Water dripped down the wooden beams that creaked under the mountain’s weight. The mineshaft was illuminated through the hanging lanterns—connected through the manasteel wire. Rail tracks trailed and vanished deeper down, acting as the only guide for any comers.

  A group of five walked discreetly through the mineshaft. Arlene led the charge with four others following behind. Wattyson was walking at her side. Their footsteps on the metallic rail echoed throughout the corridor wide enough for two people and a half.

  They hadn’t reached the dungeon yet. It was much deeper into the mineshaft. For now, the scenery of rocks, timbers, and hanging light surround them.

  They moved in through a single column. Arlene and Wattyson were at front with the former scanning the surrounding, and the latter shining light through the staff. Behind them was Naciv—the young man was forced into this dungeon by Wattyson’s ‘persuasion’. Wattyson had also ordered him to drag in two more, whoever they might be.

  Next to Naciv was a female adventurer that was with him. Her appearance was that of a lean female adult with two curled horns where her ears would be. Two short swords dangling on her hips, swaying in rhythm with her steps. She eyed Naciv with amusement—the fact he kept quivering every time Wattyson so much as glanced over his shoulder.

  Last at the rear was another female adventurer, but she was a special one. She had a gigantic wizard hat contrast with her short stature. She couldn’t hold a staff comparable to Wattyson’s, so she held multiple wands stitched together instead. More power output from her massive mana pool was how she justified her choice of weapon. Normally it would’ve been logical to put such short person in the middle or at front, but she had argued being at the back gave her a tactical view.

  They had been walking for an hour and still not yet arrived. The same scene of rocks, timbers and hanging lantern kept looping. That must have spawned unusually deep.

  “Naciv,” Wattyson yawned out, “How much further?”

  Naciv jolted and turned to the horned adventurer. “Rinea, how much longer? You’ve been inside the most.”

  Rinea smirked, taking in how terrified he was. “Just a little longer. Once we pass the third corner, we’ll be seeing the entrance.”

  Arlene seemingly nodded and shifted to Wattyson. She leaned closer to whisper. “How did you convince them?” She was focused on getting in, she had forgotten about his recruitment process.

  Wattyson shrugged. “Oh you know; I just asked Naciv to gather two of the most experienced people. He got us Rinea and Xylia… and of course himself.”

  “Why did you ask him for that?”

  “He was in the tent with the guild staff. I think he’s pretty knowledgeable about this.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t intimidate him, did you?”

  “Come now. Do you really think I can?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm… didn’t think you thought of me like that.”

  “Everyone is, when you constantly look dismissive and wore a sage attire. Why don’t you just wear the one I picked for you?”

  Wattyson sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll quickly change when we’re in a dungeon. I’ll just say it’s magic or something.”

  “You better.”

  The rails ceased theirs descend into the lonely depth. They arrived at a jagged zigzag path. The corridor was narrow now with only space for a person and a half. They were already moving in single column so it wouldn’t be a problem—just needed a few adjustments. It went well except for the rear.

  “Blasted!” Xylia’s high-pitch voice echoed. “I can’t make it through! My companions! I am trapped!”

  She stuffed her wands into the way too large robe’s pocket and tried to side step. It didn’t work still. “I am lost in what to do!”

  Naciv took a quick glance over his shoulder. “Your hat is in the way, Xylia. Take it off.”

  “I will not! It is important to my identity!”

  “It’s just for a moment! You’ll still be Xylia of Tempest.”

  “Hmph! If it is as you say, then I will!” She took the hat and folded them in half. She finally managed to squeeze through.

  Naciv then turned to Rinea. “Why didn’t you help her?”

  “Hmm?” Rinea’s eyes were unfocused until he asked. It was like she was somewhere else entirely. “Sorry, I just like looking at how your entire body shook every time he looked over.”

  “Tch.” Naciv returned his gaze forward.

  The hard stone ground was soon replaced like a blur with white marble floor. Two columns of silver served as pillars for the marble foundation. Above was a slab of white marble with intricate carving—a man sat on a five layers’ pyramid. The meaning behind such was lost upon them. Perhaps it had one long ago, but now it was meaningless.

  Arlene turned to the three. “How old was this dungeon again?”

  Xylia raced to the front with a stomp to finish. She put the wizard hat back on. “It is at least five hundred years old, Aralynn of the Chosen One!”

  “Arlene.”

  “Arlene of the Chosen One!”

  Rinea chimed in. “It’s true. Toulasi’s city council back then deemed this dungeon to be one for farming. Every season they would employ adventurers to dive, then destroy the entrance once it was done. It always respawns within this mineshaft’s network.”

  Arlene looked back to the dungeon’s entrance. At its centre was an imposing rectangle fit for a door… except it wasn’t a door. Distorted space of white shined radiantly to the group. For all her experience in dungeon diving—this was either a teleport or just a fancy door. She glanced to Wattyson and betted on the latter.

  She kicked his shin. “You go first, Watty.”

  “Huh? I thought you were going to, leader.”

  “I-Shush. Listen to your leader then.”

  Wattyson didn’t argue. He likely took this chance to change his attire once inside. He clicked his staff on the way to the entrance—which made Naciv jolted again, much to Rinea’s amusement.

  His back looked so dependable. Like it held the resolve of everyone’s wish for a better world. He now stood in front, blocking the rectangle’s glow from view. He shut his eyes and exhaled briefly.

  Pointing at it lazily, he let out. “Must I really go first?”

  Arlene lunged at him full force, his shoulder made contact first and bashed him into the rectangle. “Hmmm…” She pondered while scratching her neck. “Seems like he really went to the dungeon.” She circled the rectangle and saw no sign of him.

  Rinea tilted her head. “Of course he went in. That’s how dungeon’s entrance work.”

  “…Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go.”

  The dungeon’s interior was starkly monotone. Same layered marble brick stretched out as far the eyes could see. Wattyson was there leaning against the wall in his purple button shirt and baggy pants. The shoulders were disguised armoured pads.

  While the other members were disorientated from coming through the portal, Arlene took this chance to inspect the wall. It was worn, scratched and nicked at. Not for any reason, just habit. She just wanted to see if this dungeon was weeks old or not. Something to do while the others gathered themselves.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Naciv sat down on his knees and took out a map. “Rinea,” he turned over, “You’re the person who entered this dungeon the most. Can you confirm we are at Floor One?”

  Rinea crouched down, and traced her finger along the map—the cluttered and overly detailed layout. “Hmm. We are here.” She pointed to the long hall of the first floor before it branched off into three. Not that the distinction matter, the end point of those branches converged on one exit to Floor Two anyway.

  She traced her finger upward to the bottom branch. “This one’s the safest. Not much enemy nor trap. Just a ten-minute walk.” She glanced to Naciv then to Arlene, awaiting the leader’s confirmation. Arlene nodded.

  The party got up and moved with Rinea’s direction and Xylia’s leading, wobbling as she tried to hold Wattyson’s staff twice her size. “I got this!” she muttered chanting out Light.

  Few moments passed. It didn’t light up. “By Helios’s grace! Your staff is malfunctioning, Sage Wattyson!”

  Such a title didn’t befit him. Arlene rolled her eyes and shook her head. Well… it wouldn’t be strange. He did dress like a mage earlier.

  Xylia chanted again and it didn’t light up. “You have to add some sincerity into your chant.” Wattyson advised.

  Which she did again with a drawn out please. Wattyson flicked his fingers to it briefly. The staff lit up.

  “It works! You are truly the Greatest Sage I’ve ever met! Nay! The Greatest Sage of all Celes’ira!”

  Rather than holding the staff upright, she held it instead like a spear, ready in defensive formation. No one said a thing. If anything, that would’ve been helpful if something jumped them and got halted by the staff. Wattyson didn’t seem to mind, so there wasn’t a reason to tell her.

  Arlene paced herself beside him, nudging with a shoulder. “You seem awfully docile. I thought you didn’t like being call a sage?” All those times he kept denying being a sage or wizard or mage. Why now? Maybe he learned to read the room better?

  “It’s not that,” Wattyson scoffed as his eyes lingered on Xylia, “She just… reminded me of someone I knew.” His voice was soft and reminiscing.

  Arlene knew that look, and voice. It was like a parent looking at their child. “Did you…,” she stopped herself, “Never mind. Do your best in this dungeon dive, okay?” It would be better to ask another time.

  Behind them and their whispers watched the two adventurers. “Hey,” Rinea hushed to Naciv, “Do you think they’re dating?”

  “H-huh? No? Why do you think that?”

  “Well,” she twitched her lip up to point, “Look at them walking closely to one another. They have to be dating.”

  “I don’t think they are. Besides that, why do you keep looking at me?”

  “Hmmm?” She smirked to him. “What’s wrong with that? I like seeing you shudder. There’s something about you just make me want to observe.”

  “Stop that. We just met yesterday and I don’t like being looked at like that.” Naciv paced up just behind Arlene and Wattyson instead. He heard Rinea’s giggle when he did that.

  He waited until Arlene walked forward to take charge with Xylia, to speak with Wattyson. “Uhh,” his voice quivered slightly, “Ana-Sir, I—“

  “Naciv. Tell me what you know of this dungeon.”

  “I-I yes. Of course.” He was beside him now, whispering quietly. “You’ve heard how at around floor forty or so, mass graves of adventurers are there right? Like piles of corpses and mangled limbs like they were eaten.”

  “I was briefed on it, yes. I want to ask you about that.”

  “I think I know the question.” Naciv glanced back to make sure Rinea didn’t sneak up on him. He didn’t want anyone else to hear beside Wattyson. “I think a supernatural is involved. Probably one of Gaia’s fanatic gone mad.”

  “Is that why you were here?”

  “Y-yes. I requested to the Guild and got put here just yesterday. My elders at S’Shide want to know for certain. You know how it is, secrecy above all else from the mundane world.”

  “Then did you find anything?”

  “Not yet. I,” he heard Wattyson sighed, causing his voice to drop lower, “I think whatever they are made a home at those floors. I mean… I would too if foods kept coming in like that. Not that I would ever, of course!”

  “Hmm… keep your senses high, blankbody. Report to me whenever possible.”

  “Y-Yes sir.”

  Naciv slowed himself and walked beside Rinea instead. He let out an exaggerated sigh of stress and relief. Not loud enough for Wattyson to hear. What Wattyson would do to him if he heard was too terrified to imagine.

  “So?” Rinea leaned to him. “What was the great conversation about?”

  “About how much of a creep you are.”

  “Ouch. That hurts, rattled boy.”

  The comment didn’t land on him as his head was focused on something else. His body hairs curled beneath his clothes. His heart rattled mechanically. Instinct was screaming at him for certain—something was watching them.

  At first he had thought it was nearing Anathema. However, Anathema was only human. He didn’t have a third eye at his back. Rinea was the closest suspect. Her constant sadist teasing and observation did fit the bill. He wrestled with the thought. If that was the case… was Rinea a supernatural also?

  Supernatural species wouldn’t reveal themselves to one another. Everyone were hell bent on secrecy that they would deceive even fellow one. If his guessing was true, what was Rinea? A fellow blankbody… or another entirely?

  “Hey!”

  Xylia’s cheerful shout snapped him out. “What are you doing there, Naciv? We’re going to descend the stair!”

  Naciv shook his head and slapped his cheeks. “Coming!” He wanted to report to Wattyson, but what good would that be? Hunch weren’t reliable. Being wrong in that was crossing the moral line for him—what left of morality he had.

  The stairway was of spiral one. Large enough to fit five people side by side, yet the steps were shallow like they were designed for short legs. Despite how large it was; the group still chose to move in single file. The stairway after all, had no railing. People could easily be pushed off if not careful.

  The worn marble soon became more and more worn as they descended. It was only the transition to floor two, and the wall surface looked like it was corroded by constant stream of water. The stairway marble slabs however looked brand new.

  Arlene kept one hand on the hilt at all time, and constantly scanning the surrounding for any signs of glyphs or uncanny structures. The map said there weren’t any traps, but she didn’t trust it. Rinea was the most experienced in exploring this dungeon, but Arlene didn’t ask for the same logic—Shoddy map results made to please the higher up.

  She wondered though, why was the wall so old yet the stairs were pristine? Her knowledge on dungeon itself was limited. Only knew how dungeon functioned and how it respawned. The very structure of dungeon itself was lost to her. Every past experiences, the dungeons were uniformed. It was either everything looked new or old. Never contrasted.

  If only Eilifr was here. A wishful thought she had. Turning half to Rinea now, she spoke in a commanding tone. “Rinea, tell me the history of this dungeon.” She wasn’t one of the higher up of the guild staff. The Chosen One sure, but right now she was a fellow adventurer. Perhaps Rinea would tell her more truthfully.

  Rinea flicked a wrist and tapped to her cheek. “As far as we know,” she looked around, “This dungeon had been around for roughly five centuries as I’ve stated earlier. The first few times, adventurers destroyed the dungeon core. It was until two hundred years ago did the City began to use it for farming.”

  Rinea paused as she lingered on Arlene. Arlene nodded her to continue.

  “It was as business as usual like all other dungeon farms. Dungeon seasonally respawn every season then dried out of mana by adventurers until the next season.”

  It wasn’t much of a history Arlene had expected. She frowned, but didn’t let it show. “Tell me about those,” She pointed to the contrasted marble. “Why are they different?”

  “That,” Rinea clicked her tongue, “I’m not sure of either. The Guild requested the School of Magic to investigate, but they haven’t replied yet.”

  Requested? School of Magic would’ve taken action immediately. They are always starving for something like this. What’s happening on that end?!

  “So it only happened recently?”

  “Yes!” Xylia cut in instead. “At first, I thought it was like all other dungeon that just respawned. Everything was a mismatch until it settled down a week later, hence no one is allowed to dive until that happened. Then this just stayed like that for weeks now!”

  Arlene turned to Xylia by her side. “Then why are adventurers diving now? Is that not against the rule?”

  “It’s because monsters started spewing out! Usually dungeon do that is when it reaches maturity. We went in and what did we find? Same scenic like an infant dungeon!”

  Arlene nodded and smiled. “I see. Thank you Xylia.”

  “You’re welcome!” Xylia bounced as she replied bubbly.

  They reached Floor Two now. It was the same as the previous floor and as they discussed the path to take. It was the same layout—three lanes converging on the same endpoint. This dungeon was straightforward like Veia had said.

  Arlene walked with Wattyson who had just got his staff back. “Watty, something’s not right.” She nudged and whispered.

  Wattyson tilted his head. “Why? Because there is no monster in sight yet?”

  “That’s…. well we’re in the first few floors. Probably entirely cleared by now. I’m talking about this dungeon’s structure like those mismatched marbles.” She pointed with his hand.

  “What about them?”

  “It’s not right. Like… why are the walls—something that isn’t normally touched upon by us, is more worn and uneven than the path we’re taking?” She pointed his hand downward. “We’re stepping on them and it had been stepped on by those before use. Yet… they are all pristine?”

  “So… you suspect?”

  “That’s something not right.”

  “And what’s not right specifically?”

  “I think,” she leaned in closer, “that whatever terrorizing and leaving a killing mess in floor forties-ish isn’t a dungeonster, but an interloper—like an invader.”

  Arlene looked to him for any replies back. There was none. Silence hung as Wattyson processed those words.

  For Arlene to suspect there to be external force in something like this, it lined with what Naciv and Clan S’Shide thought too. That something was using this to their benefits. Wattyson retreated his hands into his sleeves. He gripped tightly to it on the inside, not letting her see it. His teeth gritted as everything in his mind landed on the same node—that his hunter day was coming back in full force now.

  Arlene noticed it. Not the hands’ grips or whatever was bothering it. She saw something that wasn’t him. Her theory that this dungeon was invaded by outside force… caused his lip to twitch bizarrely to a smile. Not a pretend one, a genuine one.

  “Watty?” She worriedly asked. “Y-You there?”

  “Hmm? Sorry,” his tone was monotonous like always, “What were you saying?”

  “I… never mind that. Your face,” she hovered over her own mouth, “you’re… smiling?”

  Wattyson quickly shoved his fingers to the cheek and felt it. He was smiling… unconsciously. He was… happy that his hunter day was returning? No… No that couldn’t be.

  “I… sorry,” he let out a chuckle so fake Arlene caught on immediately, “I’m probably nervous.”

  Arlene didn’t buy it. A fake chuckle and how he was nervous? The same person who had just recently fought an apex predator few days ago? There was something going on in him.

  Now wasn’t the time. She sighed as she took his hand. “Alright, I’ll hold your hand till you’re calm then.” She said with a half-smile. It was fine. This was something she needed to press for, and going to floor forties weren’t going to be quick anyway. As soon as they stopped for a rest would be the ideal time to push. For now, she kept walking and leading the group.