The Dread Spider spun around, shooting out a glistening rope of silk from the rear end of its bulbous abdomen. The strand whistled through the air, before hitting the goblin square in the chest.

  The minion went down hard.

  It squirmed. It groaned. It made an attempt to rise, only to find itself quite literally glued to the floor. It desperately tried to tear away the threads, but the silk was thick and sticky, so it couldn’t get free. The more it struggled, the further its movements got restricted. It wriggled like a fly caught in a web, and about as effectively.

  “Interesting,” said Viktor, who was observing the Dread Spider as it demonstrated its ability.

  Even though he had already known what these creatures could do, witnessing it firsthand was also very important. In order to use them effectively, he needed to fully understand their strengths and weaknesses.

  He stepped closer to study the ensnared goblin. “Looks like the projectile strikes hard enough to incapacitate any small-sized creature,” he mused. “Might not knock down a human, but they would be immobilized, or at least slowed down significantly.”

  He gave a gesture, and the standby goblins scrambled to help their fallen comrade. They drenched the cocoon with water, before trying to break it by hacking and pulling. The silk clung on stubbornly, of course. It was thick as tar and twice as unforgiving. But eventually, with enough effort and cursing, the goblin flopped free, wet, exhausted, and visibly questioning its choice to volunteer for this experiment.

  [Do the results meet your expectations, Master?]

  “Yes,” Viktor replied. “It’s very informative.”

  He glanced at the three Dread Spiders skittering across the room. He had spent 100 mana to summon them, and then used this entire morning to find out what he had paid for.

  The experiments indeed yielded a lot of valuable information. He had learned that these creatures could shoot threads of silk up to fifty paces, though both the power and accuracy of their shots diminished with distance. They could also fire three times in quick succession before drying out, and after that, it would take a whole day for their spinnerets to fully refill.

  And the most interesting part? They actually needed to physically rotate their bodies to shoot at their targets. Silk was produced in the glands at the back end of their bodies, after all. The process was quite awkward in practice.

  It turned out that in the wild, Dread Spiders used this ability defensively. If they were being chased by predators, they shot behind to hinder their pursuers. But when they needed to catch prey themselves, they did what any spider would: spin a web and wait.

  In a dungeon, however, the Dungeon Core could coordinate multiple Dread Spiders, directing them to shoot silk from different directions to effectively immobilize an intruder, making them very useful minions.

  “But I doubt that’s enough to deal with a Gold,” Viktor said. Adventurers of that rank were seasoned fighters who had raided countless dungeons and battled monsters of all shapes and sizes, so they definitely knew how to deal with Dread Spiders. Fire, water, or just a very sharp blade. There were countless ways to destroy their webs.

  [You believe that those two Gold-ranked adventurers will invade our dungeon, Master?]

  “I don’t know,” Viktor replied, shaking his head. He still hadn’t figured out their true intention yet. “But let’s assume the worst and make a plan for that.”

  He had checked and confirmed that Lahmia and Azran were indeed staying at the Emberwood Inn. Thus, he went there every day to monitor their activities.

  The duo didn’t seem in any particular rush. They rolled out of bed late, they took their time with their breakfast, and they didn’t head out until it was approaching noon. So even though Viktor didn’t leave his house until after Claire had gone to work, they were still at the inn when he arrived. He waited outside and tailed them when they finally made their move, keeping his distance to stay unnoticed.

  He learned that every day, without fail, the duo would leave Daelin and venture into the surrounding forest. He didn’t dare follow them, though, as he couldn’t risk being seen. Instead, he remained in town, waiting to see when they would return. And sure enough, they only came back to the inn when the sun was about to set.

  When night fell, they went to the Guild. Azran, as usual, drank alone in a quiet corner at the back of the mess hall, well away from the others. Lahmia, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Men swarmed the moment she sat, drawn to her like moths to a flame. They bantered and they flirted, yet Viktor couldn’t help but notice how, gradually, deliberately, the woman steered the conversation toward the woods, subtly asking the men if they had seen anything unusual.

  “They’re definitely up to something,” Viktor said, furrowing his brow.

  [What are you going to do, Master?]

  “They’re in the forest now,” Viktor said. When he came to the dungeon today, he had to be especially careful to avoid running into them. “If they follow their usual routine, then they won’t be back until sunset. So I’ll try to break into their room to see if I can find anything.”

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  [Please be careful, Master.]

  Even though the Dungeon Core uttered those words, its monotonous and indifferent tone made it hard to believe there was any genuine concern behind them. He was under no illusion that it cared. Perhaps it was just repeating the set phrases a servant was supposed to say to a master in this situation. On the other hand, if something were to happen to him, the Core’s plan could be jeopardized. Thus, while it might not say it out of any affection for him, it did have a vested interest in his safety.

  “I know,” he replied, turning toward the door.

  Still, it was not like he could head straight there after leaving the dungeon. No, he had to take care of the usual routine first: going home to make lunch, delivering the food to the Guild, then sitting down to have a meal with dear sister. Only after everything was finished could he make his way to the Emberwood Inn.

  Viktor had asked around beforehand to learn which rooms belonged to the two adventurers. Now was the time to make good use of that information.

  The main hall of the inn also functioned as a tavern. As he stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by the aroma of various dishes the patrons were having for lunch. There was hot soup bubbling in large pots, roasted meat sizzling near the fire, fruit tarts with their sweet fragrance, slabs of creamy butter and wedges of ripe cheese sitting next to just-out-of-the-oven loaves of bread. The scent made him feel hungry again, even though he had just eaten.

  Ugh, I want to eat fresh meat sometime soon.

  But now was not the time for such indulgence. He needed to find a way to go upstairs.

  Nobody was really paying attention to him right now, as it was common for kids to go in and out of the inn, running errands or delivering messages to the guests. Nevertheless, getting to the private rooms unnoticed was a different story.

  Which was exactly why he chose this time of day to come here, since it was when the inn usually had—

  “A song! A song!” a very fat merchant yelled, raising his tankard. “Come on, bard. Sing us something new.”

  The crowd cheered, their eyes fixed on a young man dressed in flamboyant attire standing at the center of the room. The man gave a bow to his audience, his fingers resting on the strings of his lute.

  “My dear friends,” the bard began. “Today, I bring you the tale of a princess. Not just any princess, mind you, but one who’s known for not only her beauty, but also her courage. She was a woman who did not wait for fate to find her, but took it boldly by the reins and shaped her own destiny. She ventured into the lair of the Tyrant, the very heart of his domain, and stole all of his artifacts. Her name was,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Princess Celestia of Brefjord.”

  Viktor grimaced.

  Out of all the people he can sing about, he chooses her?

  The ballad started, and the audience cheerfully joined in the chorus, clapping along to the rhythm. Viktor stood still for a moment, then he shook his head.

  There’s no point thinking about her. She’s long dead now.

  He moved closer to the wall, staying behind the crowd as he made his way upstairs. With everyone focused on the bard and his song, no one was looking his way.

  He pushed open a door on the second floor and stepped into a hallway. The distant sounds of the crowd’s singing faded as he walked through the corridor.

  Lahmia’s room was at the end, while Azran’s was the one right before it. Breaking into both rooms was too much of a risk, so he had to choose one. He had decided to investigate the bald man’s room, as even now, he still knew next to nothing about him.

  Viktor took a deep breath and glanced around, making sure that no one was nearby, then pulled out the lockpick tools he had prepared. He had practiced on other doors, including ones of his own house, so this should take only a few seconds.

  He dropped to one knee beside the door, ear pressed against the surface, his eyes narrowing as he strained to catch every sound. With a click, the door opened. Putting the tools back into his pocket, he slipped through the gap. He turned and held the doorknob as he eased the door closed, and only released it when it had settled into place.

  He quickly scanned the room, searching for anything that might reveal what the duo was plotting. It was modestly furnished. Bed, table, wardrobe. And it looked barely used, as if Azran only returned here to sleep. If he took all his belongings when he went out, then Viktor was not going to find anything of significance here. Perhaps he would have to break into the other room as well.

  Nevertheless, he opened the wardrobe to see if there was anything inside. He found some clothes and a worn leather bag. He inspected it. More clothes, a few coins, several potions. And a folded map.

  He spread it on the table. He recognized it as a map of the area around Daelin, with the town in the middle and the woods surrounding it. And there were circles. One after another, freshly inked over the trees, each marking a specific area, with a date written inside. It appeared to indicate the locations they had searched on specific days.

  Obviously, they were looking for something in the forest, but he still didn’t know what.

  Always assume the worst.

  And what was the worst for him at the moment?

  Dungeon Reavers.

  They were adventurers who made their living by stealing dungeons. The moment a new dungeon was formed, they raced to get there before anyone else, stormed in, crushed the meager resistance, and seized the Dungeon Core. Then, they would sell it to the highest bidders. After all, there was no shortage of rulers who wanted a dungeon within their territory.

  There were Reliquaries that could identify and give out warnings when a new dungeon emerged. Viktor knew because he used to have one in his collection. They couldn’t provide the exact location though, only a general area, so the Reavers needed to go to the site and find it themselves.

  In such cases, asking around about missing adventurers made sense. There was a chance that someone had accidentally stumbled upon a dungeon, gone in, and never come out. And the place where they were last seen provided a good starting point for the search.

  Viktor knew all of these modus operandi. Yet, he had never given it much thought, as he doubted that there would ever be any Dungeon Reavers near this region. After all, there had been no dungeons emerging in the area for three hundred years—

  No, wait.

  A sudden realization struck him. Maybe... just maybe... there had been dungeons, but the Reavers always got there first. They came and stole the Cores before the locals even realized what was going on. In other words, the people of Daelin had been living in ignorance, oblivious to the fact that they had been constantly robbed for a century.

  Not this time.

  This dungeon was his, and no thieves would be allowed to take it from him.

  Viktor looked at the map again. Lahmia and Azran were combing the region surrounding Daelin in an expanding spiral, leaving no corner uninvestigated. At the current rate, they would reach where his dungeon was located in seven or eight days.

  One week. He had only one week to prepare for the invasion.