An uncomfortable buzzing invaded Sarah’s dream like a trapped fly. She stirred, struggling to open her eyes against the glow of her ringing phone. The vibrations made it dance a little jig on her nightstand. The joviality was lost on her. It was 5:30am. She sacrificed an arm to the cool air of the room and tilted the screen.

Incoming call: Janice

Her little sister. A spike of adrenaline snapped Sarah's eyes open. She swiped the screen, mouth suddenly dry with the fear that this was a Bad Call. "Janice? What's wrong?"

"Oh my god, Sarah! I need your help!"

Sarah was out of bed in an instant, crossing to her closet and grabbing whatever clothes her hands found first. "I'm on my way. Are you in your dorm? Do you need an ambulance? If you can't answer, try to say the word—”

"No, no, not like that. I need your help in Archeron!" said Janice.

The abrupt halt to Sarah's sense of emergency practically gave her whiplash. "What the fuck kind of video game emergency warrants a phone call at 5:30 in the goddamn morning?!" Sarah kicked her half-donned pants across the room and pitched herself back into bed.

"Sarah, please! My dungeon is getting raided and I don't know what to do."

"Who gives a shit? Let the AI run the dungeon. You're eating into precious weekend sleep. That's unforgivable." Sarah’s thumb hovered over the “End call” button.

"But they used a Grindstone! You know how much I love my dungeon," said Janice. She sounded on the verge of tears.

"They sacrificed a Grindstone? Are you sure?” Sarah rolled onto her elbow. “Not a Millstone or a Heartstone? An actual Grindstone?"

"I got a notification saying I was being raided, and the raiding team sacrificed a Grindstone."

"Yeah, that's it,” Sarah groaned. “Go boot up, I'll meet you in game."

"You mean you'll help me?"

"Well, you scared the bejeezus out of me, so I'm awake. Maybe if I pretend like this is serious, I won't feel the need to backhand you next time I see you," said Sarah.

"Oh my God, tha—”

Sarah hung up. A Grindstone? Fuck.

Archeron was a popular VRMMO. The main game was standard fantasy adventure stuff, but every player was also given their own dungeon space to design and personalize. A player’s character's class and build influenced the type of challenges they could include in their dungeon. Players could also form small adventuring parties to delve other players’ dungeons for treasure and XP, which would be defended either by a basic AI scripting or by the dungeon master’s direct control. Dungeons never suffered lasting consequences from the raids, just a little tick up on the number of "Completed Raids" beside the dungeon's name.

But a Grindstone? Raiding players could burn offerings for bonuses or extra challenges prior to entering, and a Grindstone was a major offering. Exceedingly rare and meant only for the hardest of the hardcore delvers, Grindstones granted the dungeon master far more resources to counter the raid. If the raid was successful, however, the dungeon would be permanently destroyed.

That’s some grudge match level shit, thought Sarah. But Janice is just a baby crafter. Who’s swinging on a dollhouse that hard?

Sarah took the time to brush her teeth and put on coffee before logging in. The mini-VR headset chimed to life, launching her into an immersive fantasy world at odds with the cold kitchen table she leaned on. She selected Dungeon Master instead of Adventurer from the start screen for the first time in what felt like years. She immediately was pinged with an invite to join "Maladin's Dungeon Home

"Who the fuck is Grindstoning that?" she yelled at the invite. It was like a Navy Seal team targeting a bakery.

She accepted the invite and was pitched into starry void, her avatar materializing along with her sister's. Maladin, her sister's avatar, was a plump halfling in a fluffy pink dress, basically a cupcake.

Janice pulled her sister into hug. Despite her annoyance, the heat from the haptics made Sarah smile and hug her back. Been too long, she thought. Need to do this IRL soon.

"So, tell me what's going on," said Sarah, disengaging herself from Janice.

"I got a notification saying I was going be raided, and they were using a Grindstone. I had to look up what it did. Is it true they'll destroy my dungeon if they beat it?"

"Yup, they will. Your dungeon level will be maxed in response, and you get a 24 hour window to prepare. Pull it up and let's have a look."

Sarah stifled a yawn while Janice opened her dungeon editor. From the starry void, a swarm of particles coalesced between them, forming a floating 3D model of the dungeon. They loomed over it like giants, with tools to inspect and alter every inch. Room after room after hallway continued to stretch into the void.

"Damn, this place is huge!" said Sarah. Most dungeon masters spent their dungeon’s power on small, super deadly designs.

"I needed a lot of space for my theme rooms." Janice shrugged.

Sarah laughed. "Theme rooms, such a dollhouse."

"Dollhouse?"

"Means a dungeon that's primarily aesthetic, not meant to be dangerous." Sarah zoomed in on the layout. Zero traps, zero monsters—it was 100% decoration. A dungeon with zero challenge rating makes for zero treasure and zero XP.

"Oh. Yeah, I just like to decorate and walk around it." Janice smiled and tried to see what exactly her sister was admiring, hoping to catch a compliment.

"It certainly is pretty," said Sarah. Janice beamed. "So, can you tell me why someone would waste an incredibly rare item like a Grindstone on you? Even the most dedicated griefer wouldn't do that."

"I...don't know," Janice lied.

"...Umm, clearly you're lying?"

"It's just some guild drama, that's all," Janice said.

"Nope. Fess up or I walk," Sarah stepped back from the 3D map.

"Okay, fine! Look, there was this guy in my guild. He was an asshole to everyone. But he was a founding member, so no one said anything. I complained about him to the other leaders, and apparently, they were just waiting for an excuse to give him the boot. I guess he blamed me, cause we got into a huge screaming match in front of everyone...and I kind of...humiliated him? I guess?"

Sarah winced. Janice was a lamb. A baby lamb made of cotton candy. But God saw fit to give her an insecurity-seeking temper that went for the jugular, without hesitation or any sense of proper escalation. "Straight up bitter revenge huh? Charming. Pull up his party, let's see what we're dealing with," said Sarah.

It took Janice a while, but eventually the list of raiders appeared with a countdown until their raid could start.

Fang: Fighter Level 40, Sentinel Level 10

Saint Desmond: Cleric Level 40, Order of the Healing Word Level 10

Alkazar: Mage Level 40, Evoker Level 10

Nora: Rogue Level 40, Dungeon Delver Level 10

Time Remaining: 17h 39m 45s

"Oh wow, that is bad," said Sarah. This was a perfectly balanced, max level, max prestige party, with a Rogue that specialized in Dungeon crawls.

"You can help though, right? You're a max level mage?"

"And prestiged Illusionist, yeah, but we're not exactly known for being useful in dungeon defense. Just distractions and misdirection, mostly. I’m guessing you haven't made an effort to gather dungeon recipes and lore books?"

Janice's eyes brightened. "I’ve got tons of recipes! And all sorts of books!"

"Ones used to make monsters, traps, or any other non-aesthetic options?"

"Oh...no, not really. I’m sure I’ve grabbed a couple by chance. But nothing rare."

That was a problem. Even though her dungeon would be level 50 plus a power boost because of the Grindstone, she'd still only be working with the basics. No elite monsters or traps.

"Do you have any other dungeon spirits you can call on?" Asked Sarah.

"Like ghosts?"

"No, not like…ugh, okay. I'm a dungeon spirit because you invited me to help you. Anyone that joins your dungeon as a spirit can help bring more options to the table."

"Let me check...oh! Fernando responded! He says he's logging on now!"

Sure enough, a man in plate mail materialized before them. His appearance was quite plain, with no exotic equipment to speak of.

"Hey Maladin," he said in a soft pitchy voice, "and hello to you, Nashima. My name is Uthgar." He extended a hand to Sarah, which she took, hiding a smile at his earnest roleplay.

"Hi Uthgar, you can call me Sarah. I'm Janice's older sister."

"Oh, you're the designer I've heard so much about. Loving the avatar, you look amazing!"

Sarah had styled herself on a 'mistress of the night' motif. Black gown, hair, eyes, and moon pale skin. She thought it made her look mysterious, which fit her Illusionist playstyle. "Thanks, but we've got a situation."

Sarah and Janice filled Fernando in. “I don’t have a lot of experience running dungeons, but I’ll help in any way I can,” he said.

"So where do we start?" asked Janice.

"Well, we have a Fighter now, he'll let us buff our monsters and their equipment. We have a Crafter (that's you, Janice) so that covers some traps and security. We've got me, so that will cover magic defenses, but skewed hard toward illusions.” Sarah counted off on her fingers. “I guess Janice also has her Trader prestige, but I can’t remember what that actually does, so we'll look that up later."

"Sounds like we're in good shape," said Fernando with a grin.

"Very no. Without recipes, we'll be stuck with bog standard options against a well-balanced, veteran dungeon delving team. It's like bringing a starter deck to a tournament," said Sarah.

"What do we do? I'm not even sure how this works!” Sarah could hear Janice getting more frustrated. She could almost imagine those big saucer eyes welling up. “Please Sarah, I don't want to lose my dungeon. I've worked so hard to get it exactly right!"

"I believe we get a bunch of mana to craft and rearrange the dungeon before the raid begins. Bigger changes cost more mana, right?" Fernando looked to Sarah for confirmation.

"Yeah, that's right. Pros; we have no mana tied up in defenses yet, blank slate. Cons; we're starting from scratch. Keep talking Fernando, I want to hear what else you know," said Sarah. Janice knew nothing, but Sarah needed to know if Fernando could be given some autonomy.

"Once the raid starts, we get a different mana bar. Smaller, but it replenishes. That'll let us make changes on the fly. Again, bigger the change, the more mana it takes. Also, the closer the change is to the raiding party, the more mana it takes. No dropping a dragon out of thin air on their heads. But if they take too long, like stopping to rest, we can keep adding more and more dangers. I don't know what differences Grindstones make."

Sarah nodded in appreciation. "Not bad! We can work with you! Grindstones give us more mana for pre-raid, more mana during the raid, faster mana regen during the raid, and a slight buff to monsters and traps. Also does something to their Luck stat, but no one's sure what."

Sarah ran her hands over her face and through her hair. She closed her eyes and popped off the VR headset. Her coffee was ready, and all was lost if she didn't get it. She took a moment to herself, beathing in the warm comforting scent. Sunlight was just starting to filter in through the window. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with refreshing energy. Her eyes went to the 3D designs that decorated her walls. She smiled softly at the memories of work well done as she took a few languid steps to the window. She sang idly to herself, breathing in the aroma of coffee and taking in the pale morning.

There's no earthly way of knowing

Which direction we are going

There's no knowing where we're rowing

Or which way the river's flowing.

She sighed and swirled her coffee, watching the dance of color in her cup. It really was an impossible fight.

Is it raining, is it snowing?

Is a hurricane a blowing...

Revenge. Someone was trying to take revenge on her little sister. A wicked smile split her face as cruel thoughts ran through her head.

So we'll begin, with a spin.

She set her coffee down and twirled back to her chair

Travelling in the world of my creation

What we'll see will defy explanation.

She snapped the headset back on.

“We ready to do this?” Fang asked his companions. It was just past 10 pm. The team he had assembled stood at a portal gateway, the dungeon ID number keyed in. Once they walked through, they were officially on a Grindstone raid.

“Ready! But are you sure this is the right dungeon ID? ‘Maladin’s Dungeon Home heart emoji’?” asked Desmond.

“It’s a trick, so raiders don’t pick it,” said Fang, carefully inspecting his weapons.

“Good trick. Yeah, I’m ready,” said Alkazar. He did a little dance of checking all the pockets of his robes. “Yup, all ready to blow some shit up!”

One remained silent. “Nora? You ready?” asked Fang again, irritation creeping into his voice. The rogue had been expensive, but her cost didn’t include a chipper, forthcoming attitude.

“Ready enough.” She didn’t look ready. Sure, she was strapped with black leather armor and knives, but she lacked the tension and anxious energy of the rest. Her avatar was idling and staring off into space. She was clearly looking at something in another window.

Fang glared at her, knowing she couldn’t see him.

“Take a picture,” she said.

Fang turned away abruptly. “Desmond, what kind of spells did you prep?”

“Primarily healing, some buffing. How about you, Alkazar?”

“Mostly damage, handful of detection, debuff, and dispels.”

“Alright, let’s go.” With a final tug on the straps of his gleaming adamantine armor, Fang stepped into the rippling purple portal, his party following close behind.

They emerged, battle-ready, into a magnificent foyer. An emerald green and white marbled floor was polished to a mirror shine. At the far end, a pair of winding staircases led to an ornate door. The steps of the stairs alternated the same green and white marble, and resplendent flowering greenery decorated the rest of the foyer.

Fang held his position in front with his tower shield raised, alongside Desmond, the heavily-armored cleric. Norah and Alkazar stood right behind them, prepared to flank and fireball as needed.

No attack came. The tension began to bleed away, allowing them take in the room.

“Daaaamn, this is swanky,” said Alkazar, admiring his reflection in the floor.

Desmond didn’t drop his guard, “You cannot devote a room this big to just nothing.”

As if in response, a gout of flame exploded on the landing in front of the ornate doors. A horned figure with bronze skin and golden robes appeared, wreathed in a dancing inferno. It boomed laughter and held its hands aloft as pillars of fire erupted forth. “Fools! Infidels! You have entered the molten dungeon of Caliban the Cinder King! Your souls will be reduced to ashes!”

Sarah addressed Janice and Fernando like a commanding general.

“Alright, listen up. Killing these jokers is extremely unlikely. With a dedicated healer and a Sentinel to protect them, they’re got a huge amount of effective HP to chew through. Our end game will be to make them willingly exit the dungeon.”

“How do we do that?” asked Fernando.

“Drain of resources. We need to sap them of their strength, which I’m putting into three categories: spells, HP, and sanity,” said Sarah.

Janice began looking at her character sheet, “Is sanity a stat in this game? How did I miss that?”

“I mean real life sanity. We need to break their morale, frustrate them, embarrass them, or simply make it very unappealing to continue,” said Sarah.

“I’m not sure why, but I love this idea. It’s hilarious!” Fernando looked awed.

“Really? I think it sounds awful,” said Janice.

“That’s exactly it! Who’s ever heard of an embarrassing dungeon? It’s new! It’s interesting! It’s different!” said Fernando, throwing his hands up in excitement.

“What can you tell me about this guy, Janice?” Sarah asked. “What made him so bad he needed to be kicked out?”

Janice’s face twisted in disgust at the memory, “Total psycho rageaholic. He would freak out if he thought someone was ‘disrespecting him’ and fly off the handle. Especially on new players,”

“Perfect,” said Sarah. “I can work with that. What else do we know about the party? Do you know the people he’s adventuring with?”

Janice checked the notification. “No, never heard of them.”

“Don’t think they’re randos, since they’re Grindstoning together, but they weren’t part of the guild,” said Fernando. “Why?”

“All useful info, that’s all. Janice, I’d like you to start redecorating the next room like we discussed. Can you handle that?”

Janice grinned. “My pleasure! All those black and white decorations were just cluttering up my menus anyway.”

“Perfect. I have to step away for a while—tons of illusion crafting to do. Before I go, though, let’s get them on the back foot right out the gate.”

“Love a good theme dungeon,” said Alkazar as he began casting his strongest fire protection spells on the party members.

“That’s a Greater Flame Demon, old school,” said Desmond. He held up his holy symbol, a platinum starburst, and cast a powerful protection spell over the party. “We’ve got protection against his worst now,” he said.

The demon pointed a clawed hand down at them. “Too long have the realms of men interfered with the grand works of demons. The forces of light do not know that their place is on their knees before us!” A great pair of batlike wings burst from his back and began to flap in great swings.

“He’s monologuing, someone give me and Norah Flight,” said Fang.

Alkazar started to cast on Norah, but she put up a hand to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” Alkazar asked, magical energy still in hand.

Norah was staring up at the demon. “The plants—they’re not moving.”

Fang and the others turned. While they could feel the wind from the demon’s wings on their skin, the plants and ferns around the room were still.

“What does that mean?” asked Desmond. He cast another buffing spell.

“It means stop casting!” Fang barked. “That’s a damn illusion!”

The party lowered their weapons. The demon continued monologuing above them as their buffs timed out, the spells wasted.

Nora took point and slowly made her way up the stairs, checking for traps. She chuckled to herself. “Been ages since I’ve seen a false flanders. Or a Greater Demon, for that matter.”

“False flanders? What’s that?” asked Desmond.

“Back in the day, people used to call almost anything newsworthy a false flag operation. Means like a fake attack. It got to be so ridiculous that other people used to make fun of them by posting this meme of a badly drawn Ned Flanders…that’s a character from an old TV show. So in VRMMOs, when the dungeon master makes you overreact to an illusion, we called it a false flanders. Get it?” She faltered at the blank looks on her companions faces. “Never mind.”

“Hey Fang, I’m picking up an aura of illusion magic,” said Alkazar, casting about the room with glowing blue eyes.

“From what?” said Fang.

“Seems to be everything. I think it’s a single big illusion spell on the whole room.”

“Likely to keep us from realizing it was a fake demon,” said Fang.

“Yeah, maybe.” Alkazar didn’t sound convinced. “Find anything, Nora?”

“Indeed, I have. These two steps are trapped. Basic pressure plates.”

“Can you disable them?” asked Fang.

“I can, but it’s best not to. I can only disarm so many traps per day, and at high levels they have a chance to go off anyways. If we can bypass a trap, we should.”

“Alright, mark the steps. We’ll just jump them,” said Fang, motioning Desmond and Alkazar to follow.

Nora sprayed a fluorescent thief’s mark on each step, a skull over crossed gears. She effortlessly hopped the two trapped steps and waited for the others.

Fang jumped next, easily clearing the steps, as did Alkazar. The feat was simple enough for a normal human, much less max level adventurers. Then it was Desmond’s turn.

As he prepared to jump, a perfect illusion of the staircase appeared over the real staircase, except slightly misaligned. Desmond had been hustling up the stairs to build up speed for the jump, but when his focus was suddenly split he became instantly disoriented. He jumped too early with one foot and too late with the other, and crash onto the second trapped stair.

“How do I rotate it?” Janice asked Fernando. Sarah had entrusted Janice and Fernando to add some typical dungeon defenses.

“Grip the corner and turn it. The game will try to align it with the terrain for you,” said Fernando.

This all felt terribly unintuitive for Janice. She had never played with trap triggers in her dungeon before. Mercifully, the game understood her intention and the two plates snapped into place.

“Triggers are placed, now what?” she asked.

“Now you need a good trap. You’re a crafter so yours will be better than most. Just open that menu there…no, that one. Scroll down…see where it says ‘Traps’?”

“No?”

“It’s right next to ‘Triggers’.”

“Oh!” Janice’s face fell as an entire tool bar of tool bars expanded out from her floating menu. She took a shuddering breath.

“Janice? You ok?”

“Just feeling kind of overwhelmed,” she said. There was a tiny hitch in her voice. “I’ve never done this, and I don’t understand these numbers, or these sliders, and there’s all these abbreviations and—”

“Shh, shh, shh! It’s okay!” Fernando hurried to her side. “I can try and help, let me see.”

He had no more experience with traps than she did, but step by step were able to come to terms with the controls.

Fernando pointed at a poison dart trap. “See that one there has a poison slot, so you can choose the poison that gets used.”

“I get it! And these sliders determine the damage and attack bonus, which makes them cost more preparation mana,” said Janice.

“Alright, what trap do you want to use? Sarah says we need to do the absolute most with the absolute least,” said Fernando.

“I’ve got an idea. Can you put special effects on trap weapons?”

“I think so, why?”

“SHIT!” screamed Fang as long flat blades shot out from the junction of every step on the staircase. He and Nora dodged the worst of the damage, but Desmond and Alkazar were slashed by the blades and hit with a weak knockback effect.

Desmond was knocked back onto the first trapped step, and the blades shot out again. Alkazar, having now been knocked back twice, landed on the higher trapped step himself, which knocked him to the first trapped step, triggering the effect once again.

“God-fucking-dammit, Desmond,” Fang shouted at the prone cleric.

Desmond groaned and clambered to his feet. He was badly hurt. “Sorry Fang, the stairs did something weird. What was that?”

“For the love of God, heal me,” said Alkazar.

“It was a static illusion,” said Nora, “The dungeon master dropped it while you were running.”

“Least they’re out of mana for a while,” said Fang.

“Doubtful. A static illusion is about as cheap as it gets,” said Nora. She was gazing at the stair illusion still in place, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Can you at least tell me that the trap is holding a bunch of mana?” Fang spit at the stair.

“A minor knockback blade trap? Not even any poison or curses or magic damage? Sorry, this was just really nasty execution.”

There were unanimous grumbles. Nora got to work disarming the trap while Desmond and Alkazar waited at the bottom of the stairs.

After several minutes, the party was finally gathered before the ornate doors. Nora did a careful check for traps, then Fang threw the doors open.

Behind the door was a short hall leading to a steel door that was neither trapped nor locked. Fang strode towards it, yanked it open, and peered inside. “Oh dear God!”

“Not bad…can you make the floor plaid instead of checkerboard?” Sarah peered down into the room as Janice pulled up the decorations menu. The progress the others had made in her absence was remarkable.

Janice scrolled through her options, “No, floors don’t really come in plaid. I can do a more chaotic checkerboard, would that work?”

“That’ll do just fine,” said Sarah.

“This room makes me uncomfortable,” said Fernando.

“Good. Could you go stand down there? There’s something I want to try,” said Sarah.

Fernando’s avatar dissolved and reappeared in the room at the scale of a normal adventurer.

“Okay, ready?” asked Sarah.

“Very no,” said Fernando. “It’s already sort of awful to be in here.”

“Well, keep your eyes open and tell me if you see anything.” Sarah entered a command from her menu.

“Oh dear god!” Fernando shouted.

The room was like a checkerboard gone mad. The black and white décor alone would have been bad enough, but the effect was worsened a hundred-fold by two illusionary copies of the room, ever so slightly displaced and subtly oscillating. The effect was nothing short of nauseating.

“Fuuuuck, I’m gonna puke,” said Desmond.

“Just keep your eyes on the groun—Don’t look at the ground!” Alkazar interrupted himself too late. The floor swam and moved in the same way, and having a lowered head intensified the feeling of vertigo. The whole party groaned and stumbled.

“Everyone close your eyes. I think I saw the way out,” said Norah.

“Ugh, I can still see it on my eyelids. I need to step out,” said Desmond.

“Stay together!” Fang shouted. “Just grab a wall and breathe deep.”

Desmond followed the command, still making small retching sounds.

Norah felt her way towards the door. She peeked through squinted eyes when she reached it, gritting her teeth to focus. The door was closed with a bullseye lock. It was shaped like a target, with each segment alternating black and white. She began to turn the rings to move the pieces around, taking frequent breaks to steady herself. A thought occurred to her as she worked. “This would be a great place for…oh shit.”

Demond, still clinging to the wall, screamed in pain as long knives sank between the joints of his armor. The pain of the attacks plus his own nausea and dizziness took his knees out from under him.

Fang leapt into action, using his Sentinel abilities to interpose himself between Desmond and his two attackers. They were dressed in black and white cheque motley, with broad rictus grins and blood-soaked daggers. “Harlequins!” he shouted.

Harlequins were fae creatures that scored sneak attacks against unwary or debuffed enemies for devastating amounts of damage. The two monsters spun in a dervish of slashing attacks, all focused on the vulnerable Desmond. Fang did his best to counter, but the Harlequins’ whirling movement combined with the room’s illusion made his stomach lurch whenever he opened his eyes to attack. He chose to focus on defense.

“They’re trying to down Desmond! Alkazar, Norah, help me out here!”

Alkazar chanted the words to a spell, arcane power coalescing around him. He shot bolts of magical energy into the nearest Harlequin with his eyes closed. The bolts were low in damage but unerring. Norah stumbled to a flanking position with Fang and attacked as best she could. Desmond meanwhile pumped healing spell after healing spell into himself. For every four attacks Fang intercepted, one slipped by and hit Desmond for massive sneak attack damage.

At last, Alkazar finished a long, complex incantation. Blue lightning arced from him in every direction. He planted his feet and thrust his hands toward the Harlequins. A staccato blast of arcane energy discharged from him so fast it sounded like a machine gun firing.

One Harlequin was blown away by the spell, the other gravely injured. It succeeded in a final attack against Desmond before succumbing to Fang’s blade.

“Open the fucking door!” Fang screamed at Norah. She was already there, desperately fiddling with the lock mechanism until it clicked open.

“This way! Follow my voice!” she cried. The party clamored over each other and into the blissfully stationary hall beyond.

“Why not flashing lights? That’d be disorienting right?” Fernando asked Sarah. He was still recovering from his foray into the black and white room.

Sarah adjusted her illusion by a few degrees. “Actually, that killed a guy once. He was epileptic, died at home. The game has some pretty tight controls over flashing lights now.”

“I’m gonna put a trap in the next hallway, is that okay?” asked Janice. “Maybe a pit trap?”

“Eh, pit traps never work. Too easy to spot, damage is too low, too easy to bypass,” said Sarah.

“Yeah, my perception is trash and even I can see them coming,” Fernando agreed. “They only get me if I’m rushing.”

Sarah stopped working. “Indeed…”

“You okay, Desmond?” Alkazar asked. They were slumped in the hallway, the vertigo slowly fading.

“No. That sucked.” Desmond gagged again, “I can still see the stupid shapes.”

“How is something like that allowed? We should report that!” Fang kicked the door they had slammed shut behind them.

“Yeah, we should definitely report that,” Norah said.

“How much healing did you burn through, Desmond?” asked Fang.

“A lot. I’m okay to go on though, in a minute.” The cleric spit and struggled to his feet.

“I’ll check ahead,” said Norah. She continued down the hall, looking for traps or further ambushes.

Minutes passed. Fang grew more and more impatient. “Have you got your big boy pants on yet, Desmond? Or do we need to grab you some Depends?”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, yes, I just put them on. Let’s go.”

Fang, Desmond, and Alkazar started down the hallway after Norah. After only a few steps, a noxious green mist began to seep down from the cracks in the mortared ceiling. It billowed and twisted in corpulent clouds, expanding to fill the hallway.

“Poison gas! Move!” said Fang. They ran ahead, almost colliding with Norah who grabbed at them. She was barely able to stop Fang from running straight over a pit that opened in the middle of the hall. It took up the width of the hallway and stretched on another twenty feet into darkness. He teetered on his toes, looking down at a long fall onto gleaming spikes, before being yanked back.

“Gas!” Alkazar shouted to Norah. She looked back and saw the cloud, thick as pea soup, slowly roiling down the hall toward them.

“Pit trap!” Norah pointed at the hole.

“Options, quick,” said Fang.

“Flight spells for everyone,” said Alkazar. “Pros: works. Cons: costly.”

“Poison protection for everyone,” said Desmond. “Same pros and cons, assuming that’s poison and not, like, acid.”

“Norah?” Fang asked.

Norah was kneeling by the edge of the pit, her face inches from the ground. “Sonnova bitch,” she whispered.

“What?”

Norah reached a hand into the pit. Her palm pressed against firm stone “It’s an illusion! The pit isn’t real, let’s go!”

With a gasp of relief, they sprinted down the hall after the rogue, their feet finding blessed stone beneath the ultra-realistic illusion. It was only for Norah’s head start they didn’t meet the same fate as her and drop down the actual pit that took up the last five feet of the illusion. With a scream, she disappeared into darkness, and they heard all too real spikes piercing her flesh.

Alkazar leaned over the edge of the real pit. “You alright?”

Norah had fallen a good twenty feet before landing on the pit spikes. They had pierced her armor, but all things considered the trap had done comparatively little damage. “Yeah, just a little hurt and little stuck. Can one of you—”

Norah’s breath caught as she realized she wasn’t alone. Standing next to her at the bottom of the five foot square pit was a leering ogre. Its eyes were white and its face was splotched with rot and decay. A zombie.

“What is it?” Alkazar said.

“Just an ogre zombie, don’t worry.” Norah began extricating herself from the spikes. “Even if he hits me, he’ll do crap for damage. Just toss me a rope and we can—”

Norah trailed off yet again. The zombie ogre had produced a gigantic battle axe. The weapon glowed fiercely, arcs of lighting shooting away from the adamantine blade. The entire head was etched in magic runes and enchantments, the haft was golden shod. The mindless creature lifted the axe over its head.

“Help!” Norah screamed as the axe came down. Despite being such a low threat monster, the enchanted weapon gave the ogre the edge it needed. Norah’s armor did little to blunt the damage as she scrambled to interpose a blade while righting herself.

“Hang on, we’ll throw you a rope,” said Alkazar.

“No, help NOW!” Norah screamed again as the axe head chopped into her, the blast of lightning damage illuminating the pit with azure flashes and black shadows.

Fang was about to jump down when Desmond stopped him. “The gas! We won’t have time to get you out too,” Desmond said.

“We can’t leave her, she’s the only…wait.” Fang abruptly turned and hastened back down the hallway toward the encroaching cloud of poison.

“What are you doing?” asked Alkazar.

Fang plunged his head into the cloud and inhaled deeply. He grit his teeth in rage and punched a wall. “It’s another damn illusion!”

Without hesitation, Fang sprinted back to the pit and jumped down. Norah had taken another painful hit before Fang landed beside her like a meteor. The spikes shattered against his armor. Unfazed by the fall, he blocked the next axe swing and with just a few swings of his sword, the zombie ogre collapsed.

Alkazar and Desmond peered down and cheered. They eyed the green fog warily but chuckled away their nerves when it enveloped them to no ill effect.

“Can’t believe I fell for that,” Norah grumbled as Fang pulled her free of the spikes.

“At least you’re alive. If that had been anything worse, you might have been in real trouble,” said Fang.

“Yeah, zombified ogre was a weird decision. Even a regular ogre would have been worse. I wonder why…oh shit, gas!”

“Don’t worry, it’s just an illusion,” Desmond said.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” said Alkazar. He tossed down a length of rope.

Fang looked into Norah’s eyes and saw the surety of her warning. Worse still, he looked up to see a denser form of the gas overlapping the illusion, emanating from over Desmond and Alkazar’s heads.

“Desmond, gas protection now!” Fang shouted. He grabbed the rope and began hauling himself up.

Desmond looked confused. “Why? It’s not real gas.” He looked to Alkazar for confirmation. The wizard shrugged, then suddenly clutched his throat and lurched over.

That and the ominous tightening in his throat was all the convincing Desmond needed. He cast his Perfect Breath spell four times in rapid succession. The spell coated the party in shells of inviolate clear air. Fang and Norah finally reached the top of the pit.

“Come on,” Fang said, and marched them ahead.

He didn’t give Norah a chance to check the door to the next room for traps, merely kicking it to splinters. They piled through. The gas billowed against an invisible barrier in the doorway, wafting gently but not passing the threshold.

“Alright, who needs heal—” Desmond started, but Fang grabbed and shoved him to the ground.

“When I tell you to cast, you cast!” Fang screamed.

“I’ll cast my foot up your ass!” Desmond shouted back and shoved Fang off.

Alkazar stepped between them. “Guys, guys, come on now. That was a very stressful hallway. Let’s just breathe and dial it back, okay?”

Fang instead whirled on Norah. “What the hell was that? I’m paying you a fortune because you’re supposed to be good at this!”

She raised her hands plaintively, “I’ll admit, I’m getting schooled right now. You said this was a serious dungeon with a serious dungeon master, so I was prepared to deal with the current meta. But this?” She gestured around them. “This is just weird.”

“I didn’t realize even dungeons had metas,” said Alkazar, eager to change to a less hostile topic.

“Oh sure! We haven’t seen a lightning gallery or demon mouth trap, we haven’t fought a Mostest Ghostest, a living phalanx, or even a phantom bump,” Norah counted them off on her fingers.

“What are we dealing with if not the meta?” asked Alkazar. He had stepped away from Desmond and Fang, redirecting attention away from the conflict.

“If I had to guess? I think an Illusionist, a Fighter, and a Crafter. Two of which are dungeon spirits,” said Norah.

“An Illusionist,” Fang said. “New rule—don’t believe anything you see. Alkazar, I want you detecting for illusions at all times.”

“I can’t. That over-arching illusion is spread over the whole dungeon. It’s just a static illusion of nothing,” said Alkazar.

“Can you dispel it?”

Alkazar looked pained for a moment as he considered. “Yes. It’s just not guaranteed. A level 50 dungeon master spell is a tricky dispel, even with my stronger stuff. Might work on the first try, might take a bunch.”

“Desmond, can you contribute?” Fang asked the cleric, all the previous anger gone. Fang was being strictly practical.

“I’ve got some dispels too, but Alkazar is probably better at it than me. And to be honest? We can NOT keep burning through my healing the way we have been,” said Desmond.

“Do it,” Fang said to Alkazar.

Alkazar sighed heavily and began to cast. His Greater Dispel went off, he scanned he room, then began casting the dispel again. After another scan, he shook his head.

“Keep trying. We’ve got nothing if we can’t tell the difference between illusion and reality,” Fang said.

Alkazar cast again. He sighed, mumbled something about higher spell slots, and cast again. “I got it! Wish that hadn’t taken four tries, but I got it. That took up a lot of firepower. Room is clear though.” He looked pleased with himself.

They finally took a moment to survey the room they were in. It was a standard stone cross junction, leaving three options for going forward.

“Norah?” prompted Fang.

Norah stepped up to one of the doorways and began to concentrate, activating the skill Dungeon Sense. She moved from one doorway to the other, using the skill each time.

“The end of the dungeon is this way,” she indicated the middle tunnel, “but I sense treasure down the other two.”

“Great, we grab the treasure then head on?” asked Alkazar.

“No, we make for the end,” Fang said. His party stared at him in confusion.

“Umm, care to elaborate?” asked Desmond.

“It was my Grindstone, I found the dungeon, and I invited you. I’m running the show,” Fang said. He didn’t even look at them, just walked toward the center door.

“And while we appreciate that,” said Desmond, “we agreed to come for the loot and challenge. What’s the fun in passing up both?”

“We’ve already been made fools of three times, and we’re precisely three rooms in. We don’t get shit if we die, and I don’t intend to walk through anymore fucking funhouses. We’ll get the best treasure when we beat the dungeon anyways. Now let’s go.”

They exchanged wary glances, but his party followed.

“And because we don’t know if they’ll go down those halls, we have to be sparse with what we put in them. They MUST go to the end of the dungeon, so we focus our power on those rooms and hallways,” Sarah was explaining her theories on dungeoncraft to a dizzied-looking Fernando and Janice.

“Aww, but I had such good ideas for my lagoon themed room! And my festival themed room!” said Janice.

Sarah had to smile. Janice was getting into it. That stairway trap she’d thought of was pure wickedness. Sarah was proud of her little sister.

“Don’t worry, we can decorate. Just not as much. Anyway, by now in the dungeon they’ll have figured out there’s an illusionist at work. We’ll need to change things up to keep them confused,” said Sarah peering at the next room.

“Was there always a treasure chest there?” asked Janice.

“The game places treasure semi-randomly. The deeper they go, the better it gets,” said Fernando.

“Can we delete it?” asked Janice.

“Nope. Dungeons need to have treasure,” said Fernando.

“Can we add to it?” asked Janice.

Fernando wasn’t sure. He looked to Sarah, who gave Janice a quick look of approval. “That you can! But first we need a little help from Adelbert Ames Jr.”

They had been sitting in front of a pressure plate for almost five minutes now. Norah had been fussing with and inspecting it for far too long. Alkazar confirmed it wasn’t an illusion, and now Fang was growing impatient, knowing that the dungeon master’s mana bar was refilling with every wasted moment.

“So just disarm the damn thing and be done with it! Or let’s just jump over it!” he barked in frustration.

Norah rubbed the fatigue from her eyes. “It’s too simple. This thing was practically glowing, a first level rogue could have spotted it. The dungeon master wants us to have seen it. Then he wants…I don’t know what he wants, and that’s freaking me out.”

“Think it has something to do with the obvious arrow hole?” asked Desmond. Adjacent to the pressure plate was a hole in the wall, staring at them blankly.

“Yes…but maybe no. I don’t know, this is stupid! Hang on,” Norah threw her hands up and gestured for everyone to back away. From a small sack at her hip, she withdrew a wooden rod. She kept pulling and pulling, until all ten feet of a long wooden pole had been freed. “Long time no see, old friend,” she said.

Standing the maximum possible distance away, she jabbed the pressure plate with the end of the pole. There was a snap that made them jump as an arrow fired from the hole, splintering with a simple crack against the opposite wall.

They continued to stare, maintaining a constant state of readiness.

“That it?” asked Fang.

Norah threw down the pole and shouted at the ceiling. “Get out of my head, you sonnova bitch!”

Alkazar and Desmond laughed at the outburst, but Fang only scowled.

Norah picked up the pole and began to march forward, then stopped and poked the pressure plate again. It gave an innocent ‘click’. She walked past like it was a coiled snake before waving everyone else to follow.

They followed the passage to a simple wooden door. A narrow blade of light passed through the keyhole. Norah crouched low and crept to the door, and peered through the keyhole.

“Big one in there,” she whispered. “Not actually sure what it is. Looks like a goblin but it’s bigger than a troll. Fully armed and armored though.”

“Sounds like another illusion,” said Fang. He waved at Alkazar to investigate. Alkazar cast a spell and dark shadows pooled around his feet, silencing his footsteps. He crept closer to the door and scanned through the thin wood. Nothing.

“Bullshit,” said Desmond.

“Hang on, I’ve got an idea,” said Norah. She shooed them all back down the hall behind a corner. Reaching with her ten-foot pole, she jabbed the door twice making a sharp rap. No sooner had the pole connected the second time was she around the corner with the rest of them. In only a few moments they heard the door open. Light flooded the hallway, save for a long and ominous shadow.

“Finally, a regular fight,” said Desmond.

“Agreed,” said Fang. “Buff up, sounds like a heavy hitter.”

They took the time to layer protections and augmentations on themselves. Darkness returned to the corner as the strange monster lost interest and closed the door. Fang led them as the vanguard, counted down, and smashed his way into the room.

The armored creature screeched and ran toward him, a battle axe in each hand and steel armor bristling with spikes. It had been standing next to an ornate treasure chest that it could have swallowed in one gulp. It’s head almost scraped the ceiling. But as it charged Fang, something strange happened. His vision swam as the goblin struggled to run across an uneven floor, approaching him but seemingly shrinking the closer it got.

“What in the hell?” he breathed. By the time the immense goblin reached him it had shrunk down to a normal goblin, albeit one with very fancy equipment. It slapped the axes against Fang’s shield, helplessly raging against the intruder. Fang half-heartedly swung his sword once and the goblin died with a "Bleh!"

They were silent, confusion dumbing them.

“I thought you said it wasn’t an illusion,” said Fang.

“It wasn’t,” said Alkazar.

Norah entered the room and they stared in awe as she grew in size, her head bumping against the ceiling as she stood near the far wall where the goblin stood. Then she walked to the treasure chest and shrank down to a normal size.

“You need to stop that nonsense right now,” said Desmond.

“It’s an Ames room,” she said. “Forced perspective.”

The others explored the room. The floor was strangely tilted and one wall went much farther back than the other. Then there was a click under someone’s foot and thick steel doors slammed over the exits.

They froze, eyes darting around the room, searching for threats. They jumped at the rattle of Fang’s armor, whirled on each other when someone moved too fast, clustered together, then spread apart, then clustered together again. Nothing happened.

“Norah?” said Fang.

Norah nodded and walked to the sealed over door. She inspected the lock and groaned.

“Max level lock, this will take a while,”

“How long?” asked Fang.

“Longer than the duration of all these buff spells we’ve cast,” sighed Norah, resting her head on the metal door.

Fang cursed.

“Least we got some treasure!” said Desmond. Before he could grab the lid, Alkazar grabbed his hand. “Oh right. Norah?”

She gave the chest a twice over, declared it safe, and went to work on the lock.

“What do we have?” asked Fang.

“14,500 gold, handful of gemstones, rare crafting ingredients, five weak healing potions…Oh, a Shadowflail! Nice!”

They pooled the treasure to be split later. Norah worked the lock, Fang supervised, Desmond and Alkazar took turns screenshotting pictures of each other on other sides of the room.

Janice and Fernando had been familiarizing themselves with the dungeon UI and swapping ideas as they waited for more guidance from Sarah when a tiny transparent window popped into the corner of Janice’s view. A text message notification. Janice read it quickly. “Hey Fer, Sarah says we can take the lead with the next room, she needs to keep working on something for later. Must be complicated,” Janice said to Fernando.

“I was thinking, why not use a real monster for the next one?” said Fernando. “There hasn’t been anything to actually fight yet, besides those Harlequins.”

Janice’s stomach swam, remembering their test run of the black and white room. “That could be fun! Especially since I figured out what powers being a Trader gives me--it’s called Mercenaries. It lets me add templates to monsters,” said Janice opening a menu for Fernando.

“Ooh, let’s have a look!” Fernando scrolled through the list. “Vampiric, Draconic, Giant, Veteran…what’s Veteran?”

“I think it just makes the monster tougher,” said Janice, referencing the wiki open in her other window.

“Sounds useful,” Fernando said. He began comparing a monster list with the template list. “Plenty of promising combos…any ideas?”

“Actually, I was thinking of putting this template on this bad boy here,” said Janice, pointing out her selection.

Fernando broke into laughter. “Oh my God, you’re brilliant. I love it.”

“Problem is, it comes with a reskin that’s a dead giveaway,” her mouth twisting slightly as she tried to suppress a grin at Fernando’s compliment.

“Uh-uh, this idea is too perfect to pass up,” said Fernando. “Let me see if I can help with that little problem.”