Rhen picked up his backpack and his week’s earnings on the way out; a measly ninety Dra, which was the Desedra’s own currency. That one anima crystal he’d pulled from the horromoth would’ve been worth at least sixty on its own. It was heinous robbery to snub the delvers so bad.

Rhen preferred to work in Imperial Marks, good in all seventeen realms, but in Desedra City, there was a discount for anyone using Dra coins. The city that had sprung up around the dungeon towered overhead as Rhen made his way onto the streets. The tallest buildings were at least three-hundred feet, and even the smaller ones were a good five stories. They were of various construction, the shorter ones being mostly stone, but the taller buildings were crafted of strong metals, like Lafite, from within Desedra dungeon.

The city spanned several miles, with different districts for different types of business. Delver’s areas, crafter areas, markets, living quarters, and ancillary businesses to dungeon delving like shipping, storage, mineral processing. Of course, there was food everywhere. Not that Rhen could afford good food. Street vendors leaned their carts up against the sides of buildings just beyond the opening of Desedra dungeon. The smells were divine, even if it was all monster meat. His stomach groaned, but it would have to wait. He had business to attend.

It was only mid-day and already so crowded. Carts on thick tracks hurried by, powered with silvery anima that flowed through the metal wire just above it. Monster-drawn carriages, bicycles, and speedy pedestrians filled up the wide, paved roads leading away from the dungeon.

Rhen activated swift twitch and grabbed onto the back of a cart as it sped by. He crouched low to be out of the view of the driver’s mirrors. The cart slowed and Rhen hopped off, walking casually. He pushed on through the thinning crowd until he reached a twenty-story building that looked all orderly and neat with its metal beams and clear glass windows. A meticulous welcome banner hung over the entrance reading “Dungeon Owner’s Guild.”

In stark contrast to the Desedra operation, the Dungeon Owner’s Guild ran a smooth, efficient, tight business. They had figured out how to coordinate dungeon plots and active delve spots across seventeen realms without batting an eye it seemed. Meanwhile, Desedra’s massive family could hardly keep their operation legal with all the missing resources and dead delvers.

Rhen entered the building like he had a dozen times and walked over to one of the many “Beginners Plot” desks which had a magical mirror attached to it. Rhen took a moment to observe his reflection.

He looked worse for wear with the dark bags under his green eyes, and his brown, curly hair was a bit greasier than he should’ve let it get. His face was narrow, in part from his genes he assumed, but mostly due to the strict diet his budget put him on. He had tanned skin, which was certainly due to his genes and not his lifestyle. He spent most of his time in the dark reaches of the dungeons, away from the suns of the realms. The black leather jerkin he wore had been repaired more times that Rhen cared to count, and the gray undershirt sported a few holes of its own.

So what if he looked like a crazy hobo? What mattered was his money.

Rhen pressed the glowing button on the side of the mirror and in a burst of sparks, green anima flowed across the glass. A teller appeared in the depths of the mirror, disappearing Rhen’s reflection.

Rhen smiled at the man behind the shimmering anima portal. “I’d like to see if plot SB9102 is still available, please.”

The teller made several sweeping hand gestures, and the plot information appeared in the mirror.

[Unclaimed Dungeon Plot – SB9102]

Anima Type: Kinse, Cebrum

Depth: ~Four levels

Nodes: 1= 99% | 2-3 = 55% | +4

Monsters: Prima Syntial = 99% | Ancilla Syntial = 82% | Tertia Syntial or Higher

Price: 7,105 DRA | 3,200 Imperial Marks

**Notice, all statistics are based on the D.O.G.’s certified inspection process. All statistics are subject to change and cannot be guaranteed by the D.O.G.

-----

“Is this the one you want?” the teller asked in a bored tone.

SB9102 was nothing to write home about—not that he had a home to write back to… The kinse anima was all body related, much like his swift twitch, so the monsters would have advanced physical abilities. Cebrum was all mental, things like inducing fear, hypnosis, suggestion, and the likes. Rhen wasn’t exactly immune to cebrum abilities, but years of practice in the delver school had made him more resistant.

With less than one percent of the creatures having tertia level syntials, the third power level that put combatants on a completely different level from prima or ancilla, he wasn’t worried about running into anything too tough for him. And at only four levels, it was a good starter dungeon, exactly what Rhen wanted. He needed to get out of the system that was crushing him. Even if he had to work around the clock to exhaustion, he would be far better off than staying at Desedra.

“Check my balance, please?” Rhen asked.

The teller swished his hands through the air and Rhen’s account appeared at the bottom. Six thousand nine hundred and twenty-one DRA. It had taken him three years to save up that much, moving from dungeon to dungeon like a ghost. He was getting so close now, he could suffer just a little more.

“I’d like to deposit eighty-five.”

Five would hold him over for the week at the Down-N-Out, a guild of delver’s shelters he’d frequented over the past few years.

“Place your hand on the control node.”

A dark crystal whirred into view overhead, suspended in a beam of blue light. It dropped down to the desk and with a few clicks, connected into the system. It hummed to life with a soft yellow glow, flashing to indicate it was ready.

Rhen placed his hand on the device and felt the id syntial on his side flare to life. His heart pounded, fear pricking the back of his mind. What if it doesn’t work this time, he wondered with horror, but kept his face still and relaxed.

Warm anima flowed from his hand to the identification syntial on his side, then back to his hand and into the control node. The teller received the information on the other end and nodded. More anima flowed back through Rhen’s arm and to his side.

“I’ve updated your account and withdrawn the money from your ID syntial. Anything else?”

“Nothing else.”

“You know, you could get a loan if you wanted it now,” the teller said, a bit of life entering his voice.

He knew the guy was just doing his job, but Rhen couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice. “And let the Guild drain the wealth out from under me in interest? I think not.”

Rhen was certain that he would get some kind of a bonus for selling a loan, and while he wanted to help out the little guy stuck behind a desk, Rhen was little guy number one that he had to look out for.

The teller shrugged, then deactivated the view. The control node lifted on the blue beam of light and moved back into the ceiling. Their system was mighty efficient. Rhen practically bounced out of the Guild office, his smile bright.

Just one more week and he’d be a dungeon owner.

Rhen caught another trolly cart down toward the Desedra dungeon and hopped on a third that would take him west. The sun was still too high, around four in the afternoon, so Rhen made a stop at the open market first. He couldn’t get into Down-N-Out until nearly sundown anyway.

He spent his time perusing various wares, like Enon syntial reinforced boots that would passively suck anima out of the ground to power it’s Kinse ability, [Super Jump]. Rhen’s boots did something similar, but instead of having an ability, the anima flowed directly into him to power his abilities. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked.

Among the wares were Mana syntial swords that could channel fire down the blade, or cause a gust of wind that would slice enemies open from a distance, and even Enon syntial capes that could teleport a wearer with a flourish. Yes, syntials were a wonder. Rhen wished he had more gear with powerful abilities, but with the possibility of dying and never getting it back, maybe it was better to wait until he had his own dungeon, where gear retrieval wasn’t so spotty.

When the sun was low, and Rhen’s toes were raw from scraping against the stone pathways, he made his way to the delver’s shelter. The building was utilitarian, simple, and depressing. Gray slab exterior with windows just large enough to stick one arm through. The front door was thrown open in welcome, and Jakira stood beside it.

The cute Cadrian smiled when she spotted Rhen. The golden flecks in her black skin shimmered brilliantly against the setting sun. She still had her dark horns, which curled up and back over her head. One had a wide crack running along the side that she tried to keep together with straps of leather. Rhen wondered if it was painful. Some of her long, red hair was braided in a crown around her head with little flowers, while the rest flowed down her back to her thin, spade-shaped tail.

“Here for another night?” she asked, hardly able to contain her glee.

“If there’s room, I’ll take a week.”

She held out a small control node. Two syntials under each of her hands glowed brightly when Rhen placed his palm on the smooth, worn crystal. The light traveled up her arms and into her eyes as she read his information.

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?” she asked, concern wrinkling her brow.

“Don’t worry about me, Jak.”

She pouted. “How can you do this to me? Show up broke as a joke and tell me not to worry? What are you going to eat in the dungeon, huh?”

“Plenty of horromoths in the new wing.”

The glow faded from Jakira’s eyes and receded back to the crystal. “I left you with two dra. That should be enough for something a little better than monster meat.”

“Wait, but isn’t that what you serve here?”

Jakira scowled. “You take that back!”

“The stew needs work, Jak. I’m just saying.” Rhen stepped past her into the inn.

“You don’t have to have any, then!”

He turned to her. “Why so mad? It’s not like you cook it—wait, do you?”

“Just go to you room already!” Jakira turned back to the precession of delvers coming in for the night.

“You’re the best, Jak. Never change.”

Rhen took the concrete stairs two at a time up to the second level. He was grateful for Jak’s sympathy, it kept his stomach full. He knew she gave the help willingly, but he wanted to pay her back somehow once he had his own dungeon. Maybe an anima crystal, or some ore to help fill the crack on her horn.

The second level was already full, and hotter than the lava chamber in Desedra dungeon, so Rhen made his way up to the third. It was ten to a room, BYOB—bring your own bedroll. He unclipped the blanket secured on the top of his backpack and rolled it out, then dug through his bag. There was still a good half-bar of soap, and his toothbrush was in decent condition too.

He took off his boots and inspected the anima syntial on the sole—still intact. The anima syntial was simple, but so, so necessary. It allowed him to passively absorb the anima from anything he walked on. In a dungeon loaded with monsters, ore, and powerful crystals, he was absorbing little bits of their power just by standing there. It was crucial for long sustained battles.

When his hygiene was handled, he went down with his worn bowl for a stew serving. There was no way it wasn’t monster meat. But Rhen was so close to being a dungeon owner, he could only taste success—okay and the bitter undertones of horromoth wing powder. Who thought that was seasoning?

The evening’s entertainment was a homely bard. Kinse syntials came alight along his arms while he played a fat lyre that was missing a few too many strings to make a decent noise. But the kinse syntials made up for it. A ghostly purple mist drizzled out of each string as he plucked his three-chord melody. The mist smelled of lavender and made Rhen’s eyelids droop.

When he couldn’t take another note, Rhen bid the other delvers a prosperous tomorrow, and staggered up the stairs to his bedroll.

Before long, there was a heavy pounding on the door to wake the sleepy dungeoneers.

“Sunrise! Up and out with ya!” the morning crewman called.

Rhen much preferred the sweet Jakira’s rousing, which came with hot honey bread and a smile. He rubbed his eyes and pulled his worn clothes from the hanging line next to the narrow window. There were still acid marks on his pants, but the blood and guts had all washed out with the soap, thankfully.

Rhen rolled up his bed and pinned it under the flap of his backpack, then secured the bag to his shoulders. Another six days of grinding and he’d be free.

There were stale rolls from the night before piled high on a table near the door and Rhen took two on his way out. He made his way across town to the dungeon entrance, stuffing his mouth full of dry roll as he went.

Desedra dungeon was just as disorganized as the days, weeks, and months before. Rhen argued with the dungeon level manager about the claim he had staked the day before, and the crew that would work with him on it. He was assigned Captain Careless once more, and two delvers he hadn’t worked with.

When Rhen reached the collapsed floor he’d fallen through the day before, he brought the party to a halt. Rhen tiptoed to the edge, listening intently. Sure enough, the flapping of razor wings and chittering of a hungry horromoth met his ears. Damn thing had resurrected already. The node on the other side must’ve been powerful to pump out another full-grown monster in less than twenty-four hours.

Rhen sucked down a deep breath, activating the primordial breath syntial on his chest.

Fire.

The syntial responded to his mental command, and heat mounted in his lungs, threatening to burn him up too. Rhen blew the air out with all his might, released the fiery spell into the hole in the ground. The unsuspecting horromoth caught a face full of flames and shrieked, flapping for the back of the cavern while its wings curled and crisped.

Rhen jumped in after it and pulled his crescent blades from the holster on each hip. The horromoth was easy pickings, and it went down with a few swipes. Rhen dug through the chest and removed the anima crystal, carefully handing it off to the party pack-mule, Captain Careless. He could deal with Sen this time.

When the little cavern was clear, Careless brought the anima drill down and got to work on widening the crevasse. The monsters on the other side were all going berserk, thirsty for the blood of whoever would damage their home. Rhen had to hold the creatures at bay with several bouts of fiery breath until his esophagus ached.

Finally, the drill punched a hole wide enough for Rhen and the other fighter, who looked like a “Pat” to Rhen. Pat threw his hands out, fingers splayed wide, and the cavern walls glowed from the anima flowing through them, providing just enough light for a romantic battle.

The floor where they were deposited sloped down toward the node at the center of the wide-open cavern. There were thick crystals poking out of the walls that maintained their glow far brighter than the stone. A little stream trickled through the lowest part of the cavern, and Rhen grinned greedily. Water meant another passage down, and perhaps even another chamber type.

Four horromoths flapped in from the edges of the walls and surrounded the dungeon node. Rhen wasn’t sure if the monsters knew their resurrections depended on that node, but there had to be some basic understanding of its purpose, lest they wouldn’t have crowded it like that. One of the monsters was a good two feet taller than the others, and perhaps a minor boss.

The big one stepped forward, flapping its wings hard. A purple syntial glowed to life on its back and the wind took on a deadly glow of anima. Rhen activated swift twitch and leapt out of the way. Pat screamed as he caught a wind-blade to the hand, losing two of his fingers.

“Get it together!” Careless yelled from the gap in the wall.

“I don’t see you coming in,” Pat screamed. He clamped down on the bleeding and growled.

Rhen dashed right, circling around the back of the cavern. He sucked in a deep breath, though his throat still ached. He reached the little stream and kicked a swath of water up against the closest moth.

“Freeze.”

The Prima II Primordial Breath syntial on his diaphragm twisted for the altered command, sucking the anima from his core in response. His lungs contracted as the cold air mounted inside him. He blew all the icy air out in a huff, crystalizing the water on the moth and freezing its thick tongue. Rhen dashed in, crescent moon blade tight in his grip, and slashed at the tubular appendage. The moth dodged but Rhen’s second slash came in faster than the bulky creature could move.

Its tongue shattered at Rhen’s attack, and the moth gurgled a shriek. Rhen followed with a quick set of slashes to the moth’s wings and arms. It staggered back and Rhen pressed his advantage, but the glowing purple in his periphery alerted him just in time. Rhen dropped to the ground as a wave of razor-sharp air blades passed overhead, dicing the moth monster in a bout of friendly fire.

Rhen rolled to his feet, ready to pounce on the next creature when Pat’s scream caught his attention. He glanced back to the entrance to see the fighter kicking at the moth trying to cocoon his lower half while trying to rip his bleeding arm free from the second moth that was eating him alive.

“Hold that thought,” Rhen said to the moth that’d just killed its friend.

He dashed toward the downed Pat, stuffing his left crescent blade back its holster as he did. With a thought, he gathered anima in his left hand and triggered [Tremor Blast] at a high frequency. The vibrations rocked through his fingertips and exploded into the air in front of him in a burst of pink waves. The spell smashed against both moths, and the wall behind them.

The moths screamed, dropping their prey, and retreating in a heavy flap of their dusty wings. The cavern wall trembled, groaning. Large cracks appeared in the slabs of stone around the opening, threatening to crush the bloody fighter. Rhen grabbed Pat by the leg and dragged him away from the entrance as huge chunks of rock broke away. The stones smashed against the cavern floor, sending shards exploding through the air.

“You stupid or something?” Pat cried out, shielding his face.

“You’re welcome!”

Rhen turned back to see the two horromoths were still flying about in chaos, rubbing at their heads, but the third he’d been tussling with was retreating through a tall and narrow passage near the back while the other.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Rhen activated swift twitch and sent the infused anima to his legs. He dashed for the exit; right crescent blade ready. Just before the tip of the thing’s wings disappeared into the darkness, Rhen slammed his blade down into it, pinning it to the wall.

His anima reserves were getting low, but he had enough for one more breath. He inhaled deep, and despite his raw throat, activated the anima for fire. The concentrated blast of flame blasted over the moth, lighting the hairs on its abdomen and thorax. The creature flailed and cried, trying desperately to escape, but the knife in its wings held it in place.

The horromoth slouched to the ground, the smell of burnt hair and flesh making Rhen’s eyes water. He gagged and staggered back and turned away from the smoking hole in the wall. Blurry purple light appeared above him. He rubbed the tears from his eyes just in time to see that light was attached to the syntials on the moth ready to cut him to ribbons.

Rhen dove forward. The wing blades slapped against the wall he’d been resting on, peppering Rhen with shards of ore and stone. The moth’s hooked forelimb grabbed him by the collar of his jerkin, then a sticky, slimy tube slid across his cheek.

Not again.

Rhen flipped over and pressed his feet against the monster, willing his boots’ Anima Drain ability to work fast enough to save his life. The horromoth snaked its nasty tongue around Rhen’s throat, compressing his esophagus. He sputtered, inhaling only a tiny breath to keep him going.

Damn things were smart.

But not smart enough.

Rhen pulled the left blade from its holster and slashed through the creature’s tongue. The horromoth retreated with a scream, splashing blood over Rhen’s face. He rolled to the side and climbed to his feet, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his messy face.

Pat, despite his missing fingers, was back in the fight. He summoned a green anima lance with a trailing chain that attached at his shoulder. He hurled the spirit weapon at the flying moth, nailing it through the thorax. Pat did a quick jump and spin, wrapping the anima chain around his body and jerking the moth to the ground.

Rhen pulled his second blade from the wall and gave chase to the screaming, tongueless moth. He put it down with a few quick swipes, then slouched to the floor. The tremor blast had taken a lot out of him, and his throat ached from the constant use of his breath syntial. He’d have to get that reinforced with some kind of shield or soothing agent when he had all the anima crystals he could want from his own dungeon.

Careless crawled out of the cavern opening and stumbled his way down to the dungeon node. He placed his hand on the fat, round crystal protruding from the stony pedestal and grinned. “We. Are. So. Rich.”

“How rich?” Rhen asked, his voice raspy.

“It’s a Nexus node.”