I go through the motions of an awakening. The sun is casting a single ray between my hastily closed curtains. I roll around in my bed, mocking a great conflict between lazing around and going to the Guild. After my responsible side wins out—with great difficulty—I shoot out of the covers. If I get it over with fast, I won’t be able to change my mind.

Stretching lethargically, I let out a long yawn. I check on my outfit for the day, haphazardly strung up to dry after being washed last night. Thankfully, one can find cleaning supplies still, even if practically everyone can use the equivalent spell. Limitations and some such. One of those limitations appears to be targeting inside the body, something about advanced mana field interactions making it hard for the average caster to adequately account for in their intent. Without the requisite sense, I can merely speculate on the mechanics. What this all leads to is that you still need to brush your teeth, even if they can’t get cavities. I go ahead and do just that. A quick shower follows. With grooming done for the morning, I rummage for some food. Two slices of only mildly stale bread, turn into a couple of cheese on toast, baked to perfection in the enchanted oven. Scrumptious.

As I eat my modest breakfast, I ponder. Do I continue this song and dance on the infinitesimal chance that someone is observing me during all hours of the day, or because I want to. Because I enjoy it. Because I do not want to be me.

The last bite is devoured, and the thoughts disperse.

***

I leave my quarters and begin the walk to the Guild. Some of the other adventurers that are milling about give me nods of recognition or a fast greeting. I am the talk of the town. While non-trainee applicants are not rare, they are not exactly common either. And adventurers, to put it politely, gossip more than— Ahem. My soon-to-be colleagues are all professional individuals.

“I heard he beat the hall master up.” ...Honestly? Changed my mind, bunch of gossipy pricks. I almost let out a laugh.

I arrive at the Guild and announce my presence to an attendant. The hall master arrives a couple of minutes after me. He stayed late yesterday.

After the obligatory slaps, I am led to the familiar armory. There is something new awaiting me there.

“Get suited up and grab that bag.”

“What is it, Hall Master?”

He makes a wicked smile. “Hope you don’t have anything else to do today, or tomorrow.”

Time for a nice, audible gulp. Judging by the widening smile, I nailed it.

I am led to the teleporter room and whisked away to another secret dungeon. It’s in a building, near the central part of the city.

Hall Master Ren begins his rehearsed speech, “You will be delving a G-grade undead dungeon with the objective of conquering it. Be careful not to damage the core. I will be supervising your delve. I will prevent any lethal situations but nothing else. Conquering the dungeon doesn’t mean you pass. I will be evaluating the entirety of your performance.”

With that done, he adds, “If you want to go solo, you gotta show me you can take care of yourself. You’ll have no one else.”

I nod and draw my sword. We step through the portal, and at the same time, he enters stealth.

I am in front of an imposing metal gate, twisted into disturbing designs. It is night, and the wind is howling a chilling symphony. A full moon peeks through scattered clouds, bathing what lies beyond in a monochrome light. Who knows what can be hiding in those inky shadows. I know. This might be fun.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Another world, everything here is as real as can be. Though, the moon is not that big, just closer. The uncharacteristically singular satellite does not even remotely match any of my records. And I didn’t miss the stars, there just aren’t any.

The intricate gate adorns a tall stone wall, circling around a vast courtyard. I approach the gate, and it swings open with a shrill cry. Atmospheric. I step inside the grounds. The stone beneath my feet is pristine, like I am the first person to ever step on it. Nary a stray leaf can be seen marring the decadent path. Why that peculiar descriptor? That very same path leads to a manor of epic proportions, one could even call it a castle. Situated on a cliff far away, it surveys any that enter with contempt, for they must first prove themselves worthy. A pair of red eyes flash, for but a moment, behind a window in the tallest spire. For the sake of appearances, I do not immediately vaporize their gaudy owner.

Shuffling feet and moanful groans announce the arrival of the welcoming committee. Fifty Lesser Zombies. Similar to their lighter counterpart, they do not possess any signs of ever actually living. Another facsimile.

The difficulty has jumped up quite a lot, this dungeon is on the high-end of the grade. As the hall master said, a solo adventurer needs to prove themselves, without a shadow of a doubt.

You do not technically need to fight everything in this dungeon, but when has my character ever taken the easy route. I approach the horde of monsters warily. They move as one. A thick milky mist seeps between their feet, obscuring the ground. They crash through ornately trimmed shrubs, singularly focused on me. No appreciation for artistry.

The leading zombie and I meet. I greet it with a twinning strike. Its top half flops to the ground with a thud, its bottom half continues forward. I stab through the upturned head. Both halves still. Classic.

The rest of the undead fall one after the other, showing minimal resistance against my superior dexterity. The spacious arena is entirely in my favor. I would need to show much more caution in tighter quarters.

Speaking about tighter quarters, as I walk along the meandering path, dispatching the occasional horde, I wind up before a sprawling hedge maze. As soon as I cross the threshold, a howl sounds out behind me, followed by another and another, until the howling of the wind is overpowered by its animalistic counterpart.

I start to run through the maze, my free hand extended, touching the wall. My perfectly logical approach to solving the maze is rewarded by a wall of leaves shifting in front of me. And I was being so nice. I hear the numerous soft thumps getting closer and hack my way to freedom.

As I stumble through the hasty hole and roll on the ground, a mass of black jumps behind me. The Lesser Zombie Hound takes a bite out of my extended sword instead of my neck. I push off the limp body and prepare for the next attacker. It never arrives, the thumps retreat and split, going down different paths. I see how it is.

I start running down paths and hacking through walls seemingly at random. The canine foes try to corner me but fail every time. I continue my seemingly desperate flailing, until the next skidding turn spits me out of the maze. The pack arrives just as I shoot upright and ready my weapon. They let out a combined growl but do not cross the threshold, slinking back into the misty darkness.

Oh, now we are following rules, huh. Can’t cheat a cheater, especially one that has a real-time 3D map in his head.

I turn to the manor and begin the climb up. The stairs are carved into the rocky cliff, turning the slight incline into a slow and repetitive ascent. Unnecessarily extended flights let the perils just passed and the ones inevitably approaching eat away at the minds of any would be interlopers.

After braving the stairs, my prize is another set of doors. I am at the foot of the manor. The heart of the dungeon. Shadows dance in the flickering lights of its windows. The stone behemoth towers over me, threatening to collapse forward, crushing any that dare disturb its peace. The illuminations dim and brighten rhythmically, the ethereal castle appears to almost be breathing, or concealing the form of a gargantuan beast.

The heavy set of doors await with indifference. The message is clear: ‘You are not invited here, interloper. Claw your way in like the beast you are.’ I press my hands against the wood and heave. With a resigned groan, the doors slowly split open. After another burst of strength, I separate them enough to slip through. The moment my form clears, they slam back together. The structure shakes—almost as if in rage—from the mighty force. My mere presence is an affront.

Okay, that might have been a little too baroque, but it matches the theme of the dungeon. I blame that insidious guide—again—for putting me on this aureate path.