Both teams were lined up, facing each other with serious expressions etched on their faces. The arena around them boomed with noise, students cheering for their respective houses, or for whichever house they hated less to lose if theirs were not on stage.

They were several levels below the grounds, deep within the bowels of the academy. The depths beneath the academy were home to numerous dungeons, including several that had been cleared out for use by the dungeoneering teams. Each house controlled one, and the monsters, traps, and mechanisms within were all maintained by the dungeoneering teams themselves.

In just a moment, both teams would disappear into the opponent’s dungeon, competing to be the first to reach the end and defeat the boss prepared by their foes. Despite the stakes, neither team seemed nervous, both joking around and checking their gear as they waited for the match to start.

“And that’s Jeran, the leader and captain of Turul’s team,” Droon was saying. “His team focuses on the fundamentals, and they’re amazing at basically everything. Because they’re all so strong, the monsters within their dungeon are higher tier than most of the other houses other than Hafgufa are able to capture. It makes their dungeon tough to beat, especially when Jeran’s leading his team through their opponent’s dungeon at top speed. But I think Verking should be able to do it. He already led the team to upset Hafgufa after all, and they’re known as the best in the school.”

Rowan suppressed a chuckle at this. Throughout the year, Droon’s perception of Verking had slowly leveled up from admiration to full out hero worship, improving with each match they won. Should Verking lead Draigwyn to victory today, Rowan reckoned Droon might just die of happiness there and then.

“It’s about to start,” Reinne called. “I’m gonna grab us some snacks. Anyone want anything?”

“I’ll have a meatball skewer.”

“One for me as well.”

“Do they have apple pie?”

Reinne held up her hands. “I’ve only got two arms, so someone’s going to have to come with me if everyone wants their food.”

“I’ll come,” Droon volunteered, standing up to join Reinne.

Bidding Rowan and Morgana goodbye, the pair left in search of food. Down in the lower bowl, the cooking club had set up shop, and delicious aromas had been wafting up from the lower rim of the colosseum for the last twenty minutes. That they had made it this long without giving into culinary temptation was a miracle.

Left alone with Morgana, Rowan was unsure of what to do. Although she had agreed to come, he could not help but think her taciturn silence was not the attitude Kanna had had in mind when suggesting they embark on a teambuilding exercise. He needed to get her to engage with the rest of the party, the only problem was figuring out how.

“So,” Rowan began. “What do you think so far?”

“I think I could be studying right now,” Morgana lamented. “I have better things to do than hang out and watch this.”

Rowan shrugged. “So do I, but if this can help make our party function as a team, then I’m fine with spending an afternoon for that.”

“And you think eating sweets and sitting on uncomfortable stone benches is going to accomplish that?”

“It’s hard to imagine it could make things worse,” Rowan replied.

Morgana had no response for this, and she returned her gaze forward, watching as the referee finished talking to both teams, who shook hands and separated as they prepared for the match to begin. Below, Droon and Reinne were standing in line, talking about whatever it was they talked about, probably their mutual love of Verking. Whatever it was, it was probably a much lighter conversation than this one.

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. He had called it a conversation, but Morgana had gone silent after his last statement. Without a response from her, Rowan was tempted to say more, something like: “Our team cohesion is awful. If an afternoon spent not studying is the price we have to pay to fix that, then so be it,” but he restrained himself. Morgana was well aware of this fact. Everyone was.

“So,” Rowan began again, opting once more to try and draw her into conversation. “What do you think of our team’s chances today?”

“Much as I hate to say it, they’re good,” Morgana replied. “For all his failings, Verking has always been an excellent fighter and an able commander. The Turul captain is not his match in that regard, even if his teammates are better individually than those of our team. Although our dungeon and team are both inferior in terms of quality, Verking makes up for the individual differences and his ability to lead makes up for the difference between dungeons. So long as Draigwyn can avoid getting caught up in any of the mechanisms in Turul’s dungeon, they have a good chance of winning.”

“Right,” Rowan replied, surprise etched on his face. He had not expected such a deep answer from her, nor for her to know so much about the states of the two teams. She had attended just as many matches as he had: zero. How the hell did she know more than he did, despite Droon’s refusal to shut up about anything even remotely related to the team?

“Of course,” Morgana continued, oblivious to the expression Rowan was making. “That assumes that Turul does not have anything special set up for today. Obviously, Verking has had the team working overtime for the past two weeks to make preparations for today, but it would be naive to assume that Turul’s team has not done the same thing. If they’ve gotten their hands on something big, then Draigwyn might be in trouble. Because of the match with Hafgufa, we should assume Draigwyn to be at the disadvantage.”

“Because they’ll be tired after their match against the favourites?”

“No,” Morgana shook her head. “Verking only managed to defeat Hafgufa by revealing a good portion of the hidden strategies and monsters the team had been preparing. With only two weeks to prepare, it’s unlikely that they were able to come up with much to surprise Turul with. So Turul will be operating with knowledge of what we’ve got prepared, while our team has to go in blindly. It’s not a hopeless battle by any means, but it will be an uphill one.”

“Got it,” Rowan replied, wishing he had deeper insight into the matter to continue the conversation. Unfortunately, his knowledge of the dungeoneering competition was limited to Droon’s admittedly overzealous explications, and was not at the level required to match his conversation partner.

Fortunately, the timely return of Droon and Reinne meant he didn’t have to, and he stood up to allow the two to edge past him back to their seats with the food.

“They didn’t have any apple pie, so we got you this,” Reinne informed Rowan, handing him a small pie that was emitting steam from the little arrow-shaped notches in the upper crust. A meaty aroma could be detected in the steam, along with a few hints of vegetables and spices.

“Thanks.” Taking it, Rowan gave it an experimental sniff, doing his best to hide his sadness at the lack of apple and cinnamon scented goodness. “What is it?”

“Tourtiere. A pie filled with meat, potatoes, and a few other things,” Reinne replied. “It’s good, try it.”

Obliging, Rowan bit into the crust, letting out an appreciative sound as the flavours within met his tastebuds. Swallowing, he turned to Reinne. “That is good. How much do I owe you?”

“One Dirrin.”

Fishing out a silver coin, Rowan tossed it to Reinne, who caught it gracefully and stuck it in her purse. Content that his debt was repaid, Rowan bit back into the tourtiere, savouring the rich meat as beside him, Morgana settled her own debt with Droon.

“We miss anything?” Droon asked, taking his seat on the other side of Rowan and handing a skewer of meat to Morgana as he did.

Rowan shook his head, his mouth still full of tourtiere. A quick swallow allowed him to vocalize. “No, they’re just about to start.”

Any further discussion would have to wait, for just at that moment the lights dimmed, and two large magical projections appeared on stage, each taking up half of the arena. On them, both teams could be seen, one in each projection. Serious looks adorned the faces of the dungeoneers, all ready to begin as soon as the referee gave the signal.

With a bang, that signal was given, and both teams shot forward like arrows from a bow. Draigwyn adopted a boar’s head formation, with four members forming an arrow and the fifth nestled just behind the leader. On the other projection, Turul had formed into a line, all five members advancing in lockstep at top speed as they leapt into the waiting depths of Draigwyn’s dungeon.

The first to encounter monsters were the Turul team. Without a word, they fanned out, surrounding the unfortunate scout as they got to work. The monster they had encountered was a stone golem that towered over the fighters from Turul. With powerful arms and a thick torso, it looked like it boasted a powerful defense, and the swings from its rocky limbs were no joke either.

However, Turul’s party did not panic. With efficient movements, their vanguard gained the golem’s attention, a shield bash to the midsection that chipped bits of stone from its torso sufficient to gain her the golem’s sole attention.

The aggro established, the rest of the team moved in, their blades, mace, and spells all raining down on the unfortunate golem. No matter how sturdy its body, even rock could not withstand the beating Turul was laying down, and it slowly began to crumble.

“Damn.” Off to the side, Droon swore. “Those golems were one of the main ways they stalled Hafgufa’s team. But Turul’s slayers both brought maces today, which they never did before.”

“They were prepared,” Rowan observed, stealing a quick glance at Morgana. Despite her analysis having been proven correct, Morgana still wore the same reactionless expression she always wore. Apparently, Draigwyn being at a disadvantage was not enough to make her react.

As Droon continued to sweat off to the side, Rowan turned his attention back to the projections below. Turul’s team had finished off the golem, leaving a pile of rubble and stone behind them as they reformed into their line formation and began to sprint forward once more.

On the other projection, Draigwyn’s team had finally encountered their first monsters, a pair of lupine killers that Rowan knew far too well. A chill went up Rowan’s spine as he recognized the fenraiths, two of them strafing around Draigwyn’s party as they sought to flank them. His knuckles white, Rowan watched with anxious eyes. He needn’t have worried.

With a shout, Verking leapt forward, his sword flashing in a triangular shape, leaving lightning in its wake as he blew past the fenraith to his right. Whirling, the frenraith made to attack, but the sudden disappearance of both its arms, replaced with two twin fountains of blood, caused it to stagger to a halt. One more halting step, and it collapsed, a third spray of blood emerging from its throat to splatter the stones below.

On the other side, the rest of Draigwyn’s party collapsed on the second fenraith. With coordinated attacks, their blades found the agile creature’s legs, reducing its mobility. Letting out a desperate snarl, the fenraith tried to lunge forward, but the Draigwyn healer, a fae boy Rowan recognized from the common room, met its charge with his blade, impaling it through the eye and bringing the battle to a close.

Not stopping to celebrate, the Draigwyn team immediately reformed their own formation, advancing behind Verking as he led them deeper into Turul’s dungeon.

Rowan let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. The appearance of the fenraiths had been a shock to him, whose own experience with the beasts had been nothing short of traumatic. However, the real shock had come from the speed with which they had been dealt with.

The same beast that had so terrorized the Jackal Claws had been defeated in an instant by Verking, and its companion had lasted only a few moments longer against the rest of the party. Was this the strength of true Faebrook students? The answer to his question lay below, and Rowan returned his attention to the projections, his gaze intent as he watched both teams advance.

The match that followed was a masterclass on party tactics and dungeon diving. Neither team halted for even a second, both slaughtering every monster they faced and forcing their way past the traps and mechanisms that sought to stop them as they delved deeper into their respective dungeons.

On Draigwyn’s side, the monsters they faced were all strong creatures that could be found in high silver-tier dungeons. Fenraiths, Nereids, and Hobthimps, the evolved version of thimps were all present, giving the Draigwyn team a tough time as they sought to reach the Turul dungeon’s core.

Apart from the powerful monsters, the Turul dungeon also featured a variety of annoying mechanisms, such as runes which emitted clouds of cloying smoke that filled the air and made vision hazy. While not fatal, the smoke had nearly caused Draigwyn to lose a member when three fenraiths had leapt from within to strike at the Draigwyn formation. Only the timely intervention of Verking had saved them, his magic blowing away the smoke and allowing them to fight the wolfmen on even footing.

Over on the Turul side, the mechanisms were more illusory in nature, and the monsters they encountered were primarily golems, slimes, and other creatures known for their strong defense. Despite these enemies being easier than those faced by the Draigwyn party, they often took more time to dispose of, and the addition of illusion runes which on two different occasions caused Turul’s party to go down the wrong passageway allowed the weaker Draigwyn team to keep up with the powerhouse Turul squad.

“They’re nearing the end,” Reinne observed breathlessly. Above the two projections, a third could now be seen, displaying the dungeon layouts. Near the final rooms, two glowing dots had appeared, indicative of each party’s progress. Sure enough, they were both within striking distance of the core. The battle would be concluded soon.

The rooms containing each dungeon’s core were locked behind complex mechanisms, but the Draigwyn and Turul archaeologists both proved themselves up to the task, and both doors opened within seconds of each other, allowing the two teams to spill into the core chambers. In the centre of both rooms, a glowing orb sat on a pedestal, surrounded by a magical barrier, just waiting for the last of its guardians to be defeated so that it might be claimed.

Naturally, neither team had built their dungeon without a boss to guard the core, and the scenes that followed as they made their presences known did not disappoint. On Turul’s side, a rumbling sound shook the colosseum, as two enormous golems began to assemble themselves on either side of the room, one made of rock, the other of metal.

On the Draigwyn side, the room was cast into dark shadow, the torches that lit the chamber disappearing in a puff of smoke as numerous pairs of glowing red eyes appeared within the shadows. Tightening their defensive formation, the Draigwyn party watched as ten fenraiths pulled themselves from their hiding places in the walls, ready to tear the interlopers to shreds. As the audience watched in slack-jawed anticipation, two battles began that would determine the winner of this contest.

It was Verking who proved the difference maker. As the fenraiths rose up from the shadows on the walls, the sword in his hand took on a golden glow, chasing the shadows from his surroundings and illuminating his fine features. A few shrieks were heard amongst the female members of the audience at this, unable to contain themselves at the sight of the heroic looking captain, but Rowan ignored it, his attention focused entirely on what was about to happen.

With loud snarls, the fenraiths made to launch their attack, but it was Verking who acted first. Before the first wolfman could take a step, Verking arrived in front of them, his sword crashing down on the closest pair of enemies. Unable to even howl, the two fenraiths were blasted backwards, their bodies smoking as Verking whirled, his blade seeking out the next targets.

Two more wolves were sent to the afterlife before the rest were able to react, and it was not with the aggressive howls and terrifying postures that their kind normally reacted with.

Fear. Even hundreds of metres away in the stands, Rowan could feel what it was that the wolfmen felt as they stared down the Draigwyn captain. It was the chasm that lay between them and their opponent, the absolute fear felt when one faced something far beyond their class. To the fenraiths, Verking was an angel of death, here to visit righteous judgement upon them.

In only a few short seconds, it was over. Nine fenraiths lay dead, and the tenth was soon to follow, charging at the remaining Draigwyn party members in order to die at their hands rather than those of the demon behind it.

The battle finished, Verking immediately headed for the orb, placing his hand over it to the cheers of the Draigwyn supporters. They had done it, the team had won the championship for Draigwyn. And more importantly for the other houses, they had denied it to Turul.

“I knew he could do it!” Droon shouted incoherently. He was on his feet, as he had been for the last five minutes, both fists in the air as he yelled his enthusiasm into the din of the colosseum.

“Verking! I love you!” Beside Droon, another hopeless fan shouted her own declaration, Reinne having also left her seat at the conclusion of the match.

“Did you see?! Did you see?!” Droon demanded, turning to Rowan who was still sitting down.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan waved at his friend to quiet him down, but he was grinning too. The atmosphere was infectious, and he felt himself being swept up in it all. Over on the other side of the arena, the members of House Turul wore sullen expressions, their expected victory snatched at the last second by the underdogs of Draigwyn.

Reminded of another who often wore a similar expression, Rowan turned to glance at the girl to his side. Unlike the others who had abandoned their decorum and composure, Morgana’s facial expression was still neutral, but a closer inspection revealed that her fist was clenched in victory.

As if sensing that someone was watching her, Morgana turned, her violet eyes meeting Rowan’s. Flashing her a knowing smile, Rowan turned his gaze back to the scene below, where both teams were emerging back onto the stage.

The members of Turul’s team looked crushed, but they managed to nod at the Draigwyn fighters, offering them handshakes and a few brief words before disappearing down the tunnel. They had fought well, but the vanquished were still the losers. This stage was for the winners, and it was they who remained, showering in the cheers and adulation of the audience as was their right.

Behind them, Lira Kess appeared, teleporting onto the stage with a trophy held in her hands. Offering the victors a congratulatory smile, the headmistress presented the trophy to Verking, who hoisted it triumphantly aloft, the very picture of the conquering hero. Around him, the other members congregated, all joining together to push the trophy high, showing it off to the audience as they enjoyed the celebration of their efforts.

What happened next was a blur of shouts, shaking, and celebration. All Rowan really remembered was that somehow, they made their way back to the dorms, and that very little studying got done that night as the members of House Draigwyn celebrated their victory. Even Morgana joined in, sipping on a glass of wine in the corner as the dorm shook with revelry.

It was only long after midnight that they were finally ordered to go to sleep, and for the first time since he had arrived at the academy, Rowan felt a sense of belonging. Even though nothing that had happened today was due to his actions, with enough effort, it could be, and that was enough.

With a contented smile on his face, he entered the world of dreams, reliving the scenes of Verking’s dominance but with him taking the lead role, and all the adoration and admiration that followed.