Seconds after Lyra went berserk, Kuzo used the last of his mana to activate an Artifact given to him by the Duke.

  The Artifact, known as “Pocket Space,” was an S-rank Artifact from a dungeon long defeated. During the days of Duke Moor’s youth — when he traveled all the East — the collapse of an A-rank dungeon awarded him with Pocket Space.

  Over the years, the Duke and his late wife inhabited the private, little space; they decorated it to their tastes — “a home away from home,” she used to call it.

  It was one of the Duke’s most-prized possessions; and also the only wild card he had left to play in this across-the-sea-dungeon-debacle.

  The plan was fairly straight-forward, really — use Bram’s life as collateral to obtain unfettered access to the dungeon, regardless of whose land it occupied.

  The Empire was, of course, aware of the existence of Pocket Space — all S-rank Artifacts were subject to inspection under Guild Law, but it simply did not matter if the Empire knew.

  The crux of the matter still pertained; Bram was alive in the dungeon — the shady details aside — his rescue must be ordained as a member of nobility.

  What the Duke hadn’t planned on, however, was the existence of Erin interfering with the Artifact.

  For the moment Erin realized he could not manipulate the glass cube directly — he sealed it in stone.

  Something to research later! Erin thought.

  Then, he shifted his attention to the shores above.

  ***

  On the Western front, far removed from the mundane life of the Empire’s common folk, the Minister paced to and fro’ in his bunker.

  The knights still aligned the walls.

  The scholars still scribbled amongst their scrolls.

  Then, a scuffle broke out from beyond the bunker’s doors.

  “You can’t enter right now!”

  “The Minister is not accepting visitors!”

  Ironically, the bunker’s doors burst open anyway.

  The crack of wood against the walls stunned the scholars. All in the bunker, in fact, looked up from their work and cast their gaze towards the bunker’s doors.

  An old man casually strode in. He carried a crooked posture, his wiry frame draped in a ghostly cloak — iridescent patterns along his sleeves.

  His face held a roadmap of wrinkles, framed by a beard that cascaded down like smoke, but held deep within his irises — a sharp, twinkling light displayed a glint that betrayed his aged exterior.

  A warped hat perched precariously atop his head, as if daring gravity to snatch it away, and a gnarled staff rested in his palm — carved of lightwood — a soft glow emitted off the staff’s tip.

  As he casually strode through the bunker, no knight stopped him. His stride was off-kilter, his smile sly, he moved quicker than what was expected of a man his age and before anyone could respond — he stood beside the Minister.

  “Must you spend your days wallowed away in this dastardly place?” The old man looked around.

  “Tell me, Drake — where is the rest of your family at a time like this?”

  The Minister stared coldly at the old man. There weren’t many men in this world who could openly call his name like that — and if the Vice-Guildmaster were here — it meant Minister Drake was about to receive some not so fortunate news.

  “What do you want?” The Minister replied.

  “I believe you meant to say, what do you want, Master?” The old man corrected.

  The Minister wiped his face with a damp towelette and plopped down into his seat amongst the others.

  The Minister didn’t speak. Instead, he continued to stare at the old man.

  The old man, meanwhile, cast his gaze around the room; he looked at the maps adorned along the walls, the knights gathered around — he even studied some of the documents displayed across the bunker’s center table.

  “To what do I owe this gracious visit of yours, Master?” The Minister spat out.

  The old man immediately tossed out a bundle of scrolls from beneath his cloak. The scrolls unfurled along the table beside the Minister.

  “This is?”

  “It’s the Guild’s full report detailing the new dungeon discovered along your coast.” The old man said.

  “Dungeon? Why are you-”

  “The dungeon will be under the Guild’s jurisdiction.”

  At this, the Minister’s interest was piqued. The Guild wouldn’t send out their Vice just to appease him, Drake knew better than that.

  “Are you going to inform me wh-”

  “The Empire currently has dominion over two unique dungeons: The Library and the Hallowed Halls. One is exclusively reserved for your Royal Academia while the other is too high-ranked for the mundane fellow to access.”

  The old man continued.

  “Furthermore, once this little crusade of yours is over — the Empire will gain access to the Uncanny Valley, yet another unique dungeon.”

  “You fear our consolidation of power that much?” Minister Drake smirked.

  “Oh yes. I am simply shivering in my ol’ knickers.” The old man rolled his eyes unscrupulously.

  For a split second, Minister Drake and the Vice-Guildmaster shared a moment from the past, but just as quickly as it had appeared — the Minister’s new responsibility cut it short.

  “And why would I allow that?” Drake’s gaze sharpened and whatever chemistry was there before had raptly been severed.

  The old man, unperturbed, answered whilst picking his ear.

  “The Guild is willing to completely sponsor the creation of a fledgling city around the dungeon for a five year control period.”

  Suddenly, the real negotiations began.

  After an intense back-and-forth and an official write-up from one of the scholars seated below — the contract was signed and the deal was made.

  The Adventurer’s Guild was granted dominion over the unique dungeon, temporarily tagged “Oakroot Catacombs,” for the duration of ten years; in exchange of, the Adventurer’s Guild must construct a city befitting a Viscount around the dungeon; and must also construct roads to and between the new city and the Empire’s nearest city and capital.

  For order of completion, the Guild must complete the city within one year and the two roads within the next year. Within that time frame, the Minister must appoint a Viscount to the newly developed region; and must designate state funding for the region's military and navy (as the city will have a port; seaside dungeon’s be damned).

  In addition to dominion over the dungeon itself, the Adventurer’s Guild will be warranted rights to establish its own branch within the city; both main and subsidiaries depending.

  And finally, the Empire must receive a 20% discount towards any goods — magical or mundane — that therein originate from the Oakroot Catacombs.

  “Construction starts in a month.” The old man said.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  With that, the Vice-Guildmaster strolled out of the bunker and passed the knights who once barred him. His objective here was complete.

  Meanwhile, Minister Drake returned his attention to the war-effort. In all honesty, he was glad the Guild took the dungeon off of his hands; and they were even paying for it?

  In ten years, when the war was over and the Empire stretched along all the West — from coast to coast — then he could care about things like dungeons. And lucky him — in ten years — it’d be his anyway.

  ***

  Upon the shores above, Erin eavesdropped.

  Kuzo laid a map across a wooden table.

  The map depicted Erin’s dungeon — first and second floors included. It showcased the entirety of the first floor; and now, even the second.

  The map highlighted the path to the end, to the mile long bridge where the Vesperclaw roamed.

  Within the tent, Kuzo and the Scouts gathered around.

  Kai and Weylin studied the map. Amara and Viv spoke amongst themselves and Sten… he stood in silence.

  “The third floor?” Kai asked as his fingers roamed the parchment.

  “We’ve yet to breach the third.” Said Kuzo.

  “Hmm… And the fourth born?”

  Kuzo sighed. “We’ve yet to locate Bram as well.”

  “His traces roam among you.” Sten said loudly, interrupting the conversation.

  Kuzo shot Sten a glare, but before the others could notice — it vanished.

  Kai, meanwhile, continued none the wiser.

  “For his traces to be among us, the fourth born must have spent a lot of time on the second floor — or is perhaps still on the second floor…”

  Kai looked towards Kuzo.

  “The second floor Boss… what did you call it… a small bat dragon? Could the fourth born have defeated it alone?” Kai inquired.

  Kuzo scratched his chin.

  “Bram would certainly have an advantage against something in the air…”

  “So it’s a possibility.” Kai stated.

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll raid the dungeon once more. If we can — we’ll explore the third floor and share our discoveries — if not…”

  “We get to go home?!!” Viv shouted.

  “What? No. We-”

  “I am hungry.” Sten said.

  “…”

  Meanwhile, Erin memorized Kuzo’s map.

  He had just shy of ten hours until they raided the dungeon once more. Within that time span, Erin needed to either create a third floor or modify the first two.

  Naturally, Erin chose the latter.

  He snapped his attention to the dungeon’s grounds. With Kuzo’s map memorized — Erin changed it all.

  He rerouted the second floor in its entirety, but even more than that — he created secret pathways.

  Erin willed moving walls into existence, their weight moved by sheer fantasy — mana in action.

  Furthermore, every hour, on the hour, the second floor would now switch between four preset configurations. One configuration would lead the adventurers nowhere — every path and junction within it led to deadends; it was a configuration built solely for trickery.

  From there, Erin created three more; two of which led to the final bridge — one of which led around the canyon, or in other words, another deadend.

  The path that led around the canyon was the longest; it had the adventurers scale the floor’s outskirts, a twelve hour round-a-bout — nothing but a waste of time.

  But Erin wanted more; he meticulously added runes to the surroundings of the second floor that produced endless fog. Thus, with a horde of Batarangs assaulting them — the adventurers would get lost in the fog, wasting even more of their precious time.

  The two working and effective configurations, meanwhile, were reminiscent of the floor’s original design.

  One was quite simply the original pattern but reversed; Erin added more traps, he boosted the Bat-Apes and Batarangs breeding cycles, and he also dispersed some of the fog over the maze; so that — during certain periods of the day — some paths would be considerably more dangerous than others, even further reinforcing the adventurers to choose the wrong path.

  For the second ‘working’ configuration, Erin planned something new.

  He installed spike traps and arrow traps and a few wobbly floors that led into the abyss — the standard.

  Then, Erin created a reward, like the manacorns. Erin figured that, if he wanted to delay the adventurers one way or another, what better way than to instead direct their attention elsewhere?

  Why descend when you can get everything you want up here? Erin grinned maniacally as he built his treasure.

  Somewhere on the second floor, hidden behind a wall that only revealed itself during this particular configuration — a room adorned in silver light waited.

  The room had stone walls and a stone floor — it wasn’t too glamorous — but within its center sat a pool of water just large enough to fit two bodies.

  The water boiled over; it steamed and bubbled from the runes inscribed underneath. All along the pools outer-edge, small, shiny pearls illuminated the dark with clean, white light.

  Steam filled the air.

  On the bottom of the pool’s floor, in the direct center of the water — one, large pearl stood out from the rest.

  Not only was the pearl ten times larger than the others — Erin also scribed a rune upon it.

  “Clean.” It read.

  In whatever geometric, ancient language Erin’s mana wrote in.

  With this “treasure,” Erin was interested in discovering two things; first, if Erin could not manipulate human’s directly — could he manipulate them second-handedly?

  As in, with the laundry pearl? Would the pearl’s clean-effect work on the human’s who enter the water or would it only work after they’ve left?

  Second, Erin was curious as to how the adventurers would react to such a visible, and albeit useless, rune. To be more specific, this would be the first rune revealed; all the others that Erin had created before existed behind the scenes.

  How would the adventurers appraise the rune?

  Is the language that mana is written universal or is Erin doing something completely new?

  The reactions to this laundry pearl meant a great deal, surprisingly — and it’s also the reason Erin chose something as mundane as “clean.”

  Erin didn't want to appear too dangerous, after all. He needed to balance the line in between — strong enough to not be conquered, but not too strong as to invoke fear and urgency.

  And who doesn’t like clean clothes? Erin thought.

  By the time Erin finished, dawn broke.

  ***

  The Scouts rose from their slumber alongside the rising sun.

  They ate a hearty breakfast — meat and beans — then trekked up the rocky spires.

  The first floor hadn’t changed much, as such — it proved no issue.

  In under an hour, Smoky lay dead.

  As the party of five descended the abyssal staircase, Kai led with Weylin on his flank.

  Sten stood behind the two; his body so large the width of his shoulders nearly reached each of the walls.

  In the back, Amara and Viv remained vigilant.

  Their party of five stepped into the enclave and immediately, Kai halted.

  Before him stretched three individual paths, a fork split before him — three paths emerged when historically, there had only ever been one.

  Even Viv, who became familiar with Kuzo’s map overnight, spotted the difference.

  “So I don’t mean to point out the obvious but-”

  “We go left.” Kai decided quickly, interrupting Viv in the process.

  Their party of five veered left and the assault of the Bat-Apes and Batarangs began.

  For hours, the black-charred beasts poured out of the dark and into the dim light.

  With his glaive, Kai split heads and severed wrists; Weylin, meanwhile, tore across the floor and cut into flesh and bone.

  Viv enhanced the group with her support spells. Her brightly lit magic even fought against the dark for them.

  Sten, on the other hand, dealt with the beasts that slipped past the vanguard. He crushed them between his palms — large and meaty as they were — the forms of the Bat-Apes and Batarangs mangled in his grasp.

  While the rest fought, Amara silently observed. She stayed protected between Sten and Viv and occasionally casted a spell or two — but her presence remained minimal for the duration of this delve.

  Six hours in — hundreds of slain beasts later — whilst roaming the dark and decrepit halls of the underground labyrinth — the Oakroot Catacombs — fog began to consume the path ahead.

  The fog encroached upon the floor, it ensnared the Scout’s ankles and drifted up their legs — across their chests — until it blurred their vision.

  Alongside the heavy drapes of fog, the temperature plummeted. Their breath spewed thicker than the fog and their exposed skin prickled with goosebumps. At some point — the party of five stopped.

  They gathered together in the black-lit fog, careful of the edges, and sat upon the stone floor.

  Sten removed his satchel. From its depths, he retrieved a cast-iron pot, some grass, herbs, a can of spices, and a tightly-bound slab of cured meat.

  “Water.” Sten’s voice was deeply monotone.

  He pushed the gargantuan pot towards Kai, who muttered an incantation and brought forth water, filling the pot.

  Sten mixed the ingredients. He lit his Ember Stones — a unique gem from another dungeon, one that burned forever — or at least until it was intentionally snuffed.

  The pot boiled over, aromatic smells filled the air and meshed with the fog, and the Scouts ate their fill.

  Amidst the momentary calm, the party discussed the delve.

  The map proved useless; the pathways diverged and moved unexpectedly, and the horde seemed near endless.

  Ten hours in, the party of five stumbled upon a hole in the ground; the hole was large — more than enough to fit through — and surrounding it, no other detail of note stood out; just stone and black.

  Kai dropped a loose stone down the hole.

  After a few seconds, the stone hit the ground.

  Their party of five met eyes and nodded unanimously; then, Kai plunged into the hole.

  Followed by Weylin, Sten, Amara, then Viv.

  They dropped into an enclave encased in a turquoise hue; algae bloomed along the ceiling and upon the underside of the canyon’s ridge. The algae enchanted the dark and illuminated the space.

  Just beyond the party of five, a stairway of steps ascended — all too familiar.

  Opposite the steps, three paths diverged.

  Weylin looked at Kai.

  Amara at Viv.

  Kai at the diverging paths.

  “Are we…” Amara’s soft voice hesitated, unsure of herself. “…back at the start?”

  And indeed, they were.