The swordswoman, Ira, scowled. “------ you, Celio. The Scoop needs this place. If it’s on the nasty side, we’ll just train it up to be better.”

Clare slumped into Kepler, who was still staring at ‘Celio’ with homicidal rage. Thank God…

[Clare.]

Yeah?

[We’re going to have to get a lot more nasty as soon as we can. I wanna pummel this guy.]

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Uh… It would probably be better to keep a low-ish profile, but it wasn’t like they could get much more lethal at their level. Sounds like a plan.

Kepler grunted, not taking his eyes off Celio.

The man in question sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Let’s talk later. I want to get a look at its core room.”

Kepler growled, and a subtle change went through the dungeon in response.

Sliding off his lap, Clare sighed. There was no stopping him now.

Instead, she found the farthest corner of their mind space and had a private talk with Van Gogh and the Slime Corps.

We’re going to need some people in reserve, she mumbled to herself.

In the caverns of their territory, a bloodthirsty frenzy began.