Tehr held a thrashing skeleton’s skull with one hand. The latter wore a full suit of enchanted armor and stood a good seven feet tall, yet its much smaller peer easily carried its weight with one arm.

“Do not fret. The remains of your soul within that hollow body will finally achieve peace.”

He applied pressure to its helm gradually, creating a cruel, ear-splitting sound. The way the armored skeleton reacted made it seem like it felt pain despite its lack of organs and brain. It struck Tehr’s head repeatedly with its enchanted sword, but could not even manage to chip the bone. Eventually the helm could no longer hold its form and was crushed violently, destroying the undead within.

The lifeless body was thrown to the side disappointedly.

“Don’t you feel bad killing your own kind?”

Tehr addressed the giant red-skinned minotaur who was sitting on a rock reading a book. He was covered from head to toe with blood, guts and glory, but he didn’t forget to place a clean cloth between his book and his dirty hands.

“No I don’t. They’re misguided, lead by hatred. I can only thank the gods that I didn’t become that way.”

But then his solemn mood took an abrupt turn upon seeing his companion.

“… Wait, you haven’t finished reading that?”

“Already did. Reading it again.”

“What happened to ‘romance is for girls’?”

“I know. But the development is quite fascinating. When this human male’s mate was killed, instead of revenge he sought answers. I can’t understand that mentality.”

“… Isn’t it because you’re a brute?”

“Hey.”

Eventually they had to focus on more important matters. They still had to regroup and figure out a plan. Things have developed in a nasty direction.

“No I can’t get a trace of their smell. Too much rot and blood in the air. You?”

“If they had my kind with them, I’d be able to sense where they are. But you know how everyone feels about undead.”

“God damn bookworms, huh?”

“Look who’s talking.”

Tehr and Fyrn had a special kind of friendship. They were both dungeon monsters who came from the same, high-ranked dungeon, and they were both named by the King when it was taken over. As they were both the dungeon bosses on the lowermost floor, only separated by a wall, they treated each other like rivals. But after their liberation that rivalry developed into a strong friendship that transcended race.

Weirdly enough though, they rarely agreed on anything. But that may have been what kept their relationship strong; they were always bickering, and for two competitive individuals it made every day stimulating and exciting.

But a little more than two decades ago, they finally found a point of agreement;

“How do you think Miss Blanc is doing?”

“Her? What do you think?”

“She’s doing well, obviously.”

“Stupid question, that.”

Blanc; the White Storm.

Because of their origin, few monsters were able to match either of them in terms of strength. Of course, their King was much stronger, and they accepted that naturally – his direct subordinates, too of course. However the arachne was different. Among the captains in charge of their slice of land, Blanc was the only monster that didn’t come from a dungeon. She was a natural-born monstrosity, whose strength was not derived from the influence of one. And she was strong – absurdly so.

Arachnes were extremely rare as they were; in fact they were much rarer than a sane undead like Tehr. To evolve into such a monster, a spider monster would have had to eat a certain kind of meat almost exclusively. And to achieve that, then it must have meant that even before she became the incredible monster that she was, she already had quite the ability.

“I almost feel sorry for the human girl.”

“What? You think she’s in danger?”

“Pfft. The only things that are in danger are those that get in her way.”

“Understandable. But why?”

"Because the lass would have to suffer that woman's company, that's why."

"Miss Blanc will kill you if she heard you."

"That's why I'm saying it now that she can't."

That’s where they found agreement in; a newfound rivalry against the strongest monster they have ever met. Though they felt as if she didn’t feel the same way about them, having to chase after a level of strength they knew was possible gave both of them a goal.

“You don’t have a thing for Miss Blanc, do you?”

“Too skinny for my tastes.”

“That’s why you’re still single at your age.”

“Shut up.”

Besides bickering, of course.

.

None of them had expected to find a living dungeon there. They knew beforehand that one had awakened near their city; two upheavals had already passed after all. That wasn’t anything surprising; dungeons formed naturally and a new one appeared almost every year. Living ones, however, were a different story. They were exceedingly rare; probably one out of fifty of them were of that kind. However to most people it didn’t seem that uncommon, which was understandable. Most of them collapse in on themselves before they could even reveal themselves. It was knowledge the dungeon bosses somehow just knew, in likelihood imparted to them by the core they protected. But to add to everything, the sighting of a golden dragon added to their urgency.

“Still, this is an extremely large place. Think it’s larger than the one we came from?”

“Yes, definitely. I estimate that the entire area we used for camp isn’t even a fraction of its land area. Overall, this dungeon is likely more than triple the size of the one where we came from. Truly an amazing scale.”

As luck would have it, since they were in the mess hall arguing over taste versus nutrition of soldier rations together when it happened, they were thrown into the same part of the dungeon.

“Hmph. This area’s filled with nothing but small fries.”

“Astute observation, but let me remind you that you’re judging by your standards. These higher undead would count as a large threat to a good number of regular soldiers.”

They were an unstoppable force. However, that only applied in their martial strength. In other facets, though…

“Hey. Bonehead.”

“What is it, Bullface?”

“… Didn’t we pass through this corner before?”

“Oh. No way. I think. Now that you mention it…”

“Aren’t you the researcher? How could you have such a terrible memory with directions?”

“Aren’t you the bookworm? How could you have such a terrible memory with directions?”

They were lost.

Collectively, their sense of direction was absolutely terrible. It is said that nobody is perfect, but they were a class of their own. As they have both mentioned, though, it didn’t really make sense for either of them to be so horrible at it. Tehr was a researcher who could recall details of his experiments instantly, while Fyrn loved reading and was even talented at memorizing lines from stories. It was baffling how they could both be so bad at navigating.

Even if it was something the dungeon did, it was still the same story even outside of it.

“But don’t you find it strange? We had a large camp with a dense concentration of soldiers. We should have seen at the very least traces of them by now.”

“Yeah. We’ve been walking for hours. Maybe it’s because you keep making the wrong turns?”

“Excuse me, but you’re the one walking in front.”

Fyrn swung his war hammer down on a giant floating eyeball monster, instantly crushing it. Its innards exploded outwards, coating the minotaur without another layer of gore while Tehr summoned a wall of bone from the unmoving corpses around him to protect himself from it. After the red shower ended, the bones shot towards several wailing undead clambering out of holes on the walls and floor.

“Crying Children, huh? And a Beholder. If this is just the upper levels of this place then we’re looking at, hmm, at least Heroic.”

“Same level as the dungeon we came from?”

“Around that level.”

Dungeons were categorized into several difficulties to allow management of the people who enter it. After all, nobody wants treasure-seeking greenhorns to enter killzones that would just eat them alive, right? For convenience the monster-citizens adapted the same system the humans created. However, in order to properly assign them, there were quite a lot of details to consider, such as the traps present, the monsters it spawned, the size, and the number of upheavals it released upon awakening.

Tehr and Fyrn had all the details correct – except one.

“Heroic sounds about right. So once we get back, there’s going to be a lot of paperwork to be done, eh?”

“What paperwork? I’m the only one who’s going to be doing them. When have you ever sat down and dealt with them, huh?”

“Always grateful for the help, Tehr! Hahaha!”

It was those times that Tehr was thankful for being an undead. If he still had skin then it would probably have had unattractive wrinkles all over it already.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. What did you give that human girl? An undead?”

“Obviously. Also, her name is Elaine. Charming human, but unnecessarily nervous. But I guess that's normal. And I’m sure you could determine what I gave her by the smell instantly. It’s a little venture of mine, a modified Flesh Pile. Quite proud of it actually, but it’s not the only one I have.”

“Why, though? Doesn’t it take a lot of resources to make modified undead?”

“Since you seemed so convinced that what she held was a real Fairy Heart, I thought that it was a worthwhile investment. Hopefully she hasn’t been eaten yet by Miss Blanc’s spider half. You are confident about your judgment, yes?”

“Obviously. I was in charge of protecting the dungeon nexus back in the day. Just as you can determine a dungeon core when you see one, I could do the same for a nexus and what became one.”

A massive, plated centipede monster tried to bite off Fyrn’s hand, but found that it was much harder than its jaws. Its mandibles broke off, making the monster screech in pain. It tried to retreat but was never able to even put a decent distance between them as a lance made of bone shot out from the ground and impaled it through the head.

“But if you were so convinced, then why did you let her go? We could have just ordered someone to escort her to the city, right? She would be protected within our walls, and we could have someone verify her story later on after this campaign.”

“Another stupid question, Tehr. Isn’t it obvious? It’s because that woman’s interest was piqued.”

“Just argue with her.”

“No way. Unlike you, I can still die.”

“… I can still die too, you know?”

They continued travelling, struggling with directions, but making steady progress. Anything and everything the dungeon threw at them were easily decimated. Fyrn had almost unlimited stamina, while it was impossible for Tehr to experience fatigue. As such, they had the leisure to continue exploring despite walking in circles more times than they would ever admit.

The lich didn't like raising unmodified undead, which would have aided their navigation considerably. But after a while he finally had a stroke of what he would be ashamed to call ‘genius’ and decided to place bone markers on paths they have already taken. After that their exploration progressed considerably… relatively speaking.

But it still took them two hours to find a single trace of their own people.

“Darksteel swords. They’ve been here.”

Darksteel was one of the products the country of monsters produced and exported exclusively. While they were prized materials for blacksmiths and equipment made from them sold for exorbitant prices, they were standard issue for every high-ranked officer in their country. Finding them on the floor gave the two hope – and misgivings.

“… Why would they leave it here? Unless…”

“Bah. Those idiots probably got it knocked out of their weak palms.”

“Probably.”

Both of them had a tendency to look down on everyone around them. That also meant their fellow captains, which are all either simply talented monsters or particularly dedicated ones. Though they do think some of them had promise, none of them besides the arachne have particularly caught their attention.

“But still, it’s good that this is the only thing that’s lost.”

A sword or two didn’t matter, for most officers carried a spare. And even if they didn’t, monsters had bodies that were natural weapons. At that point they still felt relatively optimistic about the situation. But not ten minutes of walking later Tehr realized that he had spoken too soon.

“This is…”

“Our soldiers. An entire platoon, it looks like.”

It was a massacre. Their bodies lie dead or had become undead. It was a simple matter for Tehr to kill all the moving zombies, but the situation mattered more than the consequence.

“A monster that could overpower an entire troop of monsters? Alone?”

“That seems to be the case. The corpses here are all ours.”

“… You think we’ve gone down a level or two?”

“No. We didn’t pass through any stairs. That or we’re so far gone as we can’t even remember the paths we’ve taken.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but Tehr couldn’t completely dismiss the possibility. He went towards the bodies and studied them. The wounds on their bodies suggested that whatever monster came through was extremely large, with claws or some other sharp appendage that could rip through armor with ease. Fyrn, on the other hand, inspected the area in an attempt to get clues as to where the monster went.

After a while they finished their inspection and faced each other with grim looks on their faces.

“What do you think?”

“The same as you, likely. This wasn’t a monster out to feed – this one was out to kill.”

None of the corpses were eaten. What few that had missing parts to them looked like they were simply removed as a means of attack. But the most disturbing part was…

“Whatever came through here, it went back just to make sure everything was dead.”

It spelled trouble. But not for them. Whatever feelings they might have had upon seeing a sea of their own soldiers’ corpses were drowned by their excitement. Having to work in civilization meant that they couldn’t taste the rush of battle often. They stared at each other, bloodlust oozing from their eyes.

They wanted to fight it.

Tehr felt it in his bones as much as Fyrn felt it in his gut. They could search for their fellows along the way, and probably even meet with the arachne if fortune favored them. But on top of everything, they wanted to fight the strong monsters of that place. Doing so would not only sate their desires, but also save the others from experiencing the same fate.

So they pushed onward, motivated by the carnage they witnessed—

And promptly stopped when the path split into three.

“Wait. So where did it go?”

“I have no idea.”

“Can’t you track the scent?”

“What am I, a dog? And no, there’s still too many smells here.”

Of course they first needed to find it.