“Ah,” Hazel sighed, wiping a tear out the corner of her eye as the new day’s sun crept over the horizon, lighting up the rolling hills of the Custodial room. “This is too funny. Somehow the key you got almost as an afterthought is becoming one of the most obscenely broken abilities of yours. So? What will you do with this? Are you going to create an army of little monsters like yourself and take on the Dungeon and its powers? Establish yourself as a new big faction? Offer it as an exclusive service for the rich and powerful? Or are you still on break? Because you know this isn’t just a gift, right? Something is happening. The Dungeon doesn’t just hand out stuff like this for nothing. At least… it doesn’t feel like it should.”

  She gave him a knowing look, and Miles’ stomach twisted a little as he downed what remained of his carrot and lentil soup before he leaned back and put the wooden bowl on the floor of the tavern through the gateway. “I know,” he mumbled, reaching for a sip of water from a bottle he quickly produced. “And the more I’m discovering, the more worried I’m getting. But none of this is coming with a list of terms and conditions is it?”

  Even that first quest he’d gotten hadn’t come with any explanation on why he had been picked and gifted with [Respawn Protocol]. And he had had the conversation with Quinn before, and like him, she had no clue on why she’d received [Field Agent Requisition], just that she knew it was bad news and wanted out of the suicidal task set before her. Miles knew that information would eventually be revealed, either through something happening in the Dungeon or through another quest. But he knew the other shoe was going to drop eventually. He just didn’t know when. So he’d prepare. But in the meantime, he was going to enjoy himself a little as well.

  Putting his bottle back in storage, he rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. “As for taking over the Dungeon, why would I? Does that sound fun to you?”

  She gave him a wide grin, and he rolled his eyes.

  “Right. Of course you’d like that. But no. That’s a pass for me. As for creating others like me… We can’t. Well… not like I happened. I got to where I got because I could just die and come back, so I took risks and went head first into suicidal fights. Just bashed my head on the wall until I learned. Took on the special challenges whenever they showed up, which ended up with me getting most of my upgrades and soulbound items. But no one in their right mind would do it like that. Those who come here can definitely use the time compression to their advantage, but they can’t follow in my footsteps. If they die after going through all that effort, well, they’d most likely be dead for good, unless a pre-loop version of them is still around.”

  Hazel hummed, hands behind her back as she stared at the rising sun over the horizon. “Still. A lot can be done with this space. While both the room and your storage can persist through the loops, things can happen in here, and that persistence could be put to use. To Learn. Train. Meditate. This would be the perfect tool to empower a faction. To create an army in a seemingly short amount of time. Or rob the nobility blind,” she mused, a nasty twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at the sky. “You could negotiate unfavorable deals, fill your storage and room with their treasure, then rewind the time, take back what’s yours and keep what had been theirs. I’m assuming this will work just like your storage, where just one copy can exist at once, so whenever you rewind, their coffers would turn up empty.” She shook her head, but the smile never left her lips as she gave him a sidelong glance. “So much could be done with this space. People would literally kill you for having this. Even if they couldn’t take it for themselves, they wouldn’t sit idly by and allow this to exist. I can’t wait to see what happens.”

  A cold uncomfortable breeze made him hunch his back for a moment before he shook the tension away. Eventually he’d have to deal with that. And while he couldn’t stand up to every single force in the Dungeon just yet, he had all the time in the world to do that. “Yeah. I know I’m not the most secretive person, especially without the mask on, but we’ll have to keep a tight lid on that aspect of the Custodial room. At least for a while. As for why the Dungeon’s giving me all this... yeah. That lines up with our theories. I’m thinking… either it’s a matter of time before something from the Dungeon shows up, like a message or a new quest or some insane disaster, or I’ll have to work my way down past the 30th and see if that triggers anything. Eventually. With how easy to access the Custodial room is, I can probably do a floor every week or so until I work my way down there.”

  Hazel tilted her head, peering past him at the entrance that led to the tavern. “How? You’re gonna carry a building around? Not every floor’s gonna have a fortified city or a waystation with a door for you to use.”

  Miles hummed, considering whether a door by itself would be enough. He’d have to test that, but if it wasn’t, well, he could come up with something. Glancing behind him at the ghostly wardrobe door, he grinned. “In a way, I guess? I might need to have one commissioned. Something hard to destroy.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes. “You’re speaking in riddles.”

  Miles snorted. “You’re one to talk,” he said, getting up to his feet and stretching. “Alright, I’ll head down to 3rd, let the key do its thing, then I’ll come back and we’ll go from there.”

  Hazel pursed her lips. She refused to ask again, but it was clear that him keeping his idea secret was annoying her. Miles grinned at her, brows dancing as he hopped through the door back to the 2nd floor. “You’ll see!” he called back to her, and a moment later, he shut the door, and once more, he was on the second floor.

  “I’ll take a quick nap, and then, 3rd floor. But before I leave…”

  He trailed off, looking down at the floorboards below him, toward the depths of the Dungeon, then around in the room, until he found what he was looking for. Taking a step toward the furniture, he smiled as he rapped his knuckles on the wood.

  “Now… how much would it cost for the owner to part with you?”

  ***

  A short meditative semi-nap of thirty-minutes was enough for him to feel much better, especially when compared to how out of it he had been after the activation of [Respawn Protocol]. Miles didn’t manage real sleep. Not exactly. But lying on the bed for a while, just drifting in and out of wakefulness helped. With him feeling better, he was well prepared to negotiate with the tavern owner, and while he encountered some resistance at first, a few gold coins quickly melted it away.

  No one was that attached to a simple piece of furniture.

  With his new purchase in storage, Miles checked out, surprising the man for leaving so soon, and trekked out of the city. He climbed down the steep incline that led down to the stairway to the 3rd, passing a group that were arguing about errands, and arrived at a small, round platform that had a familiar runic circle which, when activated, would lead delvers back up to the surface, and a glowing flight of stairs that dove down into the ground.

  Miles took the first step down the stairs, and the world lurched around him and before he knew it, he found himself standing on a thin, precarious ledge in an impossibly wide and high canyon. A massive chasm had split the earth, cleaving it into two jagged, craggy cliffsides that were only connected in a few spots by precarious stone bridges. At least, the few that could be seen through the fog. A path had been carved into either face, a maze of ledges one had to navigate to find the way down while keeping an eye on potential rockfalls. Time had made the already unstable terrain even more precarious and now, one wrong step could send one tumbling into echoing darkness below. Wind howled through the gaps, carrying strange scents from even deeper places, while piercing screeches echoed as the hunters and predators of this biome searched for prey.

  Miles was in the third floor. The Shattered Depths. And already, he could feel the reaction of the key, deep in his spirit. Summoning it, he watched more of the old metal flake off for a few moments while he peered around for a cave he could use. With the key still in his hand, he began climbing down the path, uncaring of the howling wind and of the terrifying drop he was only one wrong step away from and eventually, he found his cave.

  It was most likely the product of someone’s Skill. A party must have carved this into the wall to rest, and while there were a few traces of some creatures having built a nest here, he didn’t mind it. Without wasting any more time, Miles kicked away a few dry bones before plopping down the wardrobe he had bought from the tavern, then pushed the key through the door.

  The door transformed, the wood and decoration growing richer, and Miles hopped on through, closing the door behind him to find a cross-legged witch where he had left her. She had been meditating, the air swirling with greens and purples around her, and she cracked an eye open when he showed up. Glancing around, a smile tugged on his lips. He didn’t need her confirmation as he could sense the change himself, though she still gave it.

  “Mana increased again,” she said, peering past him for a moment at the ghostly door. “That’s a small door,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

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  Miles took a deep breath, ignoring her annoyed glare as he sensed the mana rush in through his spirit. The ambient mana had increased again, which meant his crops would grow fast and strong. Heck, he might even be able to grow some special ingredients down here, especially with how mana-dependant some of them were.

  “It’s a wardrobe. I left it in a cave,” he simply said and, without further delays, he strutted toward the second doorway, the one that would lead to Rivergate.

  Hazel clicked her tongue, but there was no denying the smile tugging on the corner of her lips as she got up to her feet and followed after him. By now, the sun had risen, and it was—Miles approximated—around eight or nine in the morning, so when he opened the wardrobe in his hotel room, he was greeted by a brightly lit room and the subtle smell of baked bread and eggs.

  He could definitely get some of that. Once he was ready to step out.

  Rolling his shoulders, Miles stretched his awareness to the already taut threads of the loops that were tugging at his soul and with a wrench, he detached them, cutting himself off the loop. Thankfully, that part didn’t come with any exhausting backlash, just that he felt a little lighter, and with that, he stepped out of the Custodial room and onto the surface.

  He had been expecting something. A reaction of the Dungeon of some sorts. He had been on a delve, officially, so it made sense when as soon as his foot hit the wood of his rented chamber, the ending summary of his delve popped in front of his eyes, confirming the end of his journey.

  Relaying it to Hazel, who had hunched and cursed her way into the hotel room after him through the smaller gateway, she hummed, eyes narrowed, and he sensed her own presence spread around them, like the heavy air of a dark, damp forest, cutting them off from any potential eavesdroppers. Even the smell of the room changed. Miles didn’t expect anyone to be around to listen in, but just in case, he pushed his own aura out, doubling the protective field, and while he wasn’t good enough to seamlessly layer his aura with hers for a better result, having two anti-spying effect would be good enough.

  “So in the context of a delve,” she began, “the Custodial room acts as an in-between place. Neither part of the Dungeon, nor the Surface.”

  He nodded. “It can be used either from the side of the Surface or from within the Dungeon,” he continued, manifesting the key in his hand. Both eyed the simple-looking, iron-wrought piece with a mix of apprehension and wonder as he summarized their discoveries. “A universal waystation that could potentially be accessed from any floor,” he spoke, voice low as he turned the key in his hand. “It’s immune to the loops, and the quality of its mana will match whatever floor the key reaches.”

  When this delve had begun, it had been to see if the mana would change the deeper they reached into the Dungeon, but in the end, they ended up finding out much more. Glancing behind at still open wardrobe and the plains of green beyond it, Miles shut the wardrobe’s door, and with the key in his hand, the wardrobe reverted to its natural state. Turning to Hazel, he scratched behind his neck.

  “Well, we’re going to be thinking about this for a couple of days at least, I’m guessing. For now, I’m going to go see how the others are doing. I don’t expect there to be much news from a single day away, but who knows. What will you do?”

  Miles wasn’t sure if she wanted to take a break or return to the Custodial room. In fact, maybe he should have asked before he’d closed the door but by now, the witch was peering down the window and into the street.

  “I’d like to see this city,” she said.

  Miles raised a brow for a second, then shrugged. “Sure.”

  She flashed him a bright, sharp-toothed smile and immediately made her way to the door, only for Miles to raise a hand. “Nope! Not like that,” he said, pointing at her.

  She halted, hand hovering over the handle, and clicked her tongue at him before pressing her lips in line. “Fine. Spoilsport,” she muttered, and with a flick of her hand, her body started to shrink. Her features mellowed and changed. Her horns shrank away and her hair turned to a common shade of brown. Her face and ears lost some of the angular flares—but not all—until slowly, she looked like anyone you might meet in the streets of Rivergate. Even her clothes had changed, now looking more casual and modern, and the only vestiges left from her normal appearance were the deep green eyes and the slightly sharp cheeks and ears. “Happy?”

  Miles shrugged. “In general? Sure.”

  And with that, the two headed out into the world, and Miles couldn’t help but smile. It was always fun to get a rise out of the witch.

  ***

  Astrid’s POV

  When they finally left the tunnel and saw the waystation in the distance, Astrid nearly fell to her knees and nearly wept. And she wasn’t the only one. Theron was laughing with relief, hunched over his spear, while Helena just popped down on the ground, head lolling from fatigue. Silas helped Roland sit down as the Torchbearer couldn’t put weight on his legs, while his partner, Lyra, fussed over the injured Torchbearer. He had taken a bad fall yesterday in a particularly dark and slippery stretch of the ruins and well, they’d ran out of healing supplies.

  But it was over. At least, for now. They’d be selling some of the meats and herbs they’d collected, and they’d use that to resupply.

  It had taken them three and a half days to get here since the events at the lake. They hadn’t run out of food, thankfully. Not even close. But fatigue and exhaustion had been taking their toll. It had been nearly a week since their last waystation up on the first floor, and even then, there hadn’t been much to be found up there. The settlement hadn’t been that populated. It was basically a couple of merchants hanging about to gouge whichever groups that were going down and who made the mistake of not supplying enough on the surface.

  Which happened to be them, considering they had gotten lost on the 1st floor and wasted time up there. But the city ahead was much larger, and she hoped—even prayed—that there would be a bathhouse down there.

  Because holy hells did they all stink. But for now, they took a few moments to catch their breaths, finally relieved to have civilization in sight.

  “Do you guys think he’ll be there?” asked Theron after a few moments.

  The once gloomy warrior had been shaken from Miles’s display and apparently, he’d gotten it in his head that if he asked, he might be allowed to receive training from the terrifying figure. While Astrid had first thought the stranger had been a recruiter, the fact that he had made no offer to them meant that… well. Either they didn’t impress him at all, or recruiting was really not why he had been down here. Whatever the case was, she felt wary about potentially overstepping.

  It felt… risky. Someone who could reduce the hide, flesh, and bones of one of the strongest creatures of the whole damn floor to literal blood mist wasn’t a person she was keen on annoying. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she was tempted to get herself an apprenticeship, but they couldn’t push their luck. Maybe if they kept pushing themselves they could attempt a sponsorship? See if he needed a team to run some errands for a few coaching sessions here and there? Astrid had heard of how prized lessons from senior delvers could be.

  Dammit, maybe we should have asked, she chided herself, stifling a yawn. There was a time and place to be cautious, and there was also moments when one had to take risks. After all, what were they down here for? Wasn’t it to strive for power and strength despite the dangers that could be found in the Dungeon?

  “I doubt it,” said Helena between bites of salted eel, snapping Astrid out of her thoughts. “Seemed like he was in a rush. Not sure why he’d hang around here, but who knows.”

  “Should we… ask around?” Roland said, wincing as he adjusted his foot, and Silas shook his head.

  “I feel like we shouldn’t. We’ve had the opportunity of seeing a high-rank delver at work. We should leave it at that, and not risk offending him by poking our noses where they don’t belong.”

  Astrid hummed, but she begrudgingly nodded, and her gesture was echoed by the others. They got lucky, and it was better to leave it at that. For now, at least. No matter how curious and intrigued they were and who knows, maybe their paths would cross again. Or they could always try and reach out.

  Still, the thought would not stop pestering her. Had it been a test or a recruitment mission? Had they failed?

  She sighed, trying to pull her thoughts away from the potential failure and after a few minutes, they all got up and headed down the steep path until they reached the city walls and there, they quickly scouted a place in which they could rest for a couple of days, found a bathhouse where Astrid struggled to keep her eyes open and lastly, she went back to the room she had rented, which she was supposed to share with Helena.

  Their clothes had already been cleaned, arrayed on top of the bed. Astrid resisted the urge to shove them aside and crash on the bed and instead, she changed into something comfortable. She was putting on her pyjamas when something made her pause. With her freshly washed shirt half-above her head, Astrid peered down at the floorboards and noted the four, slightly discolored marks on the wood, near the empty wall.

  Had there been a table there? Or a wardrobe?

  Shacking her head, she finished changing, stifling yet another yawn and finally, after days of sleeping on the hard, wet, gross floor of the second floor, she fell face-first on the bed.

  It was heavenly, and it barely took her a minute to conk out.