—Bas—

His confusion had quickly turned to rage as he stared out into the night, trying in vain to make out Luneil's retreating form.

His unkempt fingernails pierced deep into his palms, but he barely spared the pain a second thought. More precisely, he was out of fucks to give.

From the very start he'd been left in the dark and his ignorance taken advantage of at every possible turn. He'd dreamed of making the world better for everyone in this backwards and primitive world. He might have overestimated the breadth and scope of his knowledge, but that didn't make it useless, no matter what Luneil had claimed. And, in return, what had he gained?

He'd been manipulated by Luneil, forced to dance to his sadistic tune. He'd been threatened, humiliated, and outright murdered. He'd been pressured into revealing dangerous information and outright harassed by a Dungeon. Worst of all, he didn't even know if that was even possible.

He knew next to nothing about Era and despite being accompanied by so-called 'friends' he was still pretty much in the dark regarding anything that wasn't an absolute necessity for him to know. Come to think of it, Kort and his team were just as bad as Luneil. They'd manipulated him and failed to inform him on vital matters. Vital matters that he still knew nothing about.

They were in some backwater region of fuck-off nowhere and they had absolutely no good reason to be. He'd listened in to Kort's conversations, the entire region was a sleepy backwater, lightly populated by the occasional city state and minor kingdom. What's more, the journey here was certainly arduous. What it all amounted to was that they were here for important reasons that they had consistently failed to disclose, thus leaving him at the mercy of their silence and his ignorance.

Kort had even forced him to murder a living, thinking being. It didn't matter that the strong ruled the weak in this world. Kort had demanded that he kill a man... an elf, without a single prior explanation. And he had done it.

It was partially his fault for not pressing Kort for details. What could he do? He was weak. He had tried to be helpful, to be a good person, and it had gotten him nowhere.

He was done being manipulated and he was done relying solely on Kort for his strength. Luneil could do his worst. He didn't exist solely for their sufferance and while he would repay any assistance in kind, he would do it on his accord and no one else's.

The more he thought about it, since he had arrived to this world he had been aimless. Directionless. He'd had dreams but no solid goals. That ended now. He wasn't getting pushed around any more. Kort was wrong, Luneil was wrong, all of Era was wrong.

There was no crime in being weak, only in choosing to remain that way. In the end he could only rely on himself. His companions had proven themselves to be unreliable. He needed power, not for powers sake, but simply to live a life in which he wasn't a pawn in one person or another's schemes.

Even as Grimheld and Kort argued loudly by the campfire, Bas looked upwards towards the Dungeon high up on the valley's slope. It was impossible to actually see, the faint luminescence of the Dungeon's mist-like mana swallowed up by the darkness, but he knew it was there. He could feel it, an unbreakable bond between him and the Dungeon.

If Luneil expected him to roll over, to bow down and abase himself, he had another thing coming.

He would be treated as an equal and if Luneil didn't want the secret of his sapience spread far and wide, he had better start doing so. As for Kort...

The dwarf only respected power; even now, he was so certain and steadfast in the surety of his own.

But it put Bas at a disadvantage, because he was indeed objectively weaker. And so, he quietly slipped back into his tent and let his mana billow out, filling every corner. He knew what he had to do.

To say that he had only just figured it out would be a lie. He had known, he just hadn't acted on it. After all, it was easier to dream than to do. And he'd been dreaming far too much lately,

If he wanted power he had to take it. Kort understood that. Luneil understood that. They were each detestable in their own way, petty and selfish individuals. But it was a selfish world and Bas was done playing second fiddle to people who were only out for themselves. He wouldn't be one of those people, screaming at the top of their voices about how unfair and unjust the world was, and doing nothing. There had been enough of people like that back on Earth, and good riddance to them. He'd been like that too, and he was only just realizing it.

The world was unfair, the world was absolute shit, whether on Earth or on Era. He no longer wanted to change the world, he just wanted to make it a little better. Not by demanding that it change, but by forcing it to fit his vision of what it should be. He didn't know everything, but he did know better.

The sound of arguing from outside faded to silence as he concentrated. With painful slowness, his mana compacted into a sphere in front of him, tighter and tighter until he could feel it straining against his control, trying to break free from the prison of his will.

A line of mana, as thin as spider silk, connected the miniature orb of compressed gaseous mana to him, feeding it energy to maintain its compressed state. Stealing its outward motion and redirecting it inwards.

All the world was constant motion, and heat was no different. Decrease the motion of a particle and it cools, increase a particle's motion and its temperature rises. Bas hoped that mana behaved in a similar way. He knew next to nothing of this world; regardless, he fervently hoped that some part of it at least made sense.

Mana flowed down his connection to the pulsing sphere of energy, exacerbating its erratic rushes of motion. As his power continued to fuel the sphere of mana the throbbing palpitations of the orb stabilized and coalesced into a single continuous outward impulse, trying to escape in a sustained surge that taxed Bas' mind to its breaking point.

The orb flickered dangerously, seeming simultaneously solid and gaseous, eruptions of color surfacing like leviathans from the lightening orb of quicksilver blue. Its hues began to shift and shimmer, like oil viewed by candlelight, taking on a prismatic menace.

Waves of distorting haze began to roll off the surface, staining the air around the sphere a dirty gray-blue. The orb of mana convulsed, the turbulent streams of color breaching from beneath in jolts and jerks. Its spherical form beginning to deteriorate, giving way to chaotic undulating waves of blue and a kaleidoscope of colors besides.

The dirty fog continued to flow off the deteriorating globe, resembling the shimmer and stream of heat haze off tarmac. Slowly, it began to accumulate around the ball of mana, thickening and making the polychrome surface appear in a thousand shades of muted gray.

It became harder and harder for Bas to maintain the shape of his mana and to provide a consistent flow of energy to maintain its state. The haze was disruptive, interfering with his attempts at control.

It was then that he realized that he had seen the haze before. Depleted mana. Which meant that...

Bas looked at the thousands of colors roiling across the surface of his mana. Were they all of the different mana subtypes? Was this what plasma mana was?

He reached out to touch the pulsating sphere and his focus slipped. A thin shell of mana was ejected from it as it contracted, forming a bristling ball, comprised of an uncountable number of needle-like spikes that jutted out in every direction.

Then it exploded, sending out spears of blue and prismatic color that rapidly fizzled out and faded away, drowned in the depleted mana that surged out with it.

Desperately Bas erected a shield of mana with the last of his depleted reserves, trying to impede the progress of the lethal-looking shards.

It was a fruitless endeavor, the spikes of plasma mana, stained with every mana subtype imaginable, pierced straight through his shield and impacted his hand. Like a poisonous growth it began to branch and spread, even as its roots seemed to fade and dissipate. It wove its way up his arm like the tendrils of a parasite, consuming and corrupting his mana as it went, painful waves of dirty blue-gray haze erupted to the surface of his skin and fell to the ground below.

The tendrils elongated further and Bas pushed back against with all the mana he had. The smallest trickle of regenerate mana met its advance, but in the parasitic plasma mana's weakened state it was enough. Its spread was halted for only a moment, just long enough for the natural decay of the mana subtypes to play their part. The menacing filaments eroded, drifting away, denied of the mana they needed to fuel their growth.

With a sigh of relief he leaned back, one aching arm cradled to his chest and the other resting against his forehead, mopping fruitlessly at his sweaty forehead. Despite the past pain of the plasma and the current pain of mana exhaustion, he felt a small surge of exhilaration, a manic grin breaking out over his face. He'd done it!

That's when the shouting started. Bas sat bolt upright, looking down at the strands of plasma mana crawling along the thin film of the mana perimeter that Grimheld maintained on the floor.

"There's something in my mana, something's stopping me from cutting it free." Grimheld sounded panicked.

Bas watched in horrified fascination as the mana spread like poisonous fire along the mana perimeter that covered the floor of his tent.

He was broken out of his daze by the next shout, "It's consuming my mana. I can't get rid of it."

Bas pushed his way out of the tent, carefully avoiding the tendrils of plasma mana. He wouldn't be able to deal with any more in his current state.

"You need to push mana into it." he said.

"What do ya mean?" Grimheld shouted, "It eats mana and ya want me to feed it?"

"Just do it." Bas screamed back.

Grimheld's hands loosened for a second as he was about to reply, then the dwarf hesitated, his jaw tightening and a wave of mana seemed to pulse around the tent, converging from all sides, driving the infection of plasma mana back.

But this one was more entrenched and more persistent, coupled with the disruptive effects of the depleted mana constantly being produced it took several more attempts before the last of the parasitic mana was extinguished.

Grimheld turned to him, seeming more weary than angry. "What did ya do?"

Kort muscled up behind him, "Aye, you've got some explaining t' do, lad. What was that?"

Anger dampened by the shock, the near disaster, and the joy of his recent discovery flared back to life like a blood-soaked phoenix, "I've got explaining to do? Me?" His fists clenched, "Stop pretending you don't have any secrets. You've been holding things back from me for as long as I've known you."

Kort's jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed red, with a visible effort he relaxed before heaving out a long sigh, "I suppose you're right. I've nae ever lied t' you, but," he scratched his head, fingers still half-balled into fists, "you're correct t' think we've nae told you everything. Maybe omission is just as bad as lying, but it's difficult to know how to even begin." Kort's face fell and he looked older than Bas had ever seen him. Guilt lined the dwarf's features as the firelight sent shadows dancing across his face. All traces of anger had drained out of Kort's stout form, replaced by an abiding weariness.

Grimheld moved closer to his friend and leader, laying a hand on his shoulder, "That's good enough Kort. I'll tell him the rest."

Bas opened his mouth to protest as Kort nodded and turned away. That bastard had put him through hell, he deserved answers.

Grimheld cut it off, "Leave it be."

"But—"

"If yer out for blood, then get yer answers from him. I won't stop ya. If ya want the full story, though, just let me speak." All of Grimheld's typical levity was gone, replaced with a shadow of guilt, similar to that which had haunted Kort's face only moments ago.

Bas' mouth opened and closed silently. With only a sliver of regret, he watched Kort slip into his tent and out of sight.

Grimheld's head bobbed once, then, with a sigh, he began, "We weren't always adventurers. We were retainers to a noble dwarven house. Not nobility ourselves, but close enough that it didn't really matter. It was a cushy life, we had access to the best Dungeons, even if the training we did in them was minimal. After all, there's not been a war for centuries. The biggest danger to a noble isn't a dagger in the dark, it's themselves after a few too many rounds of mana-fortified mead." He shook his head and grimaced. "At least, that's how it normally is."

"Ironically, it was diplomacy that set this whole shit show in motion. We were escorting a noble, Geigel Irontear, to a duergar stronghold for 'discussions'." Grimheld put the last word in air quotes with his fingers. "Our kinds have never really gotten along together, even at the best of times, but Tyl's been adamant about improving relations between all of Era's races." His voice sunk to a mutter, "Even races of lying, thieving, backstabbing traitors, like the duergar."

He took a breath, "We arrived at their cavern easily enough, although it's a long journey to get that deep. Us normal dwarves live pretty far down, but those animals have nothing beneath them but the Underhollow. Still, if they want to stem the tide of monsters from below, better them than us."

"The first day was peachy. Just fucking peachy. The air down there wafts up from the upper reaches of the Underhollow, so the whole area always reeks of monster shit. That was an unpleasant night. The second day it all went downhill, straight into the monster shit I just mentioned. Neck deep. Out of the forge and into the foundry.

"The duergar chief was found dead in the meeting chamber. Some rival leader probably exploited our arrival in order to seize power while laying the blame at our feet. Well, it worked. The guards killed Geigel, who we were meant to have been protecting, and we fled the stronghold with the duergar hot on our heels. We could only rest after Kort collapsed a tunnel behind us."

Grimheld shook his head, "It wasn't much better when we got back to civilization, either. We got blamed by Tyl for breaking the peace, and by the Irontear family for the death of Geigel. And that was it. We were turned away at the gates of our own city, banished from dwarven lands." The dwarf clenched his fists, "The Council made an example of us, they had to, and given the circumstances, it was the most lenient sentence they could manage. The Irontear family weren't so pleased with the verdict and we've had mercenaries on our tail ever since, hounding us across the continent."

He gestured expansively, "Which is why we're here, in this shitty backwater. It'll take some time for the Irontear mercenaries to find us here and start stirring up trouble for us. I hope this whole farce will be over by then, it's not even that we want to go home, we just want to be able to do so; and without having to keep an eye out for troublemakers and worse on the horizon."

Grimheld pointed towards the Dungeon on the slope, hidden in shadow, "Which is where we come to now. We've been adventuring for years but there is one common theme, no matter what. Dungeons mean money, lots of it, even after the exto—taxes levied by the land owners and the various guild. Not only that, but they supply an almost endless stream of materials used in all professions. No kingdom would ever pass up an offer to bring one under its belt, so Kort sent a message to the Dwarven Council, exchanging access to this Dungeon for revocation of the terms of the banishment and pardon for our crimes."

"Access?" Bas asked, "Don't you mean control?"

"No, they won't own the land, we will. Or, more precisely, you will." Grimheld held his gaze, then continued speaking, "None of us who were banished can pass it on to our families, and, as an employee, Blue's claim to the land could be contested by the Adventurer's Guild. She might have run off, but she's still working on Guild time. What ya need to remember is that Kort has difficulty trusting people at the best of times. The duergar fucked him over and ruined his life, killing the man we'd all sworn to protect. Then the Council exiled him, exiled all of us, from setting foot in dwarven lands again in an effort to appease Tyl. You have no idea how that weighs on a person. But despite all of that he does trust ya, we all do, strange as it may seem. That's why we want ya to have the lands around the Dungeon. Yer a good kid and know ya have our best interests at heart, just as we have yours in ours.

Bas stared at Grimheld, conflicted at the thought of becoming a landowner, especially land that Luneil inhabited. More than that, it seemed a little too lavish an offer to be true. "What's the catch?" he asked cautiously.

Grimheld fidgeted, "You're now the proud possessor of two hundred thousand gold pieces worth of land."

"And...?"

"You're also in debt for two hundred thousand gold pieces, plus administrative fees and interest."

"How?" Bas's hands had fallen limply to his sides, "Just, how?"

Grimheld threw up his hands, "Please hear me out. Claiming territory is horrendously expensive, if ya want to ensure that no foreign power steals it from ya. Tyl's Land Registry puts an exorbitant price on land, which only gets worse if it's been built on or previously inhabited. It costs a dragon's hoard but it's worth it, since her Pardoners will protect yer claim to the land as long as yer associated with a kingdom. This way ya own the land in its entirety, and no one but Tyl herself can take it from ya." Grimheld's shoulders slumped as he took in Bas' expression, "Look, we dwarves have got an old score to settle with Tyl, she betrayed our god, Gnur, and then she killed him. Still, I cannot deny that the Registry's system works. Sure it's costly, but Tyl is as good as her word, in this at least. Not a single nation has lost Registry safeguard land for more than a single week, Tyl's Pardoners, bastards that they are, are everywhere."

Bas nodded, eyebrows scrunched together as he thought the situation through. The idea of owning the land was admittedly attractive, even with the albatross of Luneil's presence hanging around his neck. Also, the ability to have it protected by a goddess, even a tyrannical one, stopped a target from being painted on his forehead.

Still, he had more questions to ask. "Where's the money coming from?" He didn't want to own the land only for some unscrupulous creditors to reclaim it on account of outstanding debt.

Grimheld nodded, visibly relieved that the uncomfortable part of the conversation was out of the way. "The Bankers Guild. They'll front ya the money without batting an eyelid. Dungeons are immensely profitable and they'll be happy to get such an easy return on their investment, plus interest. A temporary claim under yer name will be put in with the Land Registry, and once the Bankers Guild confirms there's a Dungeon here, they'll pay the necessary fees. And if the Dungeon doesn't exist they never have to pay a single copper piece."

"How much even is two hundred thousand gold?"

"A lot, but not as much as ya think. Gold's pretty common, what with all the Dungeons pumping it out. Yer gonna make it back it no time."

"Look, stop with the hard sell, I just want to k—," Bas shook his head. "Nevermind, how many gold pieces do all of you have?"

"Eleven?" Grimheld winced.

"Elev—I thought you said gold was pretty common?"

"Did I say that? Perhaps it would be better to say that gold's less rare."

"And you didn't think to ask me? You know, before you signed me up for a two hundred thousand gold pieces."

"Don't forget the interest and administration fees." Grimheld supplied.

"Great." Bas threw his hands up in the air. "How long will it take to pay that off?"

"About fifty years."

"Fifty? That's worse than tuition." He waved away Grimheld's questioning look, "Why so long?"

"Interest. Twenty percent per year. Which is pretty steep, but the Bankers Guild know how to charge just enough interest to bleed ya for as long as possible. Neither the Dungeon nor the land around it will be very profitable at the beginning, so most of what yer gonna pay back is interest."

"You're hardly filling me with confidence. What's to stop them from keeping me in debt forever." Bas remember stories of people who'd been trapped in a whirlpool of debt and compound interest back on Earth, he didn't want that happening to him, should worst come to worst.

"There are regulations in place that forgive any further debt once forty times the original amount has been paid off."

Bas ran the numbers. Eight million. "That's not reassuring at all. You do know that, right?"

Grimheld leaned over and clapped him on the back, "It's fine, I have faith in ya. Yer forgetting that time won't mean anything once ya increase yer Rank a few times. Yer only Rank I after all. Just focus on living forever and yer land will become profitable on its own time."

Bas ground his teeth but said nothing.

The dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Ya don't understand, people would kill for this opportunity. Many have. If ya don't want it, when this whole farce is resolved ya can transfer the land and the debt to me or one of the team. But before ya do, understand this, a new Dungeon hasn't been found for half a century at least. Ya will likely never find an unclaimed Dungeon again, no matter how long ya live. A Dungeon is more than a hole in the ground, it is wealth, power, fame, and influence. Any city that's worth the ink on the map its drawn on has a Dungeon."

Bas waved him off, "I know, I know. But couldn't you have at least consulted me?"

"Aye, we should have, and it was our mistake. We took ya for granted, assumed that ya would just follow along. So consider this advice as our way of apologizing. Keep the Dungeon, and the debt along with it. I can understand why yer balking at it, I'd be concerned too if I was in yer boots. But please recognize this for the blessing that it is."

Bas closed his eyes, massaging his forehead with one hand and running his fingers along the grip of Grimheld's old dagger. He thought through the situation. Sure, he had just been saddled with a huge amount of debt, however, there was something that could be salvaged from the situation. Luneil was obviously able to create anything he wanted. Which, no doubt, included two hundred thousand gold pieces.

"Fine," he groaned. The issue would be in wringing every last ounce of gold out of him. He just needed a reasonable incentive. Or a credible threat.

Bas tapped his fingers against his leg, "Grim, the mist in the Dungeon is made of mana, right?"

"Yes, why are y—" Grimheld cut himself off, leaning towards him and fixing him with an intent look. "Don't ya even try it. I have a fairly good idea of what yer thinking, but it's not a good idea. We don't even know how that thing you created works, it could permanently damage a Dungeon. No, it's far too dangerous to use in a Dungeon without testing it properly."

Bas coughed, hiding his smirk behind one cupped hand. Perfect. "You're right, it's a dumb idea."

Grimheld inclined his head, clasping his hands in front of him, "Would ya mind telling us what that was. I mean, yer not obliged to tell us everything about it, but if yer going to be adventuring with us, it's best we have some understanding of yer capabilities."

Bas paused. Did he actually know how his plasma mana, if that was what it even was, worked? It was best to start from what he was aware of. "I believe that the properties of mana are determined by the states of matter. Solid, liquid, gas," he paused deliberately, "and plasma. There are likely others, but I'm not aware of them. Plasma is a gas that's been heated to a high enough temperature." Bas stopped himself before he blurted out the secret to turning mana into a plasma, but ultimately decided against it. Yes, he was ecstatic that it had worked, but that wasn't a reason to broadcast it to the world. Not yet anyway.

Grimheld seized upon his hesitation, a frown creasing his brow, "And why does this... plasma consume mana? And if so, why does flooding it with more mana stop it? That's like putting out a fire with oil-soaked wood."

"I don't think the mana does stop it. The plasma mana needs a trigger to start it, but after that it becomes self perpetuating and requires more energy to contain it, as opposed to sustaining in." Bas was making the explanation up on the spot, but it just felt right, "From what I saw, plasma mana rapidly converts into many of the mana-subtypes, perhaps all of them. And that changes into depleted mana shortly afterwards. When I add more mana, more depleted mana is created. After being flooded with more mana, it burns so quickly in a single place that a large amount of depleted mana is created, which hinders its ability to expand outward, leaving the rest to burn itself out."

Grimheld cleared his throat and raised a hand in an absent gesture, "So ya don't have to fully remove it? Once it's been halted it'll just burn out on its own?"

"I think so, but it'll take longer. I'm honestly not entirely sure." Bas shrugged.

Grimheld clapped his hands, "Well, if that's it, I think I'll be getting some sleep. Dirri can take over from me. Tonight's been too eventful by half. That scare yer mana..." Grimheld corrected himself, "Yer plasma mana gave me almost had me forgetting about those strange rabbits. Still, I don't think they'll be coming back any time soon. I'll check them in the morning, and get my knives back. No point fumbling around in the dark."

Bas held up a hand, "Could you wait a moment. I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure thing. Ya listened to me and were honest with me, how could I do anything other than reciprocate."

"Could we go back to the Dungeon tomorrow, and could I by any chance get one of those gold pieces you mentioned?"

"So soon? Are ya su—," Grimheld began. "You know what? Sure, we can. Just don't use yer newfound mana until we're certain it's safe."

"I won't." Bas smiled sweetly.

"And I suppose ya want the gold coin for salting the Dungeon?"

"Salting?"

"Giving it expensive items and materials in the hope that it begins producing them."

"Yeah, that."

"I don't see why not. Most people wait until the Dungeon starts producing loot before salting the Dungeon, to try and teach it to exchange the bodies of its creatures for rewards. Then again, new Dungeons are found so rarely that there's no real precedent for dealing with them other than snapping up the land before anyone else does."

Bas nodded, "Goodnight, then."

"You too."

They each trudged back to their tents. The next day was going to be exhausting.

***

Bas and Grimheld ascended the final few paces to the Dungeon. They had planned on arriving earlier, but the way the flowers with the mind-altering pollen had simply disappeared from the valley unnerved all the dwarves, prompting a discussion and a futile search for any of the dangerous flowers. They were happy to be rid of the damn things, but still, their continued presence would at least be proof that they weren't going crazy.

Bas was less worried, if Luneil wanted to kill them all in their sleep, he would have.

Bas began thinking of ways to strangle a Dungeon but reigned in his irritation. It would just make him look like an idiot in front of Grimheld. He had a plan for dealing with Luneil, but he couldn't put it into effect yet.

Grimheld turned to Bas, unaware of Luneil's mental voice, "So, what do ya want to do? I thought we might try to get ya to be self-sufficient in a Dungeon. Teach ya about how to go about surviving in a Dungeon, rather than just hitting stuff."

Bas stared down the sloping tunnel that led into the Dungeon, peering past the roiling mist to try and make out the first room beyond to see if anything had changed. He nodded slowly, "Good plan."

"Great. And remember what we talked about, don't try anything new with the Dungeon, ya might damage it."

Luneil scoffed.

"Are ya ready?" Grimheld fished out a bolt, placing it into the flight groove of his crossbow.

Bas didn't reply, instead raising his hatchet and setting his gaze ahead.

Luneil's tone was conversational.

Bas ignored him and, after a second's deliberation, drew the dagger that Grimheld had given him from its sheath, holding it in his off hand. Finally he looked at Grimheld, "Ready."

Grimheld strolled forward, into the maw of the Dungeon, letting his mana billow out to surround him. Bas imitated him, a seed of worry and anticipation sprouting in his gut.

The Dungeon seemed so much larger and more threatening when it was just him and Grimheld. Luneil's mana both illuminated and obscure the shapes that scuttled across the ground and jumped from stalagmite to stalagmite. The sound of the stream filled the cavern with the smell of damp stone and a wet echo that bounced strangely against the walls.

A shiver passed down Bas' spine as Luneil spoke again. It was disturbing how easily Luneil had guessed his motive in coming here. He just had to hope that his interest had been sufficiently piqued.

Bas made sure Grimheld wasn't looking his way, then shrugged. It probably wasn't the best idea to get distracted anyway. Luneil might kill him. Again.

As if responding to the thought a raven surged out of the darkness, its white wing-tips leaving ghostly blurs behind it. Bas waited for Grimheld to shoot it out of the air. But no bolt flashed towards the incoming threat.

Instead the dwarf moved out of the way, as if to clear a path for the raven. Bas raised his hatchet and swung it forward in a frantic arc, edge whistling as it sought to cleave the bird in two.

And missed.

The raven banked at the last second, talons screeching again the flat of the axehead as it breezed on by. Desperate, Bas raised his knife, warding off the malevolent corvid with a shaky blade.

Hot lines of pain seared themselves against the back of his hand as the bird raked it claws against him, tearing flesh and spattering small droplets of blood against the dusty stone floor. The bird continued on past him, up through the tunnel, unable to turn in its narrow confines.

"Are ya going to use yer mana?" Grimheld asked.

"No, I want to fight them the usual way." He didn't want to have to rely on mana to solve all of his problems. If he only ever used his mana to fight, then he would only ever be as good as his ability to use mana.

"Not the worst idea, I suppose." Grimheld said, surprisingly open to the idea, "Dire Ravens aren't much of a threat when they're all alone."

Bas turned to face the Dire Raven winging its way towards him. He dropped the dagger in his off hand, shifting his hatchet to a two handed grip before the blade had time to clatter against the ground.

The Raven cawed as it approached, razor sharp beak gaping wide. Its wings flared open, slowing its dive toward him, its body angling upward and talons grasping for his exposed face.

Bas swung the hatchet like a baseball bat. With a strangled squawk the bird was slammed by the flat of the axehead into the floor, collapsing in a heap of twitching feathers. Bas stepped toward it and ground it into the stone with a dismissive twist of his foot.

Bas dropped at the last second, the downdrafts of a second Dire Raven's wingbeats ruffling his hair. Moving the hatchet to a single hand he surged upward, lunging out with the hatchet. The wooden haft struck the Raven on its white-tipped wing with a satisfying crunch, causing the bird to crash into the wall and drop to the ground, stunned.

Bas retrieved the dagger from the the floor, driving it into the squawking mass, before wiping the blade on the feathers and returning it to its sheath.

Bas rolled his eyes, more occupied with the ecstasy Lifeforce from the two Dire Ravens rushing through his veins. Once he'd regained his breath he turned to Grimheld, "Why didn't you tell me about the other one? It almost got me."

"But ya dodged it, I was actually quite surprised about that." Grimheld shrugged, raising both his palms, "I thought it would be a good lesson in situational awareness, but ya were obviously on guard for the other one. I don't understand what yer complaining about."

"What if it had gotten me?" "Gotten ya? Stop being so melodramatic, ya pansy. The most it would've done is given ya a few scars for the ladies."

Bas glared at him.

Grimheld threw up his hands, "Or guys, if that's yer thing. We dwarves don't judge."

"I'm n—"

"No need to be bashful. It's just who ya are. But none of that right now, we haven't run out of beasties to fight yet." Grimheld smirked.

"What about my hand?" Bas held up his injured hand, fat drops of blood still welling up from the lines the Raven's talons had scored.

"If ya want me to do for ya, sure." Grimheld let his mana brush against and sink into Bas' hand, healing over the cuts in seconds. "I'm not kissing it better, though. I'm not interested in guys, or human's, yer way too tall."

Bas adopted an injured expression, "I'm not g—"

"Then why did ya get me to do it for ya?" Grimheld waggled an eyebrow at him before his face turned more serious, "Yer perfectly capable of healing minor scrapes with yer own mana. Not as efficient as someone using the liquid mana form, but it works. Gaseous mana is versatile like that. Using ye plasma mana to heal would probably kill someone though, either fill them up with depleted mana or exhaust every last drop of mana in their body."

Bas struggled to keep from breaking out into a grin. If there was one thing he knew about Luneil, it was that his thirst for knowledge was insatiable. Now, all he had to do was wait for Luneil's curiosity to boil over and th—

Grimheld whacked him on the head, "What are ya staring out into space for. Doing that too often will get you killed."

The dwarf gestured to the bodies of the Ravens and to the cavern behind him, "Now come on. We haven't got all day. Better let yer mana out as well, I'll check for traps, but ya don't want to breathe in too much of the pollen from those flowers. I still have no idea why they disappeared from the valley though, that was damn strange." Grimheld turned and started walking deeper into the cavern, carefully sweeping the ground and ceiling for any traps.

Bas shrugged, moving to follow the dwarf, "Who knows, can't complain that they're gone, though."

Bas faltered for a moment. Luneil had altered the valley? Why? Had he turned it into a death trap? Or... no, that didn't make sense, not from Luneil's perspective. As a Dungeon people would willingly jump straight into his jaws. Which meant that the valley had been changed for a different reason.

"Grim, what's the valley like?"

"What do ya mean, kid?"

"How suitable is it for creating a settlement?"

Grimheld grunted, "I wouldn't worry about that. People would build in a volcano if there was a Dungeon nearby."

"Humor me. Is it good or bad?"

"It's a good location, got running water, there's an abundance of edible plants, and it's pretty defensible. Kort mentioned it all in his report to the Council, I wouldn't worry, we'll have plenty of new people coming here soon. The only issue will be wood for fuel and building, the valley hasn't got much of that. Might be able to make do with coal, if there's any of that nearby."

Bas moved closer to Grimheld, feeling Luneil's attention pressing in on him. The valley was a trap, but not in the typical sense. It was bait, and the Dungeon was the hook. That was why Luneil had removed the Mirages because they made the area less attractive to settlers.

A worried frown creased his brow. He doubted that Kort had mentioned the Mirages in his report. Kort wouldn't risk making the location seem anything less than perfect. He glanced around. "How dangerous is the Dungeon?"

The pressure of Luneil's attention increased.

"Look, Bas, if ya want to ask questions, feel free to do so. But don't ask them here. It doesn't pay to be distracted." Grimheld snapped.

"Please."

"Fine. The first room's easy, biggest danger is the critters distracting ya into a trap and swarming ya. The Boss room is nastier, that insect-headed deer isn't that dangerous, but the shifting branches on the floor can make it easy to get knocked down." Grimheld said. "Are ya done asking questions now?"

Bas grunted in reply, swinging his hatchet absently as he thought through the implications of Luneil's decisions. They continued forward at a slow pace, becoming more and more on edge as no more monsters approached them.

A patch of flowers rustled and Grimheld whirled, loosing a bolt right into the center of it. "Nothing there." Grimheld sounded taken aback.

Bas peered closer, one of the flowers seemed to be facing them. The flower had a bulbous base, petals tapering into a narrow flute before flaring out once again into a delicate starburst. The flower twitched and he was filled with a sense of foreboding.

The base contracted sharply, shooting out a thin stream of colorless liquid. Acting on instinct Bas thickened his mana cloud and repelled the oncoming jet. Sending it splashing impotently against the ground, covering the grass, dirt, and stone in beads of liquid.

Grimheld's hand blurred and in no time at all, a knife was sent flying towards the spitting flower, neatly severing it at the stem. He turned to Bas, looking him up and down, "Did it hit ya?"

"No."

"Good job. That wasn't there last time." He gingerly picked up the plant and looked down the flute of petals. "Looks like it can only spit once." He motioned towards the puddle of liquid on the floor, "Acid, yes?"

Bas knelt down, looking at the grass, small wisps of foul smelling smoke seemed to emanate from the area. The grass was liquefying wherever the acid hit, sending streams of green swirling and warping through the droplets, quickly turning brown. "Yeah, it looks like acid."

Grimheld hummed, "Acid's nasty. It's like fire. Wounds you get from it don't always heal properly and you end up with nasty scars that need expensive potions to heal."

"Wait there are potions here? Why don't you have any with you?"

"They spoil pretty quickly, ya need to drink them within a week of brewing. Which means that they're useless for long expeditions unless you have a way of preserving them, and that's prohibitively expensive." Grimheld passed the flowerhead to Bas, "Here."

Bas took the flower and looked quizzically at Grimheld.

"The flower might be useful for an acid resistance potion, or an acidic potion, I'm not a potionmaker so I don't know."

Bas examined the flower for a few seconds more, then let it fall to the ground. "Anything else it could be useful for?"

"Ya might be able to use it for an alchemically treated weapon, say a sword that poisons and corrodes, but generally ya need rarer reagents to create something like that." Grimheld shrugged, then retrieved his crossbow bolt, inspected it, and placed a new one in the flight groove. "Should we continue?"

***

Bas stared at the Boss room, thinking back to the day before. The events seemed so long ago, drowned out by all that had recently occurred.

Even though he yearned to go inside and test himself, he knew rationally that he wasn't ready. He had improved significantly as he and Grimheld cleared the first room. But there was a difference between fighting a Boss and fighting oversized beetles, antlered squirrels, and Dire Ravens.

Still, he had eked out the details of the previous ill-fated fight in the Boss room and there was something he wanted to try.

Which was why he held the last living monster in the first room. The beetle struggled furiously, but Bas held it by its shell, keeping well clear of its clacking mandibles.

"Are ya sure this is a good idea?" Grimheld asked?

"Nope." Bas grinned, "This is definitely a really, really, bad idea. That's what makes it so great!"

"If ya say so."

"I do." Bas trotted forward into the Boss room, resisting the urge to run as the deer's insect-like head raised to glare at him with beady eyes. It shook its head, glossy black antlers standing proud above its many-mandibled maw. Like an irritated bull it scuffed at the branches on the floor with a carapace covered hoof, creating a clicking wooden rasp as it bounced over the rough knotted surface.

Unwilling to get any closer, Bas tossed the beetle into the grassy center of the Boss room as the deer began it's charge. With a laugh, he exited the room, picking his hatchet back up off the floor

The beetle's legs struggled in the air, waving from side to side as it attempted to right itself. The grass nearby flexed, closing in on the beetle, wrapping around each leg before burst into flames. Within moments the entire patch of volatile grass was ablaze, flames licking at the branches.

Bas glanced behind him. The deer paused its charge once he'd left and was just standing on its walkway of branches as the flames encircled it.

Bas turned to Grimheld, laughing, "Told you it would work."

Grimheld's face was impassive, then, like rock breaking he devolved in floods and gasps of laughter, slapping his knee with one hand.

Smoke billowed out of the room, crackling flames clearly audible. They watched the monster, standing unfazed in the middle of the flames, mandibles clacking even as it collapsed.

Bas' eyes went wide as a large amount of Lifeforce rushed into him, send electric streams of bliss flowing through his limbs and out into his body. He flexed his fingers, able to feel every muscle relaxing and growing taut. He felt good. Better than good, every inch of his body thrummed with coiled strength and vigor, governed by a control and reaction that felt vastly expanded.

"What was that?" He gasped.

Grimheld grinned, "If I'm not mistaken, yer now Rank II. I didn't actually expect ya to reach it so soon. It's a good feeling, isn't it. It gets exponentially harder to climb the ranks but it's better every time ya do. Ya get healthier, ya feel better, and ya live longer. Accumulating Lifeforce changes ya in small ways until yer a thousand times what ya once were. Plus, it's the best experience in all of Era."

Bas nodded, breathless.

The dwarf slapped him on the back, a companionable pat, not one of Kort's rocket powered back snappers. "Shall we get going." He pulled a gold coin out of a pocket, "We can salt the Dungeon with this on the way out."

Luneil said. Bas was surprised that he didn't sound as condescending or combative as usual. The strain of not knowing about his discovery of a new form of mana was probably weighing on the Dungeon more than it let on.

Bas shook his head, "I think I'll wait here for a while longer, I want to see how long it takes for everything in here to respawn."

Grimheld held his gaze for a second, then shrugged, "Not the most sensible decision if ya ask me, but it's yer life on the line, make sure ya check for traps and monsters spawning behind ya." He flipped the coin towards Bas, "Here ya go. Don't spend it all at once."

Bas chuckled, fumbling the coin as he tried to catch it. He bent down to pick it up, watching as Grimheld jogged back towards the entrance.

Bas' fingers pressed together as the coin disappeared without a trace. He tried not to groan. Sure, he'd intended to give the coin to Luneil, but he hadn't expected it to be snatched out of his fingers as soon as he picked it up. He glared at the walls of the cavern, unwilling to speak with Grimheld still somewhat nearby.

Luneil sounded as he was almost rolling his eyes. The coin reappeared, balanced over Bas' thumb and forefinger.

A blurring distortion appeared in the air in front of him. Bas reckoned it was Zeph, although she seemed easier to see as a result of his rank up. "You know he's been going crazy this whole time. And now he's yelling at me to stop undermining his bargaining position."

Bas eyed the exit to make sure Grimheld had left.

"Gold, lots of it. I have a debt to pay off."

"Two hundred thousand, maybe more. Preferably more." Bas was taken aback by Luneil's sudden bout of helpfulness, and more than a little suspicious. Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Luneil swore.

Given Luneil's sudden amicability, he decided to push his luck. "I also need a promise from you. Please don't make the gunpowder. I know you don't have the precise amounts required, but I'm sure you could figure it out given enough time. Something like that could get out of hand very quickly."

Bas sighed, "It burns in open spaces, and explodes in confined ones." He firmed his jaw, "Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?"

Luneil paused.

Bas gaped, shocked at the turnaround in Luneil's attitude. Zeph shouted in his ear, "The polite answer is yes."

Bas stumbled over his own tongue, "Y-yes. T-that works." He wasn't sure what he was getting himself into. It seemed like a good deal on the surface, but he could be missing something. He might very well have made a deal with the devil.

—Tyl—

Tyl gazed at the message that had just arrived in Valis by Cogwork Dragon, to be sent to Ilae by scry-link.

A Dungeon. Especially now of all times.

It was just what she needed. The arrival of the humans had thrown Era into uproar, she was still considering wiping out their race before they became a problem she couldn't fix. This Dungeon, however, changed things.

There was nothing quite like the sense of excitement they evoked to unify a divided populace. Especially now of all times.

She knew full well how the other races held grudges. The dwarves especially. 'The dwarves remember', Tyl laughed, of course they did, that was what they did best. She didn't resent it, even if their refusal to pay Devotions was something she could ill-afford, she had earned their hatred. Yet their god's death was necessary for her order at the time. Even if she had preferred Gnur more than most of the rest, he did not, as he used to put it 'fuck around'. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to her lips.

Not that it mattered anymore. Her great plan was in ruins, all because of Luneil's actions. Everything she had done to preserve and maintain order, invalidated by one man's actions. Her sacrifice of her own brothers and sisters, rendered worthless by Luneil's blind loathing. She sincerely hoped he was gone, it seemed likely. He would have found a way to taunt her by now if he were still alive.

She fucking hated necromancers. It wasn't just their disgusting practice, it also attracted a certain sort. The sort which Gnur might have once referred to as 'assholes'.

Tyl smiled again, despite herself. He would have been excited to hear about a new Dungeon. Especially one that would be in his people's territory. Still, it was interesting that the soon-to-be land was being claimed by, of all a races, a human. Not that she was complaining, harmony was always a good thing, even if the idea of a human in a position of power worried her slightly.

She wanted a Pardoner, a non-disposable one, there to keep an eye out, and there was no better pretext for that than having one help escort prospective settlers into the mountains.

Moving her attention to the temple she summoned the current highest ranking Pardoner, Prelate Amador, and explained what was to be done. She regretted High Pardoner Loa's absence, she would have had everything ready in a heartbeat. As it was, she had to expound in detail the procedure for selecting adventurers and pioneers to the city in order to maintain a dwarven majority.

Once they arrived, building materials and protection would also be a concern, so she had the Amador ensure extra adventurers would be hired to guard them until houses had been been created. There were all sorts of monsters hiding in the Parapets, it paid to be careful, especially when dealing with large groups.

She doubt the Council would grouse too much at her intervention, if anything it would speed up the process. Not that they wouldn't complain. The old goats needed to keep up appearances after all.

Then there was the route. A small settlement of Jord-Elva outside of any kingdom's territory had recently been ravaged by monster attacks, it might be worth making a small detour to collect them and prevent further loss of life.

Tyl rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. It felt somewhat unnecessary to specify exactly what would happen and when, but she knew that if she didn't someone would inevitably make a mistake, ending in someone else being killed.

Dying in a Dungeon was one thing, the adventurers knew exactly what they were getting into. A civilian dying to hypothermia or hunger was a completely different matter. She didn't want to see them die. There had been enough death already. But she had little doubt there would be plenty more.

There was something hiding in the Parapets, something beyond her vision. Whether it was cloistered deep in the Underhollow, or stalking the surface, she was unsure. Perhaps the fae were once again stirring from behind their obsidian prisons. Or demons spewing out from the nether realms. Maybe even an intact phylactery, one of the final remnants of the old magic and a wilder age. Whatever it was, it filled her with foreboding and dreadful premonition. The centuries of peace would soon be over.