My night was pleasant. No distractions and thankfully no midnight adventurers rocking up and demanding service. While I was busy implementing the new decisions I had made about the direction of my life—and my house.

  Especially money wise.

  I got up as early as humanly possible, which was difficult given the fact my phone was still giving me the silent treatment.

  After a quick shower, brushing my teeth, and general skin care. That fancy Korean one just works you know. I ravaged my wardrobe.

  Opting in for a style change, just for today: The day I decided to fully lean into my new life and give this Safezone a proper try.

  A nice suit and tie, with my hair slicked back with so much gel, it looked like painted concrete.

  But damn do I clean up nice.

  Quite handsome if I do say so myself. Even practicing a few poses and how I should stand at my counter. “Hello, welcome to Greg’s Safezone.”

  No, that’s too formal.

  “Sup bitches…”

  What are you doing Greg?

  I sighed and groaned my way down the set of stairs. Banners were already hanging over the dungeon entrance and my office. With as much creative genius as a two year old that discovered finger-paint.

  I’m exaggerating… nervous you know.

  The dungeon clock was ticking away near the top of my view. Bringing on a new kind of anxiety I hadn’t felt in a while.

  Whoever was coming through that door, would get the best version of Greg. “The helpful operator from dungeon B-22, at your service.”

  For compensation of course.

  After waiting a while, I decided to have some breakfast. Since working on an empty stomach does no one any good.

  “No cereal though.” Tapping the handle of my fridge, while going through the empty shelves… like something were to appear at any moment.

  Buying things from the FoodLocker was out of the question. I wasn’t going to spend my hard earned gold coin on a packet of chocolate flakes.

  No matter how fucking hard they’d go right about now!

  Hhhh. Sighing again and grabbing my emergency breakfast for champions: The ultra-deluxe cookie dough protein bar. “Now with extra Brotein.” And no, I wish I was joking. They actually printed that shit.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  It wasn’t great. Chalk mixed with whatever synthetic stuff they’d try to pass off as cookie dough.

  About halfway through, I heard that soft rattle of the handle being pushed down. Making me shove that soft brick down my throat and run toward it.

  The door opened and through it, a small robed figure emerged. It didn’t look up and simply walked past me. Great, another dwarf. “Good morning and welcome to Greg’s Safezone. Are you in need of assistance? Look at you go Greg, bloody nailed that.

  My smile dropped, when I saw the person turn to me—then collapse.

  “Shit! Hey, you ok?” Pacing around it like a Raven trying to find an opening to a takeaway wrapper.

  I ran over to my kitchen… I mean office and grabbed a broom. Then ran out of breath on the way back. “Who. Has the time… to exercise.” Gasping for air in between my words.

  I poked the person once. Then twice. Then thrice? “Hey, if you’re dead, don’t say anything.”

  What?

  “If you’re alive, s-show me something.”

  The body jiggled a bit, trying to prop itself onto their hands and knees. But dropping down a few times with a wet sounding thud. A noise I remembered all too well after the orc.

  I moved their hood back to determine A, if they were severely injured, and B, what race I was dealing with. When I was thoroughly shocked at the sight of two horns poking out first, followed by angry red eyes second.

  Oh fuck…

  Was what I should’ve yelled instead of thought. Instead, I was sent flying with a kick to the groin. A move so cowardly, I determined C—female.

  “Why… Jesus, why the nuts?!” I screamed in an octave that would probably break record, and glass.

  “Why’d you poke me with a spear?” The now fully confirmed female voice responded.

  “Spear? It was a broom! This is a no-fight zone.”

  Now offering a No-Nut zone as a safety feature. Good god sometimes I wish these zingers would come, when I actually needed them.

  “Truce? Please!” I squeaked.

  “Fine. Just stay over there, you humans have a tendency of lying.”

  Fair point.

  I got to my feet, legs angled inward to keep pressure on the wound and hobbled my crippled self to the counter. All the while glaring at her red eyes. “What are you, a demon or something?”

  “Dragon-hybrid. Not that it matters, since your kind has hunted us to extinction.” Her sharp teeth glinting beneath my downlight LED’s.

  “First of all, you’re in a human’s den, so to speak. So take your Smaug attitude elsewhere.” I retorted while placing a cold compress onto my jewels. “Why’d you wander into my zone anyway? And wounded no less.”

  Silence.

  “You can give me the cold shoulder all you want, but eventually that door will open again. With a high percentage of a human adventurers passing through.”

  I heard a soft sniffle following my last statement and adjusted my tone. New Greg is better than making people cry. “Sorry, just… tell me how I can help.”

  The discount dragon made her way to my counter and rested her hands on top of it, head barely clearing it. “Cost?”

  “Your firstborn.” I chuckled, but was met with a glare so cold, I felt no more need for the compress. “A-a joke, sorry… poor taste. Consider it free of charge for now, until you cause me trouble. Then I might change the price.”

  Her red eyes looked to the side and then reluctantly held her hand out; claws looking as sharp as kitchen knives.

  Should probably invest in some sort of gauntlets in the future. “How about we just verbally shake on it.” Giving her a warm smile, but unable to not gawk at those long black claws. They looked like someone had literally asked a nail technician for kitten claws, but to make them “Edward.”

  She nodded and looked back at the dungeon entrance. “So what now?”

  What now indeed…