Grim rolled under the descending axe of an undead priest, narrowly avoiding the dull weapon. He actually felt the wind of its passage and slightly panicked. He came out of the roll cleanly, though, pivoting neatly to plunge his knife into the core of another priest who had its back turned to him, facing Aria. It let out an ethereal screech as its body collapsed to the hard stone floor, and he felt the essence creeping into his body.

  ? “Get around that one, Jeremiah!” he called, gesturing toward the behemoth of a priest with his knife. “Luther can’t tank both at once!”

  ? “The hell I can’t!” Luther shouted back. He made a small half-turn and intercepted a powerful hammer blow with his shield, using the impact–and the small knockback effect it caused–to thrust his sword into the chest of the other large priest he’d been facing. The monster, who’d had its hammer raised to deliver what it thought was a finishing blow, looked down at the new hole in its chest with mild surprise, then back up at the man who’d given it. Then it collapsed.

  ? “See?” Luther asked, grinning fiercely as he stepped within the reach of the other hammer user. “Easy as pie. I’m just too good with it!”

  ? Even as he said it, a flanking priest scored a light cut on the shoulder of his shield arm from behind, which made him flinch enough to not properly block the next falling hammer. As he regained his feet, looking more than a little embarrassed, Aria coated him in a gentle healing light, laughing at his slip.

  ? “Might want to keep an eye on what’s around you!” the green-haired woman said. “Don’t want to get caught by a sneak attack right after such a boast!”

  ? Jeremiah descended on the remaining tanky priest with a shout, his sword glowing. Grim could tell it was a critical hit by the way the light burst as the sword struck, and the way the weapon sheared the monster’s right arm off. Now unable to swing its weapon, the priest died quickly.

  ? “I don’t think it’d be right to call the big one priests,” Luther said, turning to block the second attack of the priest that had wounded him. He retaliated with his short sword, forcing the monster towards Jeremiah, who cut it down with ease. “They don’t use any magic or skills. Is there a churchy word for thug?”

  ? They paused to ponder that for a moment before Aria offered, “Inquisitor?”

  ? Luther made a gesture of distaste, then shook his head. “No, that makes them sound far too intelligent.”

  ? “Yeah, I always thought that Inquisitors were more like assassins,” Jeremiah put in. “Just like that one Grim killed at the start of the floor.”

  ? Grim couldn’t entirely hide a small smile of pleasure at the mention of the assassin. He’d been proud of that kill. In truth, he’d forgotten that the dungeon was known to send an assassin-type elite roaming monster at the party if they reached the second floor too quickly or took too few wounds. He’d remembered that snipped at the very last moment, but his reactions had been sharp, and he’d swung his knife at the perfect time to catch the materializing priest as it lunged for Luther’s unprotected back.

  ? Luther rubbed the back of his neck, as if checking to confirm that his head was still attached. “Yeah, seriously, thanks for that, Grim. I can’t exactly afford to be out of delving for a month or more.”

  ? Grim’s smile widened slightly, but he tried to brush the compliment off. “Oh, please. This dungeon is Benign. You wouldn’t have been in any real danger of dying. Even if you’d fallen, the assassin would have backed off.”

  ? “Accidents do happen,” Luther replied quickly. It was a well-known reminder among delvers. “But thankfully, I won’t have to find out with you around. I’m… sorry I was so dismissive when I met you. I thought… what with the single knife…”

  ? Grim waved his apology away, already moving towards the exit of the room. “Don’t worry about it, man. You’re half-right anyway. If I had two knives, I’d be more useful in the actual combat bit. But my stealth doesn’t rely on weapons.”

  ? Luther nodded his acceptance of that and offered a small wave. “Well, keep an eye out for more assassins, okay?”

  ? Of course, there was no danger of that. The Cathedral of Midnight was only ever known for sending one assassin, and they were well past the triggering condition for that. It was one of the greatest threats that the dungeon could offer, and now that they were past that, they only needed to fear the boss. And, after finding and disabling a rope trap that would have bound them in stinging threads, he found the large chamber that hosted the head honcho in question.

  ? “Found the boss room,” he reported, rejoining them halfway along the path he’d tread. “No variations.”

  ? “Nice,” Luther said, offering him a wide grin. The three of them all shared a grin at that and exchanged fist bumps. Even Grim was included, which surprised him. "So we’re done then, right?”

  ? Jeremiah and Aria both nodded, wide smiles in place. Grim looked at Luther in confusion. “What?”

  ? Luther looked at him in equal confusion. “We’re done. We’ve cleared out the dungeon. You didn’t find any side paths, did you?”

  ? “No,” he said slowly, frowning. “But we haven’t cleared anything. We still have to beat the boss.”

  ? Jeremiah let out a snort. “I didn’t sign up for that! I’m only interested in speed-clearing!”

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  ? “Same here,” Luther said. “If I wanted a full clear, I’d go for a harder dungeon. This one’s perfect for speed-clearing because it’s a horde-type with weak monsters.”

  ? Even Aria seemed puzzled by his confusion. “You did see the listing, right? We said we were speed-clearing."

  ? Grim searched his memory quickly and remembered seeing those exact words mentioned. He’d simply taken it to mean that they wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. Not that they weren’t going to do the dungeon properly.

  ? “I didn’t think that meant that you wouldn’t fight the boss,” he said, biting his lip. “I’ve never heard of someone speed-clearing a dungeon before.”

  ? “Oh,” Aria said slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. “Grim, you’re not a noble? It’s a common practice… among us.”

  ? His slight frown turned into a deep scowl then, and he stared at her. “What should my status have to do with anything?”

  ? At the sudden change in his expression, Aria took a small step back, her face paling slightly. Even Jeremiah moved to stand between them, his expression hardening. “Watch yourself, Grim.”

  ? “Huh? I’m not doing anything,” he replied, wondering at the sudden change in their behavior towards him. “But we should do the boss anyway, guys. It’s all that we have left, and it shouldn’t take more than-”

  ? “No,” Luther said, rejoining the conversation. He’d taken a moment to wipe and polish his sword, and now had his gear stowed away. He wasn’t ready for more fighting. “Fighting the boss might be quick, but none of us have potions. That’s the only reason I can tank. The little monsters don’t do enough damage to need potions or special equipment. But fighting the boss will require those, maybe more.”

  ? Aria, now half-hiding behind Jeremiah, nodded her agreement. “This is the best way to earn quick money. You should be okay with that too, given… given that you’re a commoner.”

  ? The sheer depth of her ignorance set him back for a few seconds, forcing him to reconsider his angle of attack. “But… Money isn’t all that we get out of dungeons, though. Sure, it’s important, but there are resources, practice, and more importantly, essence!”

  ? All three of the noblings looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Luther shook his head. “We don’t need resources, Grim. We’re not crafters. And we don’t need the boss’s essence. As long as we kill all the normal monsters, we’re fine.”

  ? “Well, if it’s money you’re interested in, we should fight the boss,” Grim said, latching onto Luther’s point. “It drops more money than the other monsters, and he’s guarding treasure. Selling that gets you even more!”

  ? Luther waved his hand in vague dismissal. “It’s not worth it. This is just for pocket change, and so we don’t need the treasure. Any equipment we need, our parents would just buy for us.”

  ? And that, he realized, was the heart of the problem. For these three noblings, delving was a fashionable trend and a way to earn money for their social exploits. They felt no drive to improve themselves, to get stronger. For them, this wasn’t a matter of survival, just fun. Even though he knew it was a vain effort, he tried appealing to Luther’s goal.

  ? “But you said you needed to reach level five,” he said, trying not to sound too desperate. “To join The Boars?”

  ? At that, Luther merely shrugged. “I’m going to get carried to level four at the end of the month. I’m already halfway there with the first carry session I had last month.”

  ? Grim stared at him in mild disgust. How could none of them want to progress? Was this strictly a noble practice, or was every delver like this? Could he even progress in a reasonable amount of time in this city? He thought about how hard it had been to find a slot as a solo delver. The only dungeon that had been looking for someone to fill a slot was this one, and now he knew why. They hadn’t taken it seriously. Nobody did.

  ? And that, strangely, made him think of the woman from the bar. What had her name been? Ah. Veyra. She was from Ironmarsh, and she was strong. She’d also had the same distaste towards nobles, at least judging by the way she acted. She’d offered him a place…

  ? “You have to get used to the way things work,” Jeremiah told him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re not a noble, so you don’t know.”

  ? “And that’s understandable!” Aria quickly put in. Her ignorance was at least cloaked in polite naivety. “So we don’t hold it against you or anything! It’s just… there’s no need to try that hard.”?

  ? You won’t make it anyway. The thought, unspoken but definitely present, loomed over him like a dark cloud. It was what all nobles, young and old, thought. Delving was something to do in one’s youth, to pass the time, and was never taken seriously. Why would they? Everything they could ever need or want was given to them freely from their parents, who’d gone through the same cycle. There hadn’t been a dungeon flood in this city for over two centuries. They had no need to be strong.

  ? Letting out a snort of disgust, Grim turned away from them and stalked toward the dungeon entrance. All this way, and he wouldn’t even get the satisfaction of a full clear. The money… Sure, he had enough to cover his living expenses for a month and some change now, but he also had to replace a knife, which would gouge out more than half of what he’d earned. And they thought only of a night of fun, where all their earnings from today would be wiped out. They’d wake up the next morning happy as could be, with no strife.

  ? “Fuck them all,” he muttered, not caring if they heard him, though it wasn’t likely with the distance between them. He quickened his pace, one single goal in mind. She might have seemed unhinged, but anything… anything was better than what his life was now.

  ? As he burst through the double doors of the dungeon entrance, he saw his name listed among the top scorers of the day on the placard on the outside wall. He was nowhere near the top, but he couldn’t care less. He was done with the dungeon, with the city, with the noble assholes that had made his life so much harder than needed. If it hadn’t been for the fall of Evandross, he wouldn’t have to suffer their disdain. But now, he thought, a grim sort of smile forcing its way onto his face, he had an escape.

  ? He practically ran to the delver’s inn once he was outside the dungeon’s vicinity. The sun was high in the sky now, its rays shining down and warming the capital city, but he didn’t notice. He kept his eyes forward and continued in a light jog. He brushed against–or sometimes even bumped into–other people, who all called out in annoyance, but he didn’t care. He shut out the world around him, knowing that he’d soon be leaving it.

  ? “Dennis!” He gasped, entering the taproom an hour later, his chest heaving and clutching a stitch in his side. “That woman! Veyra! Is she still here?”

  ? The innkeeper, who’d been halfway across his taproom on the way to deliver a drink, paused to look around at the sweaty young man who had crashed through the door to his establishment. A moment of uncertainty crossed his features, then he recognized Grim. A mildly consternated look came over his face. “Ah, Grim. “No, sorry. She left a few hours ago. She’s on her way back to Ironmarsh.”