“Good job, Kazyk,” Viktor said. “I didn’t think you’d finish it this quickly.”

  The gremlin boss gave a low bow, all jagged teeth and wild eyes. “I serve and obey, Master.”

  He looked proud, and rightfully so.

  Two nights ago, right after Ekon’s grand announcement and Dagnar’s unexpected pledge to join the bald man’s expedition, Viktor didn’t waste even a second. He marched straight back to Lloyd and Alycia’s table, grabbed the blonde by the shoulder, and dragged her back to her workshop. He wanted the rotator. Immediately.

  From the workshop, he had hauled the thing back home, then called up Celeste to teleport him straight into the dungeon. There, he handed Kazyk the project: integrate the rotator with the ballista. To make sure it would get done, he summoned fifteen more gremlins on the spot to help out with the job.

  And now, his chief gremlin stood before him, as smug as a cat with a stolen fish in its mouth.

  “Have you tested it?”

  “Of course, Master. Fired a dozen bolts. No problems at all.”

  “Good.”

  And perfect timing, too. Because the expedition had already begun.

  “Where are they now, Celeste?”

  [They have just arrived at the second floor, Master. They will reach the desert soon enough.]

  There were years where nothing happened, and days where everything happened. That old saying held more truth than most people realized. And that was why preparation mattered. Because when the world suddenly lurched into motion, only those who had planned ahead could move with it, ride the chaos instead of being swept away. All the hard work he had poured in over the past few weeks had been for one single moment. And that moment was nearly here.

  Of course, things had deviated a bit from the original plan. Initially, he had intended to spring the trap on Dagnar and Brynhildr alone, once they entered the mortuary complex. But now they had company, which complicated everything. Still, he knew better than to wait for perfection. A chance to lure that pathetic fool into a coffin with his name written on it didn’t come often, and it damn well wasn’t coming again soon. Better to take the shot now than live with regret later.

  On the other hand, Ekon and his companions were indeed an unknown and dangerous variable. They looked competent, but the worst part was that he didn’t know much about their abilities. He had only seen Ba’atar and Renee in action, but not the other two. That was the cost of playing the long game, keeping the dungeon’s difficulty low to give his prey a false sense of safety. The catch was that his future enemies never had to reveal all the cards they held.

  He did try to learn more about them, of course, by asking around the Guild. However, with Renee as the exception, the other three had all taken different career paths before recently switching to this line of work, much like Brynhildr, so their current adventurer rank might not reflect their true power.

  Well, perhaps he should aim to separate the two groups, then throw everything he had at Dagnar and Brynhildr while the others were away.

  Viktor closed his eyes and sent his vision forward, across the dungeon floors, to the blazing brightness of the kingdom of sand on the second floor. The sudden shift to the blinding glare of the false sun overwhelmed him, and it took a couple of seconds for him to regain his focus. Below, the desert stretched endlessly, dunes of sand stirring beneath the whip of the dry wind.

  There they were.

  Tiny figures moving between broken columns in one of the ruins, about halfway to the walls of the mortuary complex.

  They were fighting.

  Just like the last time, from Ekon’s party only Ba’atar and Renee were engaging the skeletons. They were joined by Brynhildr, and the three of them made short work of the shambling, animated corpses. Meanwhile, Ekon, Mandragora, and of course, Dagnar, stood back and watched.

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  Didn’t you want to impress the girl? Viktor chuckled. What was the point of marching all the way here if he was just going to stand around while the target of his affection broke spines and crushed ribcages all by herself?

  Ekon stepped forward as the last of the undead was mashed into powdered bone under Ba’atar’s heel. “Good work, everyone,” the bald man said. “No injuries, I hope?”

  “None whatsoever,” Renee chirped, wiping sweat from her face with the back of her glove.

  “Excellent,” Ekon said, clapping his hands once. “Let’s take a short break here. Then we move straight for the gate.”

  Renee wasted no time sprawling into the shade of a half-collapsed stone wall, unstrapping her water flask and draining like half of it in one go. A short distance away, Brynhildr stood with Ba’atar, giving a few words of praise for his strength, to which the Easterner replied with his usual “Uh.” Meanwhile, Dagnar skulked in a corner, occasionally sneaking a glance at the bubbly girl when he thought no one else was watching.

  “What do you think?” Mandragora asked, her voice pitched low, just loud enough for Ekon to hear, but no one else.

  The bald man glanced at her. “About what?”

  “What else? Our two new companions.”

  Ekon rubbed his chin, his gaze drifting across the rest of the group. “Brynhildr’s strong. That much is obvious. Dagnar, well... He’s harder to judge.”

  “You mean useless?”

  Ekon chuckled. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s that simple.” He paused. “It’s hard to explain, but I’ve a feeling that he’s more than he appears. I’m not going to underestimate him, Mandra.”

  “Hmm,” the Druidess murmured.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “If it were just up to me, I’d write him off. But I trust your judgement.”

  “We’ll see what he’s made of,” Ekon said, eyes narrowed at the looming structure in the distance. “Soon enough.”

  Mandragora followed his gaze. “What do you think is in there?”

  “I don’t know,” the bald man replied. “There used to be a staircase leading to the water realm on the third floor, but that path had collapsed. Roughly at the same time as the revelation of this desert. Some people think it’s just a coincidence. Others blame reckless demolition caused by people throwing explosives around without thinking. But... I’m not convinced.” He sighed. “Either way, there’s no other way forward now. Except through that building.”

  “This dungeon is strange,” Mandragora said, taking a deep breath.

  “It is.”

  This guy was too competent for Viktor’s liking. From this conversation alone, he would have put him at Gold-rank at the very least, even though he didn’t have the slightest idea what the bald man could actually do.

  Ekon, that was his name. Took some other path in life before turning to adventuring, apparently. What exactly, though, Viktor could not say. His skin was darker than most Southerners Viktor had encountered before, not the usual sun-kissed brown but a deep midnight black, which meant he was from the far south, well past the Kingdom of Sargan, probably the same land Lahmia hailed from. Viktor didn’t know much about the people from that part of the world, so there was no basis for him to make any deduction. Well, Lahmia was a pyromancer, so maybe he was one, too?

  This was troublesome, no doubt. Viktor really didn’t want to deal with someone like this, especially not now, when he had bigger fish to fry. Still, it wasn’t the end of the world. There would be plenty of opportunities to separate them once they got into the long, narrow corridors of the tomb. A well-timed wall raised by Khenemhotep could cut their formation in half, and with a bit of luck, it might even leave Dagnar alone and completely isolated from everyone else.

  “Alright,” Ekon said. “That’s enough rest. Everyone, we move.”

  Renee leapt to her feet like exhaustion had never touched her, and practically bounced toward the bald man and the Druidess, her feet barely touching the ground. Ba’atar lumbered behind, the curved greatsword on his back swinging with each step. Brynhildr watched them go, then turned her gaze to her nephew. With a groan, Dagnar hauled himself upright and trudged along after the others.

  They made their way across the desert, hopping from one ruin to the next. They fought skeletons, then moved on. Fought more, moved again. Over and over.

  Eventually, they reached the high wall, its long, cool shadow extending into the dust like an invitation.

  “It’s... it’s much bigger than I thought,” Renee murmured as she stared up in awe.

  Well, that tends to happen when you walk closer to things.

  Still, she wasn’t wrong. Even from a distance, the size of the wall was already impressive. Up close, it was monumental. A damned impossibility. It didn’t look built so much as grown, rising from the sand like the remains of a slumbering titan, a vast ribbon of limestone stretching endlessly in both directions. It looked new, but it felt ancient. Its surface was unnaturally smooth, without any seam or crack or joint. Yes, the entire perimeter wall was one single rock.

  There were no towers, no parapets, no banners. Just a barrier, and a single opening in the middle of it. A grand archway stood embedded in the wall, wide enough to march a small army through. There were no carvings, no glyphs, no inscription. Just a shadowy passage yawned beyond the gate like a waiting throat.

  Cautiously, the adventurers passed beneath the arch and into the colonnade. Ba’atar and Renee took the lead, weapons already in hand. Next came Ekon and Mandragora, walking like they had all the time in the world. Though they looked calm on the surface, Viktor would bet good coin that they hadn’t let their guard down even one bit. Brynhildr followed, her gaze in constant motion, right and left, up and down, as if she was expecting ambushers lurking behind those massive pillars. And finally, bringing up the rear in every sense of the phrase, was Dagnar. Head hung low, shoulders hunched, the man trailed behind the rest, dragging his feet like someone on the way to their own funeral. Well... yes, exactly.

  Then, the colonnade opened into a vast courtyard.

  There it was. The mortuary complex.