Their first stop was the Adventurers Guild. They needed to meet with Mable and gather as much information as possible about the dungeon—entry requirements, what to expect, and any recent rumors. Ethan wanted every edge he could get before taking the Pack inside for their first real run.

  Pixie trotted ahead, ears perked. Moose kept a steady pace at Ethan’s side, while Lyra and Amelia stuck close behind. Buster, of course, eyed every food stall along the way, making hopeful noises until Ethan nudged him back into line.

  When they reached the Guild hall, Ethan led the way inside, scanning the common room for Mable’s familiar face.

  Nobody he knew was in sight, but after a couple of weeks of training, he knew his way around the hall. Most days, if he needed Mable, she was buried in the back offices.

  Sure enough, as Ethan made his way past the front counter, he spotted Mable stepping out of the office. Her hair—usually locked in a tight bun—was coming loose in wild wisps, and her glasses perched crooked on her nose. Before he could say anything, Aldric emerged from the same doorway, his shirt untucked and a smug edge to his smirk. Ethan raised an eyebrow, and Aldric tried to hide a grin, giving Ethan a quick nod before making a hasty retreat down the hall.

  Mable caught the look between them, cleared her throat, and quickly tried to smooth her bun and straighten her glasses. “Oh—Ethan! Good timing.” Her usual sparkle was just a little dimmed by embarrassment, but she still managed a friendly smile.

  She glanced at the Pack, then back at him, making an effort to keep things light. “What can I help you with today? Paperwork, training, or something a little more interesting?”

  Ethan glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I’m planning my first dungeon run with the Pack. I figured I should get as much information as possible before we go in. Anything you can tell me would help.”

  He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought stuck: First dungeon. First time leading them into danger, on purpose.

  Mable seemed grateful for the change of subject. She straightened up, her usual businesslike manner returning. “If we’re talking dungeons, let’s get more comfortable. Come on—my office is open.”

  She ushered Ethan and the Pack inside, closing the door behind them. The office was cluttered—stacks of ledgers, spare paperwork, and a few half-finished cups of tea—but at least it was quiet. Mable waved Ethan to the guest chair, and the Pack settled in wherever they could find space. Moose stationed himself by the door, Pixie and Amelia curled up near Ethan, Lyra perched on the edge of a side table, and Buster poked hopefully at an empty teacup before flopping down.

  As Mable crossed to her desk, she dropped a loose sheaf of papers. Lyra caught them mid-fall without standing, handed them over silently, and didn’t say a word. Mable blinked, nodded thanks, and moved on.

  Once everyone was settled, Mable set her papers aside and leaned forward, her tone focused. “Alright. Let’s get you up to speed. What’s your goal for this run? Are you looking to clear the first floor, test your footing, or something else? I’ll give you everything the Guild knows—entry procedures, known hazards, monster types, and the best strategies for a first-timer.”

  She flipped through a file, pausing over a rune-etched crystal. “Dungeon hazard tags were just updated this week. Celdoras is on rotation, so a few of the lower tiers might have shifted.” She frowned slightly. “We’ve had some odd reports lately—nothing conclusive, but worth noting.”

  Mable reached under her desk and pulled out a strange metal tool and a large storage bin of empty glass jugs. She set them both on the table with a clink.

  “You’ll need these,” she said, holding up the tool. “Slime scooper. Guild-issue. The wide end’s for collecting cores or residue—especially from the rarer variants. And the jars are for anything you can’t identify on the spot. Alchemists pay well for fresh samples.”

  Pixie perked up. “Wait. You expect me to carry goo in jars?”

  Mable gave her a dry look. “No. Ethan does the scooping. Obviously.”

  Ethan took the tool, gave it an experimental twirl, and grinned. “Great. Just like old times—except back then I was scooping poop out of the backyard while Pixie pretended to be too delicate to go unless the grass was short.”

  Pixie reeled back like she’d been slapped, ears flattening as she spun on him. “EXCUSE me?! I always went where I was told! I was being polite! You told me where to go!”

  “Yeah, and then you glared at me like I’d insulted your ancestors,” Ethan said, still grinning. “Half the time you’d do that little circle dance and then fake me out by going on the patio.”

  “I WAS LOOKING FOR DIGNITY!” Pixie barked. She turned sharply, curled up with her back to him, and made a low offended huff.

  She angled her head just enough to shoot him a glare over her shoulder. “AND EVER SINCE WE STOPPED LIVING IN A TENT OR SLEEPING OUTSIDE I HAVE BEEN USING THE TOILET.”

  Ethan blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it, but she was right. He hadn’t cleaned up after anyone since arriving in this world. He realized then just how crass he’d been—thoughtless in a way that hit deeper than he meant.

  “Sorry,” he said again, this time softer. “That wasn’t fair. You’ve been doing everything right. I mean that.”

  “If you want to make it up to me,” Pixie muttered, still facing away, “you better get me a present or something.”

  Ethan nodded. “Alright. Deal.”

  Pixie gave a tiny sniff, satisfied, and finally let it go.

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  They got back on topic.

  Mable passed over a folded parchment. “Here’s the current drop list. Look for binding cores, dense gels, anything mana-reactive or glowing. If you’re not sure, scoop it. If it twitches, scoop faster.”

  Buster gave the jar bin a wary sniff. “You better not try to shove one of those things in my storage band. I swear, if I find goo in there next to my jerky—”

  Moose didn’t look up. “If that happens, discard both immediately. Contamination risk is high.”

  Buster growled. “Not funny.”

  Mable ignored them. “Dungeon’s classified C-rank. Three floors, no shortcuts. Most locals don’t bother with it beyond the first layer, but it’s stable and logged. Good starting ground for new teams.”

  She unrolled a rough map. “Floor one: slimes. All types. Levels range four to twelve, no boss. You’ll see mostly physical slimes—impact and grapple types—but there’s the occasional mana-reactive blob if a caster’s been through recently. Bring back anything that glows.”

  “Second floor has old golems mixed in,” she continued. “Leftover constructs from whatever structure this used to be. Levels go ten to twenty-four, and you’ll face a boss at the end of the floor—usually a rune-stamped brute that’s slow but heavy. Avoid the overhead swings. They crack stone. Oh—and watch for the pitfall near the second junction. No warning signs, just drops straight into a binding trap. It resets weekly.”

  “Levels on floor three start around sixteen and top out mid-thirties,” Mable said. “It’s mostly slimes again, but smarter, faster, and meaner. Condensed cores, elemental types, sometimes linked in swarms. Floor boss is usually a crystal golem. Big one. Level thirty-plus, depending on rotation.”

  She tapped the map’s bottom tier, where red ink circled the final room. “If you see anything that doesn’t match the bestiary, collect the remains. The Guild’s still tracking rare spawns. Especially on the last floor.”

  Lyra crossed her arms and leaned in slightly. “Does the Guild have confirmed data on elemental resistance types? Or is that still just field reports?”

  Mable gave a quick nod. “Mostly field. Some of the swarm types seem to inherit resistances from whatever they take down, but it’s inconsistent. You’ll want to test carefully.”

  Lyra didn’t say anything else, but she made a mental note for later and glanced at Amelia, who watched everything around her in silence, studying every detail as if the world might change if she looked hard enough.

  Mable leaned back slightly, studying them. “One more thing—don’t get cocky just because it’s a slime zone. I’ve seen more than one rookie party wiped out because they underestimated what’s waiting on floor three. Slimes don’t need intelligence to kill you. Just enough mass, the right angle, and a blocked hallway.”

  Her voice cooled a little. “And if it starts feeling off—strange pressure, distortion in the air, flicker in your bond—pull back. Don’t try to fight through it. Anything like that could mean the dungeon’s pulling from corrupted layers.”

  She let the warning settle, then reached over and nudged the bin of jars. “Now. Goop patrol awaits.”

  Ethan folded the map and tucked it away with the scooper. “Thanks, Mable. We’ll pick up a few things, then head out.”

  Mable gave a firm nod. “Good. Just—don’t lean too hard on physical attacks. Slimes are half immune to blades and blunt force. Magic’s the only thing that breaks them down cleanly.”

  Ethan didn’t flinch. “You’ve had a front row seat. We’ve been on the same page for weeks since you swore that Oath.”

  She snorted. “Exactly. Gwenna and Aldric might keep things quiet, but I know what I signed up for. And I’ve watched your team work. You’ve got tools most people never will. Don’t waste them.”

  Pixie’s tail thumped once. “She likes us.”

  “I like preparation,” Mable said. “You’re starting to look like a real team. Just don’t die and ruin it.”

  Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We won’t.” Her voice was calm, but there was no doubt she meant it.

  Ethan gave her a real nod this time. “We’ll do our best.”

  Before Ethan departed Mable’s office, she handed him a couple of sheets of paper. One listed quests, rewards, and other materials that people normally collected from the dungeons. On another sheet was a small map—one for each floor. “If you complete any of the quests, come see me,” Mable said. “I’ll make sure you get your rewards.”

  Since they were already at the Guild, Ethan decided they might as well use the private training hall and get some practice in before heading out. After weeks of grinding, everyone had new tricks to show off, and Ethan figured it was time for a quick preview.

  Pixie was the first to jump in, crackling with energy as she darted across the worn stone floor. The lightning that trailed her paws was sharper than ever, bright arcs snapping in her wake.

  Buster followed, skidding in a circle—flowers and little vines sprouting in every crack of the flagstones he touched, wild and cheerful as always. He tried to launch himself at a chunk of stone Moose raised from the floor, but halfway through, the wall thickened and Buster bounced right back. Moose gave a slow, satisfied nod and reinforced the barrier even more. “Not today.”

  Lyra’s foxfire flared, blue and clean, tracing patterns in the air before snapping into tight, controlled orbs around her fingers. She barely even looked winded.

  Amelia hesitated, then let her shadow spill out, stretching across the stone. Her focus sharpened; the darkness flickered, bending in strange ways as she pulled it back under control—almost like a softer, quieter version of a shadow jutsu. Ethan caught himself smirking. Next thing you know, she’ll be using it to catch somebody by the ankles. He almost said as much, then decided he’d save the Naruto reference for later.

  They ran through a few team tactics—Pixie darting ahead to draw an imaginary threat’s attention, Buster laying down a tangle of vines to trip up anyone who gave chase. Lyra coordinated with Moose, sending a flare of foxfire just as he shaped a slab of stone to shield her flank. Amelia’s shadow curled around the group, flickering at the edge of the light, always ready to snap closed or disrupt an enemy’s line of sight.

  Ethan watched it all, calling out quick orders, until Moose gave a quiet, “Ready,” and stepped aside.

  Ethan stepped forward, facing the battered training dummy at the far end of the hall. He summoned his sword from his ring storage—a blade that looked cleaner and sharper than it had in weeks. The edge shimmered faintly, runes worked along the fuller catching the overhead light.

  He took a breath, focused his mana, and brought the sword down in a single, fluid arc. The blade sliced through the dummy cleanly, barely slowing as it parted wood, cloth, and sand. The sword’s edge pulsed with the glow of its recent enchantments: sharpness, self-repair, and a low hum of arcane conductivity. The dummy toppled in two pieces, both ends cauterized, not even a splinter out of place.

  Aldric, who had wandered in somewhere during the last round of drills, let out a low whistle from across the hall. “You know Mable’s not going to like the fact you destroyed another one of her dummies.”

  Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

  Aldric just grinned. “I heard you and your team are heading out to the dungeon in the next couple of days.”

  Ethan nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  “Well, good luck out there,” Aldric said. “From everything I’ve seen in here, I think you’ll do a damn good job.”