You have entered sector 101 of the Endless Dungeon.

This sector is part of a closed region named the Scorching Dunes. It consists of 1 unclaimable sector and 1 two-way portal.

There is no restriction on the number of players that may be in the Scorching Dunes at any one time. The dungeon is repopulated on a continuous basis and has a fast respawn rate.

Recommended player levels: 100 to 120.

Recommended party size: 1 to 4.

You have entered a safe zone.

Facial disguise dispelled. This spell cannot be maintained while within the bounds of a safe zone.

I emerged under a sky of startling orange.

The light was so harsh I had to narrow my eyes to slits to shield them from the glare. Ouch, that’s bright. Ducking my head, I waited for my eyes to clear off the dancing afterimages that felt like they’d been burned onto my retinas.

Almost immediately, I was shoved from the rear.

“Damnit, man!” a voice growled from behind me. “What are you doing standing around at the portal?”

“Get out of the way, idiot!” another added. “Don’t you know more players are incoming?”

“I’d listen to them,” a third quipped, “or the Adjudicator may interpret your actions as hostile. This is a safe zone, you know.”

The third speaker had a point, and I moved.

Keeping my head bowed—I hadn’t missed the Game message about my spell dispelling—I forged a path through the press of bodies. The inside of the dungeon, near the safe zone at least, was as crowded as the outside, and a constant stream of players moved both towards and away from the gate.

It was chaos, but amicable chaos, given the safe zone restrictions.

As I weaved through the crowd, I risked the occasional look to orientate myself, lifting my head to scan the area. Spotting a rise of land in the distance, I made my way towards it.

The ground underfoot was soft and grew softer with each step. Glancing downward, I saw the sand was loosely packed, dry, and lifeless.

I’m in a desert, I thought, finally recognizing the source of the dungeon’s name.

I reached the base of the dune I’d been aiming for and climbed it, feet sinking deep into the soft sand with each step. I persevered, though, and finally, I topped the rise.

You have left a safe zone.

The Game’s message was a relief, and I wasted no time in recasting facial disguise. After my false visage was in place, I looked up.

The dungeon was not what I expected.

Instead of narrow corridors and countless rooms filled with enemies, the dungeon was one large open space. Standing atop the hill, I could see its entirety.

Behind me, in a dip formed by the encircling sand dunes, was the safe zone. The nether portal was at its center, nearly obscured by the players buzzing around it. But the crowd thinned rapidly the farther out one traveled in the safe zone, leaving me with plenty of breathing room at its edge.

Ahead of me and to my left and right were hills upon hills of rolling sand dunes.

There were monsters aplenty too.

Nearly every dune sported one, and more kept surfacing from the sand. Troubled by the possibility of a predator lurking underfoot, I unfurled my mindsight.

Strands of my will darted out, encompassing me in a bubble of awareness twenty yards in radius. Eight shining consciousness were within range. All were aboveground, though, and accounted for by nearby players. I relaxed minutely and turned back to the distant monsters.

They were all under attack.

As soon as a new dungeon denizen emerged from the sands, players mobbed it. My lips twisted unhappily, finally understanding why Moonshadow had labeled this place ‘a cesspool.’

Despite the abundance of hostile life in the dungeon, there was almost nothing to fight. And given the hordes of players charging back and forth or throwing spells with abandon, the chances of me suffering ‘accidental’ damage were high.

Worse yet, not every battle I witnessed was between players and monsters. I counted at least three different skirmishes between large groups of players—fighting over kills or loot chests.

It was a free-for-all.

Clearly, the plague quarter’s ‘unwritten rules’ didn’t apply to its dungeons. I sighed, not at all eager to join in the madness.

But I’ve come all this way already. The least I can do is explore the dungeon more fully.

Readying myself, I cast my buffs.

You have cast reaction buff, increasing your Dexterity by +4 ranks for 20 minutes.

You have cast lighten load, reducing your total armor penalties to 0% for 20 minutes. Net effect: +3 Dexterity and +1 Magic.

The corners of my lips twitched upwards. Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the dungeon, I couldn’t help but be pleased by the performance of my upgraded buffs. Their effects were perceptible now.

Right, let’s have at it, I thought.

Jumping down the ridge, I headed deeper into the dungeon.

~~~

The sand shifted under my feet as I slid down the dune, but I was agile enough to maintain my balance. Other players, I noted, weren’t faring so well in the terrain.

All around me, I saw mages slipping, archers stumbling, and fighters falling over—sometimes even while in the midst of battle. But none of their mishaps proved costly. Almost always, they were saved by their companions. What my fellow dungeoneers lacked in skill, they made up for with numbers.

Nearly every party had more than ten players—more than twice the Game-recommended size. Idly, I analyzed some of them.

The target is Wayne, a level 101 human sharpshooter.

The target is Lagar, a level 112 giant shieldbreaker.

The target is Nek, a level 103 saurian wizard.

The target is …

The scorching dungeon was clearly not the haunt of high-ranked players.

Nor the most skilled, I thought disparagingly, watching the antics of one particular party. Despite the overwhelming odds in their favor, the two dozen players were making a hash of battle against their solitary target. Skirting around the chaotic skirmish, I turned my attention to the dungeon denizens themselves.

They were uniformly large, menacing, and more interesting than my fellow players.

Most were giant scorpions—rust-colored and armored in chiton. Some were mammoth worms—with pale, translucent skin and teeth larger than my arms. There were even a few flying monstrosities—flying raptors, sleek and agile. Picking out targets at random, I analyzed the dungeon creatures.

The target is a level 140 giant rock scorpion.

The target is a level 130 sand worm.

The target is a level 145 desert raptor.

My interest quickened. The dungeon denizens would make for worthy adversaries and were sure to reward me with enough experience to make the trip here worthwhile.

I only needed to find one to fight.

Perhaps things will be quieter away from the safe zone, I thought and scanned the horizon.

At the very limit of my vision, I noticed a dark tinge. It was still too far away to make out clearly, but I suspected whatever it was, it marked the limits of the dungeon. Fixing my gaze on the distant speck, I headed towards it.

A little later, my suspicions were confirmed, and the far-off smudge revealed itself to be a towering obsidian wall. It extended hundreds of feet into the sky—at one time both too tall and too smooth to scale.

Right, that has to be the edge of the dungeon.

It took me another ten minutes to reach the wall, and when I did, I couldn’t resist running my hand along its polished black surface.

Immediately, a Game message blared in my mind.

This is the boundary of sector 101. The barrier protects the sector and its occupants from the dark miasma of the nether that lies on the other side. Warning: once the barrier is crossed, there is no way back. Re-entry into the dungeon from the nether is not permitted.

I dropped my hand hastily.

I’d had my fill of the nether already and didn’t want to risk returning to it so soon. In fact, knowing the nether lay so close, I felt a strong desire to retreat. Stopping myself, I glanced around.

It appeared I was not the only one who was reluctant to remain near the wall. There were fewer players in the area than anywhere else in the dungeon.

Perfect.

Stalking clockwise along the barrier, I began hunting for my first kill.

~~~

Five minutes later, I was still looking.

The hordes of players present elsewhere in the dungeon were absent around its rim, but so too, it seemed, were the dungeon’s denizens. I kept searching, though, intent on completing a full circuit of the dungeon before I gave up.

The entire time, the sun beat down remorselessly, and its heat, I realized, was a real danger—the dungeon was truly scorching.

Pausing to rest, I took a sip of water from my flask. Then another.

Not too much, I warned myself. I hadn’t thought to replenish my stores of water before entering the dungeon and would have to remember to do so next time—assuming I ever came back, of course. But for now, I needed to ration my intake. Reluctantly, I returned the water flask to my backpack.

That’s when I saw the sands ahead of me swirl.

I paused. The air inside the dungeon was still, with not even an errant breeze to relieve the stifling heat. Was something hiding under the sand? Extending my mindsight, I probed the area.

Nothing.

The sands shifted again, sinking slightly.

Frowning, I strode closer to the disturbance. I was in a shallow dip formed by the dune to my right and the sector barrier to my left. Consequently, I was partially hidden from the rest of the dungeon’s occupants.

If I’m lucky, perhaps there is a monster lurking under the sand—one I’ll have all to myself. I chuckled wryly. I was sure most people would find the thought passing strange.

But I was a player. And this was the Game.

Kneeling down, I removed my gloves and rested my bare palms against the grounds.

The sands vibrated minutely.

Something is definitely down there.

Whatever it was, it was likely far enough away to be beyond the range of my mindsight. Rising back to my feet, I re-equipped my gloves and drew my stygian blade.

I took one last look around. No one was nearby, but I doubted it would remain that way if a monster showed up. I shrugged. There was nothing I could do to stop other players from interfering except to kill the emerging creature quickly. Time to do this, I thought and stamped down with my foot.

The sands’ movements grew more agitated.

I waited, hand tightening around the hilt of my blade, but nothing surfaced. Let’s try that again. Jumping up, I stomped down again, harder and with both feet this time.

The ground trembled.

I smiled. That's done it.