**[Horace]**

“Let’s make a deal.”

These fateful words came almost unbidden from his chapped lips. He was tired, hurting, and hungry but had zero regrets. Somehow he felt that this decision was right. It was a gut instinct, and he did not trust the gremlin he was dealing with, but he trusted himself.

"Excellent! Now, my boy, we shall get-"

"No. I want to know about Jerome's deal first, and then we will negotiate mine, make it snappy. I will not deal with you if they call me in before I have the information I need." Horace was done being stepped upon and seen as dumb. He was not crafty or a genius, but he was still smart. His trait that usually impeeded vital social situations like this stayed silent. Horace had nothing to lose and did not care what this heathen thought of him, and in his mind, this nullified the trait. Whether that was true or if something else was at play, he did not know.

"Okay, relax child. As I said before, the human adventurer Jerome Sinclair was infamous in the dungeon systems, particularly the Khiral system this dungeon is in. He did not just fight for wealth or glory; he went in to kill precious dungeon seeds with unmatched skill. Teammates would come, go, or die, but he kept coming. The dungeon god promised great rewards to any being that stopped him, and one of my kind made that happen, indirectly, of course. They suggested a deal and gave him information on how to reach the place where our lord resides. None of us thought he would survive the lower realms and definitely not make it to Ponram himself. Alas, the man had seen things by that point. Things no mortal should ever see, and he was hardly sane. The deal he made shows that. However, it was a good deal."

The longwinded explanation ceased, and the gremlin cleric gave out a long breath but failed to continue.

Horace wanted to know more to figure out how to improve his own bargain and rushed to prompt the creature for more information. "How was it a good deal? Why would such a great and powerful god bow down to a mere human?"

"INSOLENCE!" A primal roar erupted from Myron, causing Horace to jump against the wall in fright. A cough, "My apologies for the reaction. It was quite unbecoming, though I would suggest you do not say such things again. It -, well, would not end well for you."

Horace stammered out a clumsy, "I understand, sorry," which seemed to placate whatever demon lived inside the now calm voice.

"To answer your question, Jerome was a hero, not a hero like you understand it, but a Hero. It was his class, and he had gotten it to the highest tier possible. Heros are rare, and the devive their powers from fulfilling whatever just cause their psyche is consumed by. His was saving humanity from the dungeons and annihilating as many as possible. This made him the ideal opponent to fight Ponram, whose very existence is synonymous with dungeons as he is the plant from which the seeds form, but even with his class, Jerome was unlikely to destroy a god. Nevertheless, there was still a chance he could. A lesson to you, child, the strong are only strong when they have ultimate confidence. Jerome had stolen that from everyone in the dungeon through his crusade, which gave him leverage."

Again the voice stopped. Horace took a moment to process. "Wow. Gods really exist... what leverage could I have to get myself a deal?" Like the last time he had been processing, the gremlin seemed to hear or predict his thoughts.

"You have no leverage beyond being in the right place and time. Many of my kin would refuse to even talk with you, but I believe it could be a beneficial arrangement for us both." Myron's pitch had gone up an octave from his excitement, and Horace wondered why the creature would be honest, which made him think there may be leverage in this after all. Perhaps he should take a note out of Rita's book of tricks if the opportunity presented itself.

"Tell me what deal Jerome made, and then we can discuss mine." Horace made sure to leave no room for doubts, and his voice range clear. Footsteps could be heard.

"It seems our time is running short. The chef must have died. The deal is open now, human, don't miss your chance-"

Horace smiled at his audacity to interrupted the cleric, "No. I deal when I am ready. You said before you had clout with the guards. Send them away for a few minutes while we come to an agreement."

"And why should I listen to a mangy cripple of a human?" Myron was no longer cool and collected. His voice was filled with rage.

"Because if you do not, then I will go out there and die. I will leave you with nothing. My companions would not strike a bargain, so if you want one, then you better start playing by my rules."

"HA! Anyone would make a deal with me-" The footsteps were almost to them. Horace spoke faster than he ever had.

"Rita is a noblewoman loyal to her country but with too strong of a will and conscious to give in to temptation. Aiden is like a fox. He would dig himself a new hole with just his wit alone if going to you was the only way out, and they aren't going anywhere. No new human sacrifices for you gremlin."

The creator of the footsteps arrived. A buff oaf of an orc came into sight as the door unlocked, and Horace held his breath, eyes closed in apprehension. His mind went blank to prevent anyone from reading the fear he felt coursing through him. A heavy step in front of him, then a pop following by a thud moments later. Horace's eyes opened to the sight of a prone, unconscious orc only a foot away. "Had Myron done that?"

His silent question was answered a second later when the gremlin spoke hesitantly from across the hall, "He didn't crush you when he fell, did he? That would suck..."

Horace found himself laughing. It was so absurd, and now his freedom lay right in front of him. The door was open, but he knew it would not be long before they recovered him if he ran. The dungeon was just too small and the orcs too strong. Were he able to escape the dungeon to the surface, the guards would kill him on sight or toss him back in. They would not listen to him long enough for the vital information to be shared. It did give him options, and he moved to the cell containing Myron with the keys jangling in his sweaty hands.

"So, you were saying?"

The gremlin sighed, and for the first time, Horace got a look at the man. The gremlin was unnaturally pale with alabaster skin, hair, and eyes. Only small pink irises gave color to the monster before him. Large tufted ears protruded from his head, and stark lines in Myron's face and body showed the signs of starvation. The gremlin looked up from his cross legged position to make eye contact with Horace. It was almost mesmerizing to stare into those strange eyes that held no sign of life. It was like looking into the eyes of a dead animal, empty.

"Well met Horace, the human. How do you find my appearance?"

Horace did not answer. He just stared and emulated Rita by lifting one eyebrow in a disinterested expression. Myron seemed amused and began to speak.

"Hmm, what was your question? Ah, yes, I remember. You wanted to know about the bargain." Myron looked at Horace with a smug expression as his pause elicited a scowl from the boy, "As I was saying, Jerome, was not sane any longer and was consumed by the desires of his class. There is one crucial fact about heroes no one mentions; they are only heroes on one side. To the other, they are the worst of villains. It's all about perception, and that is what matters to their growth. The more they are hated on one side and loved on the other, the stronger their class becomes. But in his deal, Jerome stripped himself of one opponent by allying with the dungeon god, so a new opponent needed to be found to allow him to keep his class. Do I need to spell it out for you further?"

Horace's mind whirled, and he responded, forgetting that he was a prisoner and not a student for a moment, "He made the common people his enemy? And kept the support of the upper class?"

"Correct in part boy, he tainted his own soul by using the power vested in him by the leaders of your people to trade away the future of every child born on your land from that point on."

Horace blurted out the first thing that came to him, "Wait! Is that why all royals are born under levitation spell? Those bastards claimed it was to bring them closer to the gods."

"Well, they weren't lying, but I have no plans on divulging that information without a larger payment." Myron winked his left eye and smiled toothly at him.

"That is fine. But what exactly was the deal. How did he trade their futures? Even with the King's 'right' over the people, he does not hold control over everything."

"True, but that is what sending them to the dungeon is for. Being birthed on land marks the people's souls to prevent them from dying a soul death. Like dungeon creatures, these children of the land are recycled into the very being of Ponram, powering him and expanding the ability of all his creatures."

"Are you saying killing an orc might be killing the soul of a human!"

"What? No, what a ridiculous notion. Orcs were once an untainted race like your own who ruled the surface before the dungeons formed. They just adapted to the new world order in a way humans did not. I will not tell you more; anything past this is beyond our arrangement."

"Then will you at least tell me what humanity gained for this loss?"

"Of course. In exchange for the marking of babies born after the deal was struck and the regular delivery of them into the system as well as Jerome's own retirement, Ponram vowed to not form another dungeon within human controlled lands, respect any claimed territory as said untouchable land, and provide a greater dungeon seed for the human King. No idea why Jerome would agree to that, but we aren't complaining."

Horace wanted to ask more, yet the feral sheen to Myron's eyes and the vibrating intensity reverberating off him like an aura held him back. Instead, he spoke, "Okay, I am ready. Let's negotiate. I want to have my arm back, not be killed by you or killed by your actions, have my soul freed, and gain the power necessary to live long enough to enjoy the previous requests."

"The arm, yes, that was agreed upon; however, you already received information as your part of the bargain. I will throw in not killing you as a present for your forethought but nothing more." They stared each other down. Horace refused to back down. He would get something good out of whatever evils this creature asked for.

"If you will not free my soul, then I want my sister's unmarked. I also require my new arm be powerful and that my body is enhanced to handle it." He did not want to be given this worthless giant arm he couldn't even lift.

"Hmm, I could agree to those conditions if you agree to mine. In exchange for what has been agreed upon, I require you to act as a vessel of the dungeon, granting your conscious soul to it in death to serve as you did in life. As a result, you will be tied to this place, unable to ever return to the kingdom and your family. Tasks may be asked of you by myself or Ponram himself, which you will do your utmost to complete. Any children you spawn will have their lives tied to the system as well, with no potential for freedom from it. Lastly, you will trade me five years of this body's lifespan to refresh my own faltering capsule and free me from this infernal cage."

"I knew he couldn't escape on his own!" Horace was distracted by that last bit somewhat intentionally. He did not want to think about what would be lost. At least he had never intended to be a father, which he surely would not let happen now. No one deserved to lose their soul before even being aware enough to understand what was lost. He wanted to walk away and say no, but that feeling in his belly stayed consistent even with the new information. It told him that this was the right path.

"I want Rita and Aiden spared from any harm caused by you; if you agree to that, then it's a deal."

The gremlin cleric rose unsteadily to his feet, looking as if the slightest breeze would cause him to disintegrate where he stood. Nevertheless, Myron made it to the door where he grabbed Horace's exposed face through the slats with remarkable speed bringing their faces together. Horace raised his remaining hand that held the keys to fend off the attack using a jagged piece of metal but realized his error as the appendage was forced between the bars into the cage. There was a pressure inside that made his hand burn, and he watched as the creature's mouth opened wide, exposing rows of pointed teeth. The sharp sting as the gremlin's teeth ripped into the calloused flesh of his palm made him scream out in agony. It hurt more than anything ever had before. Lossing his arm was nothing on the soul wrenching experience he went through as the gremlin seemed to consume him.

He blacked out and awoke to see a youthful Myron with pinkened skin to match his eyes standing above him, fingering the stump on his shoulder. The gremlin's form was no less starved, but the four-foot frame held wiry muscle and taut skin. However, his own body felt strange, different than before, not in a discernably good or bad way. The poke of nails to flesh kept him from evaluating the change and forced his focus towards the cleric who would hopefully fix his arm now. A slight muttering could be heard, and he gave a questioning look at the intimidating form casting a shadow on his own.

"Stop giving me that look. I am thinking. Trying to decide what to do to you, and trust me, you do not want me to make the wrong call."

Horace kept his mouth shut and closed his eyes too to avoid enticing Myron's ire further. The ground was hard but cool against him. He felt like he was floating in water, suspended between the worries of life and the nothingness of death. A tickle near his arm almost broke him from the peace he found himself trapped in, and he fought it off. He was not yet ready to leave. For the first time in his life, he felt free, but like most things, it could not last, and he was sent crashing back to the real world by the binding of chains.

At least it had felt like what he imagined it to feel like, so it confused him when he sat up in fear only to find himself unhindered. Myron smirked from a foot away.

"Looked like quite the dream, should I ask? Ha! I have made a masterpiece of you, my boy! Granted, I lacked the material to do it right, but it will be more than serviceable. Probably a good thing you were never pretty to begin with. It'll make this a quick adjustment."

Race Change: Un-human status obtained

Strength has increased by 3, Luck has increased by 1, Agility has decreased by 2, Dexterity has decreased by 1, and Charisma has decreased by 1. Mana has been locked and Wisdom and Intelligence have merged to Will. Will has increased by 2.

Skill Gained Negotiation: 0->2

Horace was scared to look. Still, he knew his arm was back by the sensation in his mind. A void that had formed days ago was now filled. He turned to look and frowned at the unrecognizable nature of his new form. It all worked close to how it had, yet it was no longer him. Myron flashed him a smile, and they both heard the groan from the orc that lay waking only a few feet away. "It's time to see what this new body can do."