“Master?”

Upon hearing the voice, Kalfig Hammerstone allows his avatar to materialize, taking the shape of a gray skinned dwarf with a long white beard, and white too are his pupils, as he scans around the room containing his dungeon core, before his eyes finally settle on the figure of his servant, a hobgoblin by the name of Igor.

“What is it?” Kalfig grunts.

“A party of adventurers are set to arrive today. What should I do?”

“Are they meant to succeed or fail?”

“Well, master, your clearance numbers are a little on the low side. So it would be wise to allow for a few extra completed runs.”

“I see,” Kalfig grunts, “Cut two of the goblins then, and one of the hippogriffs. Go set up the loot as well, and return to me upon their arrival.”

“Yes, master,” the hobgoblin replies, offering a slight bow before exiting the room.

Kalfig watches on for a moment before letting out a third grunt. A thought occurs to him, to question if all the tedium of the eternal grind is worth it. After all, he, unlike Rothgar, certainly has no aspirations of high status, like a position on The Council. So then, why is he even bothering with it all? Why enslave himself to the never ending cycle of crafting and maintaining and managing a dungeon? Just so that he can feed his core? Will not devolution, eternal slumber and ultimate peace be the better path?

He has questions, but no answers, for this is the extent of his mental depth, and he concludes that he will ponder on the matter a short while longer, a few decades perhaps. Then with a final grunt, he lets his avatar dematerialize, and only the slightest of warp in the air indicates that anything has been there at all.

****

This is it, Wendell thinks silently to himself, I really lucked out finding a party willing to take me on. Sure, the loot sacrifice hurts, but… this is my chance to finally reach DDD-class. I can’t mess this up. There’s no time for mistakes. I have to be perfect. For mother’s sake, I-

“Wendell, are you listening?” a voice asks.

Wendell looks up, away from his thoughts, finding that it is the party leader, Garrett. They are currently situated just on the outskirts of Bladgor Dungeon, holding a final planning session before the dungeon run. Turning to each side of Garrett, Wendell spots the two other members of the party, Roger and Hector. The former is a blond with blue eyes, a little older than Wendell himself, early twenties perhaps, dressed in a long black robe and holding a staff. The latter is a tall, black-haired man with stern brown eyes, older, mid-to-late twenties, dressed in a chain shirt, holding a crossbow. Reflexively, Wendell finds his hands moving to the hilt of his own longsword when suddenly, he feels a slap on his back.

“Don’t shit yourself now, newbie!” he hears Roger tease.

Wendell suppresses the urge to snap in response, biting his tongue. Instead, he turns to Garrett. Clearing his throat and setting it deep, he replies to the man’s earlier question, “Yes, Mister Garrett. You were just about to review the dungeon layout, I believe.”

He finds Garrett giving him a curious look, before the man then nods, proceeding. “Right, so as I explained earlier at the guild, Bladgor Dungeon is a Level 4 dungeon, comprised of three floors. Here is the map I showed you all already, just to reiterate.”

Wendell watches as Garrett lays out an old, yellowed parchment across the grass, which the man has said he obtained from a second-hand merchant, the map looking as follows:

“So, on the first level,” Garrett begins, pointing to the top of the map, “we can expect to encounter a Pack of Goblins. This can be anywhere between five to seven of them. Now, as you probably all are aware, goblins are fairly weak, so this fight should be straightforward. The only thing to keep in mind here is to avoid being flanked by their large numbers. Next-” The man slides his finger down to the middle of the map, continuing, “are a Few Hippogriffs on floor two. This implies either one or two of them. Now...this may be a new kind of fight for some of you-” Wendell notices Garrett giving him a quick glance before proceeding, “due to the aerial component. But just remember, stay tight in formation to avoid being picked off. Wendell and I will strike at them if they get into melee range. Roger and Hector, you two snipe at them when they go into the air. Understand?” Three nods, and Garrett again slides his finger down, to the last remaining floor yet undescribed. He says, “And finally, the boss, a King Scorpion. The thing to be careful about here is the creature’s thick outer armor. We’ll need to soften a piece of it first to open it to attack. Roger, I’ll leave that to you. Once there’s a vulnerability, then we go in for the kill. But just remember, stay in formation, and wait for my signal. And one final thing. I know it might be tempting, but we’re leaving the loot for last, after the dungeon is entirely cleared. Understand? I don’t want anyone getting distracted mid-battle with thoughts about the loot. So, any questions?”

“What’s the expected haul, Garrett?” Roger asks.

“It’s a Level 4 dungeon, so probably around ten silvers’ worth. A few pieces of pottery, some tunics, an iron sword or two, I should expect. Anyone else have a question?”

Wendell notices Garrett turning his direction, and for some reason, the man’s gaze causes a wave of adrenaline to rush through his body, his cheeks growing flush. I have to think of something to ask… to prove I was listening… think… think… wait, loot… right, let’s go with that. “How do we know where the loot will be?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Wendell immediately wishes he could take it back, for he sees Garrett giving him a raised eyebrow, replying, “The loot’s always in the same place, as indicated on the map.”

“R-right,” Wendell manages, turning his gaze away. Stupid! Why did I ask such a stupid question that I already knew the answer to?!

From the side, he hears Roger snicker, “Rookie.”

Wendell again feels his cheeks grow hot. Before he can wallow too long in embarrassment, however, he hears Garrett indicating for them to gather their things and proceed to the dungeon entry. A short walk later, and they are standing before the portal, the violet amorphous substance shimmering in response to their approach. Garrett is the first to warp, followed by Hector. After the two vanish, Wendell feels another slap on his back.

It’s Roger, a smug grin across his face as he says, “Don’t look so nervous, newbie. You’ve done this before, right?” Then without waiting for a response, the mage himself portals, disappearing from view.

Wendell stares at the shimmering substance for a long moment, trying to push all the memories of failed dungeon runs out of his mind. “This time is different,” he tells himself, and then he too, steps into the portal.