The sound gets closer and closer. Room 52 is structured very uniquely. It mainly consists of overlapping corridors, intersecting at different parts, creating an intersection. Sometimes, it intersects vertically, shifting gravity when you jump into the respective parts. It’s an extremely intuitive design, but also very confusing in first-person navigating the place.

I make my way through the various twists and turns and I see someone. The second living human. It's a man, I’d say in his early 20s, struggling against 6-legged vicious wolves. They begin to circle around him very intricately and coordinately. The man grips his dagger and turns cautiously, glancing at the corners of his eyes. He’s slightly beaten, but he’s still holding strong. He’s wearing a leather outfit, with blue feathers fashioned about, and he’s holding a single dagger. His other hand’s free, outstretched, as if he was grasping something invisible.

He doesn’t look weak, but his situation’s definitely disadvantageous. He’s clearly outnumbered. I take no time to rush into the battle and power my way through the wolves. In room 49, I fought similar wolves. They were red with larger teeth and in fewer numbers but they had the same 6 legs and vicious eyes. I keep them in mind as I mindlessly slash at the ones in front of me with my extremely sharp, long blade. The man notices me at this point and lowers his free hand and after a silent glance, he acknowledges that I'm helping him, not hurting him, or about to hurt him, and clears some of the stray wolves that have wandered from the pack after my initial charge. I continue cutting left and right until I was sure there were no further threats. He seems to be finished with his job as well. After checking the surroundings, I affirm there are no more immediate threats. After signaling to him silently, he appears to have understood again.

We stand there, staring at each other.

“Thank you for saving me. You have my full gratitude.” The man stretches out his hand routinely. Now that the battle's over, I am given a clearer view of his physical features. He looks young, but his demeanor brings about a mature feeling contrasting his young-ish appearance. He has medium-length, natural black hair with a part and a bold lift. If not for the dreary bags under his eyes, he'd be astonishingly handsome. Not to say that he isn't now, but with a little work, he could be a movie actor for all I know or care for. With an upright posture and firm and deliberate movements, he acts with an unconceited assertiveness. I carefully extend my hand to shake his, his hand firm and rough. He notices my caution and backs off with little hint of surprise. “Oh, no need to be afraid. I’m not some mindless rogue. I understand the concern. Here, I’ll drop my weapons.”

The man proceeds to drop his dagger, as well as all his other weapons hidden cleverly in his clothing. There were blades of all kinds. I wonder how he's able to fit it all in.

“I’d appreciate it if you did the same.” He gestures to my obviously powerful and threatening weapons. I concede and follow his actions. I slowly place them on the floor below me, as he did himself.

“Again,” The man says, cracking his stiff neck with relief, “thank you for your help. In all honesty, I would’ve been fine. I was baiting them to charge so I can activate my fire spell – blast radius. It sets ablaze a spherical fire sphere around me, burning all enemies within its vicinity, leaving me unharmed. It’s quite useful, but it does leave me vulnerable for a couple seconds afterward. Thanks to you, I was able to avoid that circumstance.”

The man waves with subtle gratitude, his cuts evident for the world to see. Despite his welcoming behavior, his facial expression hasn’t changed at all. He hasn’t smiled once yet, keeping a cool and straight face.

“Take this.” I throw him a low-grade potion from my potion belt lying on the floor, that I also let fall onto the ground. He catches it with one hand and glances at it for a second. He drinks it - not too fast, not too slow.

“So, what do you want?” The man follows up, fully understanding I'm not some walking welfare service.

“In exchange,” I say, “let’s exchange information. Let’s gather our thoughts and summarize what we’ve come to know.” I was actually going to propose 'the catch' after he had drunk the potion, but he beat me to it. He’s quite capable, I can tell. He has never appeared flustered, cool and calm throughout, even during battle where he was posed with such threats. These type of people are easy to deal with - I’m glad I’ve come across such a competent person. Then again, you have to be competent enough to survive. There’s much more to survival than pure strength.

The man crosses his arms and looks to the side. “I was about to propose the same thing. Fine. I’m Graham. I’m a lawyer in the U.S. Though, everyone I’ve met so far has been in the U.S., but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people from other parts of the world. The world’s a big place after all.” Graham reaches out into his pocket and pulls out nothing. He sweeps his hand above his mouth in a customary fashion. Only then did he realize he has no cigarettes and he's air-smoking. He brushes it off matter-of-factly.

“I’m-“

“Ely, correct? Ely Codeman, if I recall correctly,” Graham interrupts me. He points towards my weapons. “I’d think I’d notice immediately if you were that Ely, with weapons like those. I can’t imagine it coming from anywhere besides the boss room. I must say, I have to congratulate you – you went through such a hellish experience and survived with the spoils. Of course, relatively speaking. This entire dungeon’s a place from hell.” Graham continues looking the other way. “I’m actually glad. There’s a chance that the famous first-boss clearer's an evil and murderous maniac. I didn’t think I would run into you so fast and so suddenly. I’ve been hit with so many surprises this past week. If I had to lean on whether someone who defeated a boss so early on in this environment was either a madman or a sane man, I’d lean on the former. Fortunately, you aren’t as psychopathic as the situation calls for.”

I stand there momentarily stunned, but then I gather my senses. “It was all luck, honestly. I could’ve died at any moment. If not for… a friend, I couldn’t have done it.” I'm bluffing a bit. I try acting calm and composed, but it’s not easy. Compared to Graham, I’m a bundle of nerves.

Graham stands there solemnly. “No need to elaborate. Let’s exchange information, shall we?”

We continue to talk and exchange information and compare what we know. Most of our information lines up. We also share our theories behind some of the events and mechanisms. Most of my knowledge was already known or inferred by Graham. In return, Graham had some interesting information that I wasn't aware of yet.

“So far, in the week that I’ve been here, I’ve come across a total of 5 people, including you. All of them were from the U.S.”

Graham shuffles uneasily for a bit, ever so slightly that if it weren’t me, I don't think anybody would have noticed it.

“Unfortunately, they all died," Graham drops the bomb. "I accompanied each person, but each time the companionship was short-lived. One was too nervous and scared to act, another was too reckless, and yet another was just too plain weak. They all died, one at a time, so by the time I reached the next person, the previous person had died. I talked lots with each of them and learned their stories. The second one I met was James Richmond. A college student studying forensics, his mother died the week before and he had stumbled unfortunately into a heap of college debt. He was a pleasant man, but he showed a plethora of signs of depression. He died from a skeleton’s blade. Rest his soul.”

I listened to Graham’s descriptions of each of the people he met. I sat there silently, thinking about all these people. These are all people who were living their own lives and who got caught up just as I did in this dungeon. They, sadly, met an early fate. I clench my fist in an odd regret stemming from something I haven’t experienced yet. It’s bitter.

I frown.

“What’s notable is that every person was special in some sort of way. No one was truly normal – everyone here has something to them. Whether that’ll help them survive in this dungeon is debatable. The fact of the matter is that to each person their own. They may have a stricken past, a special talent, a twisted personality, etc. Even me.”

He looks at his hand, gazing reminiscently. Needless to say, I didn’t probe.

“And you as well.” Needless to say, he didn’t probe either.

“That’s not all,” Graham continues. “I have a friend, a doctor on the west coast, where James lived, look into his death. Luckily, he was able to find information on him. Since his death, I haven’t seen him since. It didn’t take me too long to realize that this dungeon was more than a dream. Shortly after that, I realized death was tangible too. My friend notified me that James died of a suspected heart attack, in his sleep. Although it's not fully confirmed, the arteries of his heart definitely had a significant amount of plaque built up from an unhealthy diet, and it is known that it did stop suddenly - a case of cardiac arrest. Still, he did remark that it wasn't nearly bad enough to cause a heart attack. Odd, isn't it? But apparently, it still did. I reached out to a colleague who went to the same college as me living in the central area of the U.S.A. and asked him if he could find anything about Margaret, the fourth person I met. He did. Likewise, I was able to find out she died from a heart-related problem - well, this time it's suspected to be from stroke - in her sleep. Neither of the two had any signs of previous heart-related issues. No signs of cardiorespiratory diseases, no strokes beforehand, no seizures, no symptoms of heart pains - no signs of anything. No diabetes, no coronary artery disease, no nothing. They were properly healthy. Or at least, by America's definition, healthy. Yet, they died of a heart-related injury immediately, in their sleep, on the days that coincide with their deaths in the dungeon where I met them. And where I witnessed their deaths with my own two eyes.” Graham crosses his arms and looks to the side again, away from me. I can see that this is a habit of his. “I’m sure you know what that means. It’s not certain, but it’s most likely what it seems.”

I take it all in. I remember the night of the incident, the phone call, the confusion, and the lack of any visible injuries on the body that her father mentioned. It’s all coming together.

“My experience coincides with your theory,” I finally say. “Even without conclusive evidence, I’ll stick with this theory for now. It seems plausible, however improbable. It makes enough sense. Thank you for your information.”

I throw him another potion, this time a dark-red vial. I’ve got 3 more, plus 5 low-grade potions, so I’ll be fine.

“This is additional compensation. I’ll be taking my leave. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I stand up and pick up my items, paying no mind to the figure standing beside me. I fasten my gear and walk towards the next door, the door to room 53.

“So, what are you planning to do now? Are you thinking of storming off taking rooms one-by-one by yourself?”

Graham suddenly asks that behind me. I stop and turn around.

“Yes, that’s what I plan to do. No matter what, I’ll clear every single room I have to clear, then reach room 1,000,000. There has to be a conclusion to this somewhere, some sort of reason behind the rhyme. I swear I’ll be the one to uncover it,” I say determinedly albeit recklessly.

Graham looks at me with slight intrigue. “Hold it - stop. With such a wild ambition you’re going to wrap yourself in more trouble than you can handle. I highly advise against that. Otherwise, you’ll end up like the former four.”

I look at him resolutely. “So, what are you suggesting? I should wait and standby? I have the power to accomplish things and you’re telling me to hold back?”

An odd tension begins to form. We stand and look beside each other with some sort of serious stature set in place. I don’t know why, but I jumped onto his provocation. I dislike acting so petty, but this is something I can’t overlook. I just can’t.

Graham relaxes his shoulders. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying blindly following death will get you blindly killed. Here’s my suggestion: let’s team up. We’re both capable people. Together, our odds of survival will go up, even if only a little. Every difference counts.”

I look at him perplexedly. I never planned on him asking to cooperate. In hindsight, it makes sense. I feel he’s someone I can rely on if we were allies. We do have similar views of spiting this place, and if we were allies, I can’t deny the practicality. I notice in his eyes and manner that he’s not proposing this out of desperation or hope of relying on a stronger figure for support. He truly believes we can work together and rely on each other to survive.

But.

“I’m sorry. As attractive as your offer seems, I can’t. I prefer working alone.” I glance in the other direction.

“Despite the advantages? I assure you I’m not going to backstab you. I’d be more worried of the reverse. I understand you might not want to engage in any interpersonal relationships while we’re here, but honestly, if you want to survive, you have to learn to work with others. I’ve seen my fair share of deaths, and I’m deathly sick of it. You said you want to clear every room necessary and find the secrets behind this dungeon? You’re never going to do it alone, I can promise you that.”

Graham twirls his finger knowledgeably.

“They say the one who runs alone runs the fastest, but the one who runs with others runs the farthest.”

Graham stretches out his hand and, for the first time, lets out a smile. I can tell he isn’t good at practicing smiles.

I’m still reluctant, but what he says is true. And this is not me falling for his rose-colored words, I truly believe working with capable people brings success.

“Fine…” I reach out and take his hand once more. I likewise smile, also as awkwardly. I guess I’m not too good at this as well. “I’ll take up your offer. In exchange, teach me some magic. I’m curious as to how it works.”

Graham affirms the grip on his hand. “Likewise, you’ll have to let me look at your weapons. I promise I won’t do anything stupid, I’m not an idiot with ulterior motives. I’m also curious as to what boss-room weapons have in store.”

We both stand there, smiling like idiots to each other. We both shake off the dumb smiles and return to our professional manner.

“One more question,” I ask, “what do you hope to accomplish? What are your goals regarding this dungeon?”

“Hmm… That’s a good question.” Mark again crosses his arms and looks sideways. “I guess I said it before already – I’m sick of death. I honestly just want to help in all the ways I can. That’s why I became a lawyer, after all. 8 years in the business and despite how intelligent I seem, mind my pretension, I haven’t won a single case. If I can do good work here, I’ll be more than glad. It’s a bit selfish, but I hope you can accommodate me.”

Graham bows. How humble.

“Don’t worry, my desires are equally selfish.” I look ahead at the next door. “Anyway, shall we get started? I want to get one more room cleared before I wake up. I have an exam in school tomorrow, so I want to get this done quickly. We also have to figure out a proper system where we can support each other, as well as times when to meet up and when to leave. It’d be bad if one of us suddenly left in the middle of a fight.”

“Agreed. Also, you’re quite young – the youngest I’ve seen so far. How old are you?” Graham inquires.

“17, I’m a junior in high school. I thought you were in your early-20s but you said you were in the business for 8 years? How old are you? You look young yourself,” I ask likewise.

“Haha, thanks for the compliment.” It’s the first time I’ve seen him laugh, and it's genuine. “I’m 32. I’m married, as well. No children, not right now anyway.”

“Wow…” I’m truly astonished. I hope I look as good as him when I’m old.

Right now, Mark would comment on how he’s ‘middle-aged’. If I could, I would show him Graham. He’s living it up.

“Let’s go, shall we? We should get a feel for how we work together. Since I can use magic, I’ll support you. And yes, of course, I’ll teach you magic.”

Graham starts ahead of me, with even strides, his arms still crossed. He stops suddenly and looks at me squarely.

“Also, if you’re wondering,” he says, “32 is not middle-aged. Technically, middle-age is between 40 and 65 for men.”

See Mark, what did I tell you.