I go back through the awkwardly positioned rooms and ascend the circular staircase. Once back at the entrance, I take the proper way forward with much more outward caution. Inwardly, I am excited about meeting the boss.

The imperial staircase takes me up five floors. The geometry of the mansion is all wrong. I cannot detect any spatial manipulation, but do not exclude it outright. I wonder how easily a dungeon can change itself? Hmm. No, I shouldn’t. It is risky for me to leave a drone, or part of my swarm, while the hall master is observing. There are too many variables I cannot account for. Further tests will be done when I go to a dungeon for my first solo mission.

The staircase ends at two widely open golden colored doors. Inside the room, twenty thralls outline a path into the black void. They are perfectly still—an invitation. I approach the undead and follow their unsaid instructions. My head is on a swivel. As I pass the last pair, the doors slowly close, with a final click. Switching it up I see.

A giant crystal chandelier comes to life, bathing the room with iridescent light. The colorful illumination reveals the rest of the guests—another twenty thralls. Each couple is dressed in evening wear. They are clasping each other’s hands and staring into a pair of dead eyes, barely reflecting their own back. The couples are scattered around the floor of the, now apparent, ballroom. As one, all heads snap in my direction. A deafening crack echoes through the room, their stiffened joints fighting against nature, some of the undead contorting into unnatural angles. In the next instant, the chandelier detaches from the ceiling. As it slowly picks up speed in its inevitable descent, the light it emits dims. Its crash to the floor plunges the room into total darkness. At the same time, both staff and dancers, rush for my death.

My character would be totally blind, I can see everything. How do I play this?

From my, now extensive, observations, I have gleamed that reaction, intuition, and overall awareness are much higher in this world. Now, for the average person, it is not by much, but if you take into account people that train every day and dedicate a lot of time to improvement, the standards jump. A lot. Everyone here is dressed to impress. I’ll take the suggestion.

I jump up as hard as I can, splintering the floor. A mass of bodies piles on my previous location.

I twist mid-air and crash against the ceiling. A carefully timed push off propels me to the opposite side of the room.

With the chandelier between us, the mob splits into two streams. I dash towards the left.

A flurry of precise cuts and careful evasions, minces the first horde of undead into parts and leaves me unscathed.

The second reaches my back. I block a flailing strike with my arm and kick the winner of the race back.

It crashes into some of the monsters, momentarily thinning the crowd. I duck a kick and grab the attacker’s planted leg.

I pull the undead hard, making it lose its balance. With the leg tightly gripped, I spin my improvised bludgeon around, giving me space.

I slam the undead into the floor and stab its head. The remaining thralls are soon dispatched.

I try to still my breathing and listen intently. There is a light scuff behind me.

I whip around and point my blade ahead. The last straggler’s desperate leap ends with no results.

Is this what they call a blind date?

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

As I inwardly chuckle to my totally funny joke, the mysterious ambient light returns, and the room is lit. The result of the fight is not pretty. There are body parts scattered everywhere. The once shiny wooden floors are now scuffed and stained with thick, black blood.

Another pair of identical golden colored doors slowly open on the opposite side of the room, showing a long corridor. I follow the path and reach a carved wooden door. I tentatively grip the handle. A slight push down does nothing, the handle has not budged. If I did not have every square centimeter of this dungeon already perfectly mapped, the core would be sporting a toasty laser hole right about now. It’s just a push to open door, it has no latch.

I kick the door as hard as I can, and my foot goes through the deceptively soft wood. I awkwardly fumble and try to free myself, hopping on the other foot and trying to pry pieces off the door to widen the hole. Finally, with my face fully red, I am on two feet again. While I can be petty, I still need to maintain character.

I step into the room and audibly groan. The library, another Safe Room, what a disappointment. None of the books are real, there is no writing. Not a single letter inside any of the numerous tomes. This dungeon is good. Really good. Too good to be left ali— Ahem. This Safe Room is a little special, there is a puzzle. Can’t solve the puzzle? Reaching the boss will be much harder. Trivial. Unfortunately, I can’t let it appear that way.

Let’s see. A grandfather clock starts ticking and going backwards. One hour. Fail, and the room is no longer safe. Succeed, and reap the spoils.

I take a careful look around. First, making sure that the room is truly safe. And second, searching for the starting point of this puzzle, or at least a hint.

The interior of the library is fully made out of wood. The floor has a lush carpet slung over more wooden boards that creak and shift ominously with every minute movement. On said carpet, disorientating shapes trick the eye, making the floor appear uneven and, at times, non-euclidean. The less scientific definition of the term.

Bookshelves line the walls of the first and the second floor accessible only by a single spiral staircase. More bookshelves also jut out, creating a sort of irregular pattern. Not really using the area of the room as efficiently as possible. Each bookshelf contains rows and rows of empty books. Each page is blank and in various states of degradation. The covers are all different from one another, with strange designs made in even stranger colors, twisting as if alive.

The rest of the space is occupied by reading nooks in the form of a few sofa chairs stacked around small and rather short tables. Not very ergonomic if you ask me. The very center of the library has a much bigger circular table with a single item on top of it—a globe. A globe that depicts a fake world. One with no names.

I take resigned steps towards the globe, and upon reaching it, give it a good spin. I let it spin for a bit with a bored expression, and then stop it with a single extended finger. I start slowly rotating it, examining all it contains. I lean my head left and right, trying to see a pattern in the chaos. There are no bodies of water on the globe, just mountains and plains. Mountains with too many and too uniform peaks, and plains with a bit too straight boundaries. I try to simulate plate tectonics for this particular configuration and actually get a hit. Huh. Was that a coincidence? Or does this dungeon feel my true self and has finally come up with a real way to torment me. I spin the globe a few more times, just for good measure.

Alright, it’s been like what? Fifteen seconds? Long enough. I stop the globe again, but this time, with purpose. I trace the mountains with my finger, while occasionally glancing at the bookshelves. My finger stops. One within the multitude of meticulously drawn—or created—peaks is slightly misformed. I figure out which bookshelf the containing mountain represents. And from there, which row and column the peak marks.

I march towards my target. Once in front, I place my hand on top of the spine of one of the books. With a deliberate motion, I hinge the book outward. It offers some resistance and then stops at a forty-five-degree angle, unable to be moved further. I give it a suspicious look. After a few seconds, it snaps back into place.

Something clicks behind one of the bookshelves, and with a hiss, the heavy stack of wasted paper swings a bit outward. I approach the newest discovery and, with some difficulty, move it further out, fully revealing what is hidden. To the surprise of no one—another door. This should be the exit then. I nod my head a few times, satisfied by my performance.

With that done, I sit down on one of the sofa chairs and polish the rest of my supplies. Comfortable enough. I dangle my legs off one side and lay my head on the opposite armrest. After some time, I pretend to drift off to sleep. I have some free time and some information to analyze. I am practically forced to write those books, what can you do.

Even though this place is safe, Hall Master Ren continues watching over me diligently.