Lowe sighed. His every instinct told him not to trust Gral. The man was a lawyer, and worse, he was a lawyer who, from what Hel had told him,always operated on the shadiest edges of Soar's judicial system. But the truth was, the man was right. They needed every bit of help they could get, especially with the Dungeon being so unusually aggressive. But was it worth the eight level difficulty hike? Especially with the much weaker Preece already being so exposed?
Karolen seemed to sense Lowe’s hesitation and gave him a significant look. She appeared to have any number of those at her disposal. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”
Lowe closed his eyes for a second, taking in the pain, the exhaustion, the dead spider still twitching on the floor. Then, finding no clarity in the self-imposed darkness, he opened them and glared at Gral. “Do you honestly know how this happened? One moment we're in Soar Museum and the next . . . If you want to tag along with us, you need to start talking.”
Gral’s smile faltered for just a second, then returned in all its insincere glory. “Of course. If I have a commitment to future cordial relations?”
Reluctantly, much to the audible disgust of Karolen and Preece, Lowe nodded.
“Well, to understand the how, you need to understand the why. As I am sure you are aware, Dungeons do not just appear out of thin air. Certainly not nowadays. Something, or more importantly, someone, has to trigger them. And have the power to be able to do so. And in this case, I dare suggest that it was a very particular someone. A very particular ‘someone’, indeed.”
Lowe sighed, already knew where this was going.
Gral’s eyes flicked toward Karolen, then Preece, before settling on Lowe. “Director Nuroon had know about the existence of the Dungeon core for quite some time. Long before today, in fact. How could he not? A dormant power with the potential to change the landscape of Soar's political scene? Of course, he knew about it. And knowing about it, he couldn’t resist dabbling. It’s in his nature, after all.”
Even though there was a crushing inevitability about the revelation, Lowe still found himself wanting to rail against the man. Wanted to shout and hit something, preferably the Director himself. But something restrained him.The entire museum was now a Dungeon, twisted and reanimated by some malign force. This wasn't a development that he thought was something Nuroon would have countenanced. The man was as ambitious as they came—an old crook who had been manipulating the city’s political and academic circles for decades. But this? This went far beyond ambition. There was a depth to this chaos that felt . . . ancient. And would Nuroon have risked the destruction of his pride and joy? No. That didn't seem quite right.
“And you?” Karolen asked. “Where do you fit into all of this, Gral?”
Gral’s eyes sparkled with something that might have been amusement. Maybe. “Me, Ms Mehin? Oh, I’m just a humble legal advisor. My role was simple: ensure the museum didn’t face any liability if things went . . . sideways. Of course, I wasn’t expecting a Dungeon to spontaneously form around me, but well, that’s life, isn’t it? Full of surprises.”
Karolen snorted, shaking her head. “Surprises. Sure. You’re all heart, Gral.”
Lowe tried to stand again, this time managing to pull himself upright, though the pain still radiated through his body. Roll with the Punches had repaired the worst of the damage, but he wasn’t anywhere near full strength. And his Mana Pool would need a good few minutes to fill back up. “And you're saying Nuroon knew this would happen?”
Gral’s smile faltered for the second time. He wasn't telling them the full story, but - right now - Lowe would take what he could get. “Not quite. He knew the risk was there, but he was, of course, confident he could control it. That is, after all, the problem with men like him—they always think they can control things that are far beyond their comprehension.”
There was something in Gral’s tone, something deeper, almost like a flicker of fear. Lowe didn't think it was because of what had just happened. Gral knew more than he was letting on. “And now?”
Gral’s smile disappeared entirely. “Now? He’s likely trapped in here with the rest of us. Though I doubt he’s feeling the same level of regret as you. Men like Nuroon rarely see their own actions as the cause of their downfall. He’ll be planning, scheming, trying to figure out how to use this to his advantage. And he will survive. If there's one thing of which I am certain, if only one person walks out of this Dungeon it will be Director Nuroon.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Lowe swore under his breath. So the emergence of this Dungeon wasn’t just a random event. It was the result of Nuroon’s ambition, his greed, and now they were all paying the price. But there was something else, wasn't there?
“Come on.There's more. If you want to rage along with us, you need to be honest. Spill."
“Sharp as ever, Inspector. Yes, there is one more thing. The Dungeon core . . . well, there’s no easy way of putting this. It’s sentient. It’s not just some rediscovered artefact of power. It’s alive. And, as far as I understand these things, it’s been feeding on the museum’s energy since it was brought inside a month back.”
Preece gasped, stepping back, his face ashen. “Alive? We were never told that!”
Gral nodded. “Oh yes. And now that it’s awake, it’s very much in control. Every moment we spend in here, it’s learning more about us. Adapting. This particular Dungeon isn’t just a collection of traps and monsters—it’s an organism. A predator. And right now? I rather suspect that we’re the prey.”
At those words, the atmosphere in the room closed in around them, the walls pulsing with a faint, rhythmic thrum. Lowe couldn't help but feel he'd experienced this before, in the basement beneath the museum. But that had been because of his infection via necrotic slime. This was different. This wasn't an hallucination. It was real.
“Alright,” Karolen said, breaking the silence. “We get it. We’re screwed. So what’s your plan, Gral? If you’re so smart, how do we get out?”
Gral’s grin returned, though this time it was more subdued. “Ah, that’s the tricky part. You see, the Dungeon’s core is located deep within the museum—below even the lower levels. It’s buried itself tight down there, and everything is drawn to protect it. If we want to escape, then I rather think we will have to reach the core and destroy it.”
Lowe could feel something clicking into place in his mind. "That armour. The Dreadnaught. It came from the exhausted Dungeon too, didn’t it?"
Preece nodded. “Yes. The Dreadnaught was found in the loot table of the same site. But, like much of the gear we found, it was dormant when we brought it up to the museum - harmless inside its sarcophagus. It was Martha Culloden who thought it would make an excellent exhibit. But the thing about newly uncovered artefacts, especially ones buried with a Dungeon core, is that they have... connections.”
“Connections?” Karolen asked. “What kind of connections?”
Gral’s eyes gleamed, taking over from Preece. “Well, this is where I suspect everything began to get a touch out of hand. You see, it appears that particular Dreadnaught wasn’t just some old suit of armour. It was made to house a soul. A warrior spirit. In the wrong hands—or the right hands—the Director posited it could be used as a vessel. And through bringing it close to an exposed Dungeon core . . .”
Lowe felt a cold lump forming in his chest. “It could trigger something cataclysmic. In defence. Something rather like this.”
“Exactly. I think it will help if you consider the Dreadnaught as the spark, and the Dungeon core as an especially dangerous powder keg that suddenly felt a touch exposed. Director Nuroon, in his infinite wisdom, brought them both to the surface, believing he could contain their power. He thought he could turn it all into a neat little exhibit, something to showcase his brilliance.” Gral’s smile twisted. “But it turns out the Core and the Dreadnaught in concert might have their own agenda. Somethings, my dear Inspector - and I suspect I probably do not need to tell you this - are probably better staying buried.”
A low rumble reverberated through the Great Hall, making the floor beneath them tremble. The walls shifted, the grotesque shapes twisting into even more unnatural forms. Lowe might be wrong, but it almost felt like they formed into grinning, expectant faces.
Karolen rubbed her temples. “This just keeps getting better.”
Preece, looking more anxious than ever, pointed toward the far end of the Great Hall. Two doors stood there, each increasingly becoming warped and twisted by the Dungeon’s influence. “We need to move. The Dungeon’s changing again. If we stay here, I rather suspect we’ll be sitting ducks.”
Lowe nodded, his mind racing. “Alright, sold. Which way?”
Preece swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the doors. “Left. We go left.”
“Why left?”
Preece hesitated, then said, “Left is usually the safer option in Dungeons. Fewer traps. Fewer surprises. Of course, the other side of that is there tend to be more... confrontations, but lesser of two evils and all that.”
Lowe raised an eyebrow. “Interesting logic. Though I’m beginning to think we’re well beyond the ‘safe’ part of this journey.” He turned to Karolen. “What do you think?”
She shrugged, her gaze never leaving Gral. “We’re in trouble either way. I’ve done some delving, but nothing serious. If the
Lowe licked his lips. When you only had bad choices, you cling to any lifeboat offered. “Alright. Left it is.” He took a step toward the door, his newly rebuilt skin and muscles protesting with every movement. “Let’s get this over with.”
He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking with a sound that made his teeth grind. Beyond the threshold lay a narrow corridor, twisting and turning into the darkness, the walls lined with grotesque, pulsating growths that seemed to have as many eyes as teeth.
Preece swore under his breath. “It’s getting worse. I don't want to be the voice of doom here, but the deeper we go, I’d suggest the more it will change. I’ve never seen anything so... aggressive.”
“Welcome to Soar,” Karolen muttered, stepping in behind the Inspector in a defensive position.
Lowe couldn’t argue with that. The twisted, living wall made it feel like they were walking through a throat that could close on them at any moment. If he’d ever seen anything more representative for life in this city, he couldn't recall it.
“Welcome to Soar, indeed.”