Rip stared at the wooden box before him. There was something tasty inside. The Bone Crusher core did not give them anything tasty. It was raw meat, most times having gone bad.

The murder muffin meowed and Hiss came. Her fur was not as shiny as it used to be, but now there was no one to bathe them every day. And how they had both hated that.

A swim in the clear pool should have been enough, but the creator… Rip stopped that train of thought. He had no right to think of the one who was his first contractor. He had betrayed the little girl’s trust. And for what?

For a damp place to sleep and for comrades whom he had to fight, least they ate him. And the adventurers were the worst! He had overheard them once talking how murder muffin liver was a delicacy. No one had wanted to eat him back home.

Hiss opened the box and took half of the fish from within. Such a treat was rare here, in this Hell, and so she, out of love, wanted Rip to have some too. They ate quickly and buried the box, least the core found out.

Rip and Hiss went outside the cave and laid by the entrance. No adventurers were coming, which was good. Perhaps they could take a nap and… A shrill voice came from within the cave.

“You lazy cats, where are you?” Screamed the dungeon core. She had a savage name, to go with her savage nature. Gor the Horrible.

We are murder muffins, not cats! Meowed Hiss. She had gotten her tail tugged and numerous treats about it being cut off because of her sharp tongue. But she refused to keep silent.

“If I say you are cats, then you are cats! Now, come over here. We have a meeting,” screamed Gor. Her voice was carried over the entire cave with mana speakers. Say what you will about the horrible Troll, but her dungeon had the latest when it came to equipment.

The two murder muffins went back inside the cave. There, just at the entrance to the second floor, was Gor and all her mobs. The Troll was a hunched over thing with big claws. Nothing like delicate Theanore. They were as different as night and day in personalities, too. Something that made the two felines regret ever leaving their home.

“Now that everyone is here, I will tell you how to deal with the invading forces that threaten my dungeon grounds,” said Gor. A flutter of hope filled Rip and Hiss. If the dungeon ended up leveled to the ground, their contracts would become invalid, and they will be returned to Theanore.

“As you all know, there are eight armies consisting of ants that have breached the Badlands. One is led by their Queen. Other four by goats, well, one is co-led by a Tedsby. All of them are foolish, I can assure you,” the gathered walking corpses drooled dumpily, clearly not understanding a thing. One of them made a grab for Rip and lost its hand.

“Rip, stop that, you darn rat tail! This costs mana to replace!” Screamed Gor. Rip stared at her unapologetically. He was going to defend himself and if the troll had anything against it, she was free to release him of his contract.

“Anyway, some adventurers, three ogres and a Roc bird, have joined the ant armies. There is also a vampire there. He seems to be the only one fighting alongside the invaders, the other four are used as scouts.”

More drooling and moaning came from the corpses. Rip and Hiss did not even bother looking at the troll anymore.

“You are all to dispatch the invaders with all due force. That will teach that Theanore for not selling me some of these ants!”

None of them wanted to come to you, you troll. Thought Hiss, but she did not voice these thoughts. The dungeon core could understand her and was not above withholding food from both her and Rip.

“That was all, go guard your posts. I will go and take a nap,” Gor limped away to her quarters. She must be truly worried to have called them so close to the entrance. Normally, she did not leave her hidden room that was guarded by the bloated corpse, Ivar.

The murder muffins, as recruits, were thought of as dispensable and were given posts at the entrance. Which was good for them, as they could get some sunlight that way.

As meager as this boon was, it kept them from running away. Braking a contract with a dungeon core ended with imprisonment in the dungeon from which one has run away, provided they were caught.

Gor kept her prisoners, a family of gnomes who had chosen servitude over death and then had been disgusted by her action. They hung in cages over poisonous fumes.

The troll had been careful to pain the dungeon in a good light the first few days, back before the contract had been signed. But once it was signed, Rip and Hiss were shown the gnomes and warned they would be made to swim in the poison if they ran away.

The gnomes had sickly gray skin and were barely hanging onto life. Gor didn’t feed them every day and didn’t care what the fumes of the constantly bubbling poison was doing to their minds or body.

The two murder muffins heard a whistle, and they saw a giant ant, not any ant, but a worker ant! Where there was one, many more sprung over the horizon. There was a goat and a Tedsby with them.

The Tedsby, Tod, waved his spear threateningly. The murder muffins rolled on their backs and showed their bellies. Their liberators have come!

“Rip, Hiss! Your treachery will be forgiven if you agree to assist in this attack. Try to deceive me, and my spear will be plunged into your eyes!” Screamed Tod in the language of the Tedsbys’.

But there was no need for treats. Rip and Hiss’ were already up and moving towards the army, their heads held high. The flicker of hope that Tod wasn’t lying, was giving a slight bounce to their steps.