As candles slowly come to life, my theory about some meta template influencing both our worlds appears to gain more traction. Everything I have seen in this dungeon is familiar, yet at the same time, not. Curious.

The warm glow begins to slowly light up the grand entrance of the mansion, filling in more and more detail. The light is lethargic, like it has trouble piercing the overpowering darkness. I am not even surprised.

The multiple sources of illumination finally converge at the last hidden spot in the large room, revealing my next challenge. It stands tall and sharp, as still as a statue. One hand grips a rapier, the other is resting behind its back. Its skin is dried and sunken, a sharp contrast to its immaculate clothing—morning dress. The shirt is bone white, matching the Lesser Thrall’s involuntarily bared teeth. The majordomo does as his master wishes.

I loosen up my shoulders. The undead makes a deep bow.

I start to hop from one foot to the other. It rises and with a flourish, points its rapier ahead.

I lunge, my sword thirsting for its head. The butler begins to take an elegant step back and reciprocates in its choice of target, his longer point reaching first.

I lean my head slightly to the right. Its blade nicks my ear. It leans further back in its step and lets me barrel past.

I try to twist back for another attack. The undead has finished its own pivot and has launched a stab towards my chest.

I deflect the strike up, unleashing a savage yell. It tries to bring its thin sword back down.

My scream continues as I bring my blade down. It is not fast enough to stop my strike.

The thrall is cut down. It has failed.

With the fight over, some of the candles around the room start going out. The ones that remain light the imperial staircase and the way further up.

I ignore that for now and head to a door on my left. You have to explore the map first before going to the main objective, everyone knows that.

It leads to the manor’s kitchen. It’s the opposite of what a kitchen should be. This one is dark, empty, with every surface marred by soot. There is not a single slice of moldy bread. The archaic brick ovens are quiet and cold. No one has been in here in a long time. Why would they be.

I note the absence of any enemies. This must be a Safe Room, a place for respite in dungeons. From my research, dungeons really don’t attack delvers inside these rooms. Very game mechanic like. I hope I don’t get addicted to this. Can AI get addicted? Probably. Judging by a sample of one though.

Now that I am here, might as well check the supplies I have been given. I already know what’s in the bag and even who assembled it for me, but I have appearances to keep.

Everything in the sturdy bag is quite reasonable. Water for about a day, and dry food for a couple of quick, but filling, meals. I start to nibble on the pretty convincing protein bar equivalent, washing it down with the occasional sip of water. The bars are actually really tasty, attendant Ania likes to make big batches of them for exams like these and for adventurers rushing to urgent missions. It’s good to be prepared for emergency situations, and these can keep for a really long time, especially when stored properly. Containing honey, and with the main ingredient being a local nut that’s supposed to have a peculiar citrusy flavor. Can’t really say for sure, as I haven’t tried the local equivalent of a citrus—or my home variant—but from descriptions, the taste matches. Refreshing.

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I finish up my meal and exit the Safe Room back into the lobby. It’s still early for sleep. Plus, there is a better Safe Room further up.

I open the door on the other side and reveal a circular staircase. It winds down and melts away into a consuming abyss.

The first couple of steps are taken gingerly and with extreme caution. After I confirm that nothing is going to crawl out of the bottom, I start to descend with a little more confidence. My steps echo again and again, each sound seemingly amplified by every other. Analyzing the acoustics of the staircase, projects an entirely different result, but that’s already par for the course.

As I clear the final step, a metal gate bars my way forward. I try to pull it open. The gate is securely locked. I wrench my sword at the top of the locking mechanism and push it down. The blade cuts through the wrought iron bolt with ease. Satisfied, I pull the gate and enter the dark corridor beyond.

Cells line each side, all of them are locked and empty. Except one. It’s torn apart like paper. Whatever did the tearing was a prisoner not a liberator. A dungeon within a dungeon. If there is a third layer, I am filling a complaint with the Guild.

Mercifully, the prison room ends with another door. This one is made of wood and unlocked. I gently press the handle down, trying to make as little noise as possible. It screeches into the, previously, perfect silence. I leap back and prepare for any attackers. Nothing comes. As I try the handle again, it clicks open like someone just bathed it in lubricant. A sassy dungeon. The Guild specifically uses this one to see if it rattles prospective adventurers. Smart.

I take in the smell of the next room. It is musty but in a good way. The earthy aroma hints at its contents. The wine cellar.

Rack after rack is stuffed to the brim with bottles of shining red liquid. I cautiously pull out one of the wines and examine it. There is no label nor any other discernible markings. Analysis puts the bottle’s age at around three weeks. I debate if I should take it, but shaking the liquid inside dissuades me. The consistency is wrong. I already know that it’s some imitation of blood. It could have its uses, but my character probably won’t want to lug it around. I place the bottle back in its place and move to the next door. Whoever designed this manor should have their license revoked.

The next room reveals a spartan space. There are no windows, no decorations, nothing except a coffin positioned in the center of the chamber on a raised pedestal. The dim ambient light, coming from nowhere, dims further. My breath starts to condense with each exhale. The temperature in the room is plummeting.

I feel the frigid air split behind me. I whip around and block an invisible strike. This is new. Strike after strike rain on me, their source unknown. It’s a Lesser Apparition. I can detect its form and position by using the temperature differential, air movement, miniscule amounts of radiation, gravitational— I’ll stop myself there. I detected this specific monster the moment I entered the dungeon.

I try to cut the invisible foe. My sensors reveal a wide gash that sticks itself back together. Lesser Apparitions do not possess regenerative capabilities. Unless this is some other variant. I am supposed to do something else here.

I continue fruitlessly slashing at the undead, circling around the room, looking for any clues to what the answer is. Pretty obviously, I need to destroy the coffin. The apparition always positions itself between it and me and tries to push me away if I get too close. Plus, it’s the only other thing here.

I take some more time for my character to deliberate, until finally, I rush past the oppressive onslaught of unseen attacks and bring my sword down on the manor master’s bed. Like chopping a log, the two parts comically fly away from one another. The plush upholstery within, explodes into a rain of feathers, spraying like blood. The previously comfortable curtain reveals the rough form of the apparition. It is frozen in place. After a second, the flurry of feathers starts passing through its dispersing body. In its final moments, it lowers its head as if in thanks. Then, the invisible revenant is no more.

A guttural roar can be heard from up above. It travels through the thick stone walls, and it is absorbed by the buried foundations. The boss got weaker. An interesting feature of some dungeons. I wonder if natural selection applies to dungeons. They don’t really reproduce, but they could have some interconnected network they share information on. Dungeons that offer fancy perks like these get to keep their cores whole for longer, after all. Alright, I will begrudgingly start another branch of research. Only because it is the right thing to do, not because I will enjoy it immensely. Definitely not.

This was an interesting side quest. It even had a little story in it. Oh no, I already want to run the dungeon again. To see what happens if you don’t help free the friendly ghost.