The group had gathered in a rough circle near a jagged outcrop of rock, their breaths coming in shallow puffs as the dungeon’s oppressive air seemed to close in around them. The dim, pulsating glow of the crystalline veins running along the walls painted their faces in shifting shades of red and shadow, making them look like figures in an old, macabre painting. Tension crackled in the air like a distant thunderstorm, silent but heavy with the promise of destruction.

Jack leaned against the wall, his machete hanging loosely in his grip. His stance was relaxed, but his sharp gaze betrayed a predator’s focus. “I was right,” he said finally, his voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ve been set up.”

Little Red felt her shoulders tighten, the weight of his words settling uncomfortably in her chest. “By who?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. The fire in her hair seemed to catch the dim light, glowing faintly as though it were an extension of her defiance.

Jack let his eyes linger on her for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the rest of the group. His expression was grim, his tone as steady as the stone beneath their feet. “By your employer,” he said simply. “Sure, they may not have known you’d end up here, but they sent you into the wilds woefully unprepared. That wasn’t an accident.”

Big Red frowned, his grip tightening on the haft of his axe. His massive frame seemed to fill the space, his voice a low growl. “What are you talking about? We were hired to take down places like this. Why the hell would they sabotage us?”

Jack pushed off the wall, pacing slowly, his boots scraping faintly against the uneven stone floor. “Because your employer isn’t just some benefactor with deep pockets and a taste for mercenary contracts,” he said, his voice darkening. “They’re an avatar. An agent of a dungeon deity.”

Jessica’s blood ran cold. “That’s impossible,” she said, though even as the words left her mouth, they felt hollow. Her thoughts turned to the strange, elusive Lady from her dreams, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was somehow connected. Was the Lady guiding her - or manipulating her?

“Oh, I’m sure you think it is,” Jack replied, his tone dry. “Maybe you’ve even taken down a dungeon before. But answer this -how long did you have to escape it once you ‘conquered’ it?” He was testing her, she knew. The way he asked it tipped her off.

Jessica’s throat tightened as she swallowed, reluctant to admit the truth. “We weren’t even supposed to be here,” she deflected, her voice quieter now. “We were hired to farm a dungeon up north.”

Jack stopped pacing, his machete twitching slightly in his grip. “But you’re here,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with implication. “And judging by the mistakes you’ve made so far, if you actually had taken down a dungeon before, it wasn’t anything like this.”

Jessica stiffened, the sting of his words hitting harder than she wanted to admit. “We’re not incompetent,” she snapped. “We’ve handled ourselves just fine.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, his smirk tinged with both amusement and irritation. “Sure,” he said. “But handling yourselves fine and surviving a high-tier dungeon like this are two very different things. Look, I’m not knocking you. You’ve got potential -if you live long enough to capitalize on it. I’ve seen worse teams fold under far less pressure. But you’re green. Too green for this place.”

Molly tilted her head, one of her daggers catching the faint glow of the veins as she twirled it idly. “Okay, so what’s the deal with this ‘avatar’ thing? Sounds like a bad sci-fi movie.”

Jack stopped pacing and turned to face her. “Dungeon deities,” he said, his voice hardening. “The beings tied to the very essence of these places. Think of them as puppet masters. Every trap, every monster, every treasure - everything you encounter in a dungeon is their doing. They’re the spirit in the machine, the genius loci, whatever you want to call it. And they only want two things to happen.”

He began pacing again, his movements deliberate and predatory. “Option one: someone conquers the dungeon and agrees to the deity’s bargain - whether they realize it or not. They become the deity’s avatar, a walking representative of their power. Option two: the dungeon kills you. Either way, the dungeon wins.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rando said, his usual bluster replaced with a rare note of genuine confusion. “How does someone dying help the dungeon?”

Jack stopped, his eyes narrowing as he met Rando’s gaze. “When someone dies in a dungeon, their essence - call it mana, energy, or whatever - feeds the dungeon directly. It’s a slow process, but it adds up. Enough deaths can level up a dungeon, making it stronger, deadlier. But killing intruders is inefficient. It takes time, patience, and a lot of bodies.”

Jessica crossed her arms. “And what about the avatars? What’s their role in all this?”

Jack’s expression darkened. “Avatars are the fast track. When someone conquers a dungeon and accepts the deity’s bargain, they become a walking advertisement for that dungeon’s power. They go out into the world, conquer other dungeons, spread the deity’s influence, and bring back treasures and mana. Everything they do feeds the dungeon that created them.”

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“Like an MMO,” Molly said, her tone thoughtful. “Sending out hirelings to gather loot and resources.”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “The dungeon gets stronger, faster, and more connected. Avatars are like hands, feet, eyes, and ears for the dungeon deity. They’re tools, plain and simple.”

Rando frowned. “So what does that make us? Pawns in some twisted game?”

Jack smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Not even. By not telling you how dungeons work, your so-called benefactor has already put you at a massive disadvantage. They’re gambling that if you fail, the dungeon wins. If you succeed, they get an avatar - or worse, you end up owing them for surviving.”

Jessica’s jaw tightened, her knuckles whitening around the hilt of her machete. “And what about you, Jack?” she asked, her voice sharp. “What’s your angle in all this?”

Jack’s gaze met hers, steady and unflinching. “I have a different approach. One that doesn’t involve bargains or feeding these things more power.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “There’s a third option. The one I prefer. The one your employer conveniently didn’t tell you about.”

“And what’s that?” Big Red asked, his voice low.

“You destroy the dungeon,” Jack said simply. “Not conquer it. Not bargain with it. End it. Permanently.”

A heavy silence settled over the group, the weight of his words pressing down on them like the dungeon’s oppressive atmosphere. Molly broke the silence with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. “That’s possible?”

Jack nodded. “It’s harder. Slower. And it doesn’t come with shiny rewards or instant power. But it’s the only way to make sure these things stop spreading.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you destroy a dungeon?”

Jack’s voice dropped, his tone deadly serious. “You take the dungeon core - the source of its power - and you destroy it. No bargains, no gifts, no deals. You tell the dungeon, ‘I don’t want anything from you. I’m here of my own free will, and I’m ending this.’ And then you crush the core.”

“And what happens to the deity tied to the dungeon?” Rando asked, his voice quieter now.

“If it’s their only foothold in this world, they’re done,” Jack said. “They lose their connection, their power, their ability to make more dungeons. But most deities have multiple footholds, so taking out one doesn’t end them -it just weakens them- slows them down.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed, her stance defiant as her gaze bore into him. “And what about the rewards? What do you get for destroying a dungeon?”

Jack shrugged, feigning indifference. “Nothing. No gifts, no boons, no shortcuts. Just the knowledge that you’ve shut down a dangerous system and made the world a little safer.”

Rando let out a sharp snort, breaking the tension with a sarcastic laugh. “Sounds like a bum deal,” he said, his tone laced with skepticism.

“It’s not about rewards,” Jack snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. His words cut through the air like a knife, silencing the group. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down. “It’s about control. Every time someone takes a shortcut, makes a deal, or accepts a gift from these things, they give up a piece of themselves. That’s how the dungeons win - one piece at a time.”

Jessica didn’t flinch under the weight of his words. Her gaze didn’t waver, her expression unreadable as she considered his answer. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady. “So what’s this dungeon’s deal? Why is it here?”

Jack gestured around them, the faint red glow of the dungeon veins casting flickering shadows against the jagged walls. ““This dungeon is different,” he said, his expression hardening. “It’s advancing too quickly, feeding on more than just adventurers -it’s positioning itself for something bigger.” But for what, Jack couldn’t say.

The weight of his words pressed down on the group like an invisible force. Even the ever-brash Rando looked unsettled, his usual bravado fading into uneasy silence. Big Red adjusted his grip on his axe, the metallic scrape echoing faintly in the cavernous space.

Jessica stepped forward, her machete propped against her shoulder. The steady determination in her eyes reminded Jack of a warrior squaring off against an unbeatable enemy. “Then we shut it down, before it breaches. No bargains, no shortcuts. We end it.”

Jack nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “Good,” he said quietly. “But it won’t be easy. And it won’t be kind.”

Jessica didn’t hesitate. “It never is.” Her grip on her machete tightened as if the weapon alone could anchor her against the storm she knew was coming. “Let’s finish this.”

Jack turned away, his face unreadable as he stared into the darkened corridor ahead. What he didn’t say - what he couldn’t say - was that he was only telling part of the truth when he claimed there were no rewards for destroying dungeons. There were rewards. They just weren’t the fast and dirty kind.

Jack glanced at Jessica, watching as she squared her shoulders. Her fiery hair caught the glow of the dungeon veins, the shifting light making it look as though flames danced along the edges of her determined face. She looked resolute, like someone who had already decided what she was willing to sacrifice to see this through.

That’s good, Jack thought. That’s what it takes to make this work.

The truth, though, was far more complicated. Destroying a dungeon didn’t leave you empty-handed. Far from it. It opened doors most people didn’t even know existed - doors that could never be closed again. It let you choose your path, carve out a future entirely of your own making. But it always came with a price.

His jaw tightened as he turned back to the group. If he told them now, it would ruin everything. The path wasn’t meant for those seeking glory or treasure. It wasn’t for the greedy or the desperate. It was for those who chose it for the right reasons - because it was the right thing to do. Anything less, and the dungeon would sense it.

That’s the catch, isn’t it? Jack thought bitterly. The moment you dangle a reward, even a hint of one, it stops being about conviction. It becomes a transaction. A deal.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his machete as memories he’d rather forget clawed their way to the surface. Rickard’s face flashed in his mind, the raw panic in his eyes as he faltered in the Glass Spire’s core chamber. Jack had watched helplessly as the dungeon whispered its promises - power, vengeance, redemption. Rickard’s hesitation had been brief, but it was enough. The dungeon had seized the moment, sinking its claws into his doubt and twisting it into something irreparable.

Rickard’s scream still haunted Jack, the sound of a soul being torn apart and reshaped into something monstrous. By the time it was over, the man Jack had known was gone, replaced by an empty shell - a puppet bound to the dungeon’s will.

The dungeon had taken him, made him an avatar, a puppet in its endless cycle of growth and consumption.

Not this time, Jack thought fiercely. Not them. Not again.