“Are you sure you don’t want me to get out and help?” I asked, keeping my hands on the steering wheel.

“No! Someone has to hold the wheel steady.”

I shouldn’t have judged Flynt so harshly for his steering in the woods. Every few feet the wheel jerked or stuttered, requiring my cultivation enhanced strength to spin the wheels back and keep us in line to join the line of wagons at the edge of the encampment. The Titanfall dungeon was in sight.

Flynt was pushing the wagon across the field. The pipes had burst, and after struggling for half an hour to bend them back into shape, he had given up on them, saying he could fix it after we parked.

I turned the wheel, helping pull the wagon up then jumping off.

The ground in the meadow was muddy from hundreds of footsteps, the grass torn apart. Fresh gouges rent the earth; older signs of battle and scarring remained elsewhere. The air smelled like pine-smoke and fresh-cut green wood.

“There!” Flynt said with a grunt.

I leapt off the side, landing in the wet mud. It stained the legs of my pants, the uncomfortable wetness soaking in as we stomped toward the encampment.

“Hello! Hello there! Anything to declare today, Flynt?” A woman dressed in the same garb as the Spearpoint guard asked. She seemed agitated, holding her hands up. Her face was practically twitching as she looked at Flynt.

“No! Nothing.” Flynt said, slapping me on the shoulder and carrying me away.

I went with the flow, walking away with him. His hands were calloused.

“Flynt!” The guard yelled. “You said that last time!”

“Don’t let the wagons catch on fire this time!” Flynt shouted back, pulling me as he dove through the mess of tents.

There was trash and food scraps all over the sides of the muddy roads torn into the encampment. The outside of the camp was just being set up, but the inside looked like it had been here for a few weeks.

This should be where Poppy and her group were; I still didn’t intend to meet them again. The message of altering the continents fate was heavy in my memory. I didn’t need any more attention than I already had.

But ten levels for another one of these dungeons? That was too good to turn down.

Flynt took a few turns before we stepped out into an area clear of tents. In the open air, people sold and bought goods. A dozen stands sold food; others offering armor or weapons or repair of both or either. Others still were selling parts of the gigantic bird that had died; one stand had a pile of teeth bigger than I was behind it.

“Flynt! Are you looking to buy some fangs?”

“Not today!” Flynt said.

“Birds have teeth?” I asked. I had seen some terribly messed up spirit-beasts. But nothing like this.

“Might have gotten a bite skill early in life.” Flynt said quietly to me. Then he turned and shouted. “How long until the next opening!”

“A few minutes. Flynt! You’re alive.” A man dressed in damaged leather armor stepped out from the crowd gathered around a bonfire at the mouth of the dungeon.

“Dale…” Flynt said. He was frowning. He took a step away from me, looking between me and Dale. “Thought you’d have already been in and out of the dungeon by now.”

“Oh, I have.” Dale said. A manic expression crept up his face. “[Identify] me!”

[Dale, Level 49 Shadowmancer]

“Ah… you’ve almost made it to the first tier.” Flynt said. He seemed obviously uncomfortable with the young man. I looked the man from head to toe.

He carried tiny knives in cheap mismatched belts around his armor. His face was sharp and angular beneath greasy hair. He looked like he had been in and out of a dungeon all day.

“So, you’re — Feng, right? Are you looking to clear the dungeon?” Dale asked.

“Five minutes!” Someone shouted from behind him, and half of the clearing erupted into action. People began to strap on armor and sheathe weapons. Food was stoppered or wrapped and set aside as groups got up and grabbed bags of goods. Even one shop keeper began to close their stall, stepping out from behind it to reveal that they, too, were adorned in armor.

“I am — but what’s the rush? This is my first Titanfall dungeon.”

Dale looked me up and down like a shark. I sensed danger so severely my hand rested on my sword. He smiled when I grabbed the hilt.

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“The dungeon only opens once an hour, though you can exit if you close any of the class-chambers. I can show you the way through if you’re up to it. Do you have any support skills?”

I paused before shaking my head. I did technically have the zone control skills for slowing, accelerating, and carving… but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“I’ve mostly got skills for swordfighting.”

Dale frowned.

“I haven’t heard of your class. Cultivator? Like a farming class?”

I half laughed.

“He’s got a good sword fighting class.” Flynt interjected. “Good enough to survive on his own outside Spearpoint.”

“Good enough for me. I’ll show you around the dungeon! Maybe we can find one of the class-chambers.”

I hesitated.

“So if I wanted to enter the dungeon later, I’d have to wait an entire hour?” I asked, looking at the timer until rebound.

Dale nodded in affirmation. The smile never left his face or eyes. I didn’t trust this man an inch. I would split up from him the first opportunity I got. But I also didn’t want to waste an hour out here or killing goblins.

“I’ll be in your care. Please, show me the dungeon.” I replied.

Dale smiled like a shark.

“Come on, let’s get up by the entrance. Do you have armor in your bag?”

“No, just storage cubes.” I replied, walking alongside him. “I fight in robes. No armor would…” No armor would stop the blow of a cultivator. “It’s part of my class. Just a moment.”

I turned back and tracked down Flynt, who was approaching someone selling goods to the side of the dungeon’s entrance.

“Flynt!” I shouted to get his attention over all the noise.

“Ah, my boy, decide to wait after all? Not full on mana?” Flynt asked me.

“I’ve mana potions for sale here.” The shopkeep behind him leaned around Flynt’s wide body, taking me in with a glance.

“Apologies. I’m out of coins.” I said before turning back to Flynt. “After the dungeon, I’d love to come by and talk to you about your… inventions. I think I could put your Flyntling Gun to great use. I actually… my family runs a few academies at home. We’d love to have you as a guest sometime. Maybe we could even arrange a grant.”

Flynt smiled that boxy smile.

“Come find me after! And… be careful around Dale. A lot of people die in every one of these dungeons. Good party members are important.”

I locked eyes with Flynt as his smile dropped away. His expression was hard. But I understood his meaning.

“I’ll be careful.” I said, giving him a smile and a polite salute — something technically degrading to someone of my station. He raised an eyebrow and I slipped back into the crowd of Trailblazers.

Dozens of people pressed into me as they shouldered their way forward to compete for the limited space at the mouth of the dungeon.. The smell of old blood and new sweat warred in the air for my attention. The levels of everyone around me varied, but very few were above level 30.

The entrance to the dungeon was a literal mouth — the giant beak of the Titan that had been killed here opened into a wobbly hole in reality. The image behind it slowly grew more clear, the colorful film over it thinning, though the image inside warbled like in a heat haze. Dale ran his tongue over his teeth next to me.

“Ready?” He asked me.

“As ready as I can be.” I said. I glanced between him and the entrance to the dungeon.

Logically, I knew I wasn’t going to see Poppy’s party on the other side. If they were here, they were far deeper into the dungeon. That didn’t stop me from sending glances into the hilly terrain beyond the gate.

The distortion blocking the image of the other side suddenly receded. Wind whistled by me as if it was being sucked in, the entire world erupting with sound and fury. My tied hair flapped forward along with my robes. Dale grabbed my arm and pulled me in with the crowd.

The noise disappeared just a step beyond the gate. I recoiled out of Dale’s grasp, but he just smiled at me.

“Where did everyone go?” I asked. Only me, Dale, and three others were pulled through.

There was a quiet hum in the air, building in intensity. No — not in the air. It felt like it was in my head, or right beside it.

“Separate instances of the dungeon. There’s a few dozen starting chambers like this.” Dale said. “Everyone else is split up into little groups in their own rooms. It’s why a good party is so important.”

I took in the sight around me. The world ended a mile away in any direction, deforming into flat layers of texture, like a half finished painting. Or a half remembered one. We stood on a plateau high into the sky between the edges of the world. Storm clouds roared in the sky with flashes of light, though no rain came. The world dropped away into shadow around us.

A few hundred feet across a massive gap was a second plateau. Glowing doors opened into different rooms atop it.

The humming in my head built up louder and louder. I touched my temple.

“What is that?” I asked, looking around for a source.

One of the other people who entered with us — an [Earth Mage] according to [Identify] — lifted a gigantic slab of stone. Her and a second Trailblazer got atop it. Then they flung it across the gap, stumbling onto the other side.

Dale frowned at them.

The humming in my head grew progressively louder.

I grunted, grabbing my head, but not taking my eyes off Dale.

“Those two got away. It would have been a good haul.”

“Shut up, Meat.” A second man said behind me.

I felt the weight of my bag disappear with a cutting noise.

The humming in my head disappeared with a pop.

[Beware! You have entered a dungeon.]

The text was green.

[You have reached level 20!]

[New skill! (Anti-Light Insurgent)]

[Zone: Slaughter]

I reached for my sword as the pain disappeared. Something hit me in the back before I drew it, and I screamed as I fell down into the dark.

The wind screamed through my face as I fell. The sides of the cliffs looked like they were painted or half remembered; just the same as the edges of the world. I spun as I fell, the pain in my back overshadowed by the rest of my senses. I needed time to think, but I knew I didn’t have it. I couldn’t use any my movement techniques in the air.

But I could use my skills.

[Zone: Slow]

For just a moment, I hit a zone of air like jelly. I spun, reorienting myself. Then I fell out of it, the wind continuing to whistle.

[Zone: Slow]

[Zone: Slow]

I stacked the zones on top of themselves, practically stopping in midair for just a second as I oriented myself. If I could just get near the cliff —

The edges of the stacked zones smoked green.

[Warning: Zone usage danger is increased in pocket dimensions.]

I reached for the cliff face. This part of the dungeon wasn’t fully real; it was like soft clay. It deformed in my hands. I slid through it like falling through water, only barely slowing me. The remains of the wall stuck to my robes like wet clay.

[Zone: Slow]

A crack spread through midair. I fell through and past it.

I hit the ground with a wet thud.