The dungeon entrance looked different in daylight.

  It was close to Sector 7, but Tess had mostly seen it at night—empty, quiet, covered in warning signs about unstable Aether flow. Now, in the early morning of the fourth day with power, the plaza was packed with people.

  At least forty delvers, maybe fifty, clustered in small groups near the massive sealed doors. Most wore lightweight plasteel plates over reinforced fabric, the kind of armor that could stop a blade but wouldn’t slow you down. Others had rifles slung over their shoulders, or swords strapped to their backs, or worn-out gear that said they’d been doing this long enough to know what worked.

  Tess adjusted her tool belt and headed for the registration booth.

  BEE: You did not tell Marcus you were entering the dungeon.

  “I told him I was getting registered,” Tess murmured, keeping her voice low. “That’s not a lie.”

  BEE: Observation: you are employing technically accurate statements to avoid revealing your full intentions. This is the definition of deception by omission.

  “That’s… Well crap.”

  A pause.

  BEE: Statistically, he is equally likely to insist on coming along despite deteriorating health as he is to insist you don’t enter the dungeon. Both results are suboptimal.

  Tess almost smiled. “Thanks, Bee.”

  The registration booth was a prefab structure wedged against the plaza’s eastern wall, its sign reading DELVER REGISTRATION - TERTIUS-PRIME GUILD in faded lettering. A line snaked out from the window, maybe eight people deep, all waiting with varying degrees of patience.

  Tess joined the back of the line.

  The woman ahead of her, mid-twenties with a Ranger’s medium armor and rifle, glanced back, assessed Tess in about two seconds, and turned away with disinterest.

  The line moved quickly. Registration was verification, nothing more.

  When Tess reached the window, the clerk didn’t even look up. Tired-looking man in his forties, datapad in hand, expression that said he’d seen everything twice.

  “Name. Class. Level.”

  “Tess Rivera. Technician. Level 3.”

  Now he looked up.

  “Level 3?” He studied her face. “You look like a kid.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  “And you got Technician to Level 3?”

  Tess kept her expression neutral. “Tutorial had an Aether surge. Got lucky.”

  The clerk stared at her for another moment, then shrugged. “Being a Delver is mostly luck anyways.” He tapped something on the datapad. “Floor 1 access only. You want Floor 2 or deeper, you need a team. Minimum three people, and at least one of them has to be combat class Level 4 or higher. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Don’t die. It means I have to do paperwork, and I hate paperwork.” He slid a keycard across the counter. “Next.”

  Tess took the keycard and stepped away from the booth. He said the ‘don’t die’ to the next person in line, so he couldn’t have been that serious.

  BEE: That was remarkably efficient.

  “Delvers don’t like red tape,” Tess said quietly, clipping the keycard to her belt. “The less time spent registering, the more time spent delving.”

  She turned toward the plaza and the gathered crowd.

  The delvers had organized themselves into loose clusters, most grouped by team. A trio of Knights stood near the center, checking each other’s gear with practiced efficiency. Two Rangers were comparing rifles near the eastern edge. A lone man in Operator gear sat on a bench, reading something on a datapad and occasionally glancing at the massive dungeon doors.

  And there, near the front of the crowd, was a woman who didn’t belong here.

  She was tall, maybe six feet, wearing armor that cost more than most delvers made in a year. Polished silver plasteel with House insignia etched into the shoulder guards, form-fitting but clearly reinforced at every joint. Her sword hung at her hip rather than strapped across her back, the scabbard ceremonial but well-used. Her hair was dark, pulled back in an elaborate braid woven through with silver thread, and her posture radiated the sort of confidence that came from never having to prove yourself.

  Tess activated [ANALYZE] before she could stop herself.

  [BLADE DANCER - LEVEL 5]

  Blade Dancer, not Knight. A specialized class, Level 5. And fancy armor with House Tertian colors.

  And she was looking right at Tess.

  “You!” The woman’s voice carried across the plaza, clear and commanding. “Toolbelt. You’re here solo?”

  Every delver within earshot turned to look.

  Tess hesitated, then nodded.

  The woman strode over, her retinue of two other Knights following at a respectful distance. Up close, she was even more imposing, not through size but through sheer presence.

  “Petra Tertian,” she said, not extending a hand. “Level 5 Blade Dancer. You are?”

  “Tess Rivera. Level 3 Technician.”

  Petra’s eyebrows rose. “Rivera? Marcus Rivera’s daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hm. I’ve heard of him. Floor 25 veteran.” She glanced at Tess’s tool belt, then back at her face. “Technician at Level 3? Impressive.”

  “Got lucky with the tutorial.” Tess kept her tone neutral.

  “Luck has nothing to do with levels. You have to earn them,” Petra’s gaze was sharp, assessing. “Are you going in solo? First delve?”

  “Yeah. Just seeing if I can be useful.”

  “Techs are always useful. They open doors, bypass security, repair equipment mid-delve.” Petra gestured toward the dungeon entrance. “My family hasn’t sent anyone to the public entrance in years. The dungeon’s been too unstable, too dangerous for too little reward. But the Aether output increased yesterday. Systems that have been dark for decades are coming online.” She looked directly at Tess. “I’m here to see what’s changed. To assess whether House Tertian should resume dungeon operations.”

  Like, House Tertian? She wanted to ask. The House Tertian? The ruling family over the entire planet?

  But she kept her expression neutral. “That makes sense.”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I didn’t think nobles came to the public entrance.”

  Petra smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m a warrior first.” She paused. “If you’re planning to delve Floor 1, stay out of the eastern sections. My team will clear that section, and I’d prefer not to have complications. Going to push into floor 2.”

  The phrasing was a preference, but the tone made it a command.

  “Understood,” Tess said.

  Petra nodded once, then turned and walked back to her retinue without another word.

  Tess let out a breath.

  BEE: She seems… imperious.

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Tess muttered.

  BEE: Observation: Petra Tertian. Cross-referencing available data… House Tertian controls Tertius-Prime. This world is named after her family. Her presence here is significant.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  BEE: The Aether increase we provided has drawn attention from the ruling family. This is concerning.

  “We knew this might happen.”

  BEE: Knowing and experiencing are different. I dislike that she spoke to you. You are now visible to House Tertian.

  Tess moved toward the edge of the crowd, trying to blend in and process what had just happened. A Tertian. An actual Tertian here at the public entrance because Tess had increased the Aether output.

  Another delver approached, a Level 2 Ranger younger than Tess, maybe seventeen. “Hey, you’re a Tech, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s so cool. I heard Techs can see, like, nested structures and everything. Is that true?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Man, I should’ve gone for Tech instead of Ranger.” The kid grinned. “But I wanted to shoot things, so here we are.”

  He wandered off before Tess could respond.

  BEE: Observation: you are attracting attention despite your attempts to remain inconspicuous. This is likely because of your class and level. Technician Level 3 is uncommon, and solo Techs are rare.

  “Great,” Tess said under her breath. “That’s great. Should have said I was level one.”

  She found a spot near the western edge of the plaza, leaning against a support column, and pretended to check her scanner while she waited.

  BEE: Tess, I should clarify something about your class-scanning ability. You’ve mentioned that you were surprised to discover this function.

  “Yeah. I thought it took specialized equipment.”

  BEE: It does. The Network maintains strict control over class-scanning technology. Standard scanners cannot access class metadata. They require dungeon-level permissions and dedicated hardware. Even low-level inspectors like Senna Brennan do not have access to this capability. They would need to summon a System Manager to perform such scans.

  Tess stopped pretending to check her scanner and actually looked at it.

  “Wait. So me being able to see people’s classes and levels…”

  BEE: Is another significant advantage. Your [ANALYZE] skill grants access to dungeon-connected metadata, which includes class designations. This is because your class originated from the Repair Subroutine, which required specific access to manage systems despite the Network limitation to non-essential systems. You are effectively scanning classes with System-Manager authority.

  Tess thought about Petra. Level 5 Blade Dancer. She’d known that instantly, without even trying.

  “How much does class-scanning equipment cost?”

  BEE: Accessing market data… WARNING: MARKET DATA IS 7851 DAYS OLD. Standard Network-authorized class scanners range from 15,000 to 40,000 credits depending on functionality. They are restricted technology, requiring licensing and oversight. Most guilds cannot afford them.

  Tess had 110 credits to her name. Even then, that was more than she had earned all year.

  “So I’m walking around with the equivalent of forty-thousand-credit technology in my head.”

  BEE: Likely far more based on the stale dataset. I would suggest keeping this ability to yourself.

  “Yeah. No kidding.”

  The crowd shifted near the dungeon doors, pressing forward. Tess stood on her toes, trying to see over the shoulders of the delvers ahead.

  The massive dungeon doors were grinding open. Ten meters tall, reinforced plasteel covered in warning symbols and Network seals.

  And people were coming out.

  Tess counted five delvers stumbling through the widening gap. Four Knights and a Ranger, all looking worse than exhausted. Their armor was scorched black in places, the plasteel warped and bubbling from heat that should’ve melted straight through. Their weapons were sheathed but streaked with something dark that might’ve been blood or ichor or worse.

  One of the Knights was being half-carried by two teammates. What remained of his left leg was wrapped in emergency bandaging, the kind you applied when you couldn’t afford to stop moving long enough to do it properly. The fabric was already soaked through, dark and wet.

  The entire right side of his armor was melted, plasteel fused into his skin where the heat had been too intense for the material to hold its shape.

  “Medic!” one of the Knights shouted, voice hoarse. “We need a medic NOW!”

  The crowd parted like water.

  The medical team came running from the prefab tent, two people in faded vests marked with a red cross, carrying a stretcher and emergency supplies. They reached the injured Knight in seconds, one medic already cutting away the ruined armor while the other pressed something against his leg.

  “Thermal damage, third degree on the torso,” the first medic said, voice clipped and professional. “Get the burn kit. We need to stabilize him before transport.”

  The injured Knight’s eyes were open but unfocused, his breathing shallow and rapid.

  Tess couldn’t look away.

  The other delvers were talking now, voices low but urgent.

  “…got past the constructs but there was something else in the eastern hall…”

  “—shouldn’t have fire element on Floor 1, that’s not normal—”

  “—lucky we got out at all—”

  The medical team loaded the Knight onto the stretcher and carried him toward the tent. The other four delvers followed, moving like people who’d just survived something they shouldn’t have.

  BEE: The delvers spoke of fire elements? Floor 1 spawns rarely employ elemental damage. They may have pushed deeper than recommended.

  “Or Floor 1’s gotten more dangerous,” Tess said, her voice not quite steady.

  BEE: Also possible. Aether output increases may have affected spawn difficulty. I do not have current spawn distribution data.

  The doors were fully open now, revealing the dark entrance corridor beyond, lit only by emergency strips along the walls that cast everything in dim amber.

  “All new delvers!” The shout came from a guard stationed near the doors, mid-twenties in House Tertian colors with a rifle he looked like he knew how to use. “You’ve got five minutes to enter before the doors close! Miss the window, you wait another eight hours! Move it!”

  The crowd surged forward.

  Tess moved with them, carried along by the momentum of bodies pressing toward the entrance. The medical tent flashed in her peripheral vision, the injured Knight disappearing inside.

  Floor 1 is moderately safe, she told herself. Petra’s going to Floor 2. I’m just looking for maintenance tunnels. I’ll be fine.

  But that Knight’s armor had been melted.

  She crossed the threshold into the corridor.

  The dungeon swallowed her whole: wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, tall enough that the ceiling disappeared into shadow. The emergency lights gave everything a sickly amber glow, and the air tasted like metal and ozone.

  Other delvers moved past her, splitting into teams, checking weapons, activating portable lights. Voices echoed off the walls, sharp and focused.

  Petra Tertian passed on the left, her team moving in tight formation. She caught Tess’s eye and flashed a grin. “Good luck, Tech! Try not to get eaten!”

  Tess didn’t respond.

  She kept walking deeper into the corridor, following the flow of delvers ahead. The massive doors ground shut behind her with a sound like a vault sealing, but she was already twenty paces in, the entrance lost behind the curve of the passage.

  BEE: Tess, I am detecting your proximity to dungeon infrastructure. Signal strength increasing. I should be able to provide more direct assistance now.

  “Good,” Tess said, though her voice came out quieter than she intended. “I’m going to need it.”

  She could hear it now, the dungeon itself. Not a sound, exactly, but a presence: the hum of active Aether flow, the faint vibration of systems running beneath the floor, the sense that something vast and complicated was waiting just beyond her perception.

  “Bee,” she said, thinking of the Knight with the melted armor, “that guy who got burned… you said Floor 1 spawns don’t usually have elemental attacks?”

  BEE: Correct. Floor 1 spawns are typically low-threat constructs: mechanical units equipped with vibroblades and occasionally low-power energy weapons. They provide a minimal challenge to newly classed delvers. Floor 1 is considered the safest accessible floor in the entire dungeon structure.

  Tess’s steps slowed slightly. “But that guy was badly burned.”

  BEE: Yes. This is unusual. With increased Aether output, spawn parameters may have shifted. Higher energy availability could enable more complex behaviors or equipment loadouts. However, Floor 1 should still be well within acceptable risk parameters for delvers with combat classes.

  “What about Techs?” Tess asked.

  BEE: Technicians typically remain behind combat-class team members and focus on system manipulation rather than direct engagement. Your strengths lie in accessing restricted areas and bypassing security, not combat.

  Tess’s steps slowed further. The delvers ahead were pulling away now, disappearing deeper into the corridor. She could hear their voices fading, boots on metal grating, the click of weapons being checked.

  “Bee…”

  BEE: There is minimal risk. Floor-one spawns are dungeon-generated entities designed to provide challenge escalation for delvers. They can be mechanical constructs, biological organisms, or hybrid systems depending on floor specifications. Higher floors employ simpler designs. Deeper floors incorporate more complex threat matrices.

  “And they can kill people.”

  BEE: Yes. That is their function.

  Tess stopped walking.

  She was maybe fifty paces into the corridor now, the entrance far behind her, the main lobby still ahead. The emergency lights cast long shadows, and the hum of the dungeon felt less like background noise and more like something breathing.

  “Uh,” she said.

  BEE: Tess? Your heart rate is increasing. Are you…

  That Knight had been burned. His armor melted into his skin—on Floor 1, the safe floor.

  And Tess didn’t have a combat class.

  She had a tool belt, a scanner, elevated access to dungeon systems, and an AI who could talk to her but couldn’t physically help if something with a vibroblade or an energy weapon came around a corner and decided she looked like an acceptable target.

  What was I thinking?

  The delvers ahead were gone now. She was alone in the corridor, surrounded by amber light and the distant hum of active systems, and the doors behind her were…

  She turned.

  The doors. She could still make it back. The window hadn’t closed yet. She could…

  Why didn’t I just ask Big Yuri if he had more dungeon tech to fix? The thought hit her like cold water. He runs half of Sector 6. He probably has salvage. Old components. Things I could repair for progress without ever setting foot in here.

  She didn’t have to be here. She didn’t have to risk getting burned or cut or worse by something designed specifically to kill people.

  She could leave. Right now. Just walk back, wait out the eight hours, go home and figure out a better plan.

  Tess started running.

  Her boots pounded against the metal grating, tool belt bouncing against her hip. The corridor stretched ahead of her, curving back toward the entrance, and she could see the massive doors in the distance.

  Still open. Just barely. Maybe a two-meter gap, grinding closed with the sound of hydraulics and locking mechanisms engaging.

  “Wait!” she shouted, though she didn’t know who she was shouting at.

  BEE: Tess, what are you…

  She ran faster, pushing harder, but she wasn’t fast and she’d come too far, and the doors were closing.

  Thirty paces away. Twenty. Fifteen.

  The gap narrowed to half a meter.

  Ten paces. She could see daylight through the opening, the plaza beyond, people moving in the normal world where spawns with vibroblades didn’t exist.

  Five paces.

  The doors slammed shut.

  The sound echoed through the corridor like a gunshot, final and absolute, and Tess stumbled to a halt three paces from the sealed entrance, hand reaching out uselessly toward ten meters of reinforced plasteel that wouldn’t open again for eight hours.

  She pressed her palm against the cold metal.

  Nothing—no give, no gap, no way out.

  BEE: Tess… I… You are safe. The corridor is secure. There are no spawns in this section. You are safe.

  Tess’s hand slid down the door and fell to her side.

  She turned slowly and looked back down the corridor she’d just run through.

  Empty and dark except for the dim glow of emergency lighting. The hum of the dungeon surrounded her, patient and waiting.

  Eight hours. She had eight hours before these doors opened again.

  Eight hours in a dungeon with spawns that could melt armor.

  With no combat class and no weapon. Not even a stick.

  The delve window had begun.