Weylan wearily dragged himself through the last few meters of the overgrown labyrinth. The ground beneath his feet sounded hollow, but so faintly that he noticed it only because he knew one of the pitfalls was there. He was relieved that the dungeon favored him, having disabled most of the traps. For all he knew, one of the stranglers lurked below, moving a solid metal bolt.

He counted off ten steps, reached through the climbing plants on the left-hand wall of the corridor, and, after feeling around a little, found a hollow with a round handle. He grabbed it and turned it clockwise. Behind the curtain of creepers, the secret door to the gnome city opened. He pushed his way through the plants and entered.

He paused. Normally, he would have expected to see the large, light-filled dome where the city lay. Instead, a dark tunnel stretched before him, widening after about ten steps. He walked forward. The next section was brightly lit by crystals embedded in the ceiling. The floor was covered with square tiles in different colors and at uneven heights. Cuboids protruded from the walls and ceilings at varying levels, as if a child had sloppily assembled the corridor from loose wooden blocks, only to then spill paint across the floor in a chaotic array. Weylan bent down to examine the floor. He nodded with satisfaction when he spotted a fine wire stretched across the aisle. A trap.

Weylan fell backward onto his butt and made a squeaking noise.

"What have you done? Do I now have to navigate a corridor full of traps just to enter the city?"

Weylan turned to leave but paused when the dungeon heart quickly added,

"And why would I want to do that?"

Weylan looked down the hallway and sighed, "How dangerous is this? On a scale of one being completely harmless and ten being certain death?"

Weylan considered it. Not immediately fatal sounded manageable. He had never encountered traps before, but that could change when he was out and about in the city. His lessons as an assassin would surely include trap-handling. Having some safe training beforehand could be useful. Reluctantly, he nodded. "All right."

He leaned over the taut wire and touched one of the tiles. He pressed on one side, then carefully on the other, and finally firmly from above. As far as he could tell, it didn't move. He straightened up and cautiously stepped over the wire onto the tile. It held his full weight. He paused, uncertain what to do next. The tile was light blue. Did that mean all light blue tiles were safe? The next one was within easy reach. He lifted his second foot over the wire and balanced it carefully toward his destination. He shifted his weight lightly onto it...

Zack! Something moved and he jerked his foot back reflexively. A projectile sliced through the space where his foot had just been and smashed into the wall. A crossbow bolt fell to the floor.

"That's supposed to be a two? That thing could have torn my leg off."

"You call that light?" He took a deep breath. "I see. Of course, traps don't throw balls of wool."

He examined the corridor. The tile was the same color as the one he was standing on but stuck out higher. He chose one that was lower than the surrounding ones. His foot pressed carefully on the tile. Then he shifted more of his weight onto it. Then he moved all the way over. Using the same tactic, he got about halfway down the corridor. He could already see a room on the other side, in the middle of which stood a treasure chest on a raised two-tiered platform.

"Malvorik? I haven't received a single message about skill improvements. I'm still at the starting level; it should have leveled up at least once. I'll soon be through the passage."

"What happens if you break the alliance for a moment?"

Alarm! Intruder!

Due to previous membership of the sanctuary, the enemy status is restricted to the current sector.

After leaving current sector, a change of status will be possible again.

Construction work in the "Trap training" sector is blocked.

Communication ability will persist for a maximum of 24 hours if membership status is not renewed.

"Did you see that too?"

Weylan shrugged. "It wasn't that hard to get here. I'll just go back." He turned and placed his foot on the tile he had just come from.

Click! The tile sank a little. At the entrance to the trapdoor, a portcullis crashed down from the ceiling with a thunderous crash. Stones moved on the walls all around. Openings for crossbow traps became visible. Stones fell from above or swung through the passage on chains. Weylan turned his head wildly and crouched, ready to jump, but nothing moved in his immediate vicinity. Then the corridor was silent again.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Couldn't you have mentioned that earlier?"

"What exactly happened?"

"That's great. Which tiles are safe now?"

<...> The dungeon heart was silent.

"Malvorik... You do remember what you built here, don't you?"

"Yes?"

A few heartbeats passed, then the tiny door in the heart room was pushed open and the dungeon fairy flew in with whirring wings: "What's going on? Why do we have intruders without any prior warning?"

The dungeon heart briefly and precisely described the events of the last few minutes. Selvara slapped her hand in front of her face and bowed her head. "Malvorik... You are a dungeon heart. You can't give intruders tips on how to get through the dungeon."

"This is one of Golgoroth's laws. Dungeon hearts may not help anyone to defeat or cross their dungeon. This is to prevent unfair power leveling of allies and suicidal behavior."

"That's very much at the bottom of the training schedule because no dungeon heart would normally even consider doing something like that."

Selvara thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I'm subject to the same restrictions, as are your dungeon monsters and all designated allies. You’re lucky he can still hear you at all. You shouldn’t be able to talk to intruders. There's probably some exception preventing an ongoing conversation from stopping. Weylan has to cross the restricted area, then you can renew the alliance. There's no other option. What exactly did you put in there for traps?"

For Weylan, the conversation stopped as soon as it came to information he didn't yet know. He sighed and looked around. He had heard enough to understand the problem. He was on his own. He could now return to the tile from which he had set off on his way back. But was it really still safe? He got down on his knees and examined the floor. Sure enough, the tile was now slightly higher than the surrounding ones. A clear indication that it was now a trap. He again chose the lowest tile he could find within reach and carefully applied pressure with his foot. Satisfied with the lack of reaction, he stepped over to it.

He remembered that a piece of the wall had moved downwards on both sides just behind it. He concentrated. Something had moved at the same time. But he had the impression that it had been no more than a brief movement at that point. If Malvorik had brought a tripwire into the corridor, it was likely not very far down.

When he checked the right height, he found it straight away. Across the aisle at the level of his neck. He chose the next step and bent down under the wire.

Stone blocks had fallen from the ceiling. The exactly matching tiles underneath had sunk into the floor. He could see scratches and chipped edges on the surrounding stones. The system seemed not yet fully perfected. The wires running from floor to ceiling were also easy to find if you knew where to look for them. He squeezed through sideways.

In the meantime, he had recognized a system in the floor tiles. In every second row, there was a tile slightly deeper than the others in the row. That one was safe. As for the others, he didn't know, but presumably not all of them were dangerous.

He paused as he looked for a safe tile in the next row. The pattern of height changes was different from the previous area.

He looked at the tile patterns behind him. He had not been mistaken. His heartbeat accelerated. A cold drop of sweat ran down his cheek from his forehead. Absently, he brushed it away with one finger. His hand was shaking. He couldn't find a system. The tiles were laid in a regularly alternating pattern of high and low. The color changes had no discernible system. While he was still looking around, he noticed wires running from top to bottom. Only a narrow area was free between them. He looked at the wires, then at the ceiling. Deep cuts were visible above him. If he cut the wires, he could expect falling stone blocks or worse.

His mind raced. If the dungeon was fair, then he could avoid the wires as he stepped to a safe tile. He lifted his foot... and hesitated. This was too easy. Sideways between the two wires, only one tile was really easy to reach. Better one to the left or right of it... No. He lowered his head again and looked around. If he went back one row, the safe tile was almost to the left of the wall. He could jump past the wires on the left. A target tile presented itself. There was no opportunity for that on the other side of the aisle. So... His legs trembled only briefly, then he took a big step, turned back... and jumped. The tile he landed on didn't move. He was safe.

A sound caught his attention. Regular, metallic, soft... A click... A mechanism. Right under his foot.

He leapt forward without paying attention to any more wires or the tile pattern. Behind him, the floor lowered, and the crossbow traps on the walls fired in volleys. He briefly considered stopping and throwing himself to the ground, but some crossbow traps were right at floor level. He saw no alternative. He accelerated. Wires cut into his skin before they gave way. Crossbow bolts streaked through his hair behind him, one grazed his leg. Something large swung at him from the ceiling. He threw himself sideways to the ground and rolled across the aisle under three axes hurtling parallel towards him.

A thought flashed through his mind as he struggled to stay the course down the corridor. It was too easy. He had triggered several traps, but he wasn't dead yet. Malvorik always tended to strike from a blind spot. He thought he was clever. But he was predictable. The best way to avoid the axes was to go under them. So, the next trap would be...

He used the rest of his momentum to get back on his feet. Three rows of squares folded down in front of him, revealing a view down into a pit. Reflexively, he jumped off. As he flew, he saw metal spikes glittering deep down in the pit.

He landed on his feet and threw his upper body backward to compensate for the momentum. Swaying, he thought he could stand still, but then he leaned. He had too much momentum. Involuntarily, he pushed one foot forward. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the last click he would ever hear.

He opened his eyes. Looked down. Both legs stood on light green squares in rows one behind the other.

Without leaving the tiles, he turned around and looked down into the pit once more. He swallowed. Then he nodded. "Short metal spikes, no spears or long knives. Survivable..." He paused for a moment, then continued louder, "But a four-step drop to a stone floor. That's at least a four!"

<...>

Weylan sensed just a hint of an answer. He nodded. "You can't say anything. I get it. I'm sure Selvara is just as bound as a dungeon fairy. Well, I'll get on with it then."

He pulled his foot back, made sure he was stable on a single square, and looked around. Behind him was the pit. In front of him lay another ten-step journey to the room with the treasure chest. He carefully moved his upper body back and forth and noticed a slight glimmer in the air. A net of trap wires. He was taken aback. If he didn't jump through it with a flying roll, he would have to cut one of the wires. He would have to stretch his arms perfectly forward and need enough momentum to get his legs through. Impossible without a running start. Even with that, he didn't trust himself to do it without a few attempts. But there were no test runs here.

He tapped his foot on the floor. Then he wiped another bead of sweat from his forehead. With effort, he calmed his breathing. Don't panic. There had to be a way. Dungeons were not supposed to contain insurmountable obstacles. At least that was what Selvara always claimed. She had never answered clearly whether traps had to be surmountable for a group of experienced revenants or for a single shepherd. Since revenants had several lives, a certain number of casualties was perfectly acceptable.