"Atlas, we've got a lock on where the troll dungeon is," John said.

‘Great,‘ Atlas thought. ‘We definitely need more dungeons linked to our settlement. The Red Fairy won’t be taking it easy on us. As the first town, we need to maintain our economic lead.‘

"That's perfect," he said aloud. "With the new dungeon conquered, we should have enough to keep going with our capacity upgrades. Remember, if we don’t have enough capacity, we can’t keep growing our empire. Fort Bone must grow or it will die.”

John nodded. “Atlas the town is doing well, tourists are flowing in, and we aren’t having any major problems. Do you see anything coming up? Anything from your past life?”

Atlas thought back to his past experiences in the wasteland. He coughed. "Let’s see... Last time I went through this, by week three, which we’re closing in on, settlements were growing fast. Everyone was building toward their own empires. But we can’t forget the mobs. They are getting stronger and will keep growing tougher as more people get portaled in."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"The mobs get tougher as more mana is produced, so they won’t be as easy to control."

"And the demon dogs," Atlas added. "We have to keep culling them. Our territory in Fort Bone is holding, but you must know many settlements across the wasteland have already given up defending against them."

"That’s true," Isabella chimed in. "A lot of the visitors tell us about that. It’s one of the top reasons we are so popular."

"So," Atlas said, "this hunt for the troll dungeon is going to be vital. John, how's the settlement doing? Can you afford to come out?"

John nodded. "That should be fine. We’ve got everything in place, especially with the mini faeries keeping track."

"Then it’s settled. I'll lead the raid," Atlas said. "Let's gather a group of twenty warriors and some porters. This one might be tougher. Trolls are a son of a bitch to kill. They’re way tougher than skeletons or ghouls."

Alexander leaned in, "Anything we should know, boss?"

"Yeah," Atlas nodded. "Trolls are smart. They're probably the first sentient mob we’re going to fight, so we can’t treat them like unthinking skeletons that just rush in. Also, they regenerate like a motherfucker. If you don’t set them on fire, they won’t stay down. Cut a troll in half, and eventually, you’ll have two trolls."

"Are you fuckin’ kidding me?" Alexander said, wide-eyed.

"Nope," Atlas replied. "That’s pretty much standard in the whole fantasy world."

"The fantasy world?" Alexander asked.

"Yeah," Atlas said. "It seems like the wasteland has somehow generated a lot of creatures that found their way from Earth’s collective mythology."

"That’s nuts," Isabella said, shaking her head. "I wonder how that happened."

"I don’t know," Atlas admitted. "We never found that out. But what’s most important is that we can take advantage of it. That plus my foreknowledge of what’s coming and we’ve got a big advantage over most."

The leadership group made their way to the vending machines, scanning for weapons that were fire-based. Attacking a troll dungeon with just swords and crossbows would be a recipe for a quick death. And unlike video games, there was no respawn in the wasteland.

‘Okay, let’s see here,‘ Atlas thought. ‘Ah, here we go. Cooking grease and quick-spark lighters. That should do it.‘ He rummaged through the machine, continuing his search. ‘We need something to put the grease in to create bombs... okay, here is the water—‘ He frowned, realizing the water balloons were out of stock.

Stolen story; please report.

"Oh, here are the condoms," he muttered. There were no water balloons, so condoms would have to do. ‘Well, they’ll be ribbed for the troll’s pleasure,‘ he thought with a smirk.

Making impromptu fire grenades had worked well in the past, and Atlas wasn’t about to change a winning combination. After loading everyone up with the fire grenades and quick-light matches, they teleported to the designated area. If they had walked, it would have taken them over two days.

Atlas led the 20 man raid team to the entrance of the dungeon, ready for the challenge ahead. The porters stayed behind at the entrance, because of the 20 person entry per hour rule.

The troll dungeon was a sprawling, grotesque habitat that reeked of decay and unrestrained chaos. It wasn’t a constructed dungeon of stone and mortar but rather a cavernous, organic expanse that the trolls themselves had moulded into a gloomy sanctuary.

The entrance itself was a gaping maw in the earth, framed by crude, twisted wooden stakes and bone carvings. Inside, the dungeon opened into a vast, dimly lit space that seemed to stretch endlessly. The walls were rough and uneven, covered in a thick layer of grime and moss. Stalactites dripped sporadically from the ceiling, their blackened tips oozing dark, sticky ichor that hit the ground with a soft hiss.

The floor was uneven and littered with the detritus of troll life—scattered bones, broken weapons, and scraps of what might have once been armor. Patches of putrid green slime covered parts of the ground, and a few pools of stagnant water added to the dungeon’s foul smell.

At the center of the cavern was a large, irregularly shaped pit, filled with refuse and the remnants of past meals. Around the pit, makeshift seating areas fashioned from bones, logs, and scavenged materials served as gathering spots for the trolls. The air was thick with the stench of rotting meat and sulphurous fumes from a few sputtering fires.

The trolls had decorated their home with an assortment of gruesome trophies: severed heads, mounted claws, and twisted, grotesque masks fashioned from the remains of their enemies. These macabre decorations hung haphazardly on the walls and ceilings, a testament to their violent prowess and dominance.

In one corner of the cavern, a crude arrangement of animal hides and tattered fabrics formed a makeshift sleeping area. The trolls’ lairs were nestled here, cluttered with various stolen or scavenged items that served as their personal belongings. Among these were bone-carved totems and rusted weapons, each a reminder of the trolls’ barbaric way of life.

The dungeon was lit by flickering torches and the occasional fire pit. Shadows danced across the walls, creating an eerie, unsettling atmosphere as trolls roared and stomped about.

Atlas took a deep breath and turned to his team. "Alright, remember the plan. We hit them hard and fast. Use the fire grenades to deal with the trolls' regeneration. Stay sharp and stick together."

Atlas signaled for the team to stop as they reached a large chamber. The room was dimly lit by bioluminescent fungi growing on the walls, casting eerie shadows. In the center, a massive troll sat hunched over a pile of rotting food, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering light. Its skin was a mottled green, warts and growths dotting its body. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent intelligence as it turned toward the intruders.

"Intruders!" the troll yelled with a guttural animalistic grunt.

More trolls scrambled out of the surrounding huts, kicking over debris and trophies in their haste to kill.

"Now!" Atlas shouted.

The team sprang into action, hurling fire grenades as they charged forward. The grenades exploded in a burst of flame, and the trolls’ roars of pain echoed through the chamber.

Flames spread quickly, burning away the regenerating flesh and keeping the trolls from healing themselves. But even as they burned, the trolls fought back with brutal strength, charging through the flames to attack the team.

The Portal Crushers braced themselves, firing crossbow bolts at the trolls that were rushing straight for them.

The battle raged on, fire and steel clashing in a brutal, chaotic melee as trolls roared in agony and the Portal Crushers fought with desperate ferocity. Despite the trolls’ staggering resilience and fierce power, the team held their ground.

“We can do this, team,” yelled Atlas. The sight of the trolls attacking would have panicked the Portal Crushers on their first day, but now, after nearly a month, they weren’t anywhere near breaking. Atlas admired their guts—unlike him, they had never done this before.

The Portal Crushers were in for a tough fight. They had fought skeletons, bandits, demon dogs and other undead. But this fight against the oncoming trolls might be the toughest in their lives.

Unlike skeletons or ghouls, the trolls were relentless, adapting with each blow. For every limb hacked off, another one grew back. The flames helped, but they only slowed the beasts. Their hulking forms barreled through the party’s defenses, tossing some of the warriors like ragdolls. Each hit landed with the force of a boulder, sending ripples of pain through the ranks. Sweat poured down their faces as they struggled to stay in formation. Some split off with backs against the wall as the trolls pressed in closer.

People often spoke of the horrors of facing demon dogs, but those people had never faced the rush of a group of regenerating trolls. This was nothing like their previous battles; it would take everything they had just to survive.