Huddled in the dark, the Jackals waited.

  The torches had long since been extinguished to maximise the benefits of their night vision. Time passed without meaning. Their minds—barely more than wisps of soulstuff—held no thoughts of hunger, boredom, or curiosity. They existed in this room. They waited for intruders. When those came, statistics said they killed them.

  No Jackal had ever thought to leave the room. No Jackal wondered why they were in the room. The concept of “why” did not exist. They were barely a step above natural forces—obedient tides in fur and grease.

  They could, however, observe. They knew, for instance, that this intruder was in the top fiftieth percentile for “door hesitation time.” The sounds outside the door were 81% consistent with parties who failed to notice the trap glyph. This suggested a projected 56% chance of lethal outcome and 72% chance of limb loss.

  Acceptable.

  There had been noise from the previous chamber—loud, chaotic noise followed by the sounds that indicated another foe was present. That occurred only in 4.2% of runs. Multiple footsteps. A Summon. A Quadruped. This suggested the humanoid foe would be weak and the real threat was whatever had been summoned.

  They had already extinguished the lights—ambush protocol. Past iterations showed a marked increase in success when the room was dark. This inefficient intruder and its minion would go down like so many before.

  The numbers rarely lied.

  The door flung open, and the spell hidden just inside the doorway was tripped, a tongue of flame rippling out of the floor. The Jackals closed their eyes. Light reaction protocol. Those with bows held steady, relying on memory and formation. Less than 5% of intruders were fireproof. Less than 10% could handle the brightness. Only 1% had both traits.

  The fire cut off. The Jackals opened their eyes. Flecks of smouldering light hung behind a wall of smoke gathered round the open portal. A couple of the Jackals loosed arrows.

  A pair of heavy thuds marked hits. The group blinked, trying to make out the scene to understand which of the hundreds of possible plans honed over countless iterations they could pursue.

  Then came the anomaly.

  Something broad, upright, and rectangular stood in the entrance. Charred. Dented. Wooden? Its presence defied classification.

  Their limited cognition settled on a logical conclusion: the intruder was door-shaped.

  This must be some kind of disguise-type entity. Possibly shield-based. Possibly door-type mimic. The probabilities were unclear.

  This was not in the past iterations.

  One of them approached the anomalous enemy, sniffing the air—illusion test required. Illusions appeared in less than 10% of intruders but frequently caused problems. The Jackal slashed the door-entity. Its blade bounced harmlessly off.

  Before it could retreat, the door creaked back—and a thick chain hissed out.

  It wrapped around the lead Jackal’s throat and yanked it violently through the gap.

  The door shut behind it.

  The remaining Jackals froze.

  They felt a surge through themselves, a programmed response. The intruder had reduced their number, so a response was required. They felt the push to go on the offensive, to attack the thing that had drawn their attention. It was time to kill the door-shaped intruder and add to their knowledge.

  [Chops defeated Jackal Drop Out. Additional experience awarded due to being outnumbered. Your summon has absorbed some experience.]

  Oz did not have much time to appreciate just how brutally Chops had torn apart the Jackal student-thing. It was one thing to watch a throat get torn out, it was another thing entirely to see a throat shredded in two opposing directions.

  There were thuds on the door, arrows slamming into the wood, and screeches.

  The Jackals on the other side let out angry snarls and crashed into his makeshift shield, the edges still smouldering from the fire trap he’d spotted and blocked with his absurd shield.

  The door shuddered under the assault. His improvised grip on the axe handle embedded in it creaked, and the loop of shredded Jackal cloth he’d tied to the handle yanked on his arm, but he didn’t lose control of the improvised defence.

  Oz was very pleased with his decision. He’d felt the wave of magic, heard the arrows chip into the door, and it now felt like an entire horde was trying to batter it down. But they couldn’t shift him.

  Time to whittle down his opponents.

  Oz was used to fighting alone, and thanks to that experience and his dad’s advice on dealing with overwhelming numbers, he knew just what to do. Control the fight, minimise the open fronts, and don’t give them time to get clever.

  He ‘opened’ the door and two of the monsters pushed through, then he slammed the door shut. He swung the chain, pushing them back, and Chops tackled one on the left. Pained gurgles were quickly cut off as the two sets of jaws clamped down on its throat.

  Oz lashed out at the other Jackal with his chain, yanking it back at the last moment, just as it ducked out of the way and let his skill activate.

  [Twice for Flinching]

  The strikes were swift. Normally heavy links danced with magic, the chain feeling alive in his fingers, crackling with energy. Oz whipped it twice at the creature. The first attack the creature blocked with its blade, the weapon knocked from its grasp. Off balance, the next strike smashed into its face.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The crunch spoke of something far greater than mere steel.

  The Jackal’s snout snapped away from the skull, wrenched off-centre, and the creature collapsed to the floor. Oz was about to attack again but then saw the kill notification. He double-checked. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake that had got his leg chewed.

  [You’ve defeated Jackal Drop Out. Additional experience awarded due to small party size. Additional experience awarded due to being outnumbered.]

  [Chops defeated Jackal Drop Out. Additional experience awarded due to being outnumbered. Your summon has absorbed some experience.]

  As far as he was concerned, Chops could have all the experience he wanted. He could feel the creatures hacking at the door still, and they didn’t seem to be giving up. He worried they might be intelligent, but they just kept hacking.

  “Alright Chops, ready to go again?”

  Chops barked in response, tail frantically wagging.

  “Who’s the best murder mutt? You are! After this I’m going to get you so many treats!”

  He swung his ‘door’ open again and two Jackals who’d been hacking at it surged through with murderous intent. He swung the makeshift barricade back in place, trapping them.

  They were going to get the same treatment.

  Chops met their murderous energy and raised it. Two sets of jaws clamped onto the first shrieking creature, which managed to save its throat only by offering up both arms. Oz kicked out at the second.

  It stumbled back—perfect distance for his chain. He cracked it like a whip, but the Jackal dodged left. Before he could correct, a wave of hooting mockery rose behind the door.

  A thrum of magic washed over him.

  [Dwarven Stubbornness has helped you resist a mental effect]

  Confusion rippled through Oz—just for a moment—but it didn’t take hold. The hooting was stronger now, layered and piercing, but he was a stubborn dwarvish bastard with a potent Willpower stat.

  It was enough to push through.

  Even so, the hesitation cost him—his chain strike faltered, and the Jackal in front of him slipped past, darting between him and a distressingly vulnerable Chops.

  The summon wasn’t so lucky. Both of Chops’ heads lolled, his body sluggish, jaws going slack. He released the Jackal’s mangled arm—and the creature, still clutching its blade, raised it to slash at the dog’s throat.

  It froze.

  [Frightful Presence] had landed.

  But the knife was still hovering dangerously close to Chops’ neck. Too close.

  Oz couldn’t reach him—not with the other Jackal in the way, not without dropping the door. He didn’t hesitate. Dropping the chain, he wrenched one of the axes free from its place on the door and hurled it straight at the stunned monster.

  [Aura of Menace has applied additional damage]

  The Jackal went tumbling back like it had been hit by a wrecking ball, its kill notification appearing instantly.

  Oz snarled. How dare it try to hurt Chops.

  He’d only known the dog for a few minutes—but that didn’t matter. It was his dog. His fucking dog.

  The Other agreed with venom. Hurting their dog? That deserved the kind of body count you only got in an action trilogy.

  Oz whipped his gaze to the closer Jackal. It had frozen like the first, and was still clearly rattled—trembling, half-snarling, its eyes squeezed nearly shut like it couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “Rude,” Oz bellowed.

  He lunged, bringing his fist down like the hammer of judgement. The Jackal flinched—not just flinched, flapped away in full-body panic. That was all he needed.

  [Twice for Flinching]

  The next two strikes drove the Jackal to its knees. Something crunched—and then the kill notification appeared.

  Oz exhaled heavily.

  [Twice for Flinching] had hit hard, but it had taken something out of him. The skill felt heavier this time, slower to spark. He knew the cooldown was real, and while he could push it, that came at a cost. He needed to stop spamming it or risk it not being there when it really counted.

  Something thunked against the door. Oz bared his teeth in a snarl.

  He wanted this done.

  Oz took a deep breath, checking the internal rhythm of his skills, feeling for readiness like tension in a muscle. Everything said go. He stepped to the side.

  Two more Jackals waited at the doorway. Oz stomped one into the ground; Chops crashed into the other like a fox hitting a hen house.

  Through the open door, the shadows beyond bloomed into greyscale thanks to his dark vision. A final Jackal crouched at the back of the room, bow raised—Oz met its eyes and let the magic in his stare take hold.

  [Frightful Presence]

  The Jackal froze, weapon forgotten.

  Oz turned back to the one he’d pinned and didn’t bother with the chain. He just punched it. Once. Twice.

  [You’ve defeated Jackal Drop Out. Additional experience awarded due to small party size. Additional experience awarded due to being outnumbered.]

  [Chops defeated Jackal Drop Out. Your summon has absorbed some experience.]

  Oz noted the language shift. If they were no longer outnumbered, the terror-stricken one had to be the last.

  Time to finish this.

  Oz glanced down and then away. Chops had opened his target’s calf like a bag of meat. At Oz’s mental command—something instinctual now, like flexing a familiar muscle—Chops released the dead one and wheeled toward the archer.

  The frozen Jackal and Chops locked eyes.

  Then Chops barked.

  The Jackal made a fatal mistake—it ran.

  Chops gave chase, and seconds later, the final kill notification appeared in Oz’s vision.

  Oz staggered back and leaned against the wall, chest heaving. Had it been six? No—eight enemies. In one room.

  What kind of exam was this?

  This wasn’t a trial. This was a death gauntlet march with a scoring system.

  Oz knew the basics of dungeon theory: provide just enough challenge to push people, make them fight, cast spells, bleed a little—just enough to flood the place with essence. Not too easy, or they’d stroll through, loot everything, and leave without learning a damn thing. Not too hard either. Sure, you might respawn... but nobody liked dying repeatedly.

  The whole point was balance. A reasonable challenge. The only person who might’ve thought this was ‘reasonable’ was the local homeless man, and he walked around with a duck on his head flinging shrimp at people.

  How did anyone beat this? This wasn’t fair. Most people wouldn’t even have help like Chops... He looked at the dog—then away, hand covering his mouth as his stomach lurched.

  Chops was enthusiastically ‘looting’ the enemies—the sounds alone were grisly.

  Was that normal?

  Oz suddenly really regretted not paying more attention in class. Familiars weren’t common; they only came up in ‘skill theory’—and even then, he hadn’t exactly taken notes. All he could remember was: they run on magic.

  That was not enough information.

  The first thing he’d do once he got out of here was buy a guidebook or something. Could magical dogs digest Jackals? And more importantly...

  Did magical dogs poop?

  The Other pointed out that at the rate Chops was going, they were going to find out one way or the other.