountain.

    The Bat-Apes, meanwhile, proved no more than a warm up for them. The rogue was able to consistently subdue one and clash with another whilst their leader could tumble with upwards of four at a time.

    His shield ¡ª a girthy circular piece of steel ¡ª was the height of the Bat-Apes themselves. Although taxing on his stamina, the party¡¯s leader held the Bat-Apes at bay while the group''s archer and rogue whittled down the beast¡¯s lives.

    Before the final Bat-Ape was slain, they submerged underneath the fountain¡¯s water.

    *BOOM*

    The dungeon¡¯s walls rattled.

    From the dungeon¡¯s entrance, the mountainside shook and loose debris tumbled down the rocky spires.

    At the same time, the second party of adventurers was getting ready for their delve; they checked their straps, double-counted their arrows and potions, and rehearsed their plan one final time.

    Meanwhile, the first party arrived at Smoky¡¯s gates.

    They entered the massive arena and immediately spread out. The warrior in the front, the cleric and archer in the rear, while the mage and rogue split off to each side.

    The arena¡¯s doors slammed shut.

    *BOOM*

    Smoky plummeted from the dome ceiling and crashed into the arena¡¯s center. Dust billowed out. The enchanted shimmering acorns among the arena¡¯s walls flickered as if disrupted by Smoky¡¯s entrance.

    Immediately, the party¡¯s leader charged.

    ¡°Giants Blood: Stampede!¡±

    The warriors'' veins bulged. His skin burned crimson and steam erupted from the cracks between his chest plate.

    His steps shook the earth. With each increasing one, the ground quaked ever more violently.

    He screamed as he charged towards Smoky.

    Smoky roared in response.

    Smoky picked up his war-torn weapon and slammed it overhead.

    *BOOM*

    A shockwave rippled through the air.

    Smoky¡¯s massive acorn slammed onto the warrior''s shield. The man knelt on one knee. He grit his teeth as he stared up at the black beast above him.

    Then, he stifled a laugh.

    ¡°I bloody caught ya¡¯!¡±

    Whilst the warrior received Smoky¡¯s blow, the mage prepared a spell and the archer took aim.

    ¡°School Of Flame: Fireball!¡±

    ¡°Enchanted Bow: Flaming Arrow!¡±

    From two sides of the arena, scorched flames erupted to life.

    Before the mage, a fireball gathered amidst the air. The flames spiraled over themselves, and with each rotation, more flames birthed, until the fireball was the size of a boulder.

    Similarly, the elf¡¯s arrowhead burned brilliant orange. Flames danced along its shaft as fire consumed the arrow whole.

    The mage and archer released simultaneously. Their flames scorched the tile black as they exploded across the arena.

    The arrow plunged into Smoky¡¯s chest. The flames spread. They clung to Smoky¡¯s pelt and used his fur as fuel.

    *BOOM*

    Then, the mage''s fireball crashed into Smoky¡¯s back.

    The flames fully encompassed Smoky and even kissed the brunt of the warrior''s beard. Smoky hollered in agony.

    The beast snapped its tail around and whipped the warrior across the room.

    The man skipped across the tile and slammed into one of the arena¡¯s pillars.

    Then, the rogue struck.

    He arrived from beside Smoky¡¯s overextended arm and plunged his dagger between Smoky¡¯s ribs. The steel blade sunk into Smoky¡¯s chest, but was too shallow to reach the beast¡¯s heart.

    Smoky attempted to crush the rogue, but the man decisively abandoned his dagger ¡ª stuck between the beast¡¯s ribs ¡ª and retreated away from the beast.

    Smoky screeched into the air.

    He curled himself into a ball and raised his tails into the air.

    The bristles loosened.

    ¡°Get behind a pillar!!¡± The archer shouted.

    Smoky unleashed an onslaught of onyx spires. The footlong spines of death ravaged the arena. They tore through the air like shrapnel and eviscerated the floor¡¯s meticulous tile and the ceiling¡¯s grandeur oak mural. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    After the barrage, an eerie quiet spread throughout the arena.

    The elf rounded the pillar. She looked at Smoky still in the center. His tails¡¯ spines were depleted and the beast was likely exhausted.

    She knocked an arrow.

    ¡°Enchanted Bow: Accelerate.¡±

    The knocked arrowhead shimmered with mana.

    Then, with a crisp snap, the arrow bolted across the arena like a bullet and slammed in between Smoky¡¯s eyes.

    Smoky spasmed; then collapsed.

    Embers flickered off his coat. His fur continued to burn.

    Smoke billowed into the air.

    ¡°That was close.¡± The elf sighed in relief.

    Meanwhile, the rogue approached Smoky.

    He intended to confirm the kill.

    He bent over beside Smoky¡¯s ribs and grabbed the hilt of his dagger. Then, he meandered over to Smoky¡¯s head and crouched beside him.

    He pressed his blade against Smoky¡¯s throat¡­ then froze.

    The rogue''s eyes widened.

    He tried to slit the beast¡¯s throat, but his arm wouldn¡¯t budge.

    He tried to reel it back, but the same occurred.

    Panic ensued.

    Sweat dribbled down the rogue¡¯s forehead.

    He tried to pry his jaw open. He tried to open his mouth.

    He dug deep within himself; where was his voice?

    Where was his freedom?

    Crouched on the ground, the rogue¡¯s figure shook.

    ¡°Hey everyone! Check this out!¡± The cleric shouted.

    He held a golden manacorn between his fingers.

    ¡°Is that the manacorn?¡± The archer asked.

    ¡°It must be.¡± The cleric affirmed.

    ¡°I hear the Guild¡¯s buying one of those bad boys for five gold a pop!¡± The warrior hooted.

    Beyond the conversation, the rogue grappled with himself.

    Sweat pooled beneath him. His achilles felt inflamed and close to snapping. His quads screamed bloody murder.

    Every instinct in his body lit so extraordinarily aflame that the man¡¯s bloodshot eyes bulged out of their sockets.

    Then suddenly, he gained a foothold.

    ¡°MMMMMMMM!!¡± Noise erupted from the bowels of the rogue¡¯s diaphragm.

    His party looked over.

    A shadow ensnared him. Like a black tentacle, the shadow wrapped around the rogue¡¯s body and kept him bound in place.

    ¡°Will Of Eos: Purifying Light!¡± The cleric shouted.

    A radiant light engulfed the arena.

    When the blinding light was gone, the rogue was unbound and unconscious on the floor.

    ¡°What a despicable fiend!¡± The warrior spat.

    He raised his axe above his shoulder and plunged it into Smoky¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Kill confirmed.¡± He remarked.

    He cast a glance towards the elf.

    ¡°Time?¡±

    ¡°One o¡¯ four.¡± She said.

    ¡°Rest for ten minutes. We¡¯re behind schedule. Let¡¯s hope the lads behind us are understanding.¡±

    ***

    The surge of adventurers delving into Erin¡¯s depths was undoubtedly scary, but after a week of about sixteen delves per day ¡ª 40% of those who attempted did not survive.

    The ignition trap was ¡ª surprisingly ¡ª the first minor obstacle for the adventurers. Even with the grace of forewarning, restricting a D-rank beast¡¯s movement was no simple task.

    The ignition trap was set to ignite when the last beast fell. This was made abundantly clear to all those first entering the Oakroot Catacombs ¡ª the issue, however, lied in inexperience.

    A healthy chunk of the adventurers that delved into Erin¡¯s dungeon were unfamiliar with combat ¡ª through and through.

    Perhaps they were from a remote village countryside where the only available quests involved picking herbs and combatting slimes and this new and unique dungeon was their short-cut to prosperity¡­.

    It was of no concern to Erin.

    The reality was the reality.

    And the reality at present was that the adventurers were unprepared; either they underestimated the dungeon or overestimated themselves ¡ª it didn¡¯t matter to Erin.

    Because in only a week, Erin¡¯s dungeon claimed over fifty lives and with each life lost and returned to mana, Erin¡¯s power multiplied.

    With each spell cast, with each instance of mana in action ¡ª Erin¡¯s understanding further developed.

    Erin studied the adventurers'' invading.

    He studied their magic, crept upon their strategies, and took note of the most impactful among them.

    After one week, seven parties stood incomparable to the rest. They were the seven that returned.

    The seven who embarked into the depths of the second floor and returned to tell the tale.

    As for the rest of the adventurers who tried? The 40%?

    Their bodies lined the canyon¡¯s depths.

    Their gear and loot trapped forever, succumbed to the dark.

    If the incendiary trap was the first minor obstacle, then the second floor in its entirety was the first major hurdle.

    The adventurers ¡ª even the well-versed among them ¡ª were not accustomed to fighting amidst the dark.

    At first, they tried to carry torches, but instead of the grace of light ¡ª it merely called forth the monsters among the dark.

    A flood of bats pursued the light. Like moths to a flame or like sharks to blood ¡ª flies to shit ¡ª the Bat-Apes and Batarangs hunted the light with relentless and frenzied vigor.

    The adventurers quickly realized: light in the depths meant death.

    Since torches weren¡¯t an option, however, the adventurers'' problem-solved.

    They discovered that the bats weren¡¯t as drawn to moonlight as they were to sunlight. Immediately, the value of a lunar cleric mooned overnight.

    According to the advertisements posted along the Guild¡¯s bulletin boards ¡ª those that could cast lunar spells were paid double compared to the rest.

    In the event where the lunar affinity could not be obtained, there were also a slew of support spells that could allow people to see in the dark. Many such spells existed across various affinities, and with the Guild¡¯s resources ¡ª Hyzen was able to purchase three spell scrolls (one fire, one light, and one water) that could be sold over the Guild¡¯s counter.

    Overnight, the spell scrolls made a difference.

    Adventurer¡¯s purchased the scrolls in a frenzy, and for those that could not afford one ¡ª they exchanged for them with Guild Tokens ¡ª the Guild¡¯s private currency.

    The day after the scrolls were introduced, the adventurers mortality rate dropped by 10% ¡ª a boon for Hyzen.

    Accolades under his belt.

    Even with the issue of the dark solved ¡ª however ¡ª the second floor was no mere cakewalk.

    The pathways changed constantly.

    Platoons of Bat-Apes roamed freely. They mingled throughout its depths. They hunted in the dark, always on the prowl for a taste of flesh.

    At the same time, Batarangs dominated the second floor. They clung to the vast ceilings high above and swooped down from the perilous cliffs.

    Worst of all, the Batarangs were venomous and the Guild still hadn¡¯t discovered its antidote. In response, the adventurers covered up.

    Those who refused to wear chainmail before wore it now.

    Those who opted out of a helmet wore one now.

    In just a week, the adventurers that hadn¡¯t been cut evolved.

    They conquered the dark.

    They resisted the venom.

    They battered themselves against the dungeon until they learned.

    ***

    A familiar party scurried through the second floor.

    A bearded man with a robust, round shield stepped carefully through mist.

    Behind him, an archer with pointed ears and an ashen haired cleric remained vigilant.

    In the back of the party, the mage focused on their flank.

    ¡°Oi!¡± The rogue''s voice severed the mist.

    ¡°I think I found something!¡±

    Five minutes later¡­

    The party of five stood before a hollow entrance carved out of a wall of stone. Beyond the entrance, clouds of heavy white steam bellowed out.

    Alongside the steam, swaths of warmth and heat gently coalesced around the party¡¯s grim exterior.

    Their noses rippled.

    A comfortable scent tickled them.

    Lavender?

    Chamomile?

    The rogue peaked inside.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ empty?¡± The words hung from his lips.

    They entered a small room with a pool of hot water.

    In the center of the pool, a ginormous pearl glistened underneath sizzling water.

    The bath was bedazzled. Pearls and beads of glass adorned it and ignited their surroundings.

    Algae bloomed around the bath¡¯s entrance like an oasis in a desert. The soft turquoise light reflected off the glass beads within the sana which cast a gentle film over the small enclosure.

    Through the erupting bubbles of the bath, the mage narrowed his gaze upon the pearl.

    He squinted his eyes.

    I-Is that a-a rune? He stammered.

    For it was a rune he had never seen before.

    He pulled his notebook from his satchel and copied the rune. This granted him a much needed research vice for whey they reemerged above the surface.

    ¡°The water¡¯s the perfect temperature!¡± The elf exclaimed.

    ¡°Aye!¡± The bearded warrior agreed.

    They each dipped their hands into the pool.

    The bubbles danced along their palms.

    When they pulled their hands out, their palms were clean and their knuckles were unblemished. Even the dirt beneath their nails had disappeared ¡ª but within the thick swaths of steam, nobody noticed the irregularity.

    Normal water cleaned dirt too, after all.

    Even if it had cleaned better than normal, it was not to a recognizable degree.

    ***

    Within an office freshly laid, polished tools and shimmering blades gleamed behind walls of glass.

    Parchments littered the office. Most cluttered the large wooden desk sat centered in the room. Some fell to the floor and mingled amongst the marble.

    Beside the egregious amounts of parchment, a lantern hung from the edge of the desk and flickered warm light into the mostly empty space. The light illuminated the scrolls and not much else.

    The moon peered through the office¡¯s window. A gentle light that soaked the room in hues of blue and silver.

    The smell of lantern oil and wax wafted throughout the Guild Hall. For hours now, Hyzen sat prim and proper.

    He licked his fingers and grabbed another stack of papers.

    ¡®Quest: Slay 10 Large Bats¡¯

    ¡®Quest: Collect 5 Bushels of Luminous Algae¡¯

    ¡®Quest: Map the Second Floor¡¯

    He worked from dawn to the later ends of dusk; Hyzen reviewed the past week¡¯s completed quests. First, he organized them into three piles: completed, in-progress, and failed.

    For the completed quests, Hyzen readied his newly forged stamp-key; a bronze ring imbued with the wearer¡¯s mana so that when stamped ¡ª the user¡¯s mana seeps into the wax and leaves behind an imprint of their mana.

    Hyzen dipped his left middle finger into a gurgling pot of liquid wax. He signed off on the completed quest, re-rolled the scroll, and stamped it shut.

    From its place on his desk, Hyzen tossed the stamped scroll into a basket amongst his office¡¯s floor.

    He continued.

    ¡®Request: 20 Tons of Bat Pelt¡¯

    ¡®Request: 10 Vials of Bat Blood¡¯

    ¡®Request: Urgent: Venomous Bat Captured Alive¡¯

    Hyzen once again licked his fingers.

    These were the parchments yet to become quests. Parchments that needed to be sorted, ranked, and if required, modified before being posted within the Guild Hall.

    Hyzen grabbed the first parchment: 20 Tons of Bat Pelt.

    He read the request in-depth.

    It was from a local tailor newly established; a woman, alongside her husband, that crafts apparel. The request listed the woman¡¯s address, her intended use, and provided a deadline for the quest alongside its payment.

    Hyzen searched his desk for another stamp.

    He rummaged through the papers and grabbed a stamp larger than his own then slammed it onto the page.

    ¡®Quest: Collect 1 Ton of Bat Pelt¡¯

    ¡®Rank: C¡¯

    ¡®Completed: 0/20¡¯

    Hyzen tossed the parchment towards another basket.

    Then, he glanced at a grandfather clock positioned in the corner of his office.

    Half past ten¡­ Hyzen recounted Martha leaving hours ago.

    *BANG*

    Hyzen slammed his desk.

    At this rate, he wouldn¡¯t escape until after twelve.

 xvi. Fish In Its Bowl

    The dark was hushed, save for the gentle crackle of a campfire. Flames danced and flickered, casting warm light outwards towards the cabin and pines ¡ª the outhouse and the river stream.

    Shadows leaped and swayed across the nearby trees; their gnarled branches stretched skyward like silent sentinels.

    The stream¡¯s soft babble wove seamlessly into the background ¡ª into the quiet sounds of the night; its rhythmic flow a soothing counterpoint to the occasional crackle of wood from the fire.

    Smoke curled upwards in lazy spirals. It carried the faint scent of burning pine mixed with the night¡¯s cool air.

    Far above, where the sky of stars was meant to be ¡ª where brilliant pinpricks of light were meant to drape over the horizon ¡ª there was, instead, nothing.

    No sky.

    No stars.

    No moon in the night sky.

    After his fourth attempt at hopelessly staring above, Bram looked down and returned his gaze to the campfire.

    He fiddled with a notebook within his lap, leather-bound and worn down.

    He shook his head and opened the book.

    It was a journal that belonged to the Duke. An old one ¡ª maybe forty years? It was when the Duke attended schooling, that much Bram could tell.

    Beside his father¡¯s journals, the cabin was equipped with other things. There were more books, of course.

    Multiple plant and fungi encyclopedias, books that detailed how to manage farmland, what crops and which beasts belonged in which climates ¡ª there was also a collection of blueprints that resembled a steam powered engine, for some reason?

    Apart from the reading, Bram also explored his glass cage. From the cabin centerpoint, Bram had about half a mile in every direction. After that, the invisible wall barred him.

    The small stream ran from corner to corner and Bram assumed it was cyclical underneath the earth, otherwise how else would it never end?

    The landscape was filled with pines. There were bugs and lizards, worms slithered through the dirt, and beetles often approached him.

    There were no birds, however; and no predators to speak of. Bram had explored all of the cube and he hadn¡¯t encountered a single carnivore.

    There were rabbits and squirrels, and salmon in the river, but that was all there was. Just enough to get by.

    Bram repositioned beside the fire.

    His day¡¯s had quickly grown monotonous.

    In the mornings, he swam in the stream. It cleaned him off, woke him up, and provided him with breakfast.

    Every morning, Bram ate fish with rice.

    For the following three to five hours, he usually meditated or consolidated his mana, ran it through his circles ¡ª you know ¡ª mana training but for humans.

    When he got hungry again, Bram turned to the woods. Then, he ate rabbit with rice.

    After lunch, Bram did his chores. If he needed more firewood, he chopped it. If he needed more water, he boiled it.

    If his post-lunch schedule was free, Bram would read something from the cabin or continue his mana training.

    For dinner, Bram spoiled himself. Along the edge of the stream, underneath the pines that grew adjacent to the water, wild ginger grew. And on the other side of the cabin, near the invisible wall up North ¡ª a few bushels of huckleberries sprouted.

    Even beyond, there was mint all around. It grew along the pine¡¯s themselves, underneath their sunny sides.

    With the huckleberries, mint, and ginger ¡ª dinner was always a rare treat.

    ¡°Fuck me¡­¡± Bram snapped the journal shut.

    He leaned back against his makeshift chair and looked at the sky. It was black. Perfected in its form ¡ª as lightless as it could be ¡ª uninterrupted and undisturbed ¡ª vantablack come-to-life.

    Bram picked at his finger.

    He scratched at his cuticle with his nail.

    He did it unknowingly; a bad habit he¡¯d developed since he was sucked into the artifact.

    He remembered the day vividly; for not a day had passed where he hadn¡¯t recalled it.

    He remembered Lyra¡¯s screech the most.

    It often woke him in the latter parts of the night with a cold shrill alongside a bead of sweat.

    The sound gave him goosebumps upon every recollection.

    Then, there was the light.

    Blood red and haunting.

    Her eyes ¡ª once brilliant and violet ¡ª turned dark and corroded. Blood seeped down her eye-sockets as her eyes bulged and rotated.

    He could hear the crack of her joints and bones as her fingers curled back and her neck stiffened ¡ª eyes locked onto something through the mist.

    Bram remembered when her hood flew back and her runes morphed from angelic to demonic; and from that moment on she became no more than a beast in a dungeon, waiting to be quelled.

    Somehow, though, even with all that Bram went through ¡ª there was one more thing that shook him even worse than that monster.

    After Bram was sealed within the artifact and tossed over the edge¡­ well, he assumed that would be the end of it.

    But when the glass artifact landed along the canyon floor and Bram was met with a sight of foliage and running water, huckleberry bushes and shrimp ¡ª he was taken aback.

    There¡¯s more to the dungeon than just the adventurer¡¯s trail?! Bram realized.

    Then, something attacked the artifact.

    An invisible force slammed into the artifact¡¯s glass casing and the whole artifact shook. The ground, the water, the air ¡ª even the blood in Bram¡¯s veins ¡ª rattled as though space itself was threatened to be torn apart.

    The sensation appeared and disappeared almost immediately.

    One second, all was good. The next second, Bram could taste his ass and feel each and every muscle within his body constrict to an extreme he didn¡¯t know was possible.

    When the pressure ceased and the world quit its rattling, Bram collapsed to the cabin¡¯s bed, but the pressure that had assaulted him that day was already burned deep into his mind.

    As if a God had looked down on him, Bram had never felt so much like a fish in its bowl.

    When he next awoke, the world was gone and the sky was black.

    ***

    Erin¡¯s attention sat alone in his hollowed out fourth floor.

    A sea of stone expanded around him. From the floor to the ceiling, even the walls around him, the stone was all there was.

    That and the darkness; the unassuming void. For no stars pierced the darkness, no faint glimmers offered their reprieve. The fourth floor was oppressive ¡ª it carried an unyielding emptiness that pulsed with its own weight.

    Above the stone and a few feet before Erin¡¯s eyes, an orb shapeshifted through various forms.

    First, a solid rock.

    Then, the rock slowly melted. It grew viscous, then fluid.

    An orb of water coalesced above the ground.

    Then, the water bubbled. It evaporated into the air. Steam rose and reflected downwards until an orb of white mist hovered around.

    From mist to flames; the orb ignited.

    Then, it turned to light.

    Before it was snuffed by darkness.

    Finally, the orb steadied.

    It returned to liquid, clear like water, but not as transparent.

    The orb of uncolored liquid appeared weighted down as the very air around it was pulled alongside in tandem.

    Liquid mana. Erin told himself.

    A breakthrough, needless to say, in his study of mana and something that he had been striving towards for nearly a month now.

    And after a month, he had solved it.

    The trick ¡ª if there were such a thing ¡ª for the manipulation of mana¡¯s density. In this case, Erin made the mana more dense and granted it form without elemental attachment.

    The results?

    Erin bobbed the orb of mana up and down. He squished it and squeezed it.

    He pushed it against the ground, threatening to pop it, but it never did.

    Erin¡¯s control was too precise. Too strict.

    His grasp around the mana orb was absolute. Without his instruction, the mana orb served no greater function than as a mere paper weight.

    That is, unless Erin willed it to do something.

    With the orb of mana still squished against the floor, Erin commanded it. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Broadsword. Erin envisioned the weapon in his mind.

    From the levitating orb, a minuscule trace of mana seeped out and slithered into the ground.

    The mana circulated. It coursed through the stone and interacted with its matter. Then, the stone jiggled.

    It shifted from solid to gelatinous. The matter rearranged itself. The gray and blemished stone smoothened and sharpened until ¡ª

    *ting*

    The edge of the broadsword nicked the ground as it fell and an echo travelled throughout the fourth floor.

    Erin picked up the broadsword and it suddenly levitated above the ground beside the mana orb.

    With his mana-reinforced eyes, Erin saw into the broadsword; he studied its matter, he looked at its cells and electrons, he searched for anything and everything that may be out of place due its spontaneous creation.

    But ultimately, Erin discovered nothing.

    The sword made from stone appeared normal. The use of mana as a catalyst for alteration had little to no side effects ¡ª something Erin already knew, but he was unsure whether or not the mana¡¯s purity would have an effect.

    Thankfully, it didn¡¯t.

    Return to stone. Erin willed.

    From the orb of mana, a sliver released; it penetrated the sword¡¯s handle and, within seconds, the sword started to rattle.

    From solid to liquid, the sword slowly unfurled and filled the small gap of stone missing in the floor.

    Next, Erin needed a test subject.

    To the right of him, he cut out the ground.

    He created a well within the fourth floor; a sizable hole that travelled deep into the depths. In his mind¡¯s eye, Erin directed the passage.

    On the bottom of the seabed, half a mile East and beneath the sea¡¯s drop off ¡ª another hole materialized into existence.

    The seawater rushed the well. Alongside it, Erin pulled.

    The water tore underground and soared towards Erin¡¯s location.

    Before it arrived, Erin enacted more of his power. He glanced at the makeshift well and pondered.

    Before the seawater could explode out, it slammed into an invisible barrier. Delicate runes appeared around the well, carved into the stone itself ¡ª from nothing came something.

    Erin rummaged through the seawater with his mana-enhanced senses.

    He located a fish and dragged it through the underground tunnel that led to the well. In a moment, the fish would arrive.

    Erin pulled it from the water and the fish levitated above the ground in its own mana-enforced fish bowl.

    Almost identical to the mana orb, two orbs of liquid now bobbed side by side amongst the darkness of the fourth floor.

    One orb was clear.

    One orb carried a fish.

    After a month of hard work, Erin could materialize mana, but could he graft it?

    Runes, alteration, even creation ¡ª they all came natural to Erin. With his will alone, Erin could create and destroy, manipulate and tamper with.

    He could do all sorts of unimaginable feats, but ¡ª

    Erin focused on the mana orb and the fish.

    First, he formed a core within the fish.

    The core acted as a battery for magic. Without the core, magic was all but futile.

    Then, Erin flicked through his vision.

    Infrared. Ultraviolet. Mana sensitive. X-Ray.

    Erin stopped.

    He peered through the fish''s muscles and scales with his X-Ray vision and observed the creature''s core with unfettered precision.

    Water manipulation. Erin concentrated.

    A sliver of mana broke away from the mana orb and seeped into the fish.

    The mana coursed through the fish. It coated each of its cells and interacted minutely across all of them. Just before it reached the core, however, the mana stopped.

    It redirected itself towards the fish¡¯s fins where it ultimately decided to settle. Under Erin¡¯s watchful gaze, the fish¡¯s fins expanded outward.

    They curved and twisted, becoming more bulbous, before the mana extinguished and the fish was left with oversized, floppy fins.

    Erin metaphorically scratched his head.

    This was his¡­

    What number was it?

    His twenty-seventh attempt at granting another creature magic and like all the rest of them, this one too was a failure.

    No matter how he worded it ¡ª how he willed it ¡ª Erin could not find a way to bestow magic unto others. No matter what he tried, the mana always conjoined with a physical feature of the creature.

    Erin could make them bigger and stronger. He could make them faster and softer. But all of those changes were bound to physics; there was a limit to a beast¡¯s strength and that limit was directly tied to the size of its muscles.

    It worked similarly with speed, toughness, sharpness ¡ª there was simply a physical end that could not be exceeded due to the nature of matter itself.

    Magic, however, should be able to conquer all of these flimsy limits. The question was ¡ª

    WHY THE FUCK CAN¡¯T I DO IT!??

    Erin kidnapped another fish.

    The twenty-eighth. Today.

    ***

    The thin path of stone seemingly led everywhere. The walls, meanwhile ¡ª also stone ¡ª towered around them, unyielding and cold.

    The air was thick and damp, and cold from the lack of light.

    It was heavy with the smell of moss and blood; an unpleasantly pleasant scent ¡ª natureful, green, yet slightly corroded.

    Up ahead, the unfocused imagery of five figures wandered about. Their shadows pressed faintly against the dungeon¡¯s walls, weaker than normal ¡ª cast from lunar light instead of solar.

    Behind them, three more figures remained in the dark.

    They moved in silence. Their breathing was shallow and their steps were measured. At the front of their formation, a scruffy man with a wiry frame and a scar across his temple held his breath.

    He carried a short sword strapped to his hip while his dagger was already drawn and in his hand. His sharp eyes flickered across the dungeon¡¯s every corner, alert for traps and signs of discovery.

    Behind him, a taller, broad-shouldered man clad in leather armor hefted a crossbow upon his shoulder; his knuckles already pale from the strain.

    Behind him, a lean figure draped in a dark cloak brought up their rear. The third man seeped into the shadows, his presence was almost spectral as he faded into the deeper depths of the dungeon¡¯s crevices.

    Within the third man¡¯s hands, he twirled a small vial of poison absentmindedly, as though already imagining its use.

    ¡°They¡¯re slowing down.¡± The man in front whispered, his voice barely audible above the faint drip of water from somewhere deeper within.

    The man behind him, the middle man, leaned forward to get a better view.

    ¡°Probably trying to decide on a direction. The turn ahead forks.¡± He said.

    ¡°They¡¯ll pick the wrong one.¡± The third man murmured, his tone laced with cold amusement.

    ¡°They¡¯re nervous. They¡¯re sloppy.¡± He added.

    Ahead, the five figures clustered together.

    One ¡ª a man with a hood draped over him ¡ª held a parchment map while he argued with the rest of his party. Their voices were fueled by hushed tones, their frustration already leaking.

    ¡°Stay back.¡± The man in front said, his hand raised alongside his instruction.

    He pressed himself firmly against the wall and signaled for the others to do the same. Meanwhile, the group ahead continued their debate and with their frustration growing more evident ¡ª snippets of their conversation bled back.

    ¡°¡­left¡­ the markings don¡¯t match¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­dead end last¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­someone¡­ -hind us¡­¡±

    The third man grinned at that and his teeth glinted underneath the algae.

    ¡°Smart, but not smart enough.¡± He nearly cackled.

    The man in front held up his hand again, signaling patience.

    The five moved at last. Their footsteps retreated down the path to the left, but the three followers waited until their footfalls were quiet.

    Only then, the trio crept forward. The cool stone pressed against their shoulders as they stuck to the walls. When they reached the fork, the man in front crouched down.

    He inspected the ground. There was some scuffed dirt and a fresh scrape on the stone where a boot must have dragged.

    ¡°They¡¯re getting tired.¡± He noticed. ¡°Slowing down. We¡¯ll catch them at the next bend.¡±

    The middle man nodded and cocked his crossbow.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they pick the wrong turn.¡± He added.

    The third man stashed his vial of poison. Instead, he flicked out a dagger and twirled it like he did the vial.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Every turn in this place is the wrong one for them.¡±

    Time passed and exhaustion settled.

    The two parties continued through the second floor of the dungeon; one none the wiser.

    Then, the sound of leathery wings echoed throughout the underground labyrinth. The five ahead froze as a high-pitched scream pierced the veil.

    From the shadows above, a swarm of Batarangs descended. The sleek creatures torpedoed down as their black fur melded with the night and their crimson eyes locked onto target.

    The group of five scattered. Their lunar light wavered in panic and cast frantic shadows along the walls all while weapons were drawn and incantations were muttered.

    A woman screamed as she swung her sword towards the Batarang already upon her. The beast¡¯s fangs latched onto her leather bracer and sank deep enough to draw blood.

    Another man jabbed upwards with a spear; he pierced a Batarang¡¯s chest, then another, but more came ¡ª clawing, screeching, until the group was driven into chaos.

    From their concealed position, the stalkers watched.

    ¡°Perfect!¡± The leader said. ¡°Let them tire themselves out.¡±

    The middle man loaded his crossbow. ¡°They won¡¯t see us coming.¡±

    ¡°Wait for it! Let the monsters soften them first!¡± The third man said, his predatory gaze stuck to the fight like tape on paper.

    The battle raged before them. A heavyset warrior swung a broad axe and a Batarang was cleaved in two, but another swooped in. The beast¡¯s fangs ripped into the warrior¡¯s nape and the man roared out in pain; blood burst from his neck, it splattered out of him and coated the wall''s red.

    The others, meanwhile ¡ª fared no better. They flailed against the swarm like ragdolls. Their coordination collapsed further with each passing second.

    Then, the stalker¡¯s leader raised three fingers.

    Three.

    Two.

    One.

    ¡°Now!¡± He hissed.

    The trio moved as one; like ghosts, they slipped into the fray unnoticed. The leader dove forward, his dagger flashed as he drove it into the back of a man distracted by a diving bat.

    The victim gasped, and blood rushed his lungs sooner than expected. He crumpled to the ground and died without a chance to call out.

    The middle man raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt whistled through the air and buried itself in the chest of a woman who had just managed to fend off a Batarang.

    She staggered backwards and dropped her weapon. In the next moment, she collapsed to the ground ¡ª a lifeless heap of soon to be cold cells.

    At the same time, the third man danced into the chaos like a specter; his blade slashed the throat of a man who turned too late to defend himself.

    Blood splashed into the air.

    ¡°Ambush!¡± One of the survivors yelled as his voice was filled with raw desperation.

    He swung wildly. Desperately.

    His sword caught the snag end of a Batarang and severed its wing clean off, but he was already within the leader¡¯s sights. A blur of movement later, and a dagger pierced beneath his armpit.

    He felt a sharp pain then a growing burn. Warm liquid cascaded around the wound as he dropped his sword; he suddenly lost the strength to wield it.

    The remaining two ¡ª bloodied and battered ¡ª attempted to regroup, but the Batarang¡¯s surged again and dove towards their exposed flesh.

    One fell under the swarm; his screams faded into gurgles as the creatures overwhelmed him.

    The last, a woman with a bloodied staff, turned to run; her face a mask of terror. From across the void, a bolt soared through the swarm and impaled her.

    Her body slammed against the ground where her staff clattered beside her.

    Meanwhile, the stalkers returned to the shadows. They hugged the dungeon¡¯s walls and faded into the background ¡ª a spell, more likely than not.

    Since ¡ª when the three meshed into the shadows ¡ª the Batarangs retreated. They had their fill of blood from the still pooling five.

    With the Batarangs gone and the coast now clear, the stalkers secured their hunt, looted their prey, and disposed of the evidence.

    ¡°Quick and clean.¡± The leader muttered. He wiped the blood on his blade along the cloak of one of the fallen men.

    Then, the middle man kicked another body over the edge. ¡°Messy, but effective.¡±

    Meanwhile, the third man ran his hands through the bag¡¯s of the women. He pulled a vial from one of the satchels.

    ¡°Looks like we found something useful!¡± He grinned.

    ¡°Good.¡± The leader sheathed his dagger. ¡°Now let¡¯s get moving.¡±

 xvii. A Fine Gentleman

    For days on end, Erin further experimented with mana. In doing so, he absorbed life among the seabed, capturing fish, prawn, and jelly alike.

    Then, a thought occurred to him.

    Perhaps these creatures were too small and it was their limited capacity that restricted their acquisition of mana?

    So, Erin delved deeper.

    Big fish like tuna and sea bass; Erin hounded them all.

    Their cores were bigger, yes ¡ª but that was the only major difference as even then, the bigger cores did not yield magic¡¯s grasp.

    If not size, then perhaps intelligence? Was Erin¡¯s next thought.

    From large fish to more intelligent critters, Erin flooded the surrounding sea with his presence.

    He searched diligently for beneath-the-sea mammals: dolphins, whales, hell, even manatees would have sufficed, but alas ¡ª none were found.

    Both because the sea¡¯s surrounding Erin¡¯s dungeon were erratic and frost-touched, but also because Erin could not see that far to begin with.

    Amidst the reef, however, in between the colorful sprouts of coral and the vibrant stocks of seaweed, seahorses mingled about.

    They were an electrifying yellow, bright with softer colored bellies.

    Although far from mammals, seahorses were relatively intelligent beings. Many mated for life, which indicated recognition and a developed memory.

    In-house, they were even more impressive. Seahorses could be trained almost like dogs ¡ª to respond to calls, to catch, roll-over¡­

    Certainly wiser than fish. Erin thought.

    So he nabbed a few of them. Whispered into their ear¡¯s sweet little nothings ¡ª promises of more to come ¡ª Erin enticed them with mana and hormones all to direct them right into his lap.

    Per protocol, Erin started with their cores.

    Formed in minutes, Erin studied each of them intently.

    Were they any different from the fish?

    If they were, it would weakly support the intelligence theory. Unfortunately, the seahorse¡¯s cores were typical; no different from that of the fish or the bats.

    Erin controlled his disappointment the moment it arose. Unbothered, he followed protocol.

    With their cores formed, Erin gathered some mana. It swirled in the air and conjoined within an orb beside him.

    From the mana orb, Erin picked off a single strand of mana as thin as a hair follicle and yet as volatile as radiation; Erin silenced his other thoughts.

    He pushed the sliver of mana into the seahorse¡¯s chest. With precise control and determined intent, Erin shoved the strand of mana directly into the beast¡¯s core.

    At first, nothing of note happened.

    The mana slipped into the seahorse¡¯s core unaffected. Then, the core dimly responded.

    A faint glow flickered from its center. It was a fleeting light, weak and thin.

    Erin waited some more.

    The sliver of mana carried his will, after all; it should do more, but, like all his other attempts, the only response granted was the drip of water from the third floor down to the fourth.

    In other words, failure.

    As a result, Erin moved the seahorses to a pre-formed spot within the fourth floor. Thus far, the fourth floor acted as his research base.

    It was still dark. Pitch black, actually.

    And it was still largely unoccupied. Ninety percent of it was empty space, but in the corner where Erin worked ¡ª where his makeshift well sat ¡ª so too sat about seventeen other species Erin had already worked with.

    All fish.

    All trapped in their own little fish bowls, swimming in circles like their brain¡¯s would suggest.

    Then suddenly, the dungeon¡¯s walls shook.

    A delicate rumbling traveled through the fourth floor and, alongside it, an epiphany struck Erin.

    Erin flashed to the first floor.

    The ignition trap had just fired ¡ª that was what shook the dungeon and it¡¯s something Erin had mostly learned to ignore due to its hourly frequency, but this time it got him thinking.

    Smoky can use magic! He thought.

    You absolute moron! Why didn¡¯t I think of this sooner!?

    Although Erin had already meticulously studied Smoky¡¯s core before ¡ª both before and after his evolution ¡ª Erin had never explicitly observed it while Smoky cast magic.

    Nevertheless, with the ignition trap depleted, now was the perfect time to take notice.

    Before he flashed to Smoky¡¯s Boss Room, Erin appeared beside the first floor¡¯s fountain. Black soot lined the floor and walls and the oxygen was weak in the air.

    The stench permeated like glue; it stuck to the walls and the charred flesh of the Bat Apes ¡ª unrelenting in its grasp.

    It brought tears to the eyes and soured the nose.

    Then, the water from within the fountain erupted.

    Three people sprung out; in fact, it was three people Erin easily recognized.

    Kuzo wiped the water off his face. He held a stern expression, but was clearly fed up with the wetness.

    Martha, meanwhile, picked the wet hair off her face. She readjusted her pointed hat and dumped the water from her boots.

    In third, to Erin¡¯s surprise, was Dublow ¡ª Cassian¡¯s butler? Erin wasn¡¯t clear on their relationship, but the finely aged gentleman certainly screamed butler.

    He wore an all black suit, even in the dungeon, with a pair of meticulously polished leather boots and gloves to match. Underneath his black blazer, a forest green vest hugged his chest and a dark brown tie sat perfectly aligned ¡ª even while wet.

    Dublow pulled his white gloves tight as he stepped out of the fountain. He appeared unperturbed, determined ¡ª a man on a mission

    As the trio¡¯s clothes dripped water onto the dungeon¡¯s tiles, they advanced towards Smoky¡¯s domain.

    Amidst the walk in between, Martha interrupted the silence.

    ¡°So who¡¯s gonna fight the squirrel?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I suppose any one of us could take it down single-handedly. Why do you ask, Martha? Volunteering?¡± Kuzo replied.

    But Martha shook her head.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± She said, ¡°but Master told me to use this as an opportunity to ¡®observe and absorb.¡¯¡±

    ¡°¡®Observe and absorb.¡¯¡± Kuzo reiterated. ¡°The hell does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Master says that when you¡¯re in the heat of battle, you¡¯re often so focused on the immediate variables that you ignore the external ones. He told me to pay attention to the things I otherwise wouldn¡¯t, like the lanterns along the walls or the mural above the Boss¡¯s arena.¡± Martha explained with a hint of pride.

    Kuzo knit his brow.

    ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve been sketching this whole time?¡± He asked.

    In response to Kuzo¡¯s question, Martha¡¯s expression noticeably gleamed. She eagerly grabbed her notebook from its place along her belt and flipped through its contents.

    Stopping on the latest page, she pushed the book towards Kuzo¡¯s face.

    ¡°Look!¡± She chirped. ¡°The acorn cupules change throughout the floor! I had never noticed it before! The changes are minor, but it¡¯s fascinating nonetheless! I mean, why would a dungeon care so much about the intricacies of the cupules design? I asked my Master, and he said....¡±

    Kuzo drowned her out. He liked Martha. She was smart and kind. She didn¡¯t discriminate against commoners and, above all else, she had a raw fascination for magic and all things related.

    The girl was passionate, but sometimes ¡ª she was too passionate.

    Just like Hyzen. Kuzo thought.

    For a second, he even wondered if Martha had got it from him, but that couldn¡¯t be the case; you couldn¡¯t teach that sort of fanaticism.

    At least, Kuzo believed.

    Dublow, meanwhile, marched in-line with the others. He was a man of even fewer words than Kuzo himself, a combination that did not promote party unity. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I will defeat the Boss.¡± Dublow said unexpectedly and yet sternly.

    At his abrupt statement, however, Martha finally shut her lips. Although interrupted, she now cast a gaze akin to stars towards Dublow.

    Kuzo glanced between the two.

    Perhaps he said something just to quiet her down? Kuzo pondered.

    But then he shook his head.

    That couldn''t be right. He insisted.

    A gentleman like himself would pamper a young lady such as Martha¡­ perhaps that¡¯s why he offered to slay the Boss? To impress upon the younger generation?

    It was at this time that the trio reached the end of the corridor. They were now a single corner away from the first floor Boss.

    True to his word, Dublow pressed forward into the beast¡¯s den with an air of unwavering confidence.

    Smoky lay asleep in the arena¡¯s center. He lay perched up against his golden acorn, which was embedded into the stone ¡ª slammed there by Smoky.

    As Dublow walked across the arena, Smoky¡¯s nose twitched. He sniffed the air in rapid succession. Then, his golden eyes burst open.

    Smoky reeled himself off the floor and stood on his hind legs. His lips retreated backwards, a snarl growing across his face; Smoky¡¯s teeth barred as a guttural growl erupted from his esophagus.

    Dublow continued to walk steadily forward, meanwhile.

    He re-tightened his gloves. His back stood straight. His posture immaculate: one hand clasped behind his back whilst the other retrieved a pair of dual daggers.

    He clasped the two daggers between his fingers. Their polished surfaces reflected the light from the arena¡¯s sconces.

    In the next moment, Smoky released an ear-splitting chitter as his tails whipped around him and soared towards Dublow.

    In response, the butler readied his stance. He bent his knees and leaned forward; no longer walking, Dublow burst forward with a speed that defied his silver-head of hair.

    Before Smoky¡¯s tails could hit him, Dublow leaped above the assault ¡ª spiraled amongst the air ¡ª and gracefully landed beyond the beast¡¯s tails.

    Then, Dublow¡¯s arm snapped forward.

    ¡°Sloppy.¡± He said under his breath.

    One dagger shot across the arena and precisely slid into Smoky¡¯s right eye.

    The beast recoiled back.

    Smoky stumbled backwards ¡ª distraught ¡ª and tripped over his own legs.

    *BOOM*

    His impact rattled the arena¡¯s pillars.

    Dublow¡¯s daggers were too shallow, however, and Smoky still lived.

    Dublow rushed towards the beast.

    Meanwhile, the shadows thickened.

    Smoky¡¯s tails slowly submerged into the shadow beneath him. With each tail, Smoky¡¯s shadow grew enriched: darker, thicker, deeper.

    With his one good eye, Smoky snapped his neck around and glared at Dublow. His tails submerged in the shadows, Smoky once again whipped his tails towards the man.

    Although this time, Smoky¡¯s tails sailed across the floor as a shadow. In an instant, it was as if ink had consumed the arena¡¯s grounds. The lightless sea converged upon Dublow.

    Black pikes and dark spears exploded from the shadows. They shot towards Dublow with deadly precision, each shadow aimed for one of his natural vulnerabilities: his heart, his brain, neck, lungs, liver, spine.

    And yet, the butler¡¯s remaining dagger moved like a blur. He parried each attack with measured precision, his movements were fluid and precise, as if he were performing a delicate dance.

    Sparks crackled in the gloom as metal clashed against shadow. Dublow¡¯s feet moved with flawless rhythm as he weaved through the shadows'' barrage. Each step of his consistently one step ahead of Smoky¡¯s.

    While Dublow was temporarily restrained by the shadows, Smoky pulled himself to his feet. He was evidently slower than before, careful with his skull ¡ª wary of the blade jammed into his eye ¡ª but that was not enough to beckon retreat.

    Smoky called back his shadow tails and the relentless assault ceased. Then, the beast leaned forward onto all paws and charged straight towards Dublow.

    In response, Dublow reversed his grip on his dagger and held his arms up, assuming a defensive stance.

    Smoky pushed his hind legs into the tile and exploded into the air. Beneath him, the tile shattered.

    Just as Smoky leapt into the air, Dublow took off running. He ran towards the beast and, as it soared above him, Dublow slid the edge of his blade across Smoky¡¯s underbelly.

    He cut from shoulder to hip.

    *BOOM*

    Smoky crashed against the ground. Blood pooled beneath him. His chest lay exposed. Weak breathing and panicked gurgles resounded throughout the arena, but the suffering was fleeting and Smoky bled out before the cold could further haunt him.

    Dublow retrieved his dagger and cleaned its blade.

    Martha studied the mural above.

    And Kuzo took note of Smoky¡¯s development; that shadow attack was relentless. The beast was clearly progressing and with it, perhaps the Guild would bump the dungeon¡¯s rating in the near future.

    Actually. Kuzo glanced over at Martha.

    ¡°Hey Marth, Hyzen once mentioned that the dungeon was rated C due to the first floor not possessing enough mana-enhanced beasts, but given this Boss¡¯s rare attunement and recent improvements ¡ª do you think the Guild would reconsider?¡±

    Martha looked up from her notebook.

    ¡°It¡¯s funny you mention that. There¡¯s actually a bit of drama at Guild Headquarters right now because of that.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kuzo asked.

    ¡°Hmm. Well, you were an adventurer once, right, Mr. Kuzo?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±

    ¡°Then you should know the basic principles the Guild uses to rank the dungeons, right?¡±

    Kuzo scratched his chin. Couldn¡¯t she just get to the point?

    ¡°I consider myself familiar.¡± Kuzo agreed.

    ¡°Well then you should know that although the Guild does consider metrics like the number of beasts, their rank, their attunement, and so on ¡ª one metric triumphs above all the rest.¡±

    ¡°The mortality rate.¡± Kuzo said.

    ¡°Precisely! The mortality rate! And this dungeon¡¯s mortality rate is off the charts! Way higher than any C-rank dungeon should be, so the Guild is catching flak for it.¡± Martha explained.

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll raise the evaluation?¡± Kuzo asked.

    But Martha shook her head.

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± She said. ¡°They¡¯ll most likely send another inspector. Someone with ties to HQ to appease the moaning Myrtle¡¯s, but Master has yet to receive any messages about it.¡±

    ¡°Be careful.¡± Dublow interrupted. ¡°There¡¯s something waiting for us at the bottom of these stairs.¡±

    Immediately, Kuzo and Martha heightened their senses.

    Kuzo drew his sword and Martha squeezed her wand.

    With each step, the second floor grew closer. Turquoise light enshrouded the entrance. Water dribbled off the ceiling and a thick mist invaded the air.

    Dublow stepped onto the second floor with his daggers in hand and his eyes scanning the peripheral. It was dark and damp.

    The air was thick with a still fog that smelled of mildew and iron. Beyond the fog and over the edge, the darkness retreated unto the abyss.

    The trio spread out.

    Martha nervously looked around. She tried to peer through the thick fog, but the swaths of mist were suffocating.

    ¡°Dublow?¡± Kuzo questioned.

    Dublow raised his finger, silencing the party. They stood dead still. Meanwhile, Dublow cupped his ears.

    ¡°¡­jump?¡±

    ¡°¡­.you¡­.sure¡­?¡±

    Dublow heard whispers among the fog. Voices far traveled. He tried to narrow in, tried to pinpoint their location, but with the vast abyss beside him ¡ª the echoes ricocheted sporadically.

    Then, suddenly, the voice accelerated.

    ¡°¡­.aaaa¡­aaaaAAAAAHHHHH!!!!¡±

    Dublow¡¯s gaze shot up.

    Kuzo too, his eyes rocketed upwards.

    ¡°Scatter!¡± He shouted.

    From above, an adventurer plummeted down.

    *CRASH*

    His leather-bound chainmail slammed into the stone. Then, another followed.

    ¡°AAAAAHHH!!!¡±

    *CRASH*

    The fog dissipated as dust billowed into the air. Beneath the algae¡¯s glow, two adventurers lay smushed atop one another.

    Meanwhile, Erin returned to the fourth floor to consolidate his gains. He had watched Smoky¡¯s battle and through it all, he discovered an anomaly within the squirrel''s core.

    If Erin could recreate it, then perhaps bestowed magic was closer than he had thought.

    ***

    Cassian¡¯s eyes burned. They were dry and bloodshot. His long black hair was clipped behind him and he wore robes ¡ª casual, relaxed ¡ª unlike the white kimono he typically adorned.

    His focus was fading, however; his eyes were glossed over and sweat readily pooled upon the cusp of his forehead. His delicate fingers cascaded across his metal table, towards a stash of vials and beakers that were haphazardly strewn about.

    His fingers clasped around a small vial that contained a clear liquid. With a pop, Cassian uncorked the vial and poured the liquid onto a petri dish. Then, he stared, watched, and observed.

    Cassian¡¯s observation was unrelenting.

    The man did not blink.

    Sweat dripped down his nose.

    ¡°Fascinating¡­¡± he muttered to himself.

    ¡°Its molecular bonds are somehow hyper-stabilized¡­ allowing for¡­ energy to be stored at a density greater than normal.¡± Cassian remarked.

    He pulled away from his microscope and allowed himself to blink. Lost in thought, he continued to ramble.

    ¡°How can so much energy stay inert? The molecules should combust¡­ or at the very least should be in a gaseous state but¡­¡± Cassian looked at the other vial¡¯s of the fountain¡¯s water.

    ¡°If the water¡¯s enhanced then¡­ it must respond to some catalyst¡­ but what?¡±

    *ding*

    Then, the chime of a bell interrupted Cassian¡¯s thoughts. His lab door opened and Seven entered.

    ¡°Lord Cassian.¡± She bowed. ¡°The quest has been posted.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Seven maintained her bow, however; she stared at the floor and clenched her fists at her sides.

    ¡°What?¡± Cassian noticed.

    But the girl merely flinched in response.

    ¡°You may speak freely.¡±

    ¡°Lord Cassian.¡± Seven straightened herself as she gazed into Cassian¡¯s eyes.

    Seconds passed in the eerie silence.

    ¡°Why did you post an assistance quest at the Guild? A-Are we not good enough?¡± Seven asked at a volume just above a whisper.

    Cassian stood from his stool. He scanned Seven from head to toe with a soft gaze.

    ¡°Seven¡­¡± Cassian pushed the hair out of her eyes, ¡°you will always be enough for me, but dungeon¡¯s are dangerous ¡ª this one even more so. I don¡¯t intend to make Dublow my errand boy forever, always risking his life to fetch silly things like water or blood samples¡­ I need you two by my side. The assistants can handle the dungeon.¡±

    Seven gazed at Cassian. She looked between each of his eyes all while hesitation clouded her own.

    ¡°Okay.¡± She said.

    And a short smile crept along her face.

    Meanwhile, Cassian returned to his stool and microscope. The water fascinated him, but there was still more to digest: the algae, blood samples, various assortments of hair and nails. Dublow was even able to secure a manacorn.

    Cassian needed to see it all. And he had no intention of leaving his lab until he was finished ¡ª hence the need for assistants; younglings, most likely pre-teens or teenagers who weren¡¯t old enough to officially register as adventurers, but were still able to accept mundane quests from the Guild ¡ª anything D-rated and below.

    Cassian needed just a few spare hands to aid in his daily life. He needed a messenger boy and a cook at the very least, but he was hoping for a few responses from the Guild. Somewhere around five assistants felt appropriate, Cassian thought.

    That was tomorrow''s issue, fortunately. For now, Cassian studied the intricacies of the dungeon¡¯s various products. Every dungeon housed a goldmine, after all, the gold just needed to be discovered.

 xviii. Stolen Magic

    Erin sat within the fourth floor. Darkness flooded his surroundings.

    He recalled his memories. He recalled the fight that had just passed; Smoky versus an unexpected trio.

    Smoky lost, of course; had he ever won?

    Throughout the engagement, Erin paid close attention to Smoky and his core. Waiting for the right moment, watching for something to happen, desperately searching for a twinge of inspiration ¡ª Erin kept a stern leash on his focus.

    Then finally, Smoky touched the shadows; his tails slowly morphed, from solid to liquid, from liquid to gas, then from gas to¡­ something else?

    From gas to shadow, Erin watched as Smoky¡¯s tails phased through matter and conjoined with the darkness itself.

    How? Erin couldn¡¯t help but wonder.

    As he watched further, it became clear. An old scientific notion he recalled from the past, an insane statement to the laymen, but somehow proved true; matter was mostly empty space.

    Between an atom''s electrons and its nucleus, beside its protons and neutrons ¡ª there was nothing. The empty space was held together mostly through electromagnetic forces, and when Smoky¡¯s tails phased through the floor?

    The electromagnetic forces shifted slightly ¡ª just enough to allow the atoms to slip past one another.

    It was remarkable. Truly a magical feat to witness, but Erin had more to learn. So he changed gears and shifted his gaze from Smoky¡¯s tails to his core.

    There, whilst his tail¡¯s were submerging, Erin saw magic at play.

    Smoky¡¯s core ¡ª the beautiful bowling ball sized orb ¡ª black as night with its own solar system of miraculous golden stars ¡ª while Smoky used magic, strange patterns emerged upon his core.

    Like an electric circuit, mana from within Smoky¡¯s core surged into the strange circuit. The circuit ignited, then glowed brilliantly. By the time Smoky¡¯s tails were fully submerged in shadow, the circuit dimmed. It still appeared, however, and mana still coursed through it, but much less than before.

    Then, as Smoky readied another attack, another circuit sprang into existence. Mana flooded the circuit rapidly.

    The circuit erupted. The mana within momentarily spiked and then faded. Whilst above, pikes and spears of shadow erupted from the floor ¡ª the result of the second mana circuit.

    Mana circuits! Erin realized.

    Runes, but for the core!

    If runes were used to manipulate mana in the air, then their counterpart, circuits, were used to manipulate mana from within.

    Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The reason why Erin couldn¡¯t grant his subjects magic? Erin always envisioned granting the being itself magical ability ¡ª such that their biology would respond to the magic.

    It made sense to Erin, at least.

    A fire mage would have a natural affinity to flame, his skin and flesh altered by magic ¡ª enhanced ¡ª or so Erin thought. As it turned out, magic and biology scarcely interacted at all.

    Perhaps there was more to be learned on the subject of mana veins. It was a topic briefly mentioned in the flame grimoire Erin had read not too long ago, but without access to more grimoires, Erin¡¯s study would have to remain localized within the dungeon.

    Then, another thought occurred to Erin.

    How do humans acquire a core anyway?

    Born with it? Could the human body really produce something akin to marble? Unlikely. So then how?

    And if the core is subsequently added, then where do their mana veins come from?

    Erin shook his head.

    Questions, questions, and always more questions.

    Perhaps sometime soon he¡¯d find a pregnant woman among the surface ¡ª not for anything weird or perverted ¡ª simply to observe the birth. Then from there, to observe the child¡¯s growth, to find some answers for Erin¡¯s well of many.

    Nevertheless, Erin now had newfound direction.

    Mana circuits!

    Modify the core, not the flesh! It¡¯s so obvious!

    Erin returned to the seahorses. Although he had acquired various other aquatic critters over the past month, the seahorses quickly became his favorite.

    Not only were they smart, but Erin noticed that each of them donned their own unique personality; a far cry from the level of intelligence beholden to the bats.

    The bats were cute and useful, but by all accounts were they dumber than the rocks they blended in with. During the many raids Erin¡¯s combatted, Erin had tried to coordinate the miniature mammals.

    Instructions like halt, move forward, and attack were accepted.

    Anything beyond simple directional communication, on the other hand ¡ª the bats fell short. They could not coordinate with one another. They could not operate in squads nor could they monitor the same area for an extended period of time.

    They were toddlers. Nay. Infants. And their attention span lasted as long as their line of sight did; which is to say that if they couldn¡¯t see their target, then their target didn¡¯t exist as far as they were concerned.

    Perhaps it was a mistake to grant them eyes? Erin thought.

    Nevertheless, the second floor needed a touch-up. It needed something to lead the bats, something with just a little more intelligence and a little more functional memory.

    Thus, Erin plucked a seahorse from the water.

    The vibrant yellow creature levitated amongst the air within an orb of sea water. Erin brought it close to his attention. Then, he peered through the seahorse''s flesh and bone and observed its core.

    The seahorse¡¯s core was small ¡ª ironically the size of an acorn ¡ª and instead of black, it was gray, as if filled with mist.

    The seahorse¡¯s core was like a storm. Gray and white wisps danced within, spiraling like a tempest; then, occasionally, miniature zaps of electricity sparked against the core¡¯s wall.

    Erin didn¡¯t hesitate any further.

    He conjured his mana orb beside the seahorse. Then, he plucked a pure strand of mana and succinctly pushed it into the seahorse¡¯s core.

    The mana circuits reflect a spell. Erin told himself.

    And spells seemingly require incantations.

    So what came first, the incantation or the mana circuit? Does the incantation bring forth the circuit or does the circuit merely respond to the incantation?

    Erin focused on the seahorse¡¯s core. He imagined a circuit for a lightning bolt, then meshed the mana and the core together.

    To his disappointment, the core glowed momentarily, but no other action followed. Although a circuit was not drawn, the seahorse¡¯s form also did not change in the slightest ¡ª a sign, hopefully, that Erin was progressing in the right direction.

    If the circuit didn¡¯t come first, then the incantation must. This spawned another inquiry, however.

    Could I just make up an incantation? Erin thought.

    Or should I copy one of the adventurers¡¯? This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Erin thought of the men and women who had raided him. He flicked through his memories with astounding clarity, reliving key moments and remembering distinct faces and spells.

    There was a woman two weeks ago who wielded lightning. She died on the second floor whilst sprinting away from a tide of Batarangs. She failed to watch her step and plummeted off the edge.

    Went splat against the canyon floor.

    Erin rewound her death in his memory. He followed her through the second floor and watched her and her party engage the Bat-Apes. There, she used a few lightning aspected spells.

    Erin nabbed a strand of mana.

    He pushed it into the seahorse¡¯s core.

    Thunderwright: Static Lock. Erin willed.

    Then, the mana strand responded in kind. Instead of fully merging with the core itself, the strand coated the core¡¯s wall. Like a chisel, the strand of mana etched a circuit into the core before it faded entirely.

    Erin retreated from the seahorse¡¯s core. Then, with a mental command, Erin willed the seahorse to test it.

    A bolt of electricity surged up the seahorse¡¯s abdomen towards its jaw. The seahorse then charged its neck back and gathered the electricity. Then, a bolt of lightning no larger than a bullet erupted across the fourth floor and slammed into the ground.

    Meanwhile, Erin watched with a silly grin.

    This¡­ This changes everything!

    ***

    The dim room reeked of smoke and tension. Shadows flickered across cracked stone walls, casted from lanterns enchanted to float amongst the arched ceiling above.

    The air was thick, not with the weight of war¡¯s typical toll but with the bitterness of the men and women seated around a long oak table. Each wore a uniform, though the crests varied ¡ª some bore the gilded wings of the Lucent Guild, others the iron thorns of the Crafter¡¯s Guild.

    Despite their shared cause, their expressions revealed a spectrum of displeasure: furrowed brows, clenched teeth, and restless hands tapped against the table''s scorched surface.

    At the head of the table sat the Grandmaster, his presence was like a storm barely contained. A recognized calamity across the two major continents, a public appointed legend in the flesh, and the youngest Grandmaster to be named ¡ª he was a man not to be trifled with.

    His long coat of midnight blue was adorned with polished brass buttons and the insignia of a hawk clutching lightning. He leaned forward, his gloved hands gripping the edge of the table as if to restrain himself from leaping to his feet. His face was stern and his deep-set eyes burned with a fury that silenced the room more effectively than any order could.

    ¡°So ¡ª¡± the Grandmaster began, his voice a low growl that cut the murmurs quiet.

    ¡°The Oakroot Catacombs.¡± He spat the words like venom.

    ¡°A dungeon reported to defy the very patterns we¡¯ve built our understanding upon ¡ª complex, unstable, anomalous. And yet¡­¡± He slammed a gloved fist onto the table.

    ¡°It¡¯s been assigned C-rank?! Care to explain this farce?!¡±

    A gaunt man dressed in robes cleared his throat as his fingers adjusted the monocle that rested upon his nose.

    ¡°Grandmaster, the inspection was performed by a man named Hyzen. His report detailed the dungeon¡¯s potential strength and strongly advocated for an advanced rank placement. Given the report¡¯s findings, it¡¯s unclear how the dungeon was granted C-rank clearance.¡±

    The Grandmaster¡¯s gaze pierced the officer. Then, he moved his gaze unto each of the men and women surrounding the oak table.

    ¡°This reeks of politics. Of someone¡¯s hand pressing down on the scales.¡± The Grandmaster¡¯s voice was heavy.

    A sharp voice chimed in from the left side of the table.

    ¡°If I may, Grandmaster.¡± The speaker was a woman with streaks of silver in her hair and uniform.

    ¡°The Oakroot Catacombs lie on undeveloped and far-removed land. If it were assigned a higher rank, it would demand a greater allocation of resources, potentially pulling from a fund ¡ª¡±

    Before she could finish, however, another voice interrupted with clear notes of aggression.

    ¡°How dare you accuse us! The Treasury is for the good of all the continents! You think the mere grade difference of a single dungeon is enough to coerce me into theft?! Know your place, mut ¡ª lest I must remind you again.¡±

    ¡°Or ¡ª¡± another voice interjected, this one laced with sarcasm.

    ¡°It could just be some underpaid pencil-pusher looking for a quick inspection and an early supper.¡±

    A ripple of uneasy laughter moved through the room, but the Grandmaster did not so much as blink.

    ¡°Do you all hear yourselves?¡± He hissed.

    ¡°This is not just about bureaucratic squabbles. The report described a responsive dungeon ¡ª not just one that mirrors its surroundings; changing pathways, new species, never-before-seen traps, and beasts that rival gold¡¯s without even the aid of mana. A dungeon like that isn''t designated C-rank unless someone wanted it overlooked.¡±

    The room fell silent as the weight of the Grandmaster¡¯s accusation settled over them. Finally, the silver-haired woman broke the silence.

    ¡°What would you have us do?¡±

    The Grandmaster rose to his full height which cast an imposing figure amongst the lantern light.

    ¡°Assemble a team ¡ª no politicians, no lapdogs of the aristocracy. Soldiers. Scholars. If the Oakroot Catacombs is as unique as I suspect, we can¡¯t afford to ignore it now. Not while the blood of our people grease the wheels of its ascension.¡±

    The room buzzed with murmurs as the Grandmaster strode towards the door. Before leaving, he turned back and glared at the council.

    ¡°Sylvara will lead the inspection. I grant her Vice authority. You are all dismissed.¡±

    With that, he disappeared; and the council was left to stew in the storm he had unleashed.

    ***

    Lightning Thief: Pressure Bolt!

    Storm Bringer: Thunder¡¯s Call!

    Black Thunder: Roaring Heavens!

    With precedent set, Erin tested his other theories. Sadly, Erin could not fabricate spell names. For one reason or another, the spells didn¡¯t materialize onto the core like before.

    Erin supposed it should have been possible to get lucky; to accidentally recite a spell that existed out in the greater world, but if that truly worked ¡ª what was stopping other mages from attempting the same thing?

    Clearly, Erin was still missing something. He needed the incantation, that much had been proved true, but the incantation was not the only thing. If it were, Erin should have been able to stumble upon another spell circuit ¡ª even with how unlikely it¡¯d be.

    Was it visualization? Erin thought.

    It could be. The spell that Erin bestowed upon the seahorse was a spell that he had seen before, but then again ¡ª if that were the case, then how were new spells created to begin with?

    It simply could not be that Erin must see the spell before he could mimic it, there must be more to it.

    But with progress made and time always ticking, Erin put a pause to further experiments. He could now copy the spells of the adventurers ¡ª that was more than enough for his current predicament.

    Speaking of current predicaments, Erin¡¯s focus readily returned to the seahorses. Since he needed them for the second floor, they naturally couldn¡¯t remain sea creatures.

    First, Erin removed their gills and replaced them with lungs. Then, he modified their scales. He was worried they would dry and crack above the water so he made them more reptilian; they were thicker, rougher, and self-moisturizing.

    Then, Erin serrated their teeth and reinforced their jaws. Lastly, Erin gave them wings. Four wings, to be exact, like a dragonfly. They sprouted from the seahorses¡¯ backs and fluttered in the air faster than the human eye could follow.

    To the laymen, the seahorses appeared to be floating independently. With the new species¡¯ origin member complete, Erin named them Airhorses and quickly proliferated a mate.

    Before leaving the two Airhorses to mingle, Erin touched upon their brain chemistry. Like the bats, Erin wanted to rework their habits towards his benefit.

    To start, Erin designated them as pack hunters traveling in packs no larger than three. Then, he integrated the notion of an alpha in their brains, a pack leader, one that would lead the various packs spread across a floor.

    Although granted serrated teeth, Erin made sure the Airhorses knew they were for scrapping after the fact, not for initial engagement. Instead, the Airhorses were instilled with a sense of mockery.

    Erin designed their brains to release serotonin and dopamine at the sight of paralyzed prey; and only when paralyzed should the Airhorses approach and devour, with one Airhorse readily re-paralyzing the victim until death took them.

    After a few more minutes, Erin finished altering the Airhorses. He sent them to the canyon floor to proliferate with strict orders to keep the alpha alive whilst impeding the invaders.

    Then, Erin snapped to the surface.

    He appeared within a grand hall. Chandeliers dangled above him and men and women passed by him in droves. Their boots scurried across the marble floor with an incessant pitter-patter and their voices all but drowned the noise of the sprawling city just beyond the Guild Hall¡¯s gates.

    At the end of the grand chamber, along the West wall, a massive board of missions and quests stretched from one side to the other.

    Most of the quests were surprisingly mundane: picking herbs and botanicals from the surrounding landscape, delivering news between cities, even offers of apprenticeship spanned the board: one from a blacksmith, another a baker, and two from craftsmen.

    There were ads for training adventurers, ads for recruiting party members, and ads for offers of spell exchange, specifically for Lunar aspected spells.

    Erin read through the Guild¡¯s quests for some time. At the end of it all, surprisingly, only a handful of them specifically catered towards his dungeon.

    First, there were the resource gathering quests. The Guild appeared to be interested in the manacorns, the Bat-Apes fangs and pelts, the Batarangs venom, and Smoky¡¯s pelt, nails, and blood.

    In addition, there was another resource gathering quest that rewarded any single new discovery. Presumably this would then spawn another quest specifically targeting whatever was discovered.

    Beyond the resource gathering quests, the Guild was also prepared to pay for information; what the deeper floors looked like, where the hidden traps were, secret passageways, hidden treasures ¡ª the Guild was prepared to pay for it all.

    Then, there was one final quest that Erin struggled to categorize with the others; to deliver a kayak to the entrance of the third floor.

    He was serious!?

    Erin couldn¡¯t help but marvel.

    There... There has to be a better way¡­ right?

 xix. Favor Of The Dark

    The first floor of Erin¡¯s dungeon was relatively small. Without the traps and Bat-Apes obstructing the way, adventurer''s could probably run from the dungeon¡¯s entrance to the Boss room in about twenty minutes.

    That is to say that the layout was simple; there were only two major obstacles that barred the adventurers'' continued descent, the ignition trap and the Bat-Apes.

    That being said, many adventurers struggled with the remarkably simple floor. The Bat-Apes were, surprisingly, considered a significant threat by a gross majority of the adventurers present.

    Within the first corridor of the first floor, a few Bat-Apes lingered around, usually three, but never more than four. For the average party of five with at least one dedicated tank, four Bat-Apes were easily manageable.

    When the corridor expanded outward and the domed ceiling revealed itself, however, and ten Bat-Apes emerged ¡ª five from the left and five from the right ¡ª the average party of five could scarcely engage such a force directly.

    Why was that? It was because the average party consisted of silver ranked adventurers, or in other words, men and women approved to hunt C-ranked beasts such as goblins, kobolds, gnolls, and unorganized undead.

    Instead, however, these adventurers were pitted against Erin¡¯s Bat-Apes; beasts that appeared to be in the same weight class as goblins and kobolds ¡ª they were similar heights and traveled in similar numbers ¡ª but the Bat-Apes were produced with intention.

    Their skin was coarse and thick, strong against blades and arrows and although they were short, they had the stature of a powerful dwarf.

    Their arms and legs were massive, reinforced purely by genetically enhanced muscle. And since they were too heavy to properly utilize their wings, Erin hardened those to an unnatural degree as well ¡ª to the point where mundane arrows and swords could not pierce the Bat-Ape¡¯s patagium at all.

    In essence, they were more like miniature orcs than goblins, even with the intelligence handicap between the two. In other words, the silver ranked adventurers were in over their heads, but the dungeon was C-rank recommended ¡ª a fault not of their own.

    At the same time, Erin indirectly played into the persuasion. The initial combat against three or four Bat-Apes? That only proved to further encourage the adventurers; since they could defeat a handful of Bat-Apes in a tight-knit space with a clear retreat line ¡ª apparently ¡ª that meant they could contest with the rest of the dungeon.

    Idiocy, blatant and remarkable, and yet Erin was very thankful for it, but he was not blind to the unrest above. The adventurer¡¯s spirits were dwindling. A good chunk of them had died already; thirty percent of the men and women from the start were no more.

    The remaining adventurers were better off because of it, no doubt; they were more careful, more proactive, and more methodical in their approach. In fact, their performance overall had become more streamlined.

    Most, if not all, of the parties that raided the Oakroot Catacombs now employed the same strategy upon the first floor; they learned to run and jump into the fountain of water even before they clashed with the Bat-Apes.

    Since the Bat-Apes were so short, for them to reach the adventurers within the fountain, the Bat-Apes needed to climb the fountain¡¯s perch prior to striking.

    The five adventurer¡¯s knee deep in water, however, would never let that scenario come to pass. So, while the Bat-Ape''s flailed along the edge of the fountain, the adventurer¡¯s slaughtered them until the final beast¡¯s heart quit its drum and the ignition trap began its countdown.

    All in all, it took the adventurers about a month to overcome the hurdles presented by the first floor in addition to just under fifty human lives, most of which were ranked silver.

    Of course, Smoky was the final obstacle presented by the first floor, but a well organized group of five could out-tactic Smoky. The same could not be said against overwhelming numbers and unexpected strength.

    Smoky, at least, looked as strong as he was. The Bat-Apes were remarkably deceptive in this field, however.

    From the second floor onward, new strategies continued to emerge all while Hyzen and Martha remained the only two to successfully breach the dungeon¡¯s third floor.

    Three groups had contested with the Vesperclaw thus far, but none had bested it. The skies were too dark to spot the black-skinned beast and the bridge was too brittle to resist the onslaught of the Boss¡¯s crazed dives.

    Sadly, the trick to defeating the second floor remained not in slaying the Vesperclaw, but in slaying the beast before the bridge collapsed. That was the true challenge presented through the second floor¡¯s Boss ¡ª speed.

    In other words, the adventurers needed to slay the grotesque oversized bat within its first three collisions; any more and the bridge risked failure.

    Of course, of the three groups that had clashed with the Vesperclaw, only one remained. The other two succumbed to the aerial bombardment of the Batarangs. All ten of them died from the venom.

    Well, two decided to take their own life rather than experience the agony, but the end result was the same.

    Furthermore, three parties died to human hands rather than to Erin¡¯s. All three parties were killed by the same group and as of yet ¡ª the Guild was completely in the dark about it.

    The Guild was also entirely unaware of the home-grown sauna Erin had so generously installed into the lower depths of the second floor. The party that had discovered it prior did not report it and the mage that had copied down the rune, he researched it independently.

    The Guild, naturally, rewarded discoveries such as these, but perhaps due to Erin¡¯s dungeon being unique, the adventurers instead hoarded the goodies for themselves rather than contributing to the greater good.

    At first, Erin was fine with it. He needed the time to expand his dungeon, to work amongst the third floor, and to further delve into the depths of mana and spells and cores and how it all interacted.

    Lo and behold, the third floor was as complete as it could be without human testing and Erin had just successfully worked through his magic problem. He could revise the first and second floors again, grant the inhabitants their a spell or two, but that was not the point of those floors ¡ª to be a wall for the adventurers.

    Erin needed to regularly remind himself that his goal was not to obliterate his incoming guests, that would only hasten the signature of his own death warrant.

    Instead, he needed to impede them. He needed to grant them the grand allure of progress, of conquership, whilst simultaneously keeping them distracted from the grand prize.

    Erin needed them to see his dungeon as an opportunity, not as a threat. Which meant that Erin could no longer revise his earlier floors anymore than he already had, but he also did not want to begin construction of his fourth floor without remedying the third.

    But in order for that to happen, the third must first be breached. All of a sudden, Erin found himself waiting for the adventurers to adventure more. He needed them to discover the sauna room so that the Guild could hire outside resources to study his rune.

    Erin also wanted more spells in his repertoire, now that he knew he needed to copy them from someone else ¡ª the more the merrier.

    In his mind, Erin reviewed the spells he had seen thus far. From what he could tell, magic was divided into the elements. Not like the periodic table, but rather like the original, alchemic elements such as water, fire, earth, air, lightning, shadow, light, death, and life.

    Were there more? Most definitely.

    The spell that the Scout girl had used? Tinted yellow and targeted specifically at a person''s stamina ¡ª Erin was unsure how to categorize that spell.

    Not to mention the existence of Bram in a glass cube resting at the bottom of his canyon, that alone hinted at some type of space or dimensional element.

    Then, Erin had to consider the possibility of fusions. Hyzen¡¯s apprentice, Martha, primarily used ice magic. Was ice its own element or was it a cross between water and air?

    Erin had no clue.

    Kuzo seemed to control metal.

    The Dark-Elf had manipulated gravity.

    There was too much about this world that Erin still didn¡¯t know, and the least of it was magic related.

    A lightbulb then struck Erin.

    With the ambient mana as his sixth sense, Erin scanned the surface world. His focus meandered through the streets like a breeze. He picked up little conversations here and there, stopping only if the information caught his interest: if it had to do with magic or the Guild or the Empire, etc. and etc.

    Then, once Erin had digested most of the recent gossip spreading throughout the newborn viscountcy, he flashed unto the Guild Hall¡¯s street.

    Four doors down from the Guild, the viscountcy¡¯s sole library paled in comparison. It was a two story building with gargoyles along its roof and a massive clock erected on its North face.

    The library was laid of charcoal colored brick, iron bars were situated around the building¡¯s perimeter, and its roof and door were painted a murky green.

    Erin phased through the library¡¯s pair of double doors and quickly found himself floating amongst the lobby. The floor was paneled oak and massive wooden bookshelves lined the library¡¯s interior like a labyrinth.

    A spiral staircase sat in the center of the library that led to the second floor. Within the center of the staircase, a woman with short, red hair sat behind a circular desk. The staircase cascaded around her while she, the librarian, flipped through a text thicker than a Bat-Ape¡¯s calve.

    She wore spectacles crafted of thin, flimsy metal that laid gently on her small, button nose. Her eyes were hazel with a splash of spring and freckles spanned across her nose and upper cheeks like stars inlaid into the horizon.

    Apart from the librarian herself, three more people were scattered across the library. Two sat alone on the first floor, each at their own table.

    The other mused above on the second floor; he was browsing the culinary section, specifically the ¡®magical beasts and how to eat them¡¯ section.

    Erin ignored them all. Instead, he hovered towards the back end of the library: the history section. There, he spread his mana throughout the book¡¯s pages and felt the contrast between the ink and the parchment.

    In a weird way, reading like this was like reading braille. Erin could, of course, pull the book from the shelf and open its page, reading it through light like that of a human, but there were others in the library.

    In order to not stir the crowd, Erin could not move the books at all. Instead, he opted to focus on the minute details afforded to him through his mana sense.

    With his mana temporarily ingrained into the book, Erin felt the weight behind the ink alongside the coarseness of the page. He separated the two, isolated the ink, and recreated the impressions in his mind.

    Then, he read.

    For hours. For days.

    Erin read through the entirety of the library¡¯s history section. Then, he read through their research on flora. He memorized list after list of herbs and their effects in teas, potions, and home-brews.

    After two weeks, Erin consumed the entirety of the library¡¯s first floor content. He had planned on immediately moving onto the second, but then, an underlying sensation grappled with Erin¡¯s senses. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    He felt something thick and heavy step into him. It weighed onto his chest, and although he had no physical form to speak of ¡ª Erin¡¯s breaths felt tighter.

    It was as though his mana weighed five more pounds. Not enough to cripple him, but enough to wear him down over time, to exhaust him given the right circumstance.

    With a tug on his senses, Erin appeared on his first floor.

    He hovered beside the initial few Bat-Apes that stalked the Acorn Hall¡¯s first corridor. From beyond the corridor¡¯s corner, Erin felt something approach him.

    The feeling was dark and heavy. The air itself seemed to recoil at its approach while the mana slowed, as if chilled. Whatever it was, their aura pulsed like a black star, a vortex of unkempt rage and hatred that devoured the light in favor of the dark.

    The pressure exerted was palpable, Erin could see it in his Bat-Apes. An unknown pressure constricted their lungs and pressed against their chests.

    It was as if the very warmth of life was snuffed out and withered ¡ª left cold and rotted.

    Then suddenly, a tapping approached.

    *tap*

    *tap*

    An old woman rounded the corner, her form bent and frail. A black cloak hung from her crooked frame, tattered and forgotten; she wore the remnants of an ancient shroud.

    Her brittle cane tapped against the ground with a hollow, rhythmic clack. Each of its strikes echoed unnaturally, as though the sound itself carried the weight of her unspoken malice.

    Beneath her hood, her face was marred in darkness, with only her sunken, hollow cheeks and a mouth twisted into a grimace peering out. Yet, despite her fragile appearance ¡ª standing barely above the Bat-Apes ¡ª the storm within her raged unabated, a tempest of fury and chaos that defied the frailty of her body.

    Her presence was a contradiction ¡ª a vessel of decay that housed an inferno of dark power. Her hunched form seemed to grow larger in the mind¡¯s eye, a towering specter of rage and vengeance that loomed over the world despite her miniature stature.

    The shadows clung to her like loyal servants. They writhed like they were alive and fed upon the darkness that poured from her very soul. Her eyes, when they flickered into view, burned with a cold, calculating fire ¡ª a reminder that this was no mere old woman, but a force of nature that consumed all light and left only despair.

    From the moment Erin saw her, he froze. His thoughts slowed to a halt and his pulse of life, his breath of mana, stilled.

    The woman stepped into the corridor and, like Erin, the Bat-Apes were immobilized. With each passing step, Erin saw the true effect of the woman¡¯s presence on the Bat-Apes themselves.

    First, their lungs and chests were pressured, but then¡­.

    It was their stomachs. Simultaneously, Erin heard them all pop. A grunt followed from each of the Bat-Ape¡¯s mouths, but soon thereafter, more pain graced them.

    Their diaphragms were squeezed shut and their lungs were flattened. Their ribs shattered and exploded back, piercing their lungs and ravaging their insides.

    Then, the Bat-Ape¡¯s brains succumbed to the force. Stronger and stronger, the pressure exerted itself onto the Bat-Ape¡¯s brains until a gloopy, pink liquid oozed from their ears and dribbled from their nostrils.

    Foam gurgled out of their mouths. As the woman passed, the Bat-Ape''s seizured, then collapsed to the ground in a pool of their own brain matter and blood.

    It took the old woman thirty seconds to cross the corridor, but to Erin, it felt like an eternity. When she finally rounded the corner and escaped Erin¡¯s purview, the mana seemed to unstill and time continued to flow.

    Instantly, Erin¡¯s attention rocketed behind him.

    What the fuck was that?!!

    Who the fuck was that?!?!

    Erin flashed to the fourth floor. His metaphysical form appeared amongst the dark and beside the row of ponds that acted as underwater cages.

    Three layers down and Erin could still feel the vile wretchedness that exuded from that woman¡¯s form. Erin was desperate to learn more about the woman, but he could not dare risk positioning his primary focus near her again.

    Instead, he vaguely reached out to the mana amongst the first floor. It was still cold. Still slow. Still frozen.

    But like a radar, Erin could use the varying levels of stillness to project a general idea of the happenings up above. From what he could gather, if the woman was the center of the stillness, then wherever was frozen was where she currently was.

    In that case, the stillness just entered Smoky¡¯s Boss Room. There was only one problem ¡ª a party of five was already in combat against the gargantuan squirrel.

    ***

    Ryn was born in the smoldering ruins of Ashveil, a once-thriving city now reduced to a wasteland after a catastrophic volcanic eruption.

    His family, like many others, struggled to survive in the aftermath. With ash and soot more abundant than shrub and bush, they were forced to scavenge for scraps, living in the shadow of the still-active volcano.

    Ryn¡¯s father, a blacksmith, taught him not only how to forge a blade, but also how to wield one. His mother, meanwhile, a former mage, instilled in him a deep respect for the elemental forces of fire. Even still, life in Ashveil was harsh and hope was a commodity no longer granted to those that chose to stay.

    When Ryn turned sixteen, and the island settled and the sky no longer seemed as bleak ¡ª raiders descended upon the small town. They ransacked Ashveil, stripped the hinges from the doors and the nails from the boards.

    In the chaos, Ryn¡¯s parents were killed.

    With his ties to Ashveil severed, Ryn fled and vowed to never return. His family was killed; his home destroyed. Before he left, he took only his father¡¯s daggers and his mother¡¯s grimoire, the latter filled with incantations she never had the chance to teach him.

    For years, Ryn wandered the world. He honed his skills with the blade and continued his mother¡¯s practice of flame. Throughout his journey, he learned to channel his grief and anger into his magic, which earned him the nickname ¡°Emberclaw¡± for the fiery trails his dagger¡¯s left in their wake.

    It took years for Ryn to open up to others, but eventually, he did it. Ryn found people to trust. He found companionship and experienced loyalty. It was then, when their party was at its peak, that word of a new unique dungeon began to spread.

    A recipe for hardship, naturally ¡ª but Ryn was no stranger to hardship. He had been tempered by loss and struggle, as had his party: a band of lost souls; wanderers; misfits.

    After a rowdy meal and a drink goodbye, they boarded the first ferry across the great sea and thus crossed into the Empire; they arrived in the viscountcy prepared and determined.

    When they plunged into the dungeon¡¯s depths, they thought they were ready.

    The battle against Smoky started without a hitch. Ryn¡¯s closest friend, the party¡¯s tank and yet simultaneously a berserker, initiated the fight with a roar.

    His screams pulled the Boss¡¯s attention, and like clockwork, the beast sprung into action.

    It leaped across the arena with its golden acorn in-paw and slammed the shiny weapon into the ground. Dust erupted through the cracks and a cloud obscured the arena¡¯s view.

    ¡°Bestial Transformation: Saber¡¯s Talons!¡± The berserker roared as he tore through the dust cloud.

    He pounced onto Smoky¡¯s back and dug his nails ¡ª now blood-dripping, vicious claws ¡ª into the beast¡¯s flesh. Smoky roared in agony and whipped a tail at the leeching parasite.

    ¡°Elemental Arrow: Flash Shot!¡± A woman shouted and the dust cloud split in two; an arrow wrapped in lightning exploded through the center of the cloud and cracked against the bristles of Smoky¡¯s tail.

    Smoky stumbled backwards from the impact. A squeal echoed from the beast¡¯s cry¡¯s.

    While Smoky was distracted with the berserker and the archer, Ryn snuck through the dust cloud and arrived at the beast¡¯s flank. He moved stealthily, his footfalls silent amongst the ruckus of the fight. Meanwhile, his gaze remained focused; his eyes never left the ginormous form of the beast before him.

    ¡°Pyrelight: Scorchfang!¡± Ryn recited his spell and his twin daggers glowed. The steel burned hot. First, red. Then, orange.

    A combination of his father¡¯s blacksmithing and his mother¡¯s flame magic, Ryn created his own school of magic; the Pyrelight series.

    His daggers ignited white and a heavy heat immediately descended upon the arena. Around the cusps of the blades edges, the air grew distorted. The heat burned the oxygen faster than the world could replace it.

    Ripples spread through the air, visible to the naked eye.

    Ryn wore gloves and a full leather set. He wore a mask underneath a helmet, yet the tips of his eyelashes shriveled underneath the heat and turned to ash with no spark nor flame.

    As the ripples affected the air, Ryn seemed to move in slow motion. His white-hot blades trudged forward slowly. They penetrated Smoky¡¯s hide with a sour hiss alongside a pungent odor as smoke rose to the oak mural above.

    His dagger slid into Smoky¡¯s flank, but no blood pooled out. The wound and the beast¡¯s insides were cauterized before they could bleed.

    Then, everything went dark.

    The lanterns along the columns and the glowing acorns embedded along the walls ¡ª it all disappeared at the flip of a switch.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Hey! What happened to the ¡ª¡±

    *BOOM*

    Something big kicked Ryn in the chest. He flew across the arena and slammed into the wall on the opposing side. He tried to stand to return to the fight, but he felt his ribs had cracked.

    The berserker, on the other hand, was slammed into the ground directly beneath him. He, too, tried to stand up, tried to fight back, but something held him down. He felt his wrists bound to the ground while a consuming pressure slowly wrapped around him.

    The archer as well, and the rest of Ryn¡¯s party for that matter, was slowly bound in shadow. The tendrils slithered around their ankles and traveled up their legs.

    It covered their mouths and brought them to their knees. Against their will, the five adventurer¡¯s prostrated on the ground with their wrists bound behind them.

    *tap*

    *tap*

    The sound of tapping suddenly disturbed the quiet.

    *tap*

    *tap*

    ¡°Well¡­ Well¡­. What have we here? A little shadow, lost and broken?¡± An unknown voice croaked.

    They trudged across the arena¡¯s tiles one by one. Their cane tapped alongside them, and with each increasing tap, the sound seemed only to grow louder.

    Then, it stopped altogether; and Ryn felt something he¡¯d never felt before.

    Ryn¡¯s chest felt hollow. And cold.

    Like his stomach dropped, he suddenly couldn¡¯t find his breath. His tongue felt stuck at the back of his throat; then, he tried to speak, to mumble, to scream.

    But he couldn¡¯t.

    He was hollow.

    He was empty.

    He was dark.

    Father? Ryn heard a voice. A quiet voice. Distant. Soft.

    What is it, my son?

    How¡¯d you meet Mom? The distant voice asked, now distinct enough to recognize as a young boy¡¯s.

    Hmm¡­ The older, gruffier voice paused.

    Your mother, well, what can I say? She¡¯s always been a real firecracker¡­.

    ¡°P¡­¡­..-ght.¡±

    Ryn¡¯s throat ached.

    ¡°Py¡­¡­-ight.¡±

    The words churned through his throat like sandpaper, rough and coarse. Even still, Ryn¡¯s bleeding lips rose all on their own.

    ¡°Py-Pyrelight¡­¡±

    An ember ignited beside Ryn. It was small and fleeting, like Ryn himself, yet it pushed against the dark nonetheless.

    In that instant of muffled vision, Ryn pushed his neck up and looked around. The beast¡­ the Boss¡­ it lay dead on the ground in the center of the arena.

    A hunched figure stood above him. A black cloak shrouded their person, but their hand was pressed forward; it was weak and frail, their skin looked thin and wilted, and wrinkles cascaded down them like the ruffles of a blouse. Their nails, meanwhile, were long, jagged, and blackened.

    The figures¡¯ disgusting nails pressed into the bloodied hole found on the beast¡¯s nape. Their fingers slipped underneath the beast¡¯s flesh.

    ¡°Don¡¯t struggle¡­ little one. You will only¡­ make it worse.¡± The words were faint, but Ryn could hear them.

    Then, another gentle light breached the dark. It was ominous. Smoky''s corpse emitted a scarlet glow.

    His own blood glowed in the dark. As it did, the full scope of the arena was revealed to Ryn.

    Runes were painted around Smoky¡¯s corpse in blood. They were ignited with a scarlet light and as the light further strengthened, the more distorted the space became.

    Ryn tried to peel his eyes away, but like his voice and his breath ¡ª he was left a puppet in his skin.

    The figures'' decayed form rippled. The cascade of wrinkles receded and a wash of rose-tinted moisture rushed through the being¡¯s wrist as it straightened their joints.

    Their hunched back unfurled and their posture remedied itself.

    Then, the ritual dimmed and the light weakened.

    The figure ripped their gentle palm from the beast and prepared to leave, but when they turned to go ¡ª their gaze met Ryn¡¯s.

    ¡°Aww!¡± Her voice was light and bubbly.

    ¡°The taste of despair¡­ the flavor of fear¡­ it¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve fed so well!¡± Her cackle echoed through the dungeon.

    *tap*

    *tap*

    ¡°P-P¡­¡± Ryn stuttered.

    The woman knelt before him. She raised her noticeably delicate hands ¡ª with clean, cut nails ¡ª and removed her hood.

    Grey skin. Long, straight, white hair. Bright, violet eyes.

    Ryn¡¯s pupils dilated.

    She¡­ She¡¯s beautiful. He thought; before the darkness took him.