For the first time in what felt like forever, someone entered Erin’s dungeon.

  Due to the construction upon the surface, the adventurers who arrived were all hands-on-deck. Affiliates of the Guild, they accepted temporary quests to work alongside the earth mages and the Viscount’s architects.

  Most of them, in fact, put their skills to use in clearing the oak forest. Their blades, often enchanted or crafted from magical beast, severed the thick oak’s without contention.

  Once the forest was cleared, they moved onto sorting the gravel. Men and women alike carried tons of gravel to and fro’, wherever they were directed — the adventurers obliged.

  Anything for the quest. Erin supposed.

  In the meantime, Erin of course observed the construction above him. Although it wasn’t his primary focus, his senses naturally grappled with the changes upon the surface.

  He was appreciative of the architecture — something to rip-off and use for himself later — but the Guild Hall, its marble columns, its flying buttresses, its ribbed-vaults...

  Had Erin not seen these things before?

  The buttresses adorned upon the columns of the Guild Hall — were they not the same buttresses Erin had designed for the Acorn Halls?

  They were covered in vines and foliage and acorns hid among them, thankfully though — they could not copy all of Erin’s tricks.

  The marble floor that Erin had designed for one, the complex puzzle of leaf-sized tiles that rotated in a circular pattern… it seemed that was too difficult for the earth mages to mimic.

  Or they simply found the practice unnecessary or too complex — either way — Erin dubbed it a personal victory over humanity.

  The act of copying Erin’s design, however, was interesting in of itself.

  Would the entire cityscape mirror his Roman-acorn theme? If so, why?

  For what purpose would man do that?

  Through his inspection of the Guild Hall, Erin also discovered the temporary name granted to his dungeon: Oakroot Catacombs.

  Catacombs? Erin questioned.

  Aren’t catacombs reserved for skeletons?

  Should I add a skeleton floor now?

  … how the hell do I even animate skeletons?

  Are they just bone golems? But that doesn’t sound right…

  Erin ultimately decided to ignore the ‘catacombs’ portion of his name. Maybe one day, but that day surely would not be this one.

  The day after Hyzen arrived, he trekked to Erin’s dungeon.

  According to the paperwork littered around Hyzen’s office, it was now his job to get to know Erin on a personal and deep level — figuratively and literally.

  Monthly reports, quests all-encompassing of Erin’s resources, rating Erin’s floors, rating his creations, discovering applications of Erin’s unique flora — Hyzen was in-charge of all things Erin.

  And to be quite frank, Erin appreciated it.

  How convenient for Erin to have a local file-room dedicated to himself, one that he himself did not have to organize? It also provided Erin with access to everything the Guild had on him — invaluable intel to say the least.

  “Did you pack the butter-berries?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “With the ice crystals? You know they must be stored with the ice crystals.”

  “Yes, Master. With the ice crystals.”

  “Did you remember to bring my square pillow?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And my-”

  “Master?” Martha interrupted.

  Hyzen shifted his gaze from the dungeon’s entrance unto her.

  “What is it, my apprentice?”

  “May I ask a question?”

  “For what is a Master if not to answer their apprentice’s inquiries — please, by all means, my apprentice.”

  “Have I ever forgotten to pack something, Master?”

  “…”

  Hyzen looked at Martha with a single eyebrow ajar.

  “Very well, then. Let’s get going, shall we?”

  Hyzen walked ahead with his notebook in hand.

  Behind him, Martha skipped along with a backpack strapped to her shoulders. A notebook hung from her waist, beside a darkwood wand with a single rune inscribed upon its handle.

  Familiar with the layout, Hyzen and Martha made quick work of the Bat-Apes meandering about. For all of the kills, Hyzen subdued them whilst Martha finished them.

  Hyzen was incredibly quick on his feet. He moved with a practiced grace around the dungeon and easily slipped past the Bat-Ape’s large forms. Their wide swings and slow blows cascaded around the man, unable to reach him.

  Meanwhile, Hyzen attacked their pressure points. Once he got behind them, Hyzen pressed the tips of his gloved-fingers against the Bat-Ape’s necks.

  He applied pressure to their napes, their shoulders, and their thighs — and within moments — the beasts collapsed onto the ground like wet noodles.

  They squirmed and howled, trapped in a body that would not listen to them, until Martha severed their lights.

  “Hoarfrost’s Circle: Icicle.”

  From the tip of Martha’s wand, a small icicle formed — two inches in length, small but dense — then exploded with unmatched ferocity.

  The icicles slid between the Bat-Ape’s brows and penetrated their brains, instantly killing them. The icicles did not completely penetrate the Bat-Ape’s skulls, however, so each of them were left with an ice spike drilled into their foreheads — and like the sap of a tree, their blood dribbled slowly.

  Due to the previous reports, Hyzen and Martha also knew of the gasoline trap; thus the two hopped into the fountain long before even slaying the final Bat-Ape.

  For the water, Hyzen sealed his notebook within an enlarged waterskin. Martha did the same.

  Post the dungeon shaking explosion, the duo encountered Smoky; and like the last time he was here, Hyzen did nothing more than bob and weave Smoky’s attacks.

  Left to Martha’s discretion, she unstrapped her backpack and chucked it far away from her.

  Whilst Hyzen distracted Smoky, Martha searched for a specific page in her notebook; unlike her Master, she could not draw and fight at the same time so she’s instead filled her notebook with an onslaught of various useful conjurations.

  “Oh! Here it is!” Martha chirped.

  “Origami Arts: Pyromaniac!”

  Martha tore the page from her notebook then tossed it into the air.

  The piece of paper burst into a brilliant display of flames.

  From the flames, a devilish smile formed.

  The flames fluttered to the ground and molded together. An imp formed: small, red, plump, and with flames emitting from its tail and tongue.

  The fire imp howled excitedly as a look of absolute intoxication warped its tiny face.

  Meanwhile.

  “Hoarfrost’s Circle: Freezing Touch!”

  Martha cast her spell unto the fiery imp. Immediately, its once bright yellow and orange flames turned opaque white.

  Frost trickled off of the flames and shades of blue and violet erupted off their edges.

  “Now go, Pyromaniac!”

  The devilish imp need no more.

  Drunken on power, the toddler-sized beast stormed across the arena and charged towards Smoky.

  The imp — smaller than one of Smoky’s nails — showed no fear in the face of the beast.

  Instead, the imp laughed maniacally.

  Smoky naturally noticed the little creature’s approach and promptly swung his cracked acorn down onto the imp. The acorn’s razored edge slammed into the imp and crushed it beneath its weight.

  Yet the laughter continued.

  The flames flickered.

  The white flames of frost raptly spread across the golden acorn and unto Smoky’s paws.

  The flames consumed.

  They covered Smoky head-to-toe, but instead of ash and soot — Smoky’s movements slowed.

  His black lips turned purple.

  His breaths stilled.

  Smoky shut his eyes. He swayed back and forth and then…

  *BOOM*

  His massive figure collapsed to the ground; cold.

  Dead.

  Hyzen and Martha stepped past Smoky’s still corpse; they were not here to collect hide and fur, but to adventure further beyond.

  They descended the spiraled steps and arrived at the so-called catacombs.

  Three forks split the road.

  According to the Scouts intel, the second floor’s pathways now changed; the map Kuzo recorded was null.

  Nevertheless, Hyzen chose left.

  ***

  At the same time, Cassian began construction of his lab.

  He picked an outcropping of land cush against the mountain; its rear kissed the mountainside, allowing Cassian to potentially build into the mountain itself.

  It was a large outcropping of land, but not one egregious, a few acres worth at best.

  Cassian divided it into three buildings: the greenhouse, the testing facility, and the laboratory.

  The greenhouse sprawled across the territory’s left, along the tree line of oak’s that enclosed the land.

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  The testing facility was in the back against the mountainside; so that if anything were to go wrong, such as an explosion, the mountainside could absorb some of the damage.

  The laboratory, meanwhile, sat in the front of Cassian’s land; it stood before the testing facility, slightly adjunct to its right.

  The greenhouse was the smallest, the testing facility was the largest, and the laboratory was the tallest — the only two-story development on the land.

  The first floor of the laboratory was just that, a laboratory. Beakers and test-tubes lined the walls, metal tables filled the space, and two cauldrons sat on opposite ends of the lab.

  Beneath the cauldrons, Cassian drew runes. The runes encircled the cauldrons and when Cassian was finished, the runes ignited and an intense, although tiny, red flame flickered to life.

  The flames tickled the underbelly of the cauldrons, and soon thereafter, the cauldron’s bottoms lit orange.

  Above the laboratory, Cassian’s personal space occupied the second floor; a large bed sat against one wall, a lightwood desk across another, and an obscenely large bookcase rested upon the final available wall.

  The bookshelf was empty now, but soon, Cassian believed he would fill it with his discoveries.

  After he tidied his bed, Cassian returned to the ground floor where Dublow was hand-laying bricks from the laboratory’s entrance to the entrances of the other buildings.

  Meanwhile, Seven occupied herself with the topography. She planted flowers alongside the edges of the buildings and hung bird-feeders from the oak’s around the land.

  In under a day, Cassian’s compound was complete; hollow, but complete.

  From underneath his robes, Cassian retrieved a scroll. He unfurled it and read its contents.

  “Manacorns and glowing algae…” Cassian muttered to himself.

  He handed the scroll to Dublow.

  “Get me these things.”

  “As you will.” Dublow pocketed the scroll and left.

  “Seven.” Cassian called out.

  The teenage girl popped her head out from over a bush.

  “Yes?”

  “The Viscount is throwing a ball soon. Get him a gift befitting my father.”

  “It shall be done!”

  Seven hurried into town.

  Cassian, left alone at his compound, strolled its grounds.

  He walked with his hands clasped behind him, his chest forward, and his chin held high.

  While he walked, Cassian chanted aloud.

  “Bed of thorns, of blood and ichor,”

  “Alight the night, brood come hither,”

  “Ignite the scorned, drink meat and wither,”

  “Dead by light, curse man and flicker.”

  “Book Of Willow: Bed Of Thorns.”

  From behind Cassian’s stride, roses bloomed. Each step he took, a flower grew.

  The roses grew large and their thorns sharp. From the thorn’s tips, an eerie black sap dribbled down its stem.

  As Cassian walked along the perimeter of his compound, the roses followed. By the end, a ring of rose bushes surrounded Cassian’s land.

  When he was finished, he returned to his laboratory.

  He had a ball to prepare for, after all.

  ***

  To Erin’s surprise, Hyzen chose the correct path; the easiest of the two, as well.

  It took the duo a meager six hours to reach the bridge. In the dark, they stood just beyond its first steps.

  Turquoise algae grew from the ceiling above in addition to small patches underneath the bridge with most concentrated around the pillars.

  Hyzen peered into the abyss. He counted the bridge’s columns, yet still, he knew they continued passed the dark.

  A Batarang plunged from the sky and Hyzen caught its slimy embrace between his gloves.

  *pop*

  Hyzen dropped the corpse.

  “What should we do, Master?”

  Ironically, Hyzen had the same question.

  Bridges were already a point of contention within dungeons; they almost always spelled bad news.

  And the bridge that spanned before him — well — Hyzen didn’t know bridges could be so long. For a length of this distance, wouldn’t it be wiser to simply scurry across the ground? Or go around all-together?

  Hyzen looked down unto the abyss, into the canyon of shadows.

  Was it even possible to survive down there? Hyzen had no way to know.

  “Origami Arts: Sun’s Grace.” Hyzen ripped a page from his notebook.

  He flicked it into the air. The page burned brilliantly.

  A sun hovered, born from the page, an orb of light pushed back against the dark.

  “Go.” Hyzen commanded.

  The orb of light drifted across the bridge.

  It passed the first column and continued.

  Ten minutes went by.

  The orb of light grew smaller and smaller as it floated further and further — until it stopped.

  The orb froze in the vast distance.

  Hyzen cursed.

  That was the limit of his magic’s range — 1,000 meters.

  Yet still, the orb of light revealed nothing special upon the bridge thus far; so Hyzen recalled the miniature sun.

  Then, he sent the light down into the abyss.

  The light sank further and further.

  It revealed some Bat-Apes clung to the walls, but once more, the light stopped and continued no more.

  Both the canyon and the bridge exceeded 1,000 meters.

  Just wonderful. Hyzen thought.

  More minutes passed in silence.

  Given the free time, Martha redrew the Pyromaniac in her notebook. She also sketched the Bat-Apes and the Batarangs — an assignment from her Master.

  “Martha?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “How long do you think you can maintain Lunar Petals if that’s all you cast?” Hyzen asked.

  “Um… a few hours? Four, at best — two and a half, at worst.”

  “Cast Lunar Petals and drop a handful every two minutes. Stay behind me and stay close. Consider this an A-rank encounter.”

  “Yes, Master!”

  Martha flipped through her notebook. She tore a page.

  “Origami Arts: Lunar Petals!”

  From her palms, iridescent flower petals materialized; they glowed soft, gentle, and pure.

  Hyzen, meanwhile, directed the orb of light in front of them. He maintained its position five hundred meters ahead.

  Then, Hyzen stepped onto the bridge.

  Two minutes later, Martha dropped some petals.

  They continued on.

  They passed one column then another.

  Ten minutes later, a shrill cry struck the air.

  *BOOM*

  The orb of light ahead of them popped. It vanished without a trace alongside a loud crash and a rumbling that shook the bridge.

  “It’s here…” Hyzen said quietly.

  “According to the reports, it should return to the sky.”

  “Be ready.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Hyzen closed his eyes. He focused through his ears.

  He listened to the breeze. To the change in the currents.

  He listened for large gusts of wind displaced by the beast’s wings.

  Martha, on the other hand, bore into the abyss.

  With glowing petals in her hands, she could faintly see her immediate surroundings, but there was a clear cut-off.

  Following the Lunar Petal’s glow, there was a ring of darkness that surrounded her and her Master.

  She stared at the ring ahead of them — at the wall of black — she strained her eyes in an attempt to peer past it and into the dark.

  While she gazed into the abyss, Martha soon saw something gaze back.

  She saw beady, red eyes.

  She saw a curled smile decorated with razored teeth.

  For a moment, Martha went cold.

  “NOW!” Hyzen roared.

  Blood rushed through Martha’s veins. Adrenaline surged.

  Her and her Master dove to the ground.

  *BOOM*

  The Vesperclaw slammed into the stone beside them and slid across the bridge.

  Her Master was already to his feet.

  “Origami Arts: Stone Giant!” Hyzen yelled.

  He crumpled his piece of paper and threw it towards the Vesperclaw.

  Mid-air, the crumbled paper hardened and expanded. In a matter of seconds, it grew to the size of a boulder.

  *BOOM*

  The boulder crashed unto the Vesperclaw.

  From the boulder’s form, two arms and legs spread out and clamped around the Vesperclaw.

  The Stone Giant pinned the Vesperclaw to the ground. It slammed its mouth into the stone and tore at the beast’s wing.

  “SKAAAAAA!!” The Vesperclaw wailed.

  It squirmed in the Stone Giant’s clutches, but the giant proved sturdier than the beast.

  The Stone Giant wrapped its hands around the Vesperclaw’s neck and squeezed.

  *CRACK*

  The sound of the Vesperclaw’s neck snapping echoed throughout the underground cavern.

  Then, for good measure, the Stone Giant tore the beast’s head off and rolled it along the floor towards Hyzen.

  Hyzen stopped it beneath his boot.

  “Excellent work, Rocky!” Hyzen gestured a thumb’s up.

  Then, he squatted beside the beast’s head.

  “Unfortunately a new specimen does call for samples… how annoying…”

  Hyzen drew his butcher’s knife from his belt. He harvested the Vesperclaw’s eyes, a tooth, saliva, blood, fur, nails, and its heart.

  By the time he stuffed it all into Martha’s backpack — Martha nearly toppled over from the added weight.

  That was the issue with larger beasts, all of their parts were too damn big!

  The Vesperclaw’s heart — alone — weighed upwards of thirty pounds!

  Not to mention, Hyzen and Martha still had to travel to the dungeon’s third floor where, presumably, even more new beast’s roamed!

  Hyzen would need to pack even more!

  Make me the damn Guild Master! Hyzen puffed.

  While he carved out the beast’s heart, Hyzen naturally stumbled upon its core as well.

  The Vesperclaw’s core was smaller than its heart, but still rivaled the size of an adult man’s head. It was pitch black with minuscule splotches of red blooming throughout.

  Hyzen was thankful the cores couldn’t leave the dungeon; if he had to carry those heavy things out too… he might have to quit the Guild altogether.

  Cores could, of course, leave a dungeon’s grounds eventually — but only once the dungeon had been conquered.

  When conquered, a dungeon’s soul dies and its influence over the cores within itself is removed; thus allowing for the cores to leave — dead or alive.

  This is also the reason why a dungeon’s inhabitants cannot leave the dungeon itself — their cores are strictly bound to the dungeon’s core.

  For as long as the dungeon core remains, the beast’s within cannot escape.

  What about collapsed dungeons, you say?

  A collapsed dungeon is a dead dungeon.

  It simply died as a result of excess mana load instead of its own defeat.

  Nevertheless, Hyzen and Martha discovered the end of the bridge.

  It led to a pathway of stairs that hugged the edge of the canyon’s walls. The staircase descended into the abyss, and past the bridge, there were no more splotches of algae to provide light amidst the dark.

  Martha still had her petals, luckily.

  She dropped one on each descending step and after an unnecessarily long time — they arrived at the Vesperclaw’s nest.

  Four towering columns surrounded a center-bed of gray sand. Pinned to the center of each column, dim torches flickered delicately.

  The torchlight illuminated the walls where unfamiliar runes and depictions graced their surface. Martha saw stick figures gathered en mass; they surrounded a fire that burned taller than a house.

  Within the flames, other stick figures were bound.

  Martha’s eyes scanned the next image.

  The stick figures danced around their burning brethren. They threw flowers both into the air and onto the flames.

  They held hands as the flames turned to ash.

  Shivers travelled down Martha’s spine.

  Could a dungeon have history?

  Well of course they had a history… but these were depictions of man… no dungeon had ever recreated man.

  In any form.

  Sapience was a gift granted by the Gods — as such — only the races with Gods possessed it.

  So the dungeon could not be immortalizing its own history — but one of man’s.

  But this was an undiscovered dungeon until recently.

  For these types of depictions to appear on the third floor…

  “Ignore it.” Master’s voice was the first sound to be heard in a while.

  Martha pulled her eyes away from the depictions.

  She looked at her Master.

  Hyzen stood in the center of the Vesperclaw’s nest, his boots nestled in the sand.

  “Come here.” He said.

  Martha obliged.

  The Master and apprentice stood together in the center of the gray sand.

  “Origami Arts: Sun’s Grace.”

  The miniature sun returned.

  Its light illuminated the cave and upon the ceiling above the nest — a small crystal ball sat entwined within the stone.

  The crystal ball captured the light and lit on its own.

  *rumble*

  The sand beneath them quaked.

  As it shook, the rough shape of stairs revealed themselves.

  After a few more moments, the sand had all but retreated and another spiral staircase stood amongst their path.

  “H-How did you know, Master?”

  “The ritual on the wall is certainly concerning, but it gets the message across: start a fire.”

  Martha’s eyes glowed as she looked at her Master. He was — without a doubt — the best Master there was.