The stairway curved upward through the heart of the mountain, its steps carved from black stone that shimmered faintly with threads of mana. Each footfall echoed into the dark like a steady drumbeat.

  James rubbed his legs halfway up. “How long are these stairs? I feel like we’ve been climbing for days.”

  Nyindnir’s laughter rumbled through the tunnel. “You humans tire easily. We’re on the ninety-ninth floor right now. The ninety-eighth holds the domesticated beasts you’re looking for, every kind of edible creature you could imagine. One floor above that, the ninety-seventh, is for sea delicacies.”

  James blinked through the dim light. “Every kind of animal? Really?”

  “Of course,” the dwarf said, puffing his chest. “But remember, we don’t keep anything wild or hostile.”

  James frowned. “Then how did you even get all these animals in here? Some kind of royal spell? Maybe Rennalinda’s ability?”

  Nyindnir chuckled. “If she had such a gift, your seed-making trick would be unnecessary, wouldn’t it?”

  “Fair point.”

  The dwarf slowed his pace, running a hand along the runes etched into the wall. “One of Sir Villen’s duties is to bring what the dungeon lacks. Others share the same mission across the continent. Their purpose is to attract what the dungeon cannot create on its own.”

  James tilted his head. “Then why aren’t there any humans here?”

  Nyindnir’s eyes narrowed, trying to decide if James was mocking him. When he realized the question was genuine, his voice dropped lower. “You truly don’t know?”

  “Hey,” James said quietly, “I get that you hate humans, but I don’t know why. I can only guess.”

  The dwarf grunted. “Then guess.”

  “Greed, probably. Power. Maybe the usual prejudice.”

  Nyindnir gave a grim smile. “You know your kind well. But those were only part of it. Four hundred seventy-six years ago, six armies went to war. The humans started it by killing both the King and Queen.”

  James stopped mid-step. “Rennalinda’s parents?”

  The dwarf nodded. “Aye. King Quidan trusted them too much. He called for a peace summit, offering the humans one last chance. The Queen insisted on going with him. Together, they were unstoppable.”

  “But someone stopped them,” James said softly. “How?”

  Nyindnir’s tone darkened. “The humans made offerings to their gods. They begged for divine favor and gained it from the ones who despised Wokzalcoatl. Those gods granted apostles, humans blessed with unnatural strength.”

  James clenched his jaw. “So they set a trap.”

  “Exactly. And that began the War of Six Armies.”

  “Did humans actually win against dragons?”

  The dwarf shook his head. “There were no winners. Every race bled. The elves and dwarves sided with the dragons and fled here, into the Kingdom of Wokzalcoatl.”

  “No wonder the Queen hates humans,” James muttered.

  Nyindnir didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  James glanced at the glowing steps beneath them. “So this dungeon… humans don’t even know it exists?”

  “No. Since its creation, you are the first to walk inside, at least in nearly five centuries. If any entered before, it was long before the elves and dwarves made this place their home.”

  James whistled low. “You said six armies. Dragons, elves, dwarves, and humans… that’s four. Who were the others?”

  “Orcs and beastfolk,” Nyindnir said, his expression unreadable.

  “Wow.” James hesitated, then asked, “And Wokzalcoatl himself? Didn’t he intervene?”

  “After he ascended to godhood, he vanished,” Nyindnir replied. “Some say his enemies destroyed him. Others say he’s waiting, biding his time for vengeance.”

  James looked upward into the endless spiral above. “How many gods are there, anyway?”

  The dwarf laughed softly. “Who can say? How many stars do you see in the sky? Best not to count.”

  He stopped suddenly and pointed ahead. A faint glow spilled from the stairway above.

  “Now quit asking questions, human. We’ve reached the ninety-eighth floor.”

  The ninety-eighth floor opened into a world that didn’t belong underground.

  James stepped out of the stairwell and froze. Rolling green hills stretched to the horizon beneath a sky that wasn’t real, an illusion of blue light painted across the cavern roof, dotted with soft white clouds. The air smelled of grass, mud, and hay. Somewhere in the distance, a bell clanged lazily.

  “It looks like the Windows XP wallpaper,” James muttered.

  Nyindnir frowned. “The what?”

  “Never mind,” James said quickly. “It’s… perfect.”

  Dozens of fenced pastures spread before them. Each was home to different beasts, some familiar, others straight out of mythology. Elves and dwarves moved among them as shepherds, their shouts and whistles echoing across the fields.

  Nyindnir gestured proudly. “Welcome to the heart of Wokzalcoatl’s larder. Every creature you can eat lives here in peace until needed.”

  They started down a dirt path lined with white stones. The first pen held shaggy, mud-covered pigs snorting happily into troughs. “These are dwarven pigs,” Nyindnir said, patting one on its back. “Short, fat, and surprisingly clever. They can smell truffles from twenty feet below ground.”

  James crouched and scratched one behind the ear. “You’d be great in a Michelin kitchen, buddy.”

  The next enclosure rumbled before they even reached it. Massive bulls with dark crimson hides stomped the earth, each crowned with horns that glowed faintly red at the tips. “Redhorn bulls,” Nyindnir explained. “Their meat stays warm for hours after slaughter. Perfect for slow cooking.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  James eyed one appreciatively. “They look like someone crossbred a steakhouse and a volcano.”

  Further along grazed a herd of pale, placid cows. Their hides shimmered faintly like silver under moonlight. “Gaibhneach cows,” said the dwarf. “Named after the smith-god Gaibhne. Their milk is so rich you can forge cheese out of it.”

  “That sounds both delicious and mildly terrifying,” James said.

  Next came a smaller pen filled with horned goats whose eyes glowed gold. Their wool rippled like sunlight on water. “Tannfaun goats. The elves use their fleece for mage robes. Also good roasted.”

  James nodded solemnly. “A noble sacrifice.”

  Nyindnir chuckled and led him onward to the more exotic section. Behind tall rune-etched fences strutted creatures with scales for feathers and snake-like tails, Cockatrices, each one the size of an ostrich. They hissed softly as the pair passed.

  “Don’t stare too long,” warned Nyindnir. “They petrify small animals when irritated.”

  James gulped. “Good thing I’m emotionally massive.”

  Nearby, an enormous pen shimmered with iridescent feathers. Dozens of radiant Sarimanok birds, legendary fowl with rainbow plumage and twin tails, pecked at golden grain. The light from their feathers painted the air in soft gradients of pink and green.

  James whistled. “Now that’s a chicken worthy of divine fried rice.”

  Nyindnir beamed. “Their eggs fetch more than a bar of gold in surface markets. But they’re gentle creatures.”

  Farther down, a group of burly boars wallowed in a mud pit beside a sign marked Macdo Boars. Their bellies were round, their snouts short, and they emitted a rhythmic grunt that almost sounded like a fryer sizzling.

  James blinked. “Wait. Did you name them Macdo Boars?”

  “Aye,” Nyindnir said proudly. “They grow fast, multiply faster, and always seem hungry. Perfect for large-scale meals.”

  James grinned. “Somewhere out there, a clown mascot just felt a disturbance in the force.”

  Beyond the pens, normal animals mingled with their mythical counterparts, pigs, sheep, goats, oxen, and chickens, all thriving under the artificial sky. Dwarves carried buckets of grain while elves mended fences and brushed wool. The harmony between them made the place feel more like a living ecosystem than a dungeon floor.

  “Over there are the Basan, fire-breathing roosters,” Nyindnir said. “Their meat’s got a natural kick to it, comes with its own built-in grill. And those shaggy beasts near the pond are normal sheep, though they tend to learn bad habits from their mythic cousins.”

  “Self-cooking chicken. Now that’s efficiency,” James couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve basically built Noah’s Ark with better flavor.”

  When they reached the far end of the field, the view opened to a gentle valley surrounded by low wooden fences. The air here was calmer, touched with the scent of clover and smoke.

  “Well, human chef,” Nyindnir said, planting his hands on his hips. “You’ve seen our pride. Which beasts will you choose for your feast?”

  James scanned the valley like a general selecting troops for battle. “Let’s see… one Redhorn bull for the main course, a Macdo boar for testing, a couple of those Sarimanok chickens for divine flavor, and—” he pointed at a group of fluffy sheep “—a few of them for variety.”

  Nyindnir nodded approvingly. “Good choices. Balanced palette of flavors. The Queen will be impressed if you don’t burn the place down first.”

  “Please,” James said, smirking. “I only burn food when it deserves it.”

  The dwarf barked a laugh. “Then you’ll fit right in.”

  As they turned back toward the stairs, the false sun dimmed slightly overhead, signaling the end of the dungeon’s artificial day. The animals quieted, save for the occasional lowing of a bull or the soft cluck of a Sarimanok settling its feathers.

  James took one last look at the endless green fields glowing beneath the cavern sky. For a moment, it almost felt like peace, like home.

  “Come on then,” Nyindnir said. “Time to see what swims instead of walks.”

  And with that, they headed toward the stairway to the next floor.

  The ninety-seventh floor opened not into darkness, but into endless light reflected on water.

  James stepped onto the platform and blinked in disbelief. Stretching as far as the eye could see were hundreds, maybe thousands, of rectangular ponds, each separated by stone embankments glowing faintly with containment runes. The air was thick and cool, smelling faintly of salt and brine. Above, the cavern ceiling projected an illusion of a sunlit sky, its light shimmering across the endless sheets of water like liquid glass.

  It looked nothing like a dungeon. It looked like an ocean reimagined by engineers.

  Nyindnir grinned beside him. “Welcome to the ninety-seventh. The Sea Harvest Floor.”

  James whistled. “You’re kidding. This is underground? It looks like you’ve cloned the Mediterranean in a cave.”

  “You and your weird words,” the dwarf muttered. “Eh, something like that. Each pond houses different species, fish, crustaceans, and other edible sea creatures. The elves designed it so that mana currents circulate through the walls, keeping the ecosystems balanced.”

  They walked along a narrow red pathway between the water basins. In one pool, shrimp darted beneath the surface in quick, silver flashes. Another pond rippled as mountain lobsters scuttled across the bottom, their shells glittering like molten copper. Nearby, a massive shadow glided under the water, something large but controlled.

  “Don’t worry,” Nyindnir said before James could ask. “No Krakens down here. Sir Villen banned them centuries ago. Too unpredictable.”

  “Smart,” James said, peering over the edge. “Though that thing over there looks like it could give me a heart attack anyway.”

  “That’s a Tiderock Gar. Big, but lazy. Won’t move unless you drop food in.”

  They continued along the walkway, passing more pools labeled in elegant runes: Pearlfin Trout, Skycarp, Moonshrimp, Coralback Eels. Each pond was nearly the size of a lake, with narrow wooden bridges spanning across their centers. Elves in waterproof tunics moved along the edges, carrying nets that shimmered with mana threads, while dwarves adjusted the flow valves between the basins.

  The air was alive with sound: sloshing water, distant calls, the occasional splash.

  James crouched to watch a school of fish whose scales shifted color every few seconds, moving from sapphire to emerald to gold. “What are those?”

  “Those are Mahi-Mahi, or as elves call them, Exotic Fish,” Nyindnir said with pride. “Tropical creatures that thrive in mana-rich water. Beautiful to look at. Delicious to eat.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” James said. “They’re practically begging to be grilled.”

  They stopped near another set of pools where shrimp and lobsters were raised together. “So, you’ve got everything from shellfish to sea monsters down here. But let me ask, why don’t you grow seaweed?”

  Nyindnir blinked. “Seaweed?”

  “Yeah, algae, kelp, sea plants. You’ve got all this ocean setup, but no greens? You could use them in soups, wraps, even dried snacks.”

  The dwarf squinted as if trying to decide whether James was serious. “Sea plants? People eat those?”

  James turned, incredulous. “Of course they do! They’re rich, salty, packed with minerals. You fry them, you season them, boom, instant umami. You’ve been missing out!”

  Nyindnir rubbed his beard, visibly intrigued. “Huh. Seaweed as food… never heard of that. I should tell Sir Villen. He’ll either be impressed or call it madness. Maybe both.”

  James grinned. “I’ll take partial credit either way.”

  They kept walking, the scenery repeating in mesmerizing patterns, ponds stretching like mirrored fields under the illusionary sun. Occasionally, bubbles rose from the depths, and flocks of glowing fish darted away from the ripples. The deeper they went, the more surreal it became; some ponds shimmered with phosphorescent light, others had coral formations glowing faintly beneath the surface.

  Eventually they reached a small stone platform overlooking the central basin, a wide, calm lake fed by dozens of glowing pipes.

  James stopped there, arms crossed, surveying the expanse below. “Alright, I think I’ve seen enough to start planning.”

  Nyindnir nodded. “Then what will you need?”

  “Let’s see…” James crouched, counting off with his fingers. “A few pounds of shrimp. Some of those shiny mountain lobsters. And definitely those Mahi-Mahi, get me two big ones. Oh, and maybe some sea salt while we’re at it.”

  Nyindnir jotted notes on a small rune tablet. “Anything else?”

  James tapped his chin. “If you can find any weird crustacean that screams when you boil it, toss it in. Makes it authentic.”

  The dwarf raised an eyebrow. “You humans have strange cooking rituals.”

  “That’s called culinary passion,” James said.

  Nyindnir laughed, the sound echoing across the water. “You really are something else, human.”

  They stood there for a while, the sound of rippling water filling the silence. Elves hauled up nets, fish glittered like liquid gemstones, and the air shimmered with mist and mana.

  James inhaled deeply. “You know,” he said softly, “I never thought I’d find the ocean inside a mountain.”

  Nyindnir smiled. “The dungeon provides for those who respect it.”

  “Then I’ll make sure to respect it properly,” James replied. “With butter, herbs, and a little salt.”

  The dwarf snorted. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  They turned back toward the stairs, the reflection of the glowing ponds dancing across their boots. Behind them, the endless aquaculture fields shimmered under the false sun, like a horizon that never ended.

  As they descended back toward the ninety-ninth floor, Nyindnir glanced over his shoulder. “You know, for someone who just arrived, you’ve got a strange way of thinking.”

  James smirked. “That’s what makes me special.”

  And together they vanished into the stairwell, leaving the glittering waters of the ninety-seventh floor behind.

  Author’s Note

  Jaco for this bonus chapter, I had nothing to do with it! ??

  follow and, if you really enjoyed it, add it to your favorites! If you’ve already done both, leaving a rating or review would help me a lot. Thank you so much in advance!

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