Richter lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling. Eight people had died in that dungeon. Probably more than that actually, but eight of them were his fault. He'd gone through dungeons with 6 floors before. He was what you might call a professional if you'd never seen real professionals.

How did he fuck this up? The dungeon was young, it shouldn't have been this well equipped.

His mind caught on that last thought.

It wasn't well equipped. It had maybe 5 lesser minions, a pile of rats, a floor boss, and by the sounds of it a visitor that took up arms in the dungeons defense.

It was just… smarter about how it used them. It divided them and preyed on the weakest members.

Dungeons had strategies, but this one seemed almost reactive. Could young dungeons be smarter than older ones? Richter knew they were living things but he'd never felt like they were thinking things. More like creatures responding to stimuli.

Then there was that man. He didn't kill anyone though. Thant managed to save both Richter and Yark.

That man spoke to the dungeon. He was trying to make a deal. Humans can't make the same deals with a dungeon that monsters can. Humans can pull artifacts from a core or they can shatter it. That's the extent of their interactions.

He was talking to it. Maybe he had enough blood of some monster to make the deal but not so much that he looked inhuman.

He was inhuman though. He took two swords to the torso and didn't even flinch.

Richter got up. His room was dim. He grabbed his bag and rifled through it for a pair of keys. He left his room and locked the door behind him. The halls were lit by gentle flames.

The floor had a cheap carpet. The tapestries on The walls were subpar quality with loose strings here and there. The guild hall was filled with false signs of wealth.

The true wealth though, was in their library. Richter made his way up the stairs and unlocked the door at the top.

Within were tomes upon tomes of various topics. He had read books on strategy and marketing mostly. How to recognize the patterns of a dungeon and identify monsters and what loot was worth the most.

He would find the books on dungeons life cycles. Uncommon due to how few new dungeons ever popped up.

He knew the checkpoints to keep an eye out for. The number of people allowed inside, the content on the first floor.

He'd always been told if it's less than normal the dungeon can't possibly be a threat. The books said to be prepared for surprises anyway but they mostly agreed.

Raid bosses, floor specializations, floor bosses, surface minions, modified creatures, pacts, the dungeon had so few of these things it should have been simple.

As he read he noticed something strange. There was no word on how big a dungeon could get. Eventually they simply stopped growing. Perhaps it was by lack of resources, but that felt wrong.

Richter dug through the library and found as many books on specific dungeons as he could. He poured over them for the rest of the night, putting together a timeline for each.

Every timeline was full of markings about changes, settlement establishment, unique discoveries, rare loot, expeditions to the core, and notable deaths.

Every dungeon had a consistent list of changes and developments until they very abruptly stopped. And after that point death rates for the dungeon dropped too. It was a different time and age for every dungeon, but it was most commonly after a massive powerful change that should have increased the death rates.

Surah developed Elder Scion, Port Salem developed a kraken, Morphog managed to convert the surrounding city into raving cultists.

But then they all just stopped developing. They're dangerous sure, but the death rates dropped. Why? There were even journeys to the core soon after most of these changes.

Richter poured over the books. He found books he didn't even know they had and he read them. Night turned to day and back. There was little traffic in the library since people needed a key, and it was isolated. Not to mention eight members of the guild were dead and others were injured.

Time passed him by. Night came again before he realized he needed to eat. He needed to sleep. He started down the stairs.

He needed to sleep.

He fell.