“That’s not a simple answer. It’s a long one. I’ll tell you after you complete the dungeon, deal?”

Cedar accepted his offer without protest, though her pout remained firmly planted on her face. “Take me to it, then.”

With a sharp whistle, Ari summoned Clyde and Dale to escort them to the level two dungeon. Cedar, feeling eerily unfazed by the potential danger ahead, mounted Clyde. She was more eager to continue her questioning than to worry about the dungeon, seeing it as an irritating obstacle standing between her and the truth. Channeling her anger toward the dungeon, she hoped to use it as a shield against fear, just as she had done inside the level one dungeon.

With his eyes fixed on the path ahead, Ari asked, “You’re purposely making yourself angry, aren’t you?”

“I gotta hype myself up.”

“Do what you gotta do, I guess.” Ari clicked his tongue at Dale, signaling him to start a trot.

The trail wound its way down, abandoning the lake’s edge and descending into a barren hollow devoid of trees. Emerging from the clearing, a monolithic stone structure loomed, its presence alien to Cedar’s prior passings. Ari dismounted Dale and walked to the stone’s face, gazing into the dark maw of a cavern clearly shaped by no natural hand.

“You like it?” Ari asked, pride gleaming in his smile.

“Um, no. Why would I like it?”

“I made it look like an actual dungeon this time. Pretty gnarly, huh?”

A skewed wooden plank above the entrance read “Level Two.” Cedar regarded it with indifference. It irked her that Ari could take such pride in creating a monstrosity that might kill her.

“It’s just a prop,” he said, offering his hand to help her off Clyde. “You’ll be okay no matter what, remember?”

“Yeah, and whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. Got it.”

“I’m going in with you this time.”

A weight lifted off Cedar’s chest at his words. She almost felt guilty for being annoyed at him only moments ago.

“Why?” she asked.

“To make sure you make it out alive. I won’t help you kill anything, though—that’s your job.”

Cedar’s determination renewed as she realized she wasn’t as alone as she had feared. She had a powerful ally, a protector—a literal hero—by her side.

Ari ran through reminders to bolster her resolve. “The only evil is fear. None of this is real. Believe in yourself . . . ”

“I believe in you,” Cedar said, glancing up at him.

“That’s sweet, Seed,” Ari replied, fidgeting with his bolo tie to distract himself from the moment. “That was a shared moment, wouldn’t you say?”

Cedar turned her gaze to the dark chasm ahead. A sinister hollow resonance echoed from its depths, and a cool breeze prickled the back of her neck.

“Just do what you did last time,” Ari advised. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m ready,” Cedar said, steeling herself as she faced the cavernous opening.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Ari announced before whistling for Dale. “I have a present for you.”

Dale trotted over, bobbing his head in acknowledgment. Ari unlatched a long sheath from the horse’s saddle. With great reverence, he knelt before Cedar, holding the weapon aloft.

“Your sword, my liege.” Ari unsheathed a reflective katana from its scabbard, holding it horizontally above his bowed head.

“A sword?” Cedar reached for it immediately, examining its gleaming blade and testing its sharpness.

“Yeah. I figured it’s time you had one. Those zombies in Level One only needed a good punch, but these guys aren't as crumbly.”

“Thank you!” Cedar exclaimed, jumping up and hugging Ari tightly.

“Hey now, it’s just a sword. No biggie.”

Cedar stepped back and practiced a few swings, rehashing the fencing moves Bryce had taught her earlier. The blade was well-balanced, slicing the air with ease and precision. Its woven hilt fit perfectly in her hand, as though it had been crafted just for her.

“I can’t wait to test it out,” she said, jabbing at an invisible monster in front of her.

“You ready?” Ari asked, his tone amused by Cedar’s sudden shift to exuberance.

“Let’s kill us some monsters.”

She readied herself in a fighter’s stance as Ari casually waltzed into the shadowy chamber. His lack of fear bolstered her own resolve. Tightening her grip on the hilt, Cedar followed him into the unknown.

A few feet into the alcove, she quieted her breathing, straining to catch any sign of threats along the torchlit path. The only sound was a howling rush of air that sent shivers up her sleeve.

“Ari?” Her voice echoed against the damp walls.

“I’m here. Nice in here, huh? I should ditch the cabin for this place.”

Cedar hadn’t realized her hands were trembling until they steadied. She exhaled in relief, forcing herself to agree. “Yeah, totally suitable for my needs. Where are you?”

“You know how creepy dungeons are in video games?” Ari replied, answering her question with another question.

“Yeah?” she responded, following the sound of his voice deeper into the corridor.

“Well, this first room is creepy. I don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t,” she said as she approached a sharp 90-degree turn in the passage. Instead of charging in, she flattened herself against the tunnel wall, angling the katana’s polished blade to reflect the adjacent room. The only movement she saw was the flicker of torchlight on the sword’s surface.

“Thanks for not making this place pitch-black,” she called.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t actually design this dungeon. It’s a prefab—a default Level Two dungeon, so . . .”

Cedar turned the corner cautiously while Ari kept talking. Her breath hitched at the grisly scene before her.

“. . . I designed the last dungeon. I wanted to make it simple and address your fear of the dark, mainly. I figured once you got over that, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.”

In a dim corner, a rusted cage groaned, its occupant reduced to sinew and bone. In the opposite corner, a fresh human cadaver hung upside down, swaying gently from an iron hook. Its flayed flesh was arranged grotesquely on a butcher’s table in the center of the room. The walls and floor were streaked with dark stains of carnage. Beside an immense grinder stood a grim totem, crafted from human skulls and the teeth of beasts.

Cedar’s hand flew to her mouth as the stench hit her—a noxious, putrid scent that churned her stomach. It wasn’t fear that gripped her—not with Ari’s calm presence anchoring her—but revulsion, a deep-seated abhorrence for the macabre scene before her.

“Yes, I’d definitely trade in my cabin for this place,” Cedar joked. “I wouldn’t even need Alma anymore—not with all this food lying around.” She spit on the floor to clear her mouth of the acidic saliva pooling there, stifling a series of guttural burps.

A rustling sound emerged from a conjoined tunnel, leading to a more remote area of the dungeon.

“Did you hear that?” Cedar whispered, clutching the katana close to her chest. “What was it? Footsteps?”

“Ready yourself,” Ari advised.

Cedar’s hands started trembling again as a loud buzz echoed from deeper within the dungeon. The revving of a motor filled the air.

“Oh God, what is that?”

Before Ari could respond, a towering masked man—easily over six feet tall—burst from the tunnel, wielding a roaring chainsaw.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” Cedar panicked, dropping her sword with a clatter and bolting back down the tunnel. She didn’t stop until she was out of the cave entirely, gulping the fresh air in heaving breaths.

Her legs slowed to a shaky stop as she glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting the monstrous figure to chase her. “Oh my . . . Oh my God.”

She bent over, palms on her knees, gasping for air. “I can’t do this,” she muttered between pants. “I just can’t.”

Ari strolled out of the dungeon a moment later, smiling as if he’d just finished a pleasant walk. “Not very welcoming, is he?”

“Why didn’t you warn me?!” Cedar shrieked, only to groan moments later. “Oh no, my sword! I dropped my sword.”

Ari held it out to her like an adult handing candy to a sulking toddler. “Here you go, cupcake.”

“Thank you,” Cedar mouthed, snatching it back with embarrassment. She clutched the hilt tightly. “Did you see him? He was huge! And fast! If you’d warned me, maybe I could’ve prepared better.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Ari reassured her. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But you do need to be ready for anything, with or without warning.”

Cedar barely processed his words, her mind still racing. She nodded numbly, her eyes glassy with lingering fear.

“Just breathe,” Ari reminded.

Cedar forced herself to slow her breaths. “How do I fight that guy?” she asked, her voice still tinged with dread.

“Simple. Stab him a few times. He’s fast on his feet, but that chainsaw? It’s heavy. He swings it slow—you can dodge it.”

Cedar huffed, frustration creeping in. “Dodge it. Right. Sure.”

Her mind latched onto a new strategy. Anger. If she could summon her rage, maybe she could drown out the fear.

“That stupid jerk-faced slimy-ass monkey son-of-a—”

“Hey!” Ari’s voice snapped her back.

Cedar’s head shot up.

“Stop that,” he scolded.

“I can’t do this,” Cedar muttered, her voice small and defeated. “I don’t want to do this. And I hate you.”

Ari remained unfazed. “There are less scary Level Two dungeons out there, but they wouldn’t serve the purpose of this exercise.”

“There are less scary dungeons?” Cedar shoved him with all her weight, but he barely budged.

“I had to pick the House of Horrors to speed up your training. How else can you overcome your fears? Killing rats and beetles in some boring dungeon wouldn’t cut it.”

He was right, of course. Cedar imagined herself swatting at rats and beetles, feeling the chore-like monotony of it. But that didn’t mean she wanted to face a chainsaw-wielding maniac, either.

Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. Sitting in the grass, she stared blankly at the horizon, frozen in place.

Ari joined her, plopping down with his usual ease. He picked a blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers.

“You know what works better than anger?” he asked.

“A gun to my head?” Cedar replied.

“Humor,” Ari said, his face straight.

Cedar shot him a skeptical look.

“I wanted you to figure this out on your own. It sticks better that way,” he explained, tapping his temple. “But planting the idea doesn’t hurt, so . . . ”

“This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.”

“How did you feel when we were joking about living in there?” Ari nodded toward the dungeon.

Cedar hesitated. She realized the joke had distracted her. It made her forget where she was, even comforted her for a moment.

Ari tapped her forehead lightly with his fingertip, as though etching his next words into her mind: “Don’t take anything seriously.”

Cedar raised a tired eyebrow, her expression questioning.

“When you’re serious, you limit yourself,” Ari began. “You limit your power. Fear thrives in seriousness. The more seriously you take things, the more fear you feed into the problem.”

“Uh-huh,” Cedar replied, unconvinced.

“Think of it this way,” Ari continued. “Everything is malleable. Everything is just potential and probability. That’s all. Not just situations, but even people. The only truth is that there is no truth.” His voice rose with a spark of excitement, like he’d stumbled upon a eureka moment. “Why feed into a reality that disagrees with you? Why not make it your own? Let me ask you this: is fear worth the price of your awareness?”

Cedar shook her head, her tone was skeptical. “I don’t know. That seemed pretty real to me. And there are real-life scenarios—horrible ones—that you can’t blink away. The world isn’t magic, Ari. You’ve lost touch. Real life doesn’t work like that.”

Ari looked away, his expression dimming with disappointment. “I can’t force you to understand,” he said. “But everything—everything—is part of the void. Once you understand the void, you’ll see reality for what it truly is. There’s never anything to be afraid of. Not ever. Not even death. There’s always a choice.”

“You’re saying reality is whatever I want it to be?” Cedar asked, the doubt still palpable in her voice.

“Exactly. Reality is perspective. That’s all it is. Nothing is real until it’s measured, given weight. Our collective observations give weight to things, people swathe situations in gravity. We get pulled into other people’s perceptions, but we don’t have to unless we agree to it. Yes, real-life scenarios can be horrendous. But we always have the power to choose how we respond.”

“And how should we respond?”

“By treating these situations as opportunities. Opportunities to grow, to rise above fear, and to help others. To act, not just react.”

Cedar sighed, her gaze drifting back to the cave entrance. Ari followed her eyes and pointed toward it. “And that, right there, is not real. Of all things, don’t believe in that.”

This was the lesson Ari had repeated since day one: the unreality of the dungeons, illusions designed to strengthen her. For the first time, Cedar began to truly understand. Outside, in the real world, there were uncontrollable situations, but here? Here, nothing was real. Nothing to fear.

Her head felt light, as though she’d been drugged. A strange thought wriggled into her consciousness like an earwig burrowing deep into her mind:

“I have to lose control to gain control.”

Ari did a double take. His eyes flicked toward her, then away, then back again, a look of fascination on his face. He held his tongue, watching her work through the thought on her own.

“What does that mean?” Cedar muttered to herself, turning the idea over in her mind. “I have to lose control—I have to let go to get out of my own way.”

“So that your only focus is achieving your goal,” Ari said, gently helping her unravel the riddle. “That’s how you get in the zone. It’s a place where you move methodically, without overthinking.”

“That must be what Bryce was talking about,” Cedar realized. “He said to let your emotions flow freely. To embody nonresistance while staying self-aware. He said it’s like someone else is controlling your movements.”

“You can only reach that state from a higher perspective,” Ari added. “But most people get stuck in their heads, trapped in their ego, their fear.”

The realization hit Cedar like a quiet wave, profound and undeniable. I can control any situation by controlling myself. She grasped the concept in its simplicity, but its application felt elusive. It wasn’t just an idea—it was an insight from somewhere deeper, an unshakable truth that refused to be argued with.

To control myself by letting go of control.

So simple in theory. Yet impossibly daunting in practice.

“I understand, but I don’t get it. Ugh . . .” Cedar grabbed the sides of her head in frustration.

“It’s because there are no words for it,” Ari explained. “Your thinking brain can’t comprehend it, but your heart knows what’s up. You just have to practice. That’s what meditation is for—to learn the language of intuition.”

“Fear is just another way of control,” Cedar stated. Her earlier lessons were finally linking together, forming a more cohesive understanding.

“You’re getting it.” Ari patted her on the back. “Lose the fear, lose control, and then you gain control. Easier said than done, of course.”

“Yeah . . .” Cedar agreed. “It all comes down to fear. It’s always about fear.”

“That’s the ego,” Ari said. “We can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard we try. Even after we ascend, there’s always a remnant of it.”

“This is a lot to take in,” Cedar admitted.

“I know. That’s why keeping a journal and figuring this out on your own is crucial. It’s easy to forget otherwise. The lesson here is to not take anything seriously. That’s the key. Remember that, and all else will fall into place.”

Cedar nodded, determination hardening her features. “I’m ready to try again. I want to go back in.”

She stood, gripping her katana, and looked into the gaping mouth of the dungeon, her eyes narrowing.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Ari encouraged with a grin.

Cedar slid into her fighter’s stance and stepped into the torchlit passage, Ari sauntering along behind her. The fetid stench of carnage stung her nostrils as she neared the familiar bend in the wailing tunnel. She cast a glance over her shoulder to confirm Ari’s presence before continuing. With a resolute, if shallow, breath, she moved forward, placing one foot after the other until she re-entered the grotesque, blood-soaked chamber.

There he was, exactly where she had left him—a towering figure behind a shaggy leather mask. Jagged eye holes revealed two black orbs, unblinking and fixed on her. He pulled the trigger on his chainsaw, and the blade roared to life, a deafening cacophony that clawed at her ears.

“No! No!” Cedar yelled above the noise. “Bad masked man!” She wagged her katana at him like a scolding parent. “You do NOT play with your food!”

Without hesitation, she charged at the man. As the chainsaw roared, he pivoted it toward her. But Cedar was faster. Leaping onto the butcher’s table, where the meat grinder oozed gore, she moved as if someone else was guiding her. She drove her katana forward, stabbing him in the throat before he could raise his weapon.

A wet, gurgling sound escaped the wound where her blade remained embedded. Their eyes locked—his once menacing gaze now wide with terror. Cedar held his stare as his knees buckled. His body slid off the blade with a sickening squelch, collapsing onto the muddy dirt floor with a muffled crunch.

She stood frozen, staring at the fallen giant.

A slow clap echoed from the shadows. Ari stepped into the flickering light, a satisfied smile on his face. “Congratulations.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Cedar remained rooted to the spot, disbelief etched across her face. “This is . . . this is impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Ari said simply.

Cedar leapt off the blood-soaked table, her movements nimble and light. She felt invincible, as though nothing could scare her anymore. And yet, she hesitated to go further.

“There’s more to this dungeon if you’re up for it,” Ari said, his tone casual.

Cedar glanced toward the darkened passage ahead. No, she wasn’t up for it. But she also couldn’t end the day without discovering the truth: Was she just a character in a video game?

She gazed into the tunnel that stretched deeper into the dungeon, her expression hardening. “Let’s do this.”

With her sword leading the way, Cedar stepped forward, Ari trailing behind her. The torchlight illuminated bloodstained walls and hidden alcoves, where the remains of small, caged animals lay long deceased. The air grew thicker, staler, but Cedar pressed on, her steps resolute as she navigated the winding corridor, unable to see what might await her.

She froze at the sound of maniacal laughter. The cackles echoed down the passage, unearthly and chilling—not quite human, yet not entirely animal. The snickers seemed to emanate from just around the next turn. Cedar angled her sword, using its reflective surface to peer ahead. Shadows danced on the walls, backlit by a roaring flame. Impish figures leapt and jeered, their spindly silhouettes etched sharply against the cave’s stone surfaces.

“What the hell are those?” Cedar sputtered, rubbing a smear of blood from the blade to get a clearer view. She tilted the sword slightly and froze. Two beady eyes stared back at her through the reflection.

Before she could react, sharp claws pierced her shoulder. A scream tore from her lips as the creature fastened itself to her, its legs pounding against her sides while its teeth sank deep into her muscle. Grunting, Cedar seized the furry beast by its hide and hurled it away—only for another to pounce onto her chest.

“You little shi—owww!” she yelled as searing pain shot through her neck. The second beast’s teeth found flesh, and a third latched onto her leg, its claws digging mercilessly into her thigh. A fourth scrambled up her back, its wiry limbs gripping her tightly.

Now covered in the small, furious creatures, Cedar staggered but refused to fall. Her sword, too unwieldy for such close combat, clattered uselessly to the ground. Desperate, she shoved at the creatures with her hands, trying to peel them off, but their gnashing jaws and talon-like claws only gripped tighter.

Amid the chaos, a realization struck her: I’m the boss here—not these filthy little rats.

She stopped struggling and changed her approach. Instead of frantically swatting, she began prying the creatures off one by one, enduring the agonizing bites and scratches of the others. With the first in her grasp, she swung it savagely against the cave wall, smashing its head repeatedly until its body went limp.

The remaining beasts faltered, their manic cackles heightening as they watched her relentless counterattack. Cedar could feel the shift in power. Her confidence surged.

She grabbed another one, her movements precise, and slammed it into the stone wall with equal brutality. The creature crumpled instantly.

The last few fiends began to screech in terror, their gleeful jeers turning into desperate squeals. Cedar bent to retrieve her sword, her eyes cold with focus. Methodically, she dispatched the remaining beasts, the blade cutting through their writhing bodies until the chamber fell silent.

Breathing hard, Cedar turned to find Ari leaning casually against the cave wall, his arms crossed. She stared at him, her chest heaving, and wiped at her neck. She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth as she touched the fresh, oozing bite wound on her neck, wincing as she dabbed at it. Her mouth fell open at the sight of blood on her finger when she pulled it away.

Ari uncrossed his arms, “Here, I got this,” he said with a stern look.

Holding his hands up, he conjured a faint white light between them. The orb of light floated toward Cedar, wrapping around her body in a soothing warmth. She gasped as the light adhered to her wounds, knitting torn flesh and erasing the pain.

Tentatively, Cedar touched her neck, then patted the rest of her body. The bites and scratches were gone, though her clothes hung in tatters, still stained with blood and grime.

Ari gave her a nod, “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you feel the shift in power?” Ari asked.

Cedar nodded. “I did. Somehow, I sensed it.”

“You sensed their fear,” Ari explained. “The best way to defeat your enemies is through psychology. If you make them afraid, they’ll sabotage themselves. Makes your job easier.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’ll save that lesson for another day. There’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Is there much more to this dungeon?”

“Yep,” Ari replied simply.

Cedar’s shoulders drooped. Fatigue weighed on her, both mentally and physically. She wasn’t sure how much more she could endure.

“Here, drink this,” Ari said, handing her a small green vial. “It’ll recharge your stamina.”

“I am a character in a video game,” Cedar howled, resisting the urge to punch him. It wasn’t anything new—she always wanted to punch Ari.

“It’s not that simple, you’ll just have to trust me. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.”

He extended the vial toward her again. Cedar turned away, biting her lower lip in frustration. All of this felt pointless, meaningless. She was enduring hell—for what? A title? A trophy?

“Please, Cedar. Trust me,” Ari urged.

What choice did she have? Game or not, it didn’t change her situation. With a glare, she snatched the vial from his hand, gulped it down in one go, and hurled the empty bottle at him. Without another word, she trudged into the next chamber.

The new chamber was even gorier than the last. A sludgy porcelain bathtub sat in one corner, filled to the brim with a reddish-brown pulp that oozed over the edges. A foul-smelling hole in the ground overflowed with excrement, and piles of picked-clean bones were scattered across the floor.

“This is disgusting,” Cedar choked, staggering as if she might faint or vomit. “We gotta get out of here.”

“I think it’s cozy,” Ari joked.

Cedar shot him a scathing look before rushing into the subsequent tunnel. This one slanted downward, and the temperature cooled. The stench, thankfully, became less volatile. As the light dimmed further, she grabbed a torch off the wall to illuminate the path.

“Have you ever been down here?” Cedar asked.

“It’s all new to me. Definitely not a place I’d want to vacation,” Ari replied, swatting away cobwebs that dangled from the low ceiling.

Cedar slowed her pace, craning her neck as she caught the faint sound of voices from further down the passage.

“Maw’s gotta eat, or she’s gonna lose ’er head.”

“Paw’s gittin’ ’er food. He’ll be back. He tol’ us he’ll be back, member?”

“Maw’s gonna be mad. He shoulda been back by now.”

Cedar turned to Ari and whispered, “They sound like hillbillies.”

“You can’t have a house of horrors without inbreds,” Ari commented.

Handing the torch to Ari, Cedar gripped her katana. Confidence surged within her. “This’ll be easy.”

She strode forward into the chamber without bothering to use her katana as a mirror. A large, bulging man with a few wisps of orange hair atop his pointy head sat on a crude cot made of wood and leather. His identical brother stood facing him but turned when he noticed movement in the doorway.

Cedar gulped but didn’t hesitate. With a sharp cry, she lunged forward, driving the tip of her katana into the flabby chest of the standing brother. Her teeth bared as she put her weight behind the blade, trying to drive it deeper.

“Is that Maw’s food?” the seated brother asked excitedly.

The enormous man, towering two feet above Cedar, looked down at her with a blank expression. His gaze shifted to the sword protruding from his chest, blood dripping down his bare skin. With a ghoulish hand, he seized Cedar by the neck and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing.

Cedar’s face turned red, her breath strangled. She clawed at his massive fingers, kicking her legs desperately as she gasped for air.

The colossal man carried her toward a gaping hole in the ground. “I caught yer food, Maw!” he bellowed, his voice echoing down the cavernous pit as he dangled Cedar over the edge.

Her vision blurred, her legs growing weak. Then, suddenly, her world turned weightless. Cedar’s lungs expanded sharply as air rushed into her chest. She was falling.

Bryce’s voice echoed in her mind: “Always land feet first, no matter the height.”

She bent her knees slightly, locking her fingers behind her head as she fell, visualizing her feet as pliable springboards. Springboard, springboard, springboard.

She hit the ground hard. Despite her preparation, her legs buckled beneath her, sending her sprawling onto her side. Instead of the cold, unyielding stone she expected, her fall was cushioned by something soft and spongy.

Still shielding her head, Cedar froze. She didn’t dare move until she assessed her injuries. Her body throbbed, but nothing felt broken. Slowly, she raised her arm to peek out from under her elbow.

The dim cavern stretched out before her, its far corners lost to darkness where the torchlight failed to reach. Her momentary relief turned to revulsion as she straightened her legs and realized what had broken her fall. She reached out instinctively to steady herself, her hand pressing against a bloated, distended belly.

The skin gave way beneath her fingers, her hand sinking through the outer layer of flesh and into its gooey insides.

Cedar gagged, retching violently as her stomach heaved. Tears streamed down her face as she turned her gaze upward. “Ari!” she screamed, her voice cracking.

“I’m here,” Ari called down. His voice was maddeningly calm. “If things get bad, I’ll teleport us out.”

“Things are bad! What are you talking about?”

“You’re doing great, Seed. Keep going—you’ve got this!” He flashed her an infuriatingly cheerful thumbs-up.

Grinding her teeth, Cedar wiped her hand on the dusty remnants of old clothes. The bile rising in her throat began to subside as she glanced around the cavern, scanning for her next move. “Can you drop me my sword?”

“Move out of the way first,” Ari replied.

Cedar scrambled aside just as the katana came plummeting down, landing blade-first into a corpse’s eye socket with a wet squish.

Careful not to step on the bloated remains littering the ground, she retrieved her weapon. Sliding it free from the eye socket, she turned just as a guttural grunt echoed behind her, followed by the scraping sound of something being dragged through the dirt.

She spun around, katana at the ready, and faced the source of the noise.

What she saw defied comprehension. It was a gelatinous mass that quivered with every lurching step. Two lopsided, trunk-like appendages supported jelly-like feet, and its bloated form resembled a misshapen sack of cottage cheese. Flaps of sagging, naked flesh hung like melted wax, jiggling with every movement. Breasts sagged amidst the folds, and two tiny, watery eyes peered out of a malformed lump that might have been a head. There was no neck, no shoulders—just an amorphous body with arms so massive they seemed useless without mechanical assistance.

Cedar’s grip on her katana loosened as an unexpected pang of emotion struck her.

“This is just sad,” she whispered, her voice filled more with pity than fear. “This poor creature . . . ”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Ari?”

“Yeah?” Ari’s voice called down from the room above.

“I can’t kill this thing—it’s suffering!” Cedar yelled back.

“Ain’t that all the more reason?” Ari retorted. “It’s the boss fight, Seed. What’re you gonna do? Invite it over for dinner?”

The repulsive creature, towering at least eight feet tall on its haunches, shifted its gelatinous mass and began to open its abnormally large mouth. For a moment, Cedar thought it might actually speak.

Instead, a sickening gurgle erupted from deep within the monster’s belly, followed by a thunderous, green belch that reverberated off the cavern ceiling. The noxious fumes rolled toward Cedar, dense and verdant, filling the air with an acrid stench. Her stomach churned, and she fought against the overwhelming nausea and the sudden, drooping heaviness in her eyelids.

I’m being gassed.

Panic surged through her as she bolted away from the repugnant miasma, sucking in fresher air.

Another gurgle signaled an incoming attack. The creature belched again, this time expelling a projectile stream of bile. The dark brown stomach acid shot past her head, raining droplets of burning napalm. Thankfully, it wasn’t a direct hit, or she would have been reduced to nothing more than a puddle of viscera for the flesh pillow to lap up.

“How is this a level two dungeon?” she hollered. “Level two, my ass!”

She sprinted behind the lumbering monster, which struggled to pivot quickly enough to keep up. They circled each other like predators, Cedar’s mind racing for a plan. Her katana proved useless against its tough, dough-like hide; slashing the creature’s back yielded little more than shallow scrapes. She needed another strategy—and fast.

Her lungs burned from exertion, and her limbs grew heavier with each step. The poisonous miasma still clung to the air, sapping her energy. She couldn’t keep this up much longer.

“A torch!” The idea struck her like lightning. Fire might be her only chance.

She darted toward a lit torch on the wall, carefully lifting it from its holder without extinguishing the flame. Turning back, she saw the creature facing her again, its gelatinous rolls quivering as a deep rumble rose from its belly.

Cedar’s stomach tightened as the monster’s mouth stretched impossibly wide, preparing another bile blast. Glancing between the torch and the ever widening mouth, she realized she had a clear shot.

Without a second to spare, she hurled the torch into the creature’s mouth. The flame collided with a fresh stream of bile, igniting it in a fiery eruption.

A pang of guilt rattled Cedar as she watched the heavily disfigured creature burn alive from the inside-out. Its moans bore into Cedar’s psyche, filling her with remorse. Flames engulfed its body, the gelatinous flesh crackling and popping as it was consumed. A burst of heat erupted from its mouth, forcing Cedar to jog to the nearest wall for cover.

“Maw?”

The voice was shaky, filled with dread. One of the brothers had emerged, his bony head poking into view just beyond the sizzling remains of what had once been his mother.

“Maw? Wake up, Maw,” he pleaded, stepping closer to the charred mass.

Cedar pressed herself into the shadows, heart pounding as the second brother entered the chamber.

“Help!” the first one called.

Two very large, very angry ogres stood on the verge of seeking hellacious revenge. Cedar tightened her grip on her katana, hoping it would be enough to vanquish them—but her previous attempt had barely left a mark. She needed a new plan.

The second ogre sniffed the air, his head swiveling as he searched the dark corners of the cavern. Cedar crouched low, moving as silently as she could while scouring her think box for an idea.

Her eyes landed on a puddle of bile a few feet away, its incendiary sheen glinting in the dim torchlight. Corrosive poison, she realized with a spark of hope. She’d seen its effects firsthand.

Sliding her katana through the viscous liquid, she coated the blade until it dripped with excess. She shifted her stance, the familiar weight of the sword settling into her hands. With renewed determination, she waited, ready to strike.

The guilt Cedar had felt earlier evaporated. It was do or die now—kill or be killed. There was no room for the weight of exacting emotions. She let everything go, her mind sharpening, her eyes locked on the brothers with unflinching resolve.

The larger of the two snarled, his lip curling in a feral glower.

“You’re dead. You’re dead,” he growled, stalking toward her hiding spot.

Cedar didn’t have much time. Stripping off her top, she dunked it into the bile puddle, swirling it around to sop up the remaining brown sick. She then picked up the now heavily saturated Kung Fu jacket with the end of her katana, holding it at arm’s length just as one of the brothers drew nearer, his hulking frame blocking out the dim light.

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled again.

Cedar took aim and flung the bile-soaked jacket from her sword. It landed squarely on the brother’s face, smothering him in the acrid stench. He clawed at it, cursing and sputtering as he tried to peel the garment away. Cedar seized the moment, darting forward with swift, precise slashes of her poisoned katana across his chest.

By the time the brother managed to tear the poisoned jacket from his eyes, she was gone.

The second brother knelt beside the still-smoking remains of their mother, his gnarled hands clutching at her burned, rubbery form. He rocked back and forth, muttering something incomprehensible through his grief. Cedar moved like a shadow, her steps silent, her breathing steady. With one clean motion, she drove her blade into the back of his neck.

A wet gurgle escaped the ogre’s throat as he toppled forward, his final word a faint, heart-wrenching, “Maw . . .”

Cedar ducked back into the darkness, watching as the first brother stumbled toward his fallen sibling.

“No. No!” he wailed, his cries echoing through the cavern. He collapsed beside his brother, cradling his lifeless head, tears streaming down his distorted face. The venom from the bile Cedar had slashed into him finally overwhelmed his system, and his massive body shuddered one last time before slumping to the ground.

The two brothers lay together in death, their smoldering mother beside them—a devastating tableau of loss and destruction.

Cedar stood behind them, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She glanced down at her blade, dripping with bile and blood, and scanned her own body for wounds—not that she could do much about them.

All she could do was wait for Ari to arrive and whisk her away to a more hospitable environment. But fatigue and delirium prevented her from calling to him.

A slow clap aroused her ears.

Ari?

He stepped from the shadows, his gaze fixed on the hollowed remains of the pillow monster. Its once-bulging form had collapsed inward, the acidic flames leaving a charred crater where its stomach had been.

“Now that’s what I call indigestion,” he snickered, smiling at his own joke.

Cedar groaned. “I can’t possibly turn into you.”

Ari nodded, clearly amused. “You’d have to work on your one-liners first.”

“Can you please get me the hell out of here? How did you even get down here?”

“I took the stairs.”

“There are stairs?”

“I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry.” Ari moved to her side, scooping her into his arms.

She melted into his hold, grateful and relieved that it was finally over. She hadn't been carried like this since she was a child. She let herself relax, sinking into a serenity she hadn’t felt in years.

“Maybe they should add this to therapy sessions,” she murmured dreamily.

“Huh?” Ari looked down at her, puzzled.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Cedar continued, “One day your parents put you down . . . and never picked you up again.”

Ari’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay, Cedar?”

Cedar’s head tilted back as she watched the ceiling pass by as if she were walking on it. The illusion made her giggle.

“Oh dear lord . . .” Ari quickened his pace, carrying her through the final tunnel and out into the bright daylight. He set her down gently, steadying her on her feet.

“I’m okay,” Cedar assured him, swaying slightly. “Just tired and out of it. She gassed me with something in there.”

Cedar looked pale and thin, her ragged Kung Fu trousers hanging loosely on her frame, her bra exposing a shoulder marked with a fresh welt from her fall. She absently rubbed the spot, then reached up to touch her scalp where the corrosive bile had landed. When she pulled her fingers away, a small clump of hair came with them.

“We need to get you fixed up. I actually know just the place,” Ari said with a snap of his fingers.

Cedar dropped to the grass, resting her back against the silky green blades.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, closing his eyes and moving his fingers through the air like he was selecting invisible options. “You did such a great job back there.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to love this place. It’s where I go to freshen up.”

“Can’t wait,” Cedar replied flatly.

Ari framed the air with his hands, visualizing his creation. With a satisfied “Presto,” he snapped his fingers again. Suddenly, beside the dirty dungeon, appeared an elegant pagoda-style Japanese spa, its vivid red and gold accents gleaming under the sun.

“It’s ready. Come on, Cedar. Time to get up,” Ari said, hoisting her listless body with a tug on her arm.

Cedar stumbled forward, her steps slow and uneven, as Ari guided her through the spa’s welcoming entrance. As they passed through an interdimensional membrane, a cool, aromatic breeze brushed against her face, fluttering what remained of her hair.

“Wha . . . what is this?” she whispered, her eyes widening as she stepped inside.

The interior was an entirely different world. Directly in front of her stood an exorbitant fountain carved from phosphorescent crystal. Its crystalline waters cascaded in glittering streams, sending icy pearls of refreshment splashing onto Cedar’s emaciated form. Surrounding the fountain were lush gardens framed by effulgent waterfalls. Rainbows arced through the misty atmosphere, shimmering above kaleidoscopic flowers in hues Cedar couldn’t name.

“Is this heaven?”

“Sure, why not,” Ari shrugged amicably.

A beautiful Japanese woman, dressed modestly in a well-fitted summer dress, approached them with a warm smile.

“Konnichiwa, welcome,” she greeted, “Onegai shimasu, the menu.” She gestured toward a large, standing touchscreen menu, leading Cedar and Ari to it.

“It’s nice to see you again, Kobrakowski-san,” the hostess said, bowing her head.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ari replied with a courteous bow.

“Will you be wanting your usual?”

Ari puffed his cheeks, blowing a raspberry as he thought. “Um, yeah, the usual would be great. Thanks, Nozomi.”

The hostess bowed again.

“Want to meet for dinner around six?” Ari asked Cedar.

“Sure,” she replied absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on the endless array of spa treatments listed on the screen.

“Meet me at the steakhouse. I want you to try the olive wagyu—it’s like butta,” Ari said, puckering his mouth and kissing his fingertips for emphasis.

“Steakhouse at six, got it.”

“And we can discuss the universe some more,” he added.

That caught Cedar’s attention. She turned to him, lowering her chin. “You promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Kobrakowski-san, we’re ready for you,” a beautiful attendant announced, threading her arm through Ari’s.

Three more radiant women joined her, each vying for a place at his side. They escorted Ari down a cobblestone path lined with glowing lanterns and lush greenery.

Cedar turned her focus back to the menu, her mind swimming at the options: petals, tonics, scrubs, baths, hair treatments, fortunes, rides, massages, weightlessness . . .

Weightlessness? What’s that about?

The options put her into a trance of indecision. She only wanted to lay down where she stood and rest for a long, long time.

“Miss? Would you please follow me?” Nozomi asked, her voice gentle.

“But I haven’t chosen anything,” Cedar mumbled, barely noticing how long she had been standing there.

“I can help you. Please.” The hostess took Cedar’s arm, her touch firm but kind, and led her down a new path through the vibrant garden.

Cedar floated along, as if in a dream, lured by the multitude of pleasant colors and aromas, allowing the hostess’s tender guidance.

Moments later, Cedar found herself seated in a simple wooden rocking chair, overlooking one of the many cascading waterfalls. She sat within a gazebo, a small table in front of her, though she barely recalled how she’d arrived there.

“Please, drink.” The hostess placed an icy blue beverage before her. “It’s made from local berries and herbs. It is perfectly compatible with your unique constitution.”

Cedar picked up the glass, holding it near her mouth as she sniffed its fragrant contents. Taking a tentative sip, she felt a cooling sensation spread through her body. Without thinking, she placed the now half-empty glass back on the table.

“Mmm. Good,” she said, picking it up again and finishing the rest in one gulp.

“Are you feeling better?” the hostess asked.

Cedar’s self-awareness gradually returned. She noticed the state of her appearance—dressed only in a bra and tattered Kung Fu trousers, her hair falling out in clumps. Her nose caught the stale, acrid scent of her own repugnant bouquet.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t be here.” Cedar’s face flushed a shade of rose.

“You are exactly where you should be,” the hostess reassured her.

Cedar tucked her hands under her armpits, attempting to hide both her bosom and her reek.

“The cleansing pool awaits.” The hostess lifted her arm, revealing a hidden oasis behind her. The oasis, equipped with a plethora of spigots and sponges, hemmed inside a potpourri of both dried and living arrangements, entranced Cedar’s body to slacken.

“Oh my . . .” Cedar rose from the rocking chair, drawn to submerge herself in the thick, velvety water that shone a chromatic shimmer on its surface. She lifted one leg to remove her dirty boot but was stopped by Nozomi.

“Onegai shimasu, let us do it.”

Before Cedar could protest, four graceful women surrounded her, their movements fluid and practiced. They began to undress her with soft, skillful hands, disrobing her without hesitation.

“I can do that—oh, um, my underwear too?” Cedar stammered, but before she knew it, she stood completely naked. The women guided her toward the pool, ushering her into the iridescent broth.

As soon as her body submerged, Cedar felt a transformation begin. The attendants worked quickly and efficiently, scrubbing her with sponges that had been marinated beforehand with infused nectar. The water tingled on her skin, soothing her wounds and filling her with warmth. Her scalp began to itch—not uncomfortably, but with the telltale sign of new growth. Even her nails gleamed, buffed and polished with a clear, lacquered finish.

“Oh my . . .” Cedar sighed, sinking deeper into the solution. One attendant massaged her shoulders, kneading away the knots, while another worked a conditioning treatment into her lanky locks.

The pool reclined her into a scooped chair that vibrated, lifting her feet for a generous foot massage performed by an attendant clad in a two-piece swimsuit made of cherry blossoms.

“Would you desire a beverage?”

“Yes, please,” Cedar replied. She didn’t care what they brought; she knew it would be marvelous.

“Here,” one of the attendants handed her a translucent pink cocktail with a delicate straw. “It’s for light in-ee-briation.”

“Inebriation?” Cedar’s eyes snapped open to glorify the one vice she was deprived of for months. “I love inebriation.”

She gulped down the titillating liquid, savoring its refreshing sweetness, then handed the empty glass back.

“More?”

As she opened her mouth to answer, an all-too-familiar sensation tugged at her bladder. Cedar froze.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she blurted out.

The women around her erupted into light laughter, continuing their ministrations without pause. Cedar’s brows furrowed in confusion.

The woman massaging her shoulders leaned in and whispered, “Just go.”

“Just go? Here? Now?”

The women laughed again.

“In this here pool? I just want to be sure. We might have a translation problem.”

“Yes, you go in the pool. The microbes will love it,” the attendant assured her.

“They loooove it,” the others chimed in, their laughter melodic.

The woman massaging her feet explained, “The microbes will eat your toxins. They will tickle you, you try.”

Cedar hesitated, glancing around at the extravagantly pristine environment. It took her a moment to relax enough, but eventually, she let herself go. A deluge flowed between her legs, and the water around her shimmered as the microbes began their work.

The attendants laughed excitedly, clapping their hands and commending Cedar for her “healthy wee.” Cedar felt a light, ticklish brushing against her thighs as the microbes eagerly consumed the discolored water.

“All pools should have this,” Cedar remarked, sinking deeper into the luxurious bath as another pink cocktail was placed in her hand.

After her bath, Nozomi guided her to a small, one-room pagoda draped in vibrant, colorful tapestries. A handsome man in a spotless white uniform greeted her with a polite bow, gesturing toward a firm, cushioned table.

“Please, lie face-down,” he said.

Cedar obeyed, and moments later, she was treated to the best massage of her life. Every knot and ache seemed to dissolve under the therapist’s expert touch.

Following the massage, she indulged in a body scrub that left her skin glowing, a haircut that framed her face perfectly, and, just before six o’clock, a visit to the fashionista Tsumugi. With deft hands and an eye for elegance, Tsumugi wrapped Cedar in fine Japanese linens, the fabric draping her form with effortless sophistication.

Feeling better than she ever had, Cedar arrived at the steakhouse where Ari waited. He stood outside, dressed in a vintage Armani suit that fit him like a glove. His face was clean-shaven, his hair neatly styled. With a playful flourish, he plucked the rose from his lapel and handed it to her.

“Here,” he said, his grin warm and disarming. “This looks better on you.”

“Ari . . .” Cedar paused, taking the rose and twirling it between her fingers. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she remarked, “You’re like my brother.”

Ari’s grin vanished, replaced by a look of mock horror.

“What?” he exclaimed, doing a dramatic double take. “Eww, no. Seriously? Give me that rose back.”

Cedar laughed as Ari snatched the rose from her fingers, his indignation exaggerated but effective.

“Seriously, Seed,” he said, shaking the rose at her like a scolding finger. “Our kids would look like those dungeon inbreds.”

Her chuckle turned into a burst of laughter, the tension of the day dissolving into genuine mirth.

“Shall we?” He asked, extending his arm.

“We shall,” Cedar replied, looping her arm through his.

Together, they entered the restaurant, their appetites sharpened by the day’s adventure.