That night, Jeremy had a nightmare. He floated in the air, unable to move, watching his body. His body spoke. “I'll make better use of your body than you ever did, Jeremy,” Flint's voice said, before chuckling. “I'll show you how a real adventurer behaves.”

  Flint had taken over Jeremy's body! He woke up with a start, thankful and relieved to find he still had his body.

  If Flint knew anything about Jeremy's nightmare, he showed no sign.

  ***

  “You want me to what?” Jeremy asked. He'd eaten and left The Fun House with Flint, and they were studying an octopus-thing near the end of the dungeon passageway.

  Jeremy had fallen off the balcony several times during the previous night's training session and currently walked with a limp.

  “I think it's time for another lesson,” Flint said, creating a whiteboard from nothing. “After millennia of careful study, the dungeon arrived at several conclusions concerning monsters, one of which is monsters are far less dangerous when they are dead.”

  “No way,” Jeremy said, thoroughly sick of Flint's disparaging attitude and nonsensical lessons.

  Flint created another graph. A bar on the left went to the top of the whiteboard labeled “Danger Posed By Monsters That Are Alive.” And a dime width line on the right labeled “Danger Posed By Monsters That Are Dead.”

  “You will notice that living monsters are, on average, 99.9 percent more dangerous than monsters that are dead.”

  “This is stupid,” Jeremy said. “What about undead monsters? Those are dangerous.”

  “Undead, as in, not dead, Jeremy. An undead monster is to be considered alive and is treated as such. Now looking at this graph, what should you do when you encounter a monster?”

  “Wait,” Jeremy said, “Clown Lord told me he's been killed many times, and each time, he comes back stronger than before. This suggests killing a monster can create a more dangerous monster.”

  “Ah, Jeremy, an interesting observation. But you see, Clown Lord is not a true monster; he's a mana construct created by the dungeon to play the part of a monster. All dungeon monsters are pretend monsters. Though you may be sure, the dungeon's constructs will kill you without the slightest hesitation if they get the chance.”

  “So if what I'm fighting are not monsters, what is a monster?”

  “That is complicated,” Flint responded. “True monsters take all shapes and forms. The dungeon has created a long, complicated algorithm to identify true monsters. For example: 'Is this being trying to kill you? Yes/No. If yes, is this being hungry? Yes/No Did you do anything to provoke this being? Yes/No'. The list goes on and on. For now, if a being is trying to kill you, and can't, or won't, listen to reason, you are to consider it a monster and treat it accordingly.” Flint paused, took a non breath. “So, based on what I've told you, Jeremy. You should do what when you encounter a monster...?”

  “Tell Flint to go away and quit showing me stupid graphs?” Jeremy asked, tired of listening to his annoying companion.

  With a sigh, Flint made the whiteboard vanish. “Wrong. You are to kill it. When you encounter a monster, you are to kill it.”

  “Wow. I never would have suspected.”

  “That's why I'm here, Jeremy,” Flint said, oblivious to Jeremy's sarcasm. He pointed his cane at the octo-monster. “That is, for our purposes, a monster, and we do what with monsters?”

  Jeremy sighed. “Kill them.”

  “Excellent. We are finally making progress. You need to kill that monster,” Flint said. “Now, for your next lesson, the best way to kill a low-level monster is with your bare hands. You will gain more experience that way and do far more to improve your skills.”

  “What if it has friends?” Jeremy asked. “And how do I avoid its teeth?”

  “You are The Chosen One, Jeremy. I will make you stronger, even if it kills you. Now get moving.”

  Jeremy suspected Flint was right, it would do more to raise his skills if he could kill the octo-thing with his bare hands. But that didn't mean he looked forward to getting close to a monster with so many sharp teeth.

  With a sigh, Jeremy removed his armor, put away his weapons, leaned his backpack against the passage wall, and charged the octo-monster.

  ***

  “Low-level monsters' teeth are often their most dangerous body part, Jeremy. You should try to avoid them.” Flint wandered around The Fun House, studying the odds and ends. “Note. This is in contrast to stronger, higher-level monsters whose teeth are often the least of your concerns.”

  Jeremy groaned. He'd gotten an average of four experience points per octo-monster, as opposed to less than one with a sword, but he wasn't sure it was worth it. The octo-monster had had sharp teeth and many friends. “Are you sure I can't take a healing potion?”

  “Absolutely not, Jeremy. A strong adventurer saves those for real injuries.”

  “I have bite marks all over my body and I can barely walk. How is that not real injuries?” Jeremy protested.

  Flint examined Jeremy's low-quality bow and arrows. “If your injuries are not life threatening, they are not serious and you should ignore them. We will let today's little battle substitute for your more physically demanding workout and practice archery instead.”

  “I'm tired,” Jeremy protested. “I can barely move.”

  “The thing about monsters, Jeremy, is they always wait until you're well rested and in good health before attacking you.”

  “That's nice,” Jeremy responded.

  “That was a joke, Jeremy. Get up and grab your bow and arrows. Now.”

  With a groan, Jeremy slowly stood up and hobbled over to his bow and arrows. “How did you lose your body, Flint? Maybe you just forgot it somewhere? Did you look for your body in the last place you had one?”

  “I did not forget my body, Jeremy,” Flint said. “Now start shooting.”

  “So, where did you lose it?” Jeremy asked.

  “It's far too complicated to explain.”

  “You don't remember, do you?” Jeremy asked.

  “Just shoot the bow.”

  ***

  Much like Clown Lord, Flint made Jeremy forget how lonely and miserable he was and how much he missed his home, decent food, soft bed, and his family, except his brother. Nothing could make him homesick enough to miss his brother.

  “The trick to archery, Jeremy, is to point the arrow at your target,” Flint said after Jeremy missed the target for the fifth time.

  “I am pointing the arrow at the target,” Jeremy snapped. “And the bow string keeps scraping my left arm when I shoot.” He grabbed a piece of cloth that might have been a clown scarf and wrapped it around his left arm. This also staunched the blood flow from monster bites he'd reopened from his exertions.

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  “The target is to the right of your arrow tip. To point the arrow at your target, you must aim to the right of the target. The second trick to archery is to always pull the bowstring back to the same place when you draw the bow. Many archers pull the bow back to, or even behind, their ear, as it adds little extra power to their shots, but it's more important to be consistent.”

  “Whatever,” Jeremy said. But he did what Flint suggested and his next shot hit the target, though barely.

  Jeremy kept practicing until he realized he was starving and Flint allowed him to quit. On his stat sheet, under Passive Skills, was Archery: 0.

  “I'm curious, how is it Melee Weapons and Archery are Passive Skills?” he asked.

  “Passive Skills are involuntary,” Flint responded. “Melee weapons and archery skills are your body using passive mana to enhance and strengthen the body motions involved in using those weapons. You have no control over these skills. Active skills can be activated at will.”

  “Great.” Jeremy hadn't eaten since the day before and couldn't resist trying a tiny bite from the clown's pot of roast spider. It smelled delicious, but he immediately got sick. The YOU HAVE BEEN POISONED! appeared on his stat sheet. By the time he'd recovered, his poison resist was at Level 6(max). It turned out roast spider might smell good and be a tasty meal if you're a monster clown, but for him, it was deadly poison. Figures. He washed his mouth out with water and ate several more dungeon rations. No matter how hungry he was, they tasted like sawdust.

  ***

  Jeremy and Flint spent the next several days training. Jeremy raised his Melee Weapons to 4 and his Archery to 1, which, according to Flint, meant he might not kill himself with his weapons by accident.

  That night, he ate another tiny bite of roast spider. For what he had planned, he needed as much poison resistance as he could get. “What does Poison Resistance 6(max) mean?”

  “It means for the time being, you've reached the maximum possible poison resistance. Increasing certain Skills or Attributes might change the maximum, depending on the underlying factors responsible.”

  “Great,” Jeremy said. “Maybe points in Vitality?”

  “Perhaps.” There was a long moment of silence. “I know what you're planning to do and suggest caution. The Chrysoti spiders are extremely dangerous,” Flint said.

  “Do you think my plan will work?” Jeremy asked.

  “Let's just say I do not have a better one,” Flint said.

  “Coming from you that's high praise. So where are the spiders?”

  “Well...”

  “Let me get this straight,” Jeremy said a bit later. “You've been in this dungeon a thousand years, and all you know about the Chrysoti Spiders is they're around here somewhere?”

  “It's not like I could move around during those thousand years, and the Chrysoti spider lair location is something the dungeon is reluctant to share with adventurers,” Flint said. “Because the spiders are considered far too dangerous for most child adventurers to handle, they're hidden in a secluded part of the dungeon. If you intend to hunt the spiders, you need to be perceptive and intelligent enough to find them. Yes, I'm aware that might be a problem in your case.”

  Jeremy sighed. “We'd better get started.”

  ***

  They spent the next ten dungeon days mapping out the dungeon, slowly filling out Jeremy's internal map. They spent the evenings training in the Fun House.

  “You know the drill, Jeremy,” Flint said on the eleventh day as they eyed a small Velociduck monster in the distance. “You get one shot. If you miss, you are to kill it with your bare hands.”

  “Couldn't I get closer?” Jeremy asked.

  “No. Take the shot.”

  Jeremy drew the bow, aimed carefully, and fired. The arrow bounced off the velociduck monster's head, causing it to quack angrily and look around. Jeremy put the bow down, activated Sneak, and used his cloak to creep up behind the 3-foot-tall monster like a ghost. When he was inches away, he wrapped his hands around its neck and squeezed, strangling it so it died without a sound.

  “My cloak isn't big enough to conceal my bow and arrows,” Jeremy complained.

  “Your cloak won't conceal you from the Chrysoti spiders either,” Flint said. “It's made from their silk.”

  “Speaking of the spiders,” Jeremy said, studying the wall and seeing a circular outline in the stone. “It's difficult to tell, but I'm pretty sure this is where Clown Lord and his minions pushed me into a secret passage to steal the spider silk.” He felt around. “Could you give me a boost?”

  “I'm afraid not,” Flint answered. “I'm non-corporeal and have no body to lift you with.”

  “I know. Just joking.” Jeremy jumped up to where the passage entrance should be and pulled at the stone. The stone blocking the passage came out and he and it came crashing to the stone floor.

  What had previously been a passage was now blocked off with rock. By the clowns or the spiders, it didn't matter. He wouldn't be using it.

  “Maybe I can dig it out, again in twenty years?” Jeremy asked, disappointed.

  “We know approximately where the spider lair is now,” Flint said. “Expect the main entrance to be well hidden. Look for anything out of the ordinary. Anything.”

  Jeremy spent the rest of the day exploring the area. From his internal map, he knew where the Chrysoti spider's lair should be, but found nothing that resembled an entrance.

  That evening, Flint challenged Jeremy to a friendly game of knife throwing.

  “You missed the target. If I had a body and could throw knives, every knife I threw would be dead center. So you lose, again.”

  Jeremy grew more and more discouraged. He threw the knives harder and harder, so they either bounced off the target or missed it entirely.” Then he sat down on the floor and started to cry. “I'm sick of this place. I don't want to kill monsters. I want to go home!”

  Flint watched Jeremy in silence, waiting for him to calm down.

  When Jeremy stopped crying, Flint appeared in front of him. “Come with me, Jeremy. I want to show you something.”

  Flint led him to the wooden target. “Pick up the knives.”

  “Why? This is a waste of time.”

  “Just do it, Jeremy. It's important.”

  Jeremy stomped over and picked up the five throwing knives he'd been practicing with.

  “Stand a pace away from the target. Hold your knife by the handle. Throw the knife, letting go when it's directly in front of the target.”

  “Why? This doesn't count.”

  “Yes, it does. Please do it.”

  “Fine.” Jeremy did what he was told and soon had two knives stuck in the target and three others that had almost stuck but had bounced off.

  “There. You are throwing knives. Once you can stick your knives into the target at this distance with both left and right hands, take a couple of steps backward, and this time hold the knives by the blade when you throw them. Once that becomes easy, step backward again. That is how you learn to throw knives. You may never become truly strong, Jeremy, but you can always become less weak.”

  “If I can always become less weak, it's only a matter of time before I am strong,” Jeremy said.

  “In a few hundred years, perhaps,” came Flint's response.

  Jeremy stayed up late practicing his knife throwing. By the time he turned in, he had another skill. Knife Throwing: 0

  The next day, he continued searching for the main entrance, trying to think of what he was missing. Some passageways around the spider lair were decorated with childish drawings, rainbows, stick figures, and children playing, while other passageways were plain stone with no artwork.

  One plain, brightly lit stone passageway in particular gave Jeremy the strangest feeling as he walked through it. While Flint watched, he examined it inch by inch, finding nothing resembling a secret door or hidden entrance. Then he noticed that while this passageway was brightly lit, the nearby passageways were not.

  A clue?

  He jumped up and grabbed a torch. When he'd first entered the dungeon, there was no way he could have jumped high enough to reach a torch, but as a Level 8 rogue, standing on his pack with a 13 Agility, he did so easily.

  The torch was cool to the touch, the flames were an illusion. He let go of the torch, and it floated up near the ceiling again.

  He jumped up and grabbed the torch a second time. This time he stuffed it into his pack. The passageway became slightly dimmer. He did this with the rest of the torches until the passageway was almost completely dark.

  He examined the passageway again.

  This time, so faint at first he wasn't sure it was even there, he saw a drawing. It glowed just enough for him to see it in the dark. The drawing was of a disjointed 6-foot-tall spider. The spider's body was inches to the right of its legs. It was like someone had drawn the spider and then moved the stone around.

  He walked up to the wall and examined it. First, he pushed on the wall searching for any hollow sound in the wall or a secret door catch. Nothing. He tried pounding on it. Again, nothing. Then he tried to slide parts of the stone wall around to straighten out the spider. This time, he was successful; the stones slid left or right, clicking into place. Once he'd fixed the drawing, there was a loud snap, and a doorway appeared.

  Flint perked up and took notice. “Good work, Jeremy! I knew you couldn't be as dumb as I'd initially thought. Now, before you open the door, we need to plan our...”

  Jeremy pushed the door open.