“They have a wax base to make them malleable. Don’t push them too deep.” Olza handed Hans two grape-sized pieces of a squishy yet fluffy material. He watched as she demonstrated stuffing her ears with the oddly springy substance and then did the same with his.

The world went quiet. The earplugs didn’t eliminate all sound completely, though. He’d certainly hear the clash of swords if it were close enough, but otherwise, all he could hear was his own heartbeat, echoing ominously in his plugged ears.

The effect disoriented Hans at first. Until then, he hadn’t appreciated how much he relied on his sense of hearing in a dungeon. Now that it was gone, he felt separated from the world in some way, and losing even one tool for detecting danger was unnerving.

One of Hans’ old instructors had lost his hearing, and he described the experience as “tragically isolating.” As his world went quiet, he had fewer conversations, and he missed out on the social moments that appeared spontaneously when friends gathered. By the time a joke or topic was explained to him, the moment was long past. After a few years of that, he drifted away from most everyone in his life.

If Hans could understand that feeling after just a few minutes without hearing, he struggled to imagine decades of that disconnect. The grumpy old adventurers in Hoseki suddenly made more sense.

Becky led while Hans and Olza followed. On their way toward the room that grew squonks, they happened across a partial gnoll.

The monster had the head, arms, and most of the chest of a gnoll, but that was all. No lower extremities of any kind, and not because they were severed. Instead of wounds, the gnoll seemed to have stopped growing, like a half-finished drawing.

Like the chimeras they had found previously, this gnoll appeared to have died on its own after crawling down the dungeon hallways with only its claws pulling it along. Hans had no way of being totally sure, but he suspected this was the source of the noise he stayed on watch for.

“The dungeon must be struggling to grow monsters for some reason,” Hans observed.

When he looked up, Olza pointed at her ears and mouthed, “I can’t hear you.”

Oh. Right.

Hans made a mental note to revisit the conversation topside.

The walk was long, but eventually Becky pointed to a familiar T in the dungeon corridors. To the left was a chamber coated in roots. Any time they had found squonks down here, they seemed to originate in that room. If Quentin’s siren hypothesis was correct, Hans should be able to walk in and chop up the squonks in complete safety. Stepping away from the dwarf to conduct that test was harder for Hans than he expected, however. His body instinctively resisted, not wanting to experience the hopelessness aura again.

Willing his feet to move, he turned the corner with his sword drawn.

The two squonks sleeping in the chamber stirred as Hans approached. They looked up at him with tears streaming down their gray, wrinkled faces. For a second, they seemed unbothered by the adventurer, but two steps later their eyes went wide as they realized this was not another victim. By the time they thought to scurry, they were both dead.

Quest Complete: Test Quentin’s siren-squonk theory.

That kid has brains, that’s for sure.

Wearing earplugs the entire time he was in the dungeon was not ideal, but it beat gravel in his boots or getting lost in the psionic effect. He returned to Becky and Olza with a thumbs up. Olza clapped excitedly. An effective protection against the squonks meant more dungeon access for research. In the long-term, they would need to explore a squonk defense that didn’t sacrifice hearing. That was a given for Hans.

Though the initial test was complete, he still had an important quest on his mind:

Active Quest: Design the ultimate strategy for hunting squonks.

If this dungeon grew to the size of the Lemura’s Labyrinth, for example, the party would need to wear earplugs for a full month–two weeks to the bottom, and two weeks back to the top. The more Hans thought about it, the more his ears itched.

As they neared the dungeon core, Becky held up a hand to signal a stop. She pointed to a passage that broke off to the right of the main hallway. Hans confirmed her suspicion: That turn wasn’t here when they first mapped the dungeon. Not long ago, this was just another section of wall.

The dungeon was growing.

With the core ahead, they turned down the new corridor. After a dozen yards, they came to a set of double wooden doors.

Well, it was meant to be a set of double wooden doors, but there was only one. It was closed, but the space where the other door should have been was empty, despite the stone doorframe and the hinges for the missing door being intact.

Passing the door, the hallway ended with an incomplete staircase. Various portions of steps were missing. In one place, three full steps were absent, creating a precarious gap before the staircase stopped at a rough rock wall.

Doubling back, they climbed into the octagonal chamber holding the dungeon core. Nothing obvious had changed there, but if the core was growing one grain of sand at a time as Olza suggested, that wasn’t surprising. While she sat in front of the core with a sketchpad, Hans sat against the wall, directly below the fissure they used to enter. Becky still refused to go through, so she waited in the hall.

To pass the time, Hans flipped through his notes. He tried to do that with regularity no matter what the job or project, often finding a new thought or insight that he hadn’t considered when he first scribbled an idea. The fresh perspective of reading old notes had long ago proved its value to Hans, and he incorporated it into his teaching as well. Forcing students to revisit a technique months later often sparked new growth, noticeable enough that the students themselves were surprised by what they remembered and what they now saw after several additional months of training.

At the very beginning of the notebook, the first page, Hans read the list he wrote prior to his move to Gomi. Several items were crossed off due to weight–the majority of his book collection, for example–making the final list relatively short. At the bottom, he had left himself a note:

Put the Academy behind you. Seize the new opportunity.

For a brief moment, memories of sitting in his empty Hoseki facility each night, hoping someone would show up for a class, filled his mind. He thought of the signs he made and the fliers he commissioned–Train with Hans! Gold-Ranked Adventurer, Experienced Teacher. And he remembered finding those fliers in the Adventurers’ Guild, crumpled and defaced.

Put it behind you.

Months in Gomi flew by with each turn of a page. Purple flowers. Squonks. Orcs. Dungeon wall training ads. The Polza patch. The orc conflict on the other side of the kingdom. Sketches of footwork training aids. The dungeon core. Thoughts on how to hide the dungeon from the Adventurers’ Guild. Cabin plans and ideas.

Olza waved her hand in front of Hans’ face to get his attention. He saw her look up at Becky and say something he couldn’t hear.

The alchemist removed an earplug and motioned for Hans to do the same. Taking this risk was the only way they could talk, further proving earplugs were not a long-term fix for fighting squonks.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I’ve collected everything I can without touching it,” Olza said.

“Say it was safe to touch, what other tests would you run?”

“Temperature, resonance, conductivity, some rough estimates on density.”

Hans thought. “Hey Becky, how far from basecamp would you say we are?”

“Pushing three miles, I’d say.”

“The Reavers’ Rest dungeon destroyed an island,” Hans said, thinking aloud. “Wasn’t a very big island though. If this core exploded with the same force, would definitely be some earthquakes since we’re underground…”

“You’re considering it?” Olza asked.

The Guild Master nodded. “I’m fine blowing myself up, but I don’t want to put the two of you at risk or our people on the surface.”

“Think about your own butt, not mine,” Becky said from the fissure above. “If you and Olza think it’s worth trying, I’m willing to stay.”

Hans began to feel the most dangerous emotion an adventurer could experience: curiosity. He looked at Olza.

“I’m fine risking it,” she assured him. “My guess would be that dungeons are pretty durable, so dungeon cores should be the same. Otherwise, a spider or centipede could get in here and blow it up.”

Her argument was sound. He agreed they could try it on the condition that Becky and Olza watched from the fissure. If they needed to flee, that was the safer place for them to start. With some grumbling, they agreed.

His heart raced as he approached the core, glowing a soft purple from within the fractured black cube. Starting with the black cube, he set the tip of his finger against the surface and slowly continued lowering his hand until his palm was flat against the side. The surface felt warm and had the faintest hint of vibration, but otherwise, nothing notable happened.

Here goes…

He lowered his finger onto the dungeon core. As soon as his skin touched, he yanked his hand away, cursing. Blood dripped from his fingertip.

“I’m an idiot,” Hans said.

“Are you okay?” Olza yelled.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t think about it being sharp.”

“Hey boss,” Becky called. “The light is stronger.”

Hans looked at the core. “Are you sure? Looks the same to me.”

“I keep telling you, dwarf eyes are better than yours.”

Nothing and no one exploded, at least. All of that buildup and concern for a touch seemed silly in retrospect, but cautious adventurers were safe adventurers. Giving Olza the all-clear to climb down, he stared at the dungeon core, thinking.

Becky unleashed a short, sharp whistle. “Movement,” she said, turning to face the hallway.

Hans stuffed the wax back into his ears and shimmied up the rope as quickly as he could. Not surprisingly, the Druid indicated the movement came from down the hall, the only way it could have come, really. Advancing side by side, they carefully moved down the corridor with their weapons drawn. Becky had her axe with the handle fashioned from a gnarled root, and Hans had his sword.

Three full grown gnolls emerged from the newest passageway, the one with the half door and incomplete stairs. The gnolls Hans had seen on the surface had dark brown fur, a year-round camouflage for a life in the forest. These gnolls had black fur, and unlike the one he saw earlier, they were whole.

Taking a step ahead of Becky, Hans put himself in position to draw the attention of the two gnolls in front. This was another dungeon crawling tactic taught by the Adventurers’ Guild, and Becky recognized it immediately. Instead of two people standing perfectly side by side to block a path, this small shift often gave the second adventurer an opening to attack.

A moment of focus on Hans was all the dwarf needed to bury an axe in one of the gnolls’ chests.

They repeated the tactic, but this time Becky advanced ahead. Seeing the new threat split the attention of the gnoll immediately in front of Hans. The gnoll stole a glance at the dwarf. A simple thrust put it down before it could look back at Hans. The final gnoll stepped backward, snarling. When the adventurers continued to advance, it turned and ran.

Hans went to chase, but Becky caught him with her arm. The dwarf stepped forward and threw her axe down the hall. The blade bit into the beast’s spine, and the gnoll fell forward with a wet thwomp. While Becky recovered her weapon, Hans scanned for more threats. They appeared to be alone again, but they revisited the new corridor to be sure.

Though the gnolls had undoubtedly come from that direction, they saw nothing different or out of place on the second visit.

Satisfied, they collected Olza and ventured back to the surface.

***

They emerged into a winter night, a soft but steady snow falling on the build site. While they were in the dungeon, Roland and the boys had framed the walls and the roof of the cabin. Placing and insulating the logs for the walls would be simple enough, but it would also be tiring. They needed a lot of materials, which meant more tree chopping and much more wrestling logs into position.

Roland sat by the fire. Hans assumed Kane and Quentin were already asleep.

“How’d it go?” the hunter asked.

They recounted the experience and described the gnolls. Neither Roland nor Becky had ever seen a gnoll with black fur, but if that was meaningful, they couldn’t say why. Roland also agreed that three gnolls was a significant number in terms of potential danger. They weren’t a problem for a Gold-ranked and Bronze-ranked, but an untrained person would have fallen. If that pack was not a one-time occurrence, the dungeon definitely needed to be monitored.

Taking no chances, Hans, Becky, and Roland rotated watch for the night. Hans went first, sitting between the fire and the incomplete cabin.

A part of the Guild Master hoped the dungeon would keep growing, and grow more quickly. Being the first to explore such a place was a kind of privilege, but that was the kid in him. Adult Hans knew that an increase in dungeon activity made Gomi’s predicament more urgent. They needed to tell the town so they could begin training adventurers. The less training time they allowed for, the more likely someone would get hurt in the dungeon. Or worse: Outside of the dungeon.

New Quest: Update Gomi about dungeon developments and push to begin adventurer training.

To occupy himself, Hans tried to name places adventurers specifically avoided, hoping to spark an idea for how they tell the townspeople about the dungeon. That way, if someone leaked, some might be less motivated to see if it was true or not.

Swamps. Inconvenient, smelly, ruined clothing and gear, difficult to navigate.

Deserts. Kind of the same reasoning as the swamp: doing anything in a desert was simply unpleasant.

The frontier. Dangerous, unpredictable. Then again, those were also the qualities that attracted more daring adventurers.

Small towns. Limited supplies, not enough work, poor tavern selection.

Abandoned mines. Unstable. Surprise cave-ins. Outdated maps.

Hans’ Adventurer Academy. Because, well, Hans.

Hans chuckled to himself at the last one. He didn’t laugh about his failures often, but if someone else had made that same joke, he would have had to applaud their humor.

Continuing that line of thinking, adventurers also avoided:

Guard stations.

Beginner classes.

Kids’ classes.

Town Halls.

Dry taverns.

Dry towns.

Royal ceremonies.

Noble families.

Romantic commitment.

Laundry.

Taxes.

“You okay, Hans?” Becky asked. “You’ve got a big smile on your face.”

“Just enjoying my own jokes.”

***

Open Quests (Ordered from Old to New):

Progress from Gold-ranked to Diamond-ranked.

Mend the rift with Devon.

Complete the manuscript for "The Next Generation: A Teaching Methodology for Training Adventurers."

Expand the Gomi training area to include ramps for footwork drills.

Design a system for training dungeon awareness.

Research the history and legends of the Dead End Mountains, more.

Protect Gomi.

Train Gomi adventurers to keep the dungeon at bay.

Design the ultimate strategy for hunting squonks.

Solve the town secret problem without being a conspiracy weirdo.

Help Roland complete the cabin build.

Pick a secret passage design for the cabin. Bonus Objective: Make it cooler than a bookshelf door.

Update Gomi about dungeon developments and push to begin adventurer training.