Andres hated this small village. The path to here was perilous, full of monsters and hungry animals. Such a large group managed to scare away many of the ones he spotted, a few were brave enough to attack. They weren’t much of a problem for him or his party, but he could understand why people avoided this area. These forests held too many secrets.

There was a report of a potential dungeon from what he heard, though he didn’t know what to make of it. Crazed men saying that their basements were dungeons because of an infestation of rats was a common thing. Dungeons brought money and people, but only a fool would want to own a death trap.

Andres was a hypocrite though, his entire career was made around these death traps. He heard the strange stories of this supposed dungeon, and they were truly strange. Odd effects on the mind and mutated animals weren’t anything odd, but tunnels appearing and growing overnight was. Over time dungeons and other magical places have been known to change, but that was over a period of years.

The caravan was surrounded by hungry people, especially children, and his belief, that this story of a dungeon was made up, was further vindicated. He and the soldiers had to work hard to scare the people into maintaining a distance. These sorts of people were hard to make friends with, the only one he was told to trust was an old man called Hasil.

Finally, he made it into the village center and demanded to speak to Hasil. The guards kept the wagons and food safe from these exiles. No one would live this close to the heart of the dangerous forests unless there was nowhere else for them to go. The sin may be forgotten, but the hostility was never buried with it.

“I am Hasil,” said an old man on a cane as he walked towards him. The man had a much better accent then the rest, it was clear that he was more knowledgeable and easier to work with.

“I am Andres, a sellsword sent here to inspect this dungeon. These wagons hold food and provisions, ‘gifts’ to the village for reporting this dungeon.”

The old man Hasil shifted to one side to look at the wagons before asking, “Why has so little been sent? The dungeon has stolen so much from us…”

“There were some problems. With so many tax collectors gone missing over the years, rumors have made recruiting and funding difficult.”

The old man’s eyes became rather shadowy for a bit. Traders did travel to this village, but only a few of them. It wasn’t just tax collectors, aspiring traders died or went missing too. These people hated outsiders and had little use for the kingdom. Whether it was the forest or their own actions, the guild master wanted to make it obvious the kingdom’s contempt for this village.

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“Before we distribute the food, please take us to the dungeon,” said Andres.

“Suspicious, huh? Alright, I will take you there,” replied Hasil.

“Oh, and make sure that no one tries to do anything funny. Us disappearing will only cut off the city’s mercy.”

“I assure you, sellsword, that no one wants for that to happen. Don’t worry, I will take you there.”

Andres and his party were led away from the village. He hid his constant grip on his sword hilt under his cloak, preparing for any attack. However, no attack came.

They arrived in a glade, and underneath a slight outstretch of rocks that formed a small hill, there was a cave. Even just staring at it made his heart dread. It was indeed a dungeon, a nasty one too. He could feel the way it played with his mind, trying to draw him in.

He didn’t understand much about dungeons. They were called dungeons because in ancient times prisoners and criminals were thrown in as punishment, or so the idle ale story went. From wizards and magic folk he talked to, they were made from a lot of mana or magical power.

Legendary spells gone wrong, the death of god-like magic beasts, or just a lot of mana; there were a lot of reasons for a dungeon to be made. The dungeon he learned to dive, the Azure Pits, was a natural dungeon - or apparently made from a lot of mana. Those caves were mindless and madness, dangerous without the right equipment.

Here, this cave seems to have taken a lot of attributes from the surrounding forests. Now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much magic here like there should be. This place felt tamed to him, or maybe drained.

He had confirmed the dungeon was real, or at least worth further investigation. He pulled out a letter and handed it to one of the soldiers, who took off to deliver it to the guild master. He then commanded the rest of the soldiers to begin distributing the food.

“Hasil, are there any people that have explored this place?”

“No, the one time we investigated it we were attacked by venomous rats, a kind that has paralyzing venom. These rats didn’t exist before this dungeon appeared, nor did any other animal like them. Well, there was another one, but I don’t think you will get much from him.”

“Is he the one that went mad?”

“Yes, he is my nephew. Poor boy went out with a group of hunters to find food, but they found this cave. He was the only one to have survived. For a day he managed to overcome his madness, now he keeps to himself. While I can’t stop you, please be delicate with him.”

“Just take me to him,” Andres replied. He was led away and back to the village, to a hut isolated from the rest. He couldn’t hear anything, but his experience told him a person was in there.

“Please leave us. You have my word that I won’t try to do anything to make your nephew worse. However, my team and I need to understand the dangers of the cave first.”

Andres didn’t bother to make sure the old man had left them, he simply pushed open the door and walked in.