We stood in front of the archway, and I suddenly felt as if we were very, very boned.

The gate was much larger than I’d initially believed. The space on top of the enormous karst was a few hundred yards across, which lent the arch an almost optical illusion effect. Now that we were under it, I was struck dumb by its immensity. It was at least a hundred feet tall, made of thick slabs of ornate, twisting stones that looked like something forged by a demon lord’s chief mason. Tines of sculpted flame grew from the outside, casting a spell of an ominous air. Each of the runes broken from its flesh was as tall as I was and as wide as my torso. I’d never felt so utterly unimpressive and insignificant in either of my lives. Still, I couldn’t help but smile with appreciation despite all this.

It was goddamned brutal.

Two minute forms beholding a gloriously ancient earthen archway perched above a cavern of molten rock had to be on a poster somewhere in some stoner’s basement. I made a mental note to remember every detail of this terrifying monstrosity. I wasn’t sure why, but it just felt like something I should do.

I’d been wrong about activating an encounter from a physical threshold. Nothing had happened as we’d creeped forward toward the wondrous gate, and now we were standing directly in front of it. That was alright, though. For the first time in my life, I felt like I’d acted cautiously.

There was a quiet dignity in that.

“Look at this fucking thing!” I exclaimed, slapping Stinky on the back and gripping his shoulder roughly. “I’m not normally attracted to these kinds of curves, but, goddamn… she’s a fucking beauty.”

Stinky wheeled on me, bewildered by my comment.

“What in the Halls o’ fucking Aggrun are you talking about?”

“The arch,” I said, pointing up at it. “It’s purdy.”

Stinky shrugged my hand away.

“This beast is probably wound up to kill us, orc,” he said, jabbing the point of his dagger at the arch. “You’ll have time to wank over it later. I thought you had a plan?”

“I have an idea,” I said. “That’s a little different. I’m just appreciating the scenery.”

I actually was very taken by the imagery. It filled me with a sense of nostalgia for... something. I’m not sure what. But it was there, like a knot of long-forgotten feelings in the pit of my chest. It sorta reminded me of being really little when I’d sneak into my cousin Lacy’s room to pilfer through her paperback fantasy novels. Back when the idea of entire worlds of magic and adventure would spring into my mind just from the illustrations on the covers. Life was a lot simpler then. Many things had changed from when I was that small. A mind filled with the fervor of imagination and the spirit of adventure could be effortlessly shattered into fragments of cold, unfeeling apathy if enough time passed.

Man, life really sucked when you peered at it through the bleak filter of nihilism.

I decided to lick my wounds another time and instead faced the dread gate with purpose.

“Alright,” I began. “I’m willing to bet that when we approach, something is going–wait, what the fuck?!”

Stinky raised his blade, ready for an assault, but I wasn’t looking at anything near us.

“Are those the fucking eggs?”

I pointed to one of the discolored platforms along the cavern wall and squinted.

You’ve gotta be kidding me!

Sure enough, several hundred feet away from us were five bouncing, chittering orbs of pink-pearl bullshit. They were clustered near the edge of the platform and looked highly agitated.

“Ha!” I barked out a laugh. “Looks like they’re stuck with nowhere to go!”

“Good,” Stinky said. “Fucking bastards nearly bled me to death.”

Maybe we’d catch a break, and they’d fall off the ledge and into the sputtering lake below.

Would that hard boil them?

They trembled and grumbled, bumping into one another in their fury. I couldn’t tell much about what they were doing, but I could see that they were staring right at our position.

Look at ‘em, acting all pointless and stupid. Sucks to suck, milk marbles!

I raced over to the edge and cupped my hand around my mouth to shout at them.

“Hey!” I called. “Fuck you, eggs!”

I turned back to Stinky, laughing.

“Stinky, did you hear that? I yelled–”

KA-FWOOM!

I tumbled to the ground as an explosion of air threatened to send me over the edge of the landing. I managed to land with the top of my body facing the arch as a colossal creature descended from the air on enormous wings of shadow. It resembled a hyper muscular humanoid but had strangely avian features–like its parents were a bodybuilder and some sort of giant, demon chicken. It beat its wings again, and another column of air swept across me as it landed on the gateway, clutching onto the top with its talon-like feet.

What the fuck?!

Stinky rolled backward and onto his feet again, his dagger raised high to defend himself. I thought about how useless that was as I stared at the beast clinging to the arch. It had to be at least fifteen feet tall with a pair of black horns that swept back behind its head. It had eyes the color of fresh lava and skin like hot jasper. Its entire bottom half was covered in black feathers that held an aura of darkness around them.

It was super fucked up.

Whatever the hell this thing was–I knew it was way stronger than some pissant egg beast. Stinky’s blade would be functionally useless to a monster of this caliber–like trying to stab a polar bear with an uncooked spaghetti noodle.

Zeol, you lying bastard, I thought. ‘I assure you will not be in harm’s way,’ my ass, you colossal bitch.

The creature roared, and the sound was like being gouged in the brain by a spoon made of bees. It reverberated inside my skull, and I had a strange compulsion to claw my own ears off. It was a prolonged bellow, and during it, I found that my eyes were closed, so I forced them open. Stinky was lying on his back now, furiously pounding his fists against his own ears.

What is this?! Are we going to get yelled to death? Fuck if I’m going out like that!

With a tremendous amount of effort, I pushed myself to my feet and stood to my full height. The beast on the arch hadn’t moved but was still roaring. The noise hurt, but it didn’t seem to be bothering my health, so I had to imagine it had a sort of disorienting effect. Possibly something I wasn’t as susceptible to as my matau matey.

The monstrosity suddenly noticed me standing and frowned, its eyes burning with authoritative rage as though it wasn’t totally chill with my lack of fealty. It didn’t seem to like that I was defying its legislation.

Ha! I thought, smirking at the gigantic nightmare creature. I’m too strong for your pesky–

FWOOF!

I bowled over backward as the humongous gargoyle-chicken batted a wing and sent a wall of air right into me. Fortunately, the wind-punch was at chest level, so rather than force me careening over the edge of the karst, I just slammed directly onto my shoulder blades and head, a move which proved to be very dizzying. The world spun for a moment before I was able to regain a foothold into the realm of my senses. When I looked up, the monster was… wait–was he fucking smiling?

Then, as if to banish all doubt, the devilishly not-good-looking creature began to laugh. It was a rough, barking sound like winter trees snapping, his shoulders shaking as he stared right at me.

Really? You think that because you’re a five-meter mutated hummingbird, I’m not going to do something stupid?

He clearly hadn’t been paying attention.

I rolled forward and shot to my feet, then I started to run right at him.

“Orc!” I heard Stinky shout from the ground. He was still recovering from Lucifer’s lava-pool karaoke. Still, since the noise had stopped, he wasn’t trying to desperately shut out all sound anymore.

“What?!” I returned, not slowing my pace.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“You already know!”

“That’s a Hive Fiend, you gods-damned moron!” Stinky continued. “Its Level is so fucking high I can’t even see it!”

“Shut up, Stinky! I’m trying to do something cool!”

I didn’t have time for his facts; I was a bullet of purpose.

I tore ass toward the arch, and when I was within about twenty feet of it, I reached down–mid-stride–and snatched up a fist-sized rock. Then I spun quickly in place and hurled it, shot put-style, directly at the creature with all my strength.

The stone rocketed up. About thirty feet. Then it dipped into the air and plummeted right into the arch where it clunked against it with a pathetic, muted sound.

There was silence for a long moment, where nothing happened at all. I turned slowly to look at Stinky, who had a look of baffled annoyance plastered to his ugly, three-mouthed face.

“Uh,” I said. “...nailed it?”

There was a screech from above, and for a moment, I thought I’d actually done something to wound the massive specter on the archway. But when I looked up, I saw that it was no longer clinging to the curvature of the gate but laying on top of it, howling with laughter. His eyes were closed, and he was shuddering, the noises booming out of him sounding like thirty cats being hit with thirty other cats.

Stinky just glowered.

“Great job, you damned cancer fungus,” he said. “Really fucking did a bit of wonder, didn’t you?”

I cocked my head to the side.

“Wait… you know what cancer is?”

Before Stinky could respond, we were interrupted by the beast. A voice like an earthquake wrapped in electricity tore through our own words and forced us to both glance upward.

“That was pathetic!” The creature exclaimed, a strong influence of laughter still playing in his expression.

He speaks English? I thought but then paused. Wait, do I speak English?

Just then, a window appeared in front of the gate, much like the prompts I’d begun to grow accustomed to. However, this time, rather than the usual fare of detailed descriptions of arcane mumbo-jumbo, this message seemed to be speaking directly to us, like it had when I’d entered this dumb dungeon.

Avast, ye dungeoneers! The message announced.

What is this? I wondered.

Then, the creature on top of the arch huffed and rolled his eyes and began to speak.

“Yes, let us get on with this nonsensical farce,” he said, his voice–while still terrible and loud–had the tone of a reluctant teenager trying to get through a conversation with their mother about not having any parties while she was gone.

Hey, it’s a very specific tone.

The message continued.

You have entered the Forbidden Crypt of the Dreadnaught Lord. I am Pontivex, Keeper of the Runic Arches.

The demon chicken kept chattering away, and each time it did, more words populated the screen.

“O that I could devour your ugly flesh,” he said. “You lesser beings disgust me. Twisted, horrible things that you are.”

Mistake not my purpose, dungeoneers. I treat here as both a welcome and a warning to those that would seek the depths of this lair.

“I have not feasted upon the meat of an orc in a long while,” the creature continued. “And matau… well, I may not ever have tasted such exotic flavors.”

You will be tried and tested here, first. Only then may you acquire access to further chambers and floors within.

“Although,” the hive fiend said. “There was the bunyip, and that seems like it might be similar. No, perhaps a roughly aligned skin structure, but the matau are definitely a bit more stodgy. Bandier legs, wider arses. Loads better than the bunyip, most like, though. Gave me indigestion for a whole decade, that bunyip. Miserable feeling, bumbling about in my bowels like that. Rude as well. Why can’t eaten creatures just go down easy? That elf went without much of a struggle. Of course, he wanted to be devoured, so I suppose that changes the power dynamic a bit.”

“I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but this is weird as shit,” I said.

Stinky nudged me roughly and pointed.

“Quiet, orc,” he demanded. “Open your damn eyes. It’s translating the fiend’s speech.”

Huh? That wasn’t right. Was Stinky taking stupid pills? There were clearly two different conversations going on as the beast was speaking plain Eng…

Oh, hell.

I shook my head.

Motherfucking Zeol.

The Potion of Oratory Splendor. Zeol had said that it would allow me to understand any spoken language for a whole day. Stinky thought that the display was translating–what was he called, Pontivex’s–words because he couldn’t understand him. I did.

Well, well, well, this just got a lot more interesting.

So, this dungeon was playing a little game, I guess? Pontivex seemed very unhappy with his station, but he’d also mentioned he couldn’t eat us. Did that mean he was bound in some way to be unable to attack as well? I thought about that. He hadn’t technically harmed us before, just used his roar to disorient us and his wings to knock me over. This also meant we likely wouldn’t be required to or be capable of attacking him.

This is a fucking cutscene.

If that was the case, then Pontivex was here for some reason other than just intimidation.

Congratulations! You’ve raised a Skill!

Insight has advanced to F-Rank Level 8!

Oh, hell yeah!

For better or worse, much like a Transformer, there was more to this than met the eye. I silently wished that the additional Insight would inform me what the fuck was going on, but that hadn’t seemed to be the case in any of my interactions so far.

Insight, you tease.

I knew I had Zeol to thank for this tidbit of fortune, and it was all because he was super horny for that god bauble or whatever it was. He’d known I was going to get to this point, and he’d manipulated me into this exact predicament. Very uncool. I’d have to return the favor.

So, Zeol wants me to pick up some morsels of info from this thing? Better give him what he wants, then.

The message was still populating from Pontivex’s lengthy diatribe, so I focused on it while preparing my next move.

Before you lies the Grand Flame, a cavern designed specifically by Rexen Gravetongue to test the might and mettle of prospective dungeoneers. The burning lake consumes any and all that dare trespass too closely to its flesh. But so, too, are there other obstacles to overcome, as you will come to find. Do not dally in one place for too long, lest the doors close to you and the cavern devour you.

I snickered.

“Grand Flame?” I said aloud, looking at Stinky. “More like Bland Lame.”

Stinky sighed and shoved me in the direction of the display, jerking an angry finger toward the archway.

“Shut your fucking mouth for ten blasted seconds, you incomplete spunk stain,” he hissed. “If we miss something important, we’ll be dead.”

“Hey,” I said. “Look at this way: even if we pay attention, we’re still probably going to die. Neither of us are exactly members of the brain trust.”

“If we fuck this up because of you, orc, I will kill you myself first.”

“You’ve mentioned wanting to do that for a while,” I returned. “I think kitty’s claws are getting dull.”

“Listen to their prattling,” Pontivex said to himself. “Their primitive warbling, arguing with one another about something foolish. They likely believe they’re of an intellect esteemed enough that they’ve figured out some great truth to all this. The fools. It doesn’t matter what I say; the silly notification always populates precisely the same message every time. See?”

He leaned forward to address us specifically.

“You’re gross little goblins,” Pontivex said. “Grimy little dirt creatures, hardly better than the vantamoths. You don’t even know you’re going to die, do you? Well, you are. It’ll be painful, and you’re going to beg for your spawn mother. You’ll never unlock the treasures of this dungeon, nor will you find any of the secrets hidden within. Just worthless rabble refuse. You probably won’t even find the hidden doors in the fifth chamber, so low is your brow.”

Bingo, I thought. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, who fucking talked like that in real life? Telegraphing your intentions and secrets? It was weird as fuck, and I suspected this dungeon was a lot closer to its video game cousins than it first led on. This gullible dipshit had fallen for the old ‘primitive savages who can actually understand you’ ruse. All I’d needed to do was uncork the ire of the highly volatile Stinky, and voila. He’d even given up the information with an evil villain monologue. This was far too stupid to be real.

I smiled up at the creature.

“Ew,” Pontivex said, seeing my face. “Enough of whatever you call that. Is that an attempt to communicate? Your face looks like it is trying to give birth.”

I looked back at Stinky, who was standing stock-still, staring up at the hive fiend as he carried on.

So there are hidden doors, are there? And wouldn’t you know it? They are in the exact same room I’m supposed to wind up in. Funny.

The message before us kept filling with details of the pretend explanation, but I wasn’t really paying attention. It seemed like it was mostly for flavor, telling the comprehensive history of the dungeon and all that jazz. Boring!

“Ah,” Pontivex finally said, shifting so that he was standing again. “Alas, young degenerates, I must take my leave. I am still trying to finish my crafts. It’s not like I have anything to worry about, though.”

He sniffed the air and opened his wings as though he was preparing to take flight.

“Yep, you’re goners. Well, see you never.”

Shit!

I was almost there! I needed him to keep talking for just another moment longer. I felt a pit of congealed anxiety form in my stomach. I had to do something to keep his attention. But what?

I turned to look at Stinky, who caught my gaze and returned it with contempt.

“What?”

I sighed.

“Sorry, Stinkers,” I said.

Then I punched him in the face.

It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to send him reeling back a few steps and hurt my hand.

“Why the–what–you are fucking dead, orc!” Stinky shouted and leaped at me.

I backpedaled and darted to the side. I noticed that he hadn’t come after me with his dagger drawn; instead, he’d slipped it into his belt and was trying to swat me Rock ‘em Sock ‘em style.

So, he wasn’t trying to kill me. Did he know what I was trying to do? Probably not, but that was alright. As long as he wasn’t trying to carve me open like a Christmas ham, I could work with his low-energy haymakers.

BLAM!

Stinky’s fist connected with my face as I’d tried to weave out of his reach. I stumbled backward, dazed.

“Damn!” I shouted. “That hurt!”

He was much stronger than I’d realized, or at the very least, was peacocking with a serious boost to his punches from some Skill, Ability, or magic.

“I’ll show ya hurt!” Stinky cried and jerked as though he was going to punch me again. I brought my arms up to block, and suddenly I felt a blow connect with my ribs as I was lifted up into the air by the force of an attack I hadn’t been prepared for. He’d faked me out! I maybe only cleared three inches, but it was enough to cause me to lose my balance and fall backward. I cracked my elbow hard on the stone and wheezed out a moan, but Stinky wasn’t done. He was already climbing on top of me and began delivering punishing blows to my face and chest with balled fists.

“Uncle!” I cried. “Uncle!”

Stinky kept pounding, though. He grinned.

“I’ve heard o’men crying for their mothers, orc–but extended family? That’s pathetic!”

“I yield!” I tried instead.

Instantly, Stinky stopped his assault. He stood up, his grotesque grin still living on his face, and nodded down at me.

“Let that be a lesson to–”

“SIKE!” I roared and drew my legs in, kicking him square in the chest. Stinky flew backward with an airless ‘oof,’ and landed on his side a few feet away. I hauled myself up to my feet and stood, cracking my knuckles.

“Surprise, motherfucker!” I said.

Stinky was still gasping for air as I approached, but that was when I heard a sound that was music to my ears.

“Look at how they war with each other. Ignorant brutes. They’ll surely kill one another well before the dungeon even has a chance to get real nasty.”

Congratulations! You have learned a new language!

You have learned Ancient Chitinus I!

That’s what I’m talking about!

I leaped back from Stinky, putting my hands up in the universal symbol of ‘don’t attack me, I have an idea that I have to test out real quick–also, sorry about starting a fake fight that turned into a real fight.’ At least, I hoped that’s what I was able to convey. I pointed up at Pontivex, who was just chilling on top of the arch, his legs dangling over the side as he sat watching.

“Pontivex!” I yelled. “Hold! Questions have. Answer, you.”

Unfortunately, I’d only learned the most remedial version of his language–which, by its own right, was a feat genuinely spectacular. However, it reminded me of when I had taken Intro To Spanish my Freshman year of high school. I’d barely known anything except for how to pronounce curse words–which, in a move that will surprise no one, I’d taught myself how to do marvelously.

Pontivex’s expression was pure, stunned bewilderment. To him, this had to be a bizarre development, like how I’d feel if a mozzarella cheese stick suddenly started speaking to me in broken English. However, Pontivex seemed to recover from his shock instantly, and instead, his horrible gremlin face took on a suspicious shift.

“You dare to defile my esteemed and peerless tongue with your sub-intelligent gumming, orc?”

He stiffened.

“What manner of trick is this?”

“Answer,” I said simply. “Question?”

Pontivex’s eyes clouded over for more than a hot second, and when they returned to normal, he smiled viciously.

“Ah,” he said, his tone now dripping with amusement. “I see. It is the effect of a potion. Oratory Splendor, it says. Now, how did a little creature like you, so pesky and inconsequential, get access to a Brilliance Tier item like that?”

“Big face, Zeol. He butterscotch.”

Pontivex’s eyes widened, and he chuckled.

“Butterscotch?”

No, that wasn’t right.

I’d been trying to say something akin to ‘idiot,’ but I didn’t have the full scope of the lexicon of the language at my disposal. There seemed to be a tonal element that I couldn’t quite command. It appeared that slight alterations in pitch made the difference in words, and that was an embarrassing area of the general linguistics I just wasn’t nailing down. It was bizarre to speak a foreign language, even at this limited level, without ever having truly learned it. It was also frustrating to be wedged in a spot where I could tell that I was messing up but was woefully ill-equipped to discern how to fix it. Equally concerning was that whatever this thing was, not only knew about butterscotch but also had a word for it in his ancient tongue.

I tried again.

“Butterscotch. Butterscotch.”

I released a cry of frustration.

“BUTTERSCOTCH!”

Pontivex began laughing, which he did for a lot longer than I thought was necessary or kind, but eventually, he quieted down and leaned forward. At first, I thought he was planning to swoop down and eat me or something else equally as rude, but instead, he stared into my eyes and slowly opened his mouth.

“Idiot,” he said, and just like that, the word was clear in my mind.

“Idiot,” I returned.

“Delightful,” Pontivex beamed. “So, someone named Zeol–who is apparently an imbecile with a gigantic face–is the one who provided you with the means to use the potion?”

I nodded.

“Very intriguing,” the hive fiend said, leaning back and lacing his clawed digits together in contemplation. “I have not heard of this hero, but he is either quite powerful or extraordinarily wealthy to have both procured this item and seen fit to let it go to waste on such a welp of a creature. I should like to meet this… Zeol, did you say?”

I nodded. Then, thinking about his previous statement, I quickly shook my head.

“Idiot,” I said again. “No hello. Bad.”

“Be that as it may,” Pontivex said. “It is an odd choice to bestow a creature like you with the ability to hold court with their betters. I cannot imagine the reasoning, though perhaps that is their secret to keep? Not since the Exodus have I seen orcs in the halls of the Crypt. Even longer still since someone could approach close enough to converse with me. Dialogue is my natural weakness, as it were. Perhaps your benefactor… Zeol knew this? Which would mean they seek that which is most hidden and clandestine.”

“Secret?” I asked, using the best of my abilities to puzzle out what I wanted to say.

Pontivex cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Oh,” he said. “You want to know about the secrets of this dungeon?”

I nodded.

Pontivex held my gaze for a few long moments, and I could see he was getting a measure of me–which I don’t think I need to explain the emotion that filled me with. Then a pleased and devious smile spread over his features, and suddenly I wanted to vomit.

God, this guy didn’t just fall out of the ugly tree–he’s the seed it grew from.

“I am willing to share a secret with you,” he began slowly, making sure to enunciate fully so that I could understand him with pristine clarity. “But it will not fall to your ears without cost. Joyous though I am to have a beast other than the residents of the Crypt to bandy words with, I must insist that there be an equivalent exchange in place. I will reveal to you a magnificent hidden parcel of this tomb–one deliriously enticing. But, it will only become known to you if you perform a task for me.”

“No eat,” I stated seriously.

Pontivex chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t waste such an opportunity on whetting my appetite with your meager bones, welp.”

“Opportunity?” I’d been able to figure that word out on my own. Echoing words was easier than trying to invent them myself.

“Why, yes,” Pontivex said. “Do you know how long I have been held in this dungeon?”

I shook my head.

“I came to this sanctum in the Era of Fog, Shadow and Light. Before Tellegro could even hold a sword upright or the Emperor of the Black Crown had begun the Blood March, I was placed in the Crypt despite my own protests. Fettered and enraged, toiling against my binds, the Penitent Archon herself was the one who sealed me here, so terrible was my power. That was eight thousand, seven-hundred years passed,” he stated. “Give or take a few centuries, in any case.”

I let my surprise show plainly on my face. I didn’t know any of the names or… royalty that the creature had referenced, but the years were plain enough. Nearly nine thousand years was, as far as was relative to my own lifespan, forever. I couldn’t imagine existing that long, let alone being relegated to a place like this for the entirety of it. Well, I guess I didn’t know what was beyond this section–though, this area seemed pretty grim. Who knew? Maybe the rest of the floors were filled with cotton candy back massages and an endless supply of Burger King, and this was just the foyer that existed to turn people away.

“So, perhaps even you could intimate how desperately thirsty I am for a drop of quenching tete-a-tete in this unctuous wasteland of cognizance?”

“Yes,” I said. “Say what desire.”

“Straightforward little fellow, aren’t you?” Pontivex said. “I can warm to that, though a more verbose inclusionary would be welcomed much more. As to your query–and, I hope– an answer to mine own…”

Pontivex waved a claw in the air, and a separate display appeared in my vision.

You have been offered a Quest!

[Dungeon Quest] Keep It Secret…

Pontivex sel Delibitaus has requested that you find Exotic Meat of a unique and untested creature and return it to him.

Exotic Meat cannot exist within the dungeon itself and must be procured outside it.

Reward(s): Experience. Renown. Coin.

Bonus: Secret Knowledge of the Forbidden Crypt of the Dreadnaught Lord (Conditional)

Additional Bonus Rewards Based On Conditions

NOTE: This is a Conditional Quest! As such, specific parameters must be met to fulfill it to completion. You will receive [1] Bonus Reward upon accepting the Quest.

Conditions:

Time Allotted: [6] Standard Months

Amount: [1] Portion.

Any amount over [1] will result in additional Rewards. Variety of Exotic Meat will result in additional Rewards.

Level of Freshness will determine additional Bonus Rewards. Each Level of Freshness below [Live] will result in diminished Rewards.

Preferred Freshness Level: Live

Acceptable Freshness Levels: Freshly Killed, Recently Killed, One Week Old

Unacceptable Freshness Levels: Aged, Spoiled, Rotten

Accept [Dungeon] Quest (Conditional)?

Yes / No

I stared at the prompt.

“Uh, what the fuck?” I said aloud. “You want… meat?”

Pontivex stared at me quizzically, and I realized I’d not used whatever the hell Ancient Chintius was. So, I translated as best I could.

“Yes,” Pontivex said, nodding. “I have become bored of the fare within the confines of this wretched tomb. I would like to sample something the likes of which I have not yet had the pleasure of consuming.”

All I could do was blink in disbelief.

“You must understand,” Pontivex continued, and I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he was a little… desperate? “I delight in the unique. Nine millennia of the same rubbish consumption has made me tire of the taste of it altogether. Something different would make me most generous.”

Hm. If that were true, then maybe I could sweeten my own pot? If he really wanted these tasty salamis for his infernal charcuterie board, then he might be willing to part with a little more for the trouble. Then I realized that it would be a nightmare to communicate my demands to him with such a limited vocabulary.

For the first time in a few minutes, I turned to Stinky. He had been standing, watching the interaction with something akin to horrified interest. I had to imagine it was like watching a slow-motion car accident.

“What languages do you speak?” I demanded.

Stinky scowled at me and made to spit on the floor, but then his eyes shot up to the humongous form of Pontivex, and I watched as he paused and then swallowed.

“Why?” He said to me after a moment.

“Why? Because it’s important!” I explained sternly. “Just answer the damn question, shit salad! I’m trying to work out a deal.”

Stinky glowered and then sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Arlo common tongue, Hathburian common tongue, Elvish common, Underelvish, Levikyvilish, Dardandron, Entwick common, a little Drakefolk, some Western Brychol. I also know how to use basic commands in the fucking Arcane Tongue. Is that enough for you, orc?”

I was taken aback. Stinky was apparently quite the linguist. Though, I smugly noted that Ancient Chitinus was not in his arsenal.

Don’t mind me, I only learned it in a literal minute.

I turned back to Pontivex.

“Speak other… speak?” I asked, sounding very stupid, I’m sure.

Pontivex took a moment to discern my meaning and then smiled.

“I speak many tongues, welp. With your arrested loquaciousness, I can already imagine the deigns your primitive mind has spilled forth with. Which lesser language would you prefer I engage with you in?”

I smiled.

Perfect. He still thinks I’m stupid. He just doesn’t know how stupid.

“Stinky,” I said.

“What do you want now? I can’t begin to explain how unwholesome it is to watch you conversing with a creature like this.”

Well, don’t worry, Stinky. That particular problem is about to be sorted.

“Shut up for a second,” I said. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”

“It’s a blessed favor that I haven’t run you through with a sharp blade already, orc,” Stinky said. “You really think I’m the type to want your debt under me?”

“God. Dammit. Stinky,” I said sharply. “It’s a turn of phrase. Will you shut the fuck up for a second and just let me do this?”

Stinky shook his head as if giving up.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Thank you,” I said in a huff. “Can you say those languages you speak again, but, like, in the language itself?”

Then I pointed up at the monster on the archway.

“To him.”

I tensed, feeling like the aggravatingly argumentative matau was going to put up a fight or say something annoying. Instead, he seemed to pick up what I was putting down and turned to Pontivex. Then he began to speak.

Honestly, it was pretty impressive. The confidence Stinky had with his recitation of the incomprehensible languages was far different than the trepidation he’d seemed to feel in having to speak with Pontivex and led me to believe that he might not even have had an accent in them if chatting with the native speakers. All had a unique quality to them, whether in their pronunciation or cadence, and I noticed that Stinky even changed the quality and pitch of his voice with some.

It took a moment, but eventually, Pontivex began speaking back to Stinky in a very harsh and guttural tongue.

Bingo!

“Which one was it?” I asked Stinky. He ignored me and simply responded to Pontivex.

Suddenly, I was feeling left out of the convo.

“Hey, asshole,” I said. “Which language do you guys both know?”

Stinky looked over at me, paused, and then said something that caused Pontivex to laugh and say a few words himself. Stinky smirked and nodded.

They’re talking shit about me!

“What the hell, Stinky?!” I shouted. “You were shaking in your weirdly-clean boots just a second ago, and now, suddenly, you’re a social butterfly? Also, side note: why are your shoes so clean?”

Stinky turned back to me.

“Jealous, are we, orc? It’s a shit color on you–though you’re already fuckin’ green, so I suppose you can’t fight your nature. I’m starving for a chat with someone whose brains didn’t already fall out of their fuckin’ arse.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry I’m not providing you with intellectually stimulating conversation,” I said. “I’m busy trying not to get you and I killed. Speaking of starving, your new boyfriend here mentioned a few minutes ago how he wanted to eat you, so maybe you don’t want to be cozying up so quickly.”

Stinky blinked at me and shrugged.

“Everything is trying to bloody eat us, orc,” he said, then paused, considering. “But, fine. If you want to stack your cart high with favors from this beast, I’ll gobble for you. That’s the last kindness I’m doing for you, though. Keep that between your cheeks when you’re trying to shove your guts back into your belly.”

“Cute,” I said, but deciding not to further exacerbate Mr. Grouch anymore, turned to look up at Pontivex.

“Alright, Stinky: say exactly what I say, but, like, in whatever language you’re using.”

“I know how translation works, orc.”

“Translate my dick, Stinky,” I said.

“Aye, will do, orc, ‘soon as there’s a language that invents a word for that level of invisibility.”

“Just do the thing!”

“Aye, orc,” Stinky said. “Get to yapping.”

So yap, I did.

It took a few moments of trial and error until my demands were eventually established, which left Pontivex holding the bag on a response. I made sure to let Stinky know not to speak after I made my request and used that silence tactic to force the monster to speak first. I conveniently didn’t mention that I’d done it to Stinky himself just a little while ago, but that seemed like unnecessary information.

Pontivex considered my dictated words and then nodded.

“That will suffice,” he said, using Ancient Chitinus. “You will give me multiple portions of meat most rare, and in return, I shall provide you with two secrets of the dungeon and a valuable item. My end will be fulfilled upon acceptance of the Quest.”

“Stinky,” I said, “tell him it’s a deal.”

Stinky translated, and there was a laugh and a nod from Pontivex, which gave me pause. Did he think he’d come out the victor in this? Maybe he had, but I’d still have the secrets and sweet fucking item even if I failed.

I accepted the Quest and then nodded at Pontivex, who opened his palm and snapped a finger. An item materialized in his hand. He released it, and I watched as it floated in place before slowly descending beneath the arch and stopping right at my eye level. It was a trinket of some sort, made of gold and silver, with little bat-like wings forged around the outside. In the center was a small, glittering blue gem that caught the light of the fire and cast a purple reflection back at me. I’d seen something similar before but couldn’t recall where. To be fair, I’d laid witness to a decent amount of incomprehensible shit since my arrival, so my brain wasn’t entirely making the connections it needed to. I activated Analysis.

Kameas of Discovery

Rarity: Ultra Rare

Item Class: Enhancement

Durability: 1/1

Weight: N/A

This Kameas is one of many that confer a Spell to the user. Accessing this item will grant the Discover [Doorway] Spell.

Discover [Doorway]

Arcane Cost: 10 Arcana

Range: 30 feet

Duration: 5 Minutes

Restrictions: Utterance

Wait: N/A

A spell allowing the user to find doorways, gates, and other exits or outlets within thirty feet. This spell’s duration is five minutes, after which time the opening cannot be found unless the spell is cast a second time. This spell uses Utterance, and as such, must be spoken.

Oh yeah!

A Kameas was the same thing that had given me my Analysis Ability when I’d first arrived. It was good to know that magical woo-woo objects like that were still kicking around and not some bizarre one-time dealio. I re-read the description and, with no amount of irony, found that I was a bit disappointed to discover the text was very… bland. No frills, snarky comments, or threats. Just plain, understandable information.

Odd.

I wasn’t sure how much I liked introducing magic spells into my diet, though, as it didn’t really jive with my original vision of how I wanted to be in this world. I supposed it would be useful in helping me get out of this fucking nightmare, and maybe if the magic was small, I could still focus on the essential things. Like being a monstrosity of might and destruction.

If only I could get there faster…

All of this tooting around, slowly learning Skills and Abilities was monumentally tedious, and I hated it. When was I going to get to the fun stuff? I had stealth, yeah, but there wasn’t really an opportunity to use much of that when I was constantly being ambushed or stuck in giant fire pits with the ugliest fucking demon I’d ever seen in my life–and Pontivex was here as well. It made me functionally useless unless I could somehow think of a way to be cleverer than I had been, and those prospects looked bleak. So far, my plans had just been to go with my gut and cause as much destruction as possible–a solid go-to, if anyone’s looking for bad-ass ideas– but I wasn’t sure how long that would keep me alive. I needed to increase my Intelligence, or Wisdom, or something because I wasn’t even sure how to start… starting being better at all this.

Okay, introspection headache. Time to switch gears.

I focused on the message that had populated in front of me instead, allowing my bubble of self-reflection to pop.

Use Kameas of Discovery now?

Yes / No

I looked over at Stinky, intending to rub it in when I realized with horror that he was staring at a similar object. It was roughly the same size and shape as mine, but rather than metallic bat wings, his Kameas was wreathed in shining jade.

“Oh, what the hell?!”

Pontivex leaned forward, chuckling.

“Your companion did the bulk of the work, no? Our deal could not have been struck without his assistance. Do you not believe it is fair to compensate where work has been put in?”

I sighed.

“Yes,” I said in my painfully broken language. “Yes is yes.”

“Splendid,” Pontivex said, clapping his hands together.

“Now, shall we divulge these secrets?”

I held up a finger.

“Hold,” I said and turned back to Stinky.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I said.

Stinky blinked away a thousand-yard stare and seemed to come back to reality, his eyes focusing on mine. Then he scrunched his brow.

“I don’t give a rooster’s red shite what yours is, orc,” he said and turned back to the Kameas. It dissolved in midair, and a green light fluttered around him. The light suddenly flashed, sparkled, and settled onto him before completely vanishing. I watched as the matau’s eyes radiated the same emerald hue as the light for a moment before returning to blue.

“Wow,” I said, prolonging the word to maximize my feeling of displeasure. “Just when you start to become lifelong friends with someone, they stab you in the butt.”

“We’re not friends, orc,” Stinky spit.

“Oh, but we are, Stinky,” I said. “Best friends, in fact. You’re going to be the best man at my wedding. Which really sucks for you because I am going to be such a diva.”

“Stop that.” Stinky gestured to the demon of the doorway. “I’d rather be vomited out of this one’s fucking mouth than be your best anything.”

“What about best enemy?” I offered with a grin.

“No, I’m your worst enemy!”

I didn’t respond but left a grin plastered to my face, not breaking eye contact.

“...we’re not friends, dammit!” Stinky exclaimed. “I’m going to cut your damned face off!”

“Why, so you can keep it next to your bed and kiss it before you fall asleep every night?”

Stinky glared at me. Jeeze, this guy was easy to get riled up.

I returned to Pontivex, who was waiting patiently, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

What is with this fucking guy?

“Yes,” I said to him, confirming in my simple way. “Now. Secret. Yes?”

Pontivex rubbed his hands together.

“Yes, now that you have the item and have accepted the quest, we may discuss your secrets,” the beast said, and I began to catch a worrying tone in his speech. He was overjoyed, now. Did he just like meat that much, or was this something else?

I wished very much at that moment to have been blessed with the social skills Nick had. My former friend could always ferret out the meaning behind even the simplest things and could usually recognize signs before they happened. It was why we had once had such a strong friendship. He was highly sensitive to the flow of a conversation, almost like he could predict its outcome. This was beneficial because he could usually use it to win someone over or stop something chaotic from forming in the first place by smoothly changing subjects. It had worked on me numerous times, and I wouldn’t be aware of it until long after the fact. I’d start down a path that would ultimately have ended with anger, and suddenly, Nick would be talking about something silly that would make me laugh or ask me about any new albums I was listening to. It was a sharp tactic, and I’d asked him about it once. He’d admitted that he believed it came from having an embarrassing dad who had no filter and would say the first thing that came to his mind in public–usually something awkward. So he often had to notice the signs and be a few steps ahead in the conversation to kill it before it became an issue.

I’m a fucking moron, I thought to myself. I could have boosted one of my stats that affected that, but I’d been so hell-bent on being tough that I’d ignored a potentially helpful little boon.

Oh well, no reason to worry over spilled milk now.

All I could do was mop up the mess and use whatever was left for my cereal.

“Your first secret relates to that which I have presented you. Within each floor is at least one doorway. Sometimes there are multiple, but there is always at least a single exit that one might utilize if the woes of the Crypt become too harsh to bear.”

“Out?” I asked.

“Yes,” Pontivex said, still smiling mischievously. “It will remove you from the dungeon, but you must find the doorways first, and that is typically quite a hardship. It will become slightly easier with my gift, though I don’t imagine it will take all of the fun out of it. It will still require some sleuthing. They are hidden doorways, after all.”

Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought. Each floor had a way of escaping, but did they take you back to the surface or just back to the entryway with the eggs? Further, they were difficult to find, but as long as I was within thirty feet of them, I could use my spell and poof myself away. That would make the issue with Zeol’s talisman a little less messy. I’d been worried about my ability to get out of here once I’d retrieved it, but Zeol had seemed to think I’d be fine.

So, he must’ve known about the exits, or maybe just assumed they’d existed?

If his plan had relied on this entire interaction happening with the shadow-stuffed bird-gremlin, then that meant that Zeol was probably a lot smarter than I was giving him credit for–and a lot more dangerous, too.

“Where?” I asked Pontivex.

“Oh, there’s no fun bequeathing that information onto you, is there,” the creature asked, making a ‘tsk’ sound and wagging a finger at me. “I cannot tell you outright where they are, but I will say that the first floor, for all of its shortcomings, is considerably easier to navigate than the lower ones–much more straightforward and direct. If you try to the maximum potential of your ability–and live long enough to do so– I am sure that even one as lowly and insignificant as yourself can manage its duress.”

I wished at that moment that I had a magical device that could gouge out Pontivex’s eyes. He’d given me a secret–sort of– but it wasn’t very precise or helpful. I hadn’t specified that I wanted them to be beneficial hints.

“Next,” I said to Pontivex.

I needed to get this over with, and I was starting to get the feeling that I had indeed been worked over in this interaction. At the very least, if he wasn’t giving me good information, I had no incentive to fulfill my end to the best of my efforts. Right?

Pontixev nodded.

“As you wish, welp.”

I quickly gave Stinky a run-down of what the creature had indicated, making it very clear with my tone and eye rolling what I thought of the information. Stinky gave a noncommittal grunt in response but said nothing further. Finally, Pontivex stood to his full height, stretching his wings out as though he was preparing to take flight.

“Now,” he began, looking over his shoulder across the lake of fire and then back to us. “A more pressing secret concerning the current chamber. When I leave this infernal roost, a challenge will begin. This is designed to test those who enter, as will several of the other chambers. Not all, but many. A bridge will form from this Ancient Arch to the one at the exit as it begins. You will have a short time to cross to the other side.”

Well, that settles it; I didn’t need to make this deal at all, in fact–

“...and you will need to do so with all of your dungeoneers intact.”

“Uh, what?” I asked aloud.

Pontivex, who did not understand what I said physically, seemed to pick up the nature of my dumb-as-fuck expression and smiled.

“Yes, welp. Everyone you entered the Crypt with must complete the challenge,” he paused for effect. “...alive.”

I was starting to feel hot and sweaty, and I had to double-check to make sure I hadn’t accidentally placed the festival cap on my head again. I had not. This was just anxiety.

“...oh, shit,” I said.

“What?!” Stinky demanded, sensing the dread in my tone. But before I could respond, the gateway on the other side of the lake of fire ignited in light.

“Oh,” Pontivex said in disappointment. “It appears one member has already reached the exit. Pity. I do hate a leg-up. Regardless…”

He launched from the arch and into the air on shadowy wings and wheeled on us once more.

“I believe you have it in you, welp. You must have it in you, in fact. If you fail this challenge, you will die. Then you will be mine!”

“What are you talking about?!” I exclaimed, not bothering to use his language. It didn’t matter; he knew what my intention was.

“You should really learn to discern the difference between a standard Quest and one with… conditions. Good luck!”

With that, Pontivex jackknifed in the air and plunged downward, right into the waiting lake of fire. A geyser of recoiling lava spat up with his entry and splashed against the karst we were standing on.

At that moment, a notification appeared, and my heart dropped into my balls with a clenching pain.

Challenge One Commencing

Duration Remaining: 8m 11s

Number of Successful Dungeoneers: 1 / 8