Chapter 18: Dungeon Run

Brent practically leaped from his core with excitement as the adventurers prepared for their first run. Careful planning was always key to success in an unknown situation, and these adventurers actually seemed to understand that. They weren't just charging in blindly like the last group. No, these folks were different. They took their time to read the instructions that Brent had so graciously provided and then strategized before even approaching the mine carts.

"These people are exactly what we needed for the second round of dungeon testing," Brent said offhandedly to Emil, who stood nearby, his small form silent as he awaited the beginning of the run.

"Actually, I think things have played out rather well as they are," Emil replied, his mechanical eyes never leaving the group, analyzing their every move with a calculating intensity.

"How so?" Brent asked, his moment of satisfaction interrupted by Emil’s surprising remark.

"Think about it," Emil said, his voice thoughtful, almost academic. "If this team had been the first to enter the dungeon, we wouldn't have had the benefit of absorbing the bodies from that overconfident B-Class party. By having those arrogant adventurers come in first, we got an immediate boost in XP because they underestimated us. Their deaths would just seem like a fluke to the onlookers outside, encouraging more parties to try their luck. It was like hitting the jackpot right at the start. Plus, let’s be honest, those assholes had it coming."

"Emil!" Brent exclaimed in mock scandal, his voice full of faux shock. "I'm gonna have to wash your mouth out with soap!"

"You're gonna what?!" Emil looked up at Brent, his expression a mix of horror and confusion. "Why would you even think of doing that? We’re a dungeon! We're all dirty here, but that feels like overkill!"

Brent burst into laughter, the kind that seemed to shake his very core. "Oh, relax, it’s just an expression from back on Earth. It’s something parents used to say to kids when they used bad language. I didn't expect you to have such a reaction!"

"Seems like a stupid thing to say," Emil muttered, his metallic eyebrows furrowing as he processed the absurdity of it. "Humans are weird."

"Truer words, my friend," Brent said with a grin, turning his focus back to the adventurers.

The adventuring party took a deep breath and finally climbed into their respective mine carts. Brent and Emil watched with bated breath as the dungeon’s timer began to count down.

"Three, two, one... And they're off!" Brent whispered, his excitement bubbling over as he watched the carts lurch forward on the tracks.

The group was immediately on high alert, their eyes darting around, ready for anything. They handled the first spinning blade with a level of precision that made Brent nod approvingly. "These guys aren’t messing around," he said, impressed by how they timed their movements to dodge the deadly traps.

The carts rattled through the second room, and Brent couldn't help but stifle a laugh when arrows fired off from hidden alcoves, their sharp tips embedding themselves in the wood of the carts. Paul’s face went as white as a sheet when one of the arrows narrowly missed his side, leaving a quivering shaft inches from his ribs.

"Man, I almost feel bad for them," Brent said, his core glowing with mirth. "Almost."

As the party entered Kagejin's chamber, the dark ninja-like sentinel leaped into action, his movements fluid and precise. Kagejin was more than just a minion—he was an artist of chaos. He tossed his wires across the tracks, creating a web of potential death that forced the adventurers to react on pure instinct.

"Oh, yes! Look at him go!" Brent squealed with delight. "That’s my Kagejin! Shadowy, brooding, and badass!"

Brent could hardly contain his laughter when Paul, momentarily distracted, was yanked from his cart by a trip wire and landed with a thud on the dungeon floor.

"That trip wire to the back of the neck—classic!" Brent said, tears of joy in his voice. "I couldn’t have planned that better myself!"

Kagejin turned his intense gaze on Paul, who scrambled to his feet, his sword raised in a shaky defensive stance. The two locked eyes, and for a moment, the air seemed to freeze. Kagejin struck with a swift flurry of blows, forcing Paul to block and retreat. Every clang of metal echoed through the room like a symphony of chaos as he attempted to fend off Kagejin’s assault with quick slashes of his sword, but the ninja automaton was too fast. Kagejin’s blades danced in the torchlight as he pushed the adventurers to their limits.

Just when it seemed like the battle might end in Kagejin’s favor, Paul managed to dodge a strike and leaped back into his cart, throwing the lever forward to escape. As he rolled away, Kagejin turned his focus to Brad and Darios, who had charged in to protect their fallen leader.

"Yes, yes, fight my minion! Show them the true power of this dungeon!" Brent’s voice was practically a chant, urging his creations on like a proud father at a sports game.

Kagejin’s blades clashed against the adventurers' shields, and for the first time, Brent noticed something unusual—Kagejin wasn’t fighting to kill. He was holding back, just enough to give them a fighting chance.

"He’s... letting them live?" Brent asked in disbelief.

"You told him to, remember?" Emil replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Less murder, more excitement and wonder, wasn’t it?"

"Oh right! That’s what I said!" Brent said, shaking his core. "Well, he’s doing a damn fine job of it."

As the party stumbled into the fourth room, the rolling boulder traps activated, sending massive stones careening across their path. Brent watched in awe as the adventurers used the carts' speed levers to navigate through the chaos. It was clear that they were beginning to understand the mechanics of the dungeon, timing their movements with greater precision.

"Look at them go!" Brent said, his voice a mix of admiration and annoyance. "They’re actually getting the hang of this. No one’s died yet! I’m not sure whether to be happy or disappointed."

Emil chuckled. "This is exactly what we need. They’ll spread the word of our dungeon’s challenge and complexity. They’ll make us famous."

When the adventurers finally reached the fifth room, they were greeted with a chain net trap that fell squarely on Malcolm’s cart. Malcolm struggled with the heavy chains, swearing under his breath as he fought to free himself. Just when he thought he had a handle on things, the giant hammer trap activated, slamming down in front of him.

"WHAM!" Brent shouted, the sound of the hammer echoing through the dungeon like a drum of doom. "That was a close one! Man, this is too much fun."

Despite the chaos, Malcolm managed to pull his cart back just in time to avoid the hammer, sparks flying off the wheels as they reversed. His face was a mix of terror and exhilaration as he fought his way free.

"Watch for the hammers ahead!" Malcolm called to his team, his voice laced with urgency.

The magnetic wall trap in the next room claimed the last laugh, though, as it snatched Malcolm’s dagger right out of his hand and slammed it into the wall. Paul wasn’t quick enough to notice what was happening, and the next thing he knew, he was ripped from his cart, suspended in a humiliating pose against the magnetic field.

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"Brent, I swear, you’ve outdone yourself," Emil said, his mechanical voice shaking with laughter. "That magnetic wall is the cherry on top!"

Brent's core flickered with a bright, almost manic energy as he watched the adventurers reach the magnetic wall. The moment the powerful force yanked Paul out of his cart and plastered him to the wall in an awkward, upside-down pose, Brent lost it. He burst into a fit of laughter so intense that, if he'd had a physical body, he'd have been rolling on the floor.

"Did you see that?!" Brent howled between gasps of laughter. "He's stuck like a fridge magnet! Oh, this is the best thing ever!"

He wheezed, barely able to catch his breath as he watched the rest of the team scramble to peel Paul off the wall. Every failed attempt, every faceplant and skid against the metal surface, only made Brent laugh harder. He flickered even brighter, and if he had eyes, there would be tears streaming down his face.

"Oh no, not the nose! I can't— I can't breathe!" Brent cackled, glowing even brighter as he witnessed Paul's bloody nose get smashed into the metal. "This is gold! Absolute gold! Forget traps, we just need more of this!"

Emil stood nearby, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. "Brent, calm down," he said, his own laughter bubbling up despite his best efforts to stay serious. "We’re supposed to be professional dungeon builders here."

"Professional?! Oh, Emil, if this isn't professional-grade entertainment, then I don’t know what is!" Brent wheezed out, still shaking with mirth. "Ignarok may be the boss, but this—this magnetic wall is the real star of the show!"

When the team finally managed to clamber back into their carts and roll into the final room, Brent took a moment to steady himself, his laughter finally subsiding. He flickered with the last remnants of his hysterics, struggling to pull himself together.

"Alright, alright, serious face, serious face," he muttered to himself, still shaking a bit from his uncontrollable laughter. He let out a deep, almost theatrical sigh and tried to adopt a more composed demeanor, though a stray chuckle slipped out every now and then.

"Okay, focus," Brent said, his tone a mix of lingering amusement and renewed concentration. "Let’s see how they handle Ignarok. I really need to pull myself together; I’m a Dungeon Core, not a stand-up comedian!"

He flickered one last time, a small pulse of light betraying his lingering delight, before finally turning his full attention to the team's approach toward the final challenge.

Ignarok let out a roar that shook the very ground beneath them, raising his molten fists high above his head. The adventurers’ eyes widened as they realized the full scale of the monster they now faced.

Paul tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes narrowing as he yelled, "Stay sharp! We can make it past this!"

Ignarok's colossal fists hammered down onto the stone floor, sending tremors rippling through the cavern. The impact shook the tracks beneath the adventurers' minecarts, making them rattle and sway with each thunderous blow. Instead of attacking directly, the adventurers pulled and pushed their levers frantically, adjusting their speed to dodge the giant's crushing strikes, their hearts pounding as they maneuvered through the chaos.

As they swerved along the winding tracks, spells and arrows shot from their carts in desperate attempts to distract or slow the towering boss. Each attack glanced harmlessly off Ignarok’s molten armor, the beast’s runes glowing brighter in response, mocking their futile efforts. Ignarok’s glowing crimson eyes tracked their every movement, his powerful frame moving with a slow, deliberate menace as they zigzagged across the tracks, barely staying ahead of his devastating reach.

Back in the core room, Brent's laughter echoed with delight. "Yes! This is it! Drama, action, desperation—this is what makes a dungeon legendary!" he shouted, his voice crackling with exhilaration. He watched Ignarok’s relentless pursuit and the adventurers' frantic struggle to outwit the dungeon's traps and obstacles. Every close call, every narrow escape brought a gleeful glow to his core.

"They’re not like the first group," Brent said, a grin spreading through his voice. "These adventurers actually know what they’re doing. They're fighters, strategists—real challengers!" His pride in the dungeon grew with each twist and turn the carts made, as the adventurers proved themselves worthy adversaries to the challenges he had crafted.

"Alright, Ignarok," Brent said, his tone filled with admiration for his own creation. "Give them a taste of what it means to face a true boss."

As the adventurers hurtled toward the final stretch of the room, narrowly dodging the monster's devastating blows, Brent's core glowed brighter than ever. The thrill of the spectacle, the rush of seeing his dungeon come to life in such a perfect dance of danger and strategy, filled him with a fiery anticipation for what was still to come.

The Shadow Wolves stared in awe as their minecarts rolled into the vast chamber that stretched out before them. This space was unlike anything they had ever seen, especially in a dungeon so recently formed. The ceiling soared high into darkness, the walls stretching so far into the distance that it felt like they were at the heart of a mountain itself. The air was thick with the heat emanating from the room’s focal point—a molten lava fall cascading down the far wall into a bubbling pond of magma.

The lava seemed to pour like liquid fire from a ledge at least twenty feet above, splashing into a churning pool that glowed with a hellish intensity. The light from the magma cast the entire chamber in a surreal glow of reds, oranges, and yellows, making the stone walls shimmer as if alive with the flickering flames. The sight was mesmerizing, a deadly kind of beauty that held the team’s attention as their carts rattled closer to the heart of the chamber.

"Is this for real?" Malcolm muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The vastness of the chamber and the sinister glow of the molten rock left them all momentarily speechless.

"Never seen a room this big in a new dungeon before," Brad said, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and wariness. "This place is incredible."

As the Shadow Wolves marveled at the sight before them, a low rumble echoed through the cavern, vibrating through the metal frames of their carts. The noise grew louder, turning into a deep, menacing growl that seemed to resonate from the very walls themselves. Suddenly, from the shadows near the lava fall, a massive figure emerged, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise even higher.

Ignarok, the Infernal Colossus, stepped into view, his gigantic form illuminated by the glow of the magma. His body was a terrifying amalgamation of molten rock and twisted metal, with runes etched into his armor glowing a fiery red that pulsed like the beat of a heart. His eyes were twin furnaces of rage, fixed on the tiny carts that dared to enter his domain.

With a roar that echoed off the stone walls, Ignarok raised his massive fists and slammed them into the ground, sending a shockwave through the chamber. The impact shook the tracks, making the adventurers' carts tremble as they struggled to stay on course. The roar itself seemed to carry a promise of destruction, reverberating in their chests and making the air around them thrum with a malevolent energy.

"Holy hells, what is that?!" Malcolm shouted, his voice breaking the stunned silence as they all gaped at the monstrous colossus in front of them.

Paul's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the cart. "Eyes forward! Stay alert! It’s not over yet!" he barked, though his own eyes were locked on the behemoth, tracking every move it made.

Ignarok watched the carts, his movements deliberate, almost calculated, as he began to pace back and forth along the tracks. He seemed to be measuring the distance, his eyes following the adventurers with a predatory gaze that promised pain to anyone foolish enough to challenge his domain. His fists clenched and unclenched, trails of molten rock dripping from his knuckles and sizzling as they hit the floor.

"Ignarok is laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" Brent said, a hint of nervous laughter in his voice as he watched the colossal minion's dramatic display.

"That's precisely his job, Brent," Emil replied, not missing a beat. "He's supposed to be the big, bad, imposing figure of the dungeon, intent on crushing the hopes of anyone foolish enough to cross his path. It's called atmosphere," he added, sounding like a condescending art critic explaining abstract expressionism to someone who thought finger painting was the peak of artistic achievement.

"Well, excuuuuuse me, Mr. 'I Know Everything About Dungeons,'" Brent shot back with a playful roll of his eyes. "I’m just pumped to see him really getting into character and having some fun with it. You gotta admit, he’s pulling off the whole 'giant magma monster of doom' vibe pretty well."

Emil smirked, the tiniest flicker of amusement crossing his face as he continued to watch Ignarok dominate the scene. "I’ll give you that. He’s quite the natural at striking terror into the hearts of adventurers. Just make sure he doesn’t go overboard—we still need these guys to make it out alive so they can spread the word."

"Fine, fine," Brent said, turning back to the action with a grin. "Let’s see if our big guy can keep them on their toes without turning them into toast."