Wendelin helped his limping uncle Alaric through the tunnels. His wound was deep but should be survivable; however, some foul magic was causing it to become fetid quickly. His uncle may not have been elderly, but he was definitely past his prime, and might not survive an amputation.

He blamed himself for this. Maybe, if he'd been more careful, this wouldn't have happened. His uncle had warned him not to discount the words of the foreigners who had claimed to have discovered a new type of monster in the sewers. Their reports of the corpses melting into unidentifiable goop within hours were probably true as well.

"Don't worry, Lin. This is nothing." His uncle was putting on a tough front for his sake. "I remember once, back when when I was your age, a demon that came up from the underworld. Some unholy beast 'twixt owl and moth. Its poison was so terrible, within minutes you'd swear the victim'd been dead fer a week."

Wendelin had heard this one before. This time his uncle wasn't mentioning the fact that he only survived because the monster didn't bother to chase him when he fled.

"Right, uncle. This malady is not nearly so great as that." Yet it was still not so weak that simple cleansing with alchohol could treat it. That was enough for rat bites, and all a rat-hunter could afford these days. Maybe if the barons didn't keep reducing the bounty on rat-tails, the tunnels would be swept more often and new monsters purged before they became a problem.

The pair rounded a corner, then stopped dead in their tracks.

Suddenly, another of the new monsters had appeared. But this one was much larger than the ones from before, almost measuring up to Lin's chest. It was armed with a club, and armored in rat furs.

The standoff lasted for a minute, then the creature started making yapping noises and gesturing at them.

Alaric whispered advice: "I think it's challenging us. Back slowly away, but do not break eye contact."

But his nephew had a different thoughts. "If it attacks us both, you shall surely be hurt even more. I can take him." This was his chance to redeem himself.

"How many times have I got to warn you about foolish risks!" Alaric raised his voice, but he was in no condition to restrain Lin. The latter slowly moved forward, stopping about five meters from the foe.

His right hand held his rat-catcher pole, which he couldn't afford to put down in the face of the enemy. So he carefully drew his dagger with his left.

Wendelin's dagger was a pure weapon, and not a utilitarian knife. His uncle said it was a waste of money, and that Lin was a hopeless romantic for buying it. Well, perhaps he did harbor dreams of grandeur unbecoming a watchman's son, but at least he knew how to use it properly.

The monster didn't interfere with Lin's actions, but readied itself as well. It shifted its stance to a half-crouch and held its club up high with both hands.

Lin made the first move. He charged, and thrusted his staff. The enemy was ready, dodging and bringing the club down. But the thrust was a feint; Lin dropped his polearm and slashed at his now-unbalanced foe. Unfortunately, since left was his off-hand he couldn't control it as well, and the glancing blow was turned away by the furs.

The melee was fierce, with both combatants emphasizing attack over defence. Several punches and kicks were exchanged, but no debilitating injuries were inflicted.

Then Lin tripped on the pole he'd dropped.

He'd messed up again. His uncle was right, he was a fool after all. Lin could hear him cursing now -

"Goddammit boy!" The monster which was poised to finish Lin was knocked over. Alaric pinned it to the floor with his own ratting pole and body mass.

"Don't just sit there!" Lin had been stunned by the sudden reprieve, but snapped out of it. With his uncle holding it down, the monster was killed quickly.

---------

In the end, Wendelin's rash action had only made things worse. Alaric had to expend a significant amount of Spirit in order to move with a torn muscle, weakening his resistance to the poison.

Lin needed somewhere safe to put down his uncle, who was already beginning to drift out of consciousness. He found an odd alcove, it looked inhabited. Maybe a dwarf hermit?

...Dwarven healthcare had a terrible reputation. "Marginally Better than Death", they called it. Not that it really mattered; there wasn't time to wait for help.

Still, the room looked cleaner and felt safer than most tunnels, even if the ceiling was low. Lin gently rested his uncle against the wall.

"Just leave me, you foolish boy." His uncle wheezed. Wendelin paused to reflect for a moment. "...Yes, uncle, I'm definitely a fool. I foolishly ignored your advice and got you into this mess; now let me foolishly do it again to get you out."

Lin said that, but in truth he didn't think it'd work either. Alaric said nothing more, though. Perhaps he had realized that clinging to that false hope was keeping his nephew from collapsing under the stress.

This would a hard lesson, but a necessary one. Wendelin would finally get a taste of fortune's cruelness to put some reality in his life. Alaric was ready to accept this end; he was rather lucky to have lived this long after all.

Lin, however, still wasn't giving up. He decided to take this opportunity to redress Alaric's wound. After cutting the mess of bloody bandages and clothing off, the wound could be seen to be blackened and seeping pus.

The room had a basin full of clear water at one end. A nearby cup had an odd, leathery bottom to it, but held liquids just fine.

Lin started to wash the wound, but spilled all over the floor when something unexpected happened.

This was no ordinary water!

Lin sniffed his cup. Just a hint of ozone... He cautiously gave its contents a taste. Sweeter than any he'd drunk before; like he imagined mountain spring to be.

Alaric didn't seem to be in any pain, continuing to rest on the wall with his eyes closed. So Lin tried cleaning the wound again, this time taking care to watch what would happen.

The water bubbled and steamed at contact with the pus. It was cleansing the poison!

Lin instantly refilled the cup and brought it to his uncle's lips, shaking him awake. "Here, Uncle, drink this." Alaric only mumbled weakly in return. "Don' waste... n'me..."

Lin had to pour the water down the throat of his uncle, who thankfully did not choke. He did the same with a second cup, leaving the small basin nearly empty.

The remaining water was used to dampen fresh cloth for a bandage. (Well, cloth as fresh as a strip of torn clothing could be, at least.)

"Where are we?" Alaric was apparently feeling better already. "We're still in the tunnels, uncle. I found some water that cured you."

"Cure- What?" Alaric looked to where Lin was pointing. He'd been sweeping these tunnels for nearly 30 years, but he'd never seen that carving before. And was the water source... Glowing?

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Alaric's perception was honed through decades of experience, but now he sensed a sort of unworldly presence he couldn't explain...

Not until he remembered the stories his grandfather used to tell him.

"A land spirit..." Alaric whispered with awe - the kind born as much out of fear as of wonder.

"What's that, uncle?" Lin had never heard those stories; the Old Ways were dying out even in his great-grandfather's day. He didn't know what danger they were in.

"The spirit of this room has graciously worked a healing magic! We need to show our utmost respect for it." Alaric wanted to ask if the spirit had shown any sign of what it desired in return, but to utter something so presumptuous in the spirit's presence was folly.

There was stone slab near the carving... It looked like the new monsters paid their respects to the spirit as well. Alaric sincerely hoped that this it was of the kind which didn't care about having worshippers.

He searched himself for something he could leave as an offering. His lantern was the most valuable thing on him,  and he also had a stick of incense he could light. (It was useful for laying trails in the still underground air, and sometimes a noble brat would want to go on an 'adventure' without having to take in all the sights and smells that entails.)

He placed both upon the crude altar and kneeled (not that there was room to stand in the first place). "Erm... Benevolent Daughter, we thank thee for thy mercy." Alaric was neither a pious nor loquacious man, but he did his best.

But though he meant every word, Alaric had no intention of staying any longer than necessary. The pain in his leg had already reduced to tolerable levels, so he shuffled back into the main tunnel.

Lin followed behind him, but before leaving drew his dagger and formally presented it. "I swear I shall repay this kindness."

---------

With Alaric having lost his bearings, there was a serious chance of becoming lost in the sewers. Thankfully it didn't come to that, as the pair soon came across a heavy wooden door of the style commonly used to link cellars with the tunnels under the city.

Lin knocked as hard as he could. "Is anyone in there?" There was a bit of a surprised noise, then a gruff middle-aged man opened a small panel in the door. "Who goes there?"

"The sewer sweep Alaric and his nephew Wendelin, sir.  Can we please come in? We're wounded."

"'Aight, hang on; lemme grab a couple of the regulars first." This suspicion was warranted: the tunnels were a notorious pathway for thieves and conning someone into opening the door for a hidden pack of brigands was not unheard of.

The first man came back with three more strong types before allowing the sweeps in. The walls of the cellar were stacked with kegs, and it was cramped with six people in such a small space.

"Tank you, sirs. Could you mind telling us where we are?" Lin asked one of the men. "Why, you're Beneath the Roasted Boar!" One replied with a grin. Alaric, who'd been keeping quiet to play up his injury and avoid unwanted attention, suddenly spoke up. "Beneath the... You mean the famous mercenary's bar in the wagon district?!" "The very same!" The mercenaries beamed with pride at mention of the word 'famous'.

Alaric simply muttered, half to himself: "...How in the world did we end up all the way over here?"

---------

Arc had watched the men through a crack in the hidden door to his sleeping chamber. Although if he'd been given the choice, he would have preferred to have taken Kat and fled before they'd arrived.

Come to think of it, weren't they in the process of retracing their steps back to the surface? That path shouldn't have taken them by the shrine.

The obvious answer was that Kat did something. Warped their sense of direction... And/or space itself. Arc had realized that the humans couldn't see Power the way he could after the younger one was surprised that the water with a silver aura reacted to the pus with a vomit-brown aura, so they probably wouldn't have any way of noticing until after the fact.

{Arc can come out now, safe.} He left his refuge and walked over to Kat's alcove. He picked her body out of the water, wanting to be able to glare directly at her this time.

"Kat, why did you heal that man?" {Dead cannot learn.} "We don't need to teach the dead how to stay away." {That, not the lesson.} "Kat, he was an enemy." {Not enemy. Duty, not to harm Kat. Nor selfish ambition, Kat sensed.}

Arc sighed, pinching his brow with his free hand. Even if Kat could sense people's intentions, there should still be a limit to her naivete.

"Still, what if you'd read them wrong? Or what if they had done something unexpected? That was still risk involved." {No risk. Few unacceptable outcomes of superposition, excluded from collapse.} "Unacceptable outcomes?" {...Arc found, hurt, most common.}

Right. Sometime Arc forgot that she didn't perceive time and causality the same way he did. He still wasn't clear on the details, but he did know that when she did stuff like this, it wasn't free.

"Still... It was a waste of Power. And we're already in debt..." {Outstanding negative-causal loops, resolved. Current power surplus.} "What?! How?" From what he'd gathered, it should have taken weeks at the current rate to pay that off.

{External Observer's experience objectified portions of dungeon existence, releasing Power in maintenance of fudge state. Additional Power gained from opening of new positive-causal feedback loop.}

Okay... Arc attempted to translate that into simpler terms. First, Kat implied that there was Power currently tied up in maintaining the dungeon in some metaphysical way. But when the humans came down and 'observed' it, part of that Power was no longer necessary, and thus was now available for use.

As for the 'positive-causal feedback loop'... Arc could only guess it had something to do with that mint-green mist which settled around that last human, just before he left.

"I guess then... Another way to look at it was that they helped us, and you rewarded them for it? But not necessarily in chronological order..."

Arc was getting a splitting headache from this. It ran completely opposite to how dungeons were supposed to work! The treasure was bait to lure people in. The reward offered first, then the 'service' taken by force... Wasn't this effectively the same thing, minus the deception?

Maybe that's what he... What he... What he what?

He couldn't remember. This migraine felt like someone had literally drilled a hole in his head.