Knut

A mismatched group of criminals bunched up over the looming hole torn into the floor. Its sharp edges and the icy wind flowing from the lower level were enough to rob them of the courage to go on. As they stared into the abyss, Knut felt that this whole place (and situation) was unreal. Divorced from their everyday life. The militia exercises he was forced to participate in (as most of the men of recruitable age) made sure that none of the new members even looked in this direction. This deliberate avoidance was easy to notice and naturally, it kindled their curiosity - yet none of the trainees was stupid enough to ignore a direct order. Now Knut knew what they were steering clear of. He wished he didn’t.

The sight was just too much, even more so for the faint of heart. The blackness that filled the hollow was thick and greasy like oil, barely moving away when they shone a light over it. The dark carried a sinister vibe, something that all of them felt. It filled the criminals with dread, the fear of the unknown, as none of them (maybe not counting Big Jon) signed up in the hope of battling dangerous creatures! They planned to steal easily accessible loot or maybe just gather a few rare plants in addition to some valuable materials. They all knew that the Oasis helmet-waring mage paid a pretty penny for any discoveries. So did his disciples.

Nothing had prepared them for this… nightmare. Even if the place was only a mark left after a past battle it was still proof that an unknown monster capable of easily punching a hole through the rock existed somewhere underground.

That kind of opponent wasn’t something they wanted to encounter. To make matters worse both the Silver Oasis natives and the Family members were mentally exhausted. Sneaking their way downstairs and battling the dungeon creations took its toll. At least until now, no one had been hurt. Would it stay this way? The clock was ticking but rushing recklessly would only end up in a disaster.

Knut’s face scrunched in worry as he signaled Mudan. His friend nodded solemnly, then spoke aloud. “Let’s make a temporary camp around here. Refill your waterskins from the lake. It’s safe, the earlier expeditions already tested it. Eat, drink, and recover. We will need our strength for the last push.” Most of the people present agreed with this notion, Silence’s men being the only dissenters.

“I don’t think there is any need for rest.” The syndicate leader pointed in the direction of the hole. His three cronies stood back, silently observing the situation. “Our prize is down there! It’s the last obstacle! We must press on!” He strode forward, his flushed face appearing just before the Silver Oasis party leader.

“I disagree.” Mudan answered calmly, observing Silence through his squinted eyes. “We still have plenty of time and preserving our strength before facing the unknown should be a priority. We have only one shot on this. Of course, if you and your men want to pave the way forward, then please, be my guest.” He shrugged. “Just don’t come back crying when the monsters kick your ass.”

“Hmph. You sure are good at rhetoric for a petty criminal.”

“We all have our talents. And it’s not like you have any right to complain. We’re the ones battling and killing the monsters, while you folks leisurely follow behind us. Do you want to die so badly? Then go on, burn this excess energy off.” The pudgy thief huffed in annoyance and turned his attention towards Knut. His tone softened immediately. “Can you please check our surroundings? The brothers will prepare our campsite and Big Jon will serve as a guard. We should also have a rope ready in place by the time you come back.”

“You know well enough that I specialize in moving unseen through towns and villages. Blending in the crowds. Using taverns to gather information. This…” Knut waved his hands in distaste pointing towards the rugged, grey surroundings. “This is totally out of my expertise.”

“You know that we didn’t have the time to gain the cooperation of a ranger. You’re the only one of us with at least some experience in the matter.” The fatter man patted his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We believe in you.”

Knut hissed. “And now you’re piling up even more expectations…”

Still, he complied. The slovenly militiaman shook his head as he left the spear and shield behind, he would be relying only on the dagger hanging from his waist. He decided that since he wasn’t going far, he could always rely on his companions in case of trouble.

At least there doesn’t seem to be any danger around here. Knut slowly surveyed his surroundings. While the hole was centered around the middle of the tunnel, both left and right sides had some leeway, allowing a careful person to pass through unimpeded.

Then, a moment later he froze, his fearless aura dissipating as he remembered that the Death’s Intuition worked only when he was actually in danger of dying. Not a moment later, not a moment sooner. It also reacted to the killing intent of powerful creatures and people. Thankfully Knut managed to remember this important little detail after a few close encounters. And before strutting into the risky part of his journey.

His form grew smaller as if chastising himself for the earlier bravado, the leather armor and helmet easily blending with the surroundings. Despite the reluctance to risk his life, Knut still took pride in his skills. How to move from one dark spot to another. How to breathe softly and never let his guard down.

How to avoid dying.

The minutes passed slowly. It felt like hours as he cautiously explored the eastern tunnel.

Surprisingly the tunnel immediately beyond the hole was clear of hostiles. Only a few undead were wandering nearby randomly, patrolling the next intersection. Looking at their clumsy movements Knut released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Even if he was noticed these enemies would have a hard time following him over the narrow path.

The thief hesitated then turned back.

He was curious about what was located to the north and south of the patrolling creatures, but even his ability to stay hidden couldn’t shield him from flesh-hungry undead. That was what he was taught, anyway. He didn’t want to test the validity of these claims with his life on the line.

Knut slowly moved along the rocky walls, traveling in the direction of the brightly lit camp. He managed to return much quicker, startling Big Jon as he emerged from the shadows. The darkness was plentiful near the damaged area, as the otherwise common chandeliers were rare in this area.

The food had been already prepared. Knut sat down with relish, savoring the simple meal. “So?” Mudan hovered nearby, his face beaded with perspiration.

“The hole is traversable. For most of us, anyway. I wouldn’t count on Big Jon making it through without some kind of safeguard.”

The giant grunted dismissively in response.

“On the bright side, we’re pretty safe from the undead. They’re much too clumsy to get around it.”

“The rats?”

“I didn’t see any.”

“Good.”

“What did you encounter out there?” Silence asked, inching a bit closer.

“Not much.” Knut shrugged. “There is a crossing nearby, going north and south. Also, a few of the undead seem to be clumped over there. I would say they are guarding something but with the level of intelligence they displayed thus far it's hard to tell." He shook his head. "Other than that, I didn’t find anything interesting.”

“Too bad.” Murmured Family’s leader. “Why didn’t you move deeper?”

“Because I treasure my skin?” Seeing the man’s surprised reaction he continued in a bored tone. “Listen, the undead are known to have the ability to detect living beings in their vicinity. Hiding in the dark won’t do shit against it.” Knut stopped speaking just long enough to devour a spoonful of stew made from unidentified meat. “Mhm… this is good!” He gulped down another bite. His expression hardened. “It’s one of the reasons that this place gives me the creeps. Both the undead and the rats are my natural enemies. Their special abilities, their sense of smell, their ability to communicate. A nightmare for the rogues like me.”

“Still, we need to lean on your skills, Knut.” Mudan cut into the discussion, his childish face taking on a comically serious look.

“Yes, I know. There isn’t much choice. Big Jon is out of the question, the brothers are our muscle, you’re busy with planning, and the rest... doesn’t really count.” Silence angrily snorted at the derision contained in these words and stomped away, but didn’t disagree with the thief’s analysis. With a tired sigh, the lanky man turned back to his friend. “You want me to scout the lower level, right?”

“You’re reading my mind!”

“Dammit.” Knut stewed in silence for a long while, silently considering running away before succumbing to the inevitable. “Fine. I’ll do it. It’s not like we have a choice. Make it big or die trying is our only option... Just make sure you’ll raise my cut accordingly.” Seeing Mudan’s quick nod a small smile appeared on the thief’s face. “Good. Get Big Jon started on a rope. One pull means get me out of here. Two pulls mean danger, and three pulls mean it’s safe.”

“Right.”

“No problem.”

Seeing everyone agree Knut unhurriedly emptied half of his bowl. His mother always told him to fill his stomach whenever possible, while his father scowled at this advice. Son, you’ll survive a dagger to the gut only when your belly is empty.

Knut was certainly his mother’s son - if he had to risk his life, then he would do it on a full belly.

“You’re not taking any of your weapons?”

“Same as the last time, they would only be a hindrance. My dagger has to suffice in a pinch.” He spat on the ground. “These fancy spears and shields would work only if I had comrades to form a shield wall with. It’s not like they taught us how to use them in a fight! It seems that kind of knowledge is reserved for nobles and their pets!”

“It’s not like it would make any difference. We didn’t train long enough.” One of the usually silent brothers shot back, his eyes squinted as he readjusted to the camp's brightness. His calm countenance visibly differed from red-faced Knut.

“That’s not the point!”

“So what is the point of your little speech? Or are you just spewing out venom for the sake of it?” Asked the second brother, slowly inching closer from the surrounding darkness.

“That we’re being used!”

“We get training, food, experience for free. Not to mention that nobody died thus far. What more do you want?”

“They’re rearing us like one would a war animal! Why can’t you see it? And besides…“ Knut’s eyes turned sharp, his hand wandering to the dagger on his waist. ”If you like it that much, then why are you even here? After this little operation finishes, we will be wanted men.”

“You have some gall…” The older of the brothers stepped forward, his cleanly shaven head visible in the flickering light.

“We have our own circumstances.”

“Oh? I wonder.” Knut hissed in response.

“Let’s all calm down!” Mudan said, calmly stepping between the two sides. “The deeper we go, the stronger monsters we will encounter. Don’t waste your energy arguing. There are plenty of enemies out there!”

“I guess.”

“I can let it slide.”

As the party returned to their posts, Knut was still mechanically shoveling the food into his mouth. Outwardly there was nothing wrong with him, yet right now his back was sticky with cold sweat. He felt his skill tingling - but not from the direction of the brothers or even Big Jon. No. It was the Family enforcers who elicited a response.

They’re fucking dangerous. Thinking about smashing me down just because of a random dispute. He thought. And what’s worse, the moment we discover something valuable they’re bound to just cut us loose and run. In the end, it doesn’t matter if the third floor is safe or not…

He clenched his teeth.

If the possession of the skill taught him anything, it was that the people who wanted to kill him had to be eliminated as fast as possible. In the case of Lord Hawk, he could only endure, but right now…

They’re not leaving this place alive.

“Are you alright?” Asked Mudan, his pudgy face filled with worry. Knut knew the man long enough to understand that he was concerned about his scouting ability, not personal well-being.

“I’ll manage.” He scoffed, refocusing himself. “Is the rope ready?”

“Yes. Big Jon already secured it and one of the brothers checked the stability. It’ll hold.”

“Good. Let’s do it, then.”

Showing bravado he wasn’t feeling Knut marched towards the hole’s edge. What followed was a slow and painful descent into the darkness. From start to finish, there were only a few meters and a few minutes until his legs touched the ground, but it was much longer. Unlike before, the floor wasn’t made from smooth stone, but rather strange and springy… things.

*clang*

As Knut stepped on them, a curse escaped his lips.

“Really? Copper fucking grass?”

He looked around, noticing that the ground was covered in the brown plant, with the sharp knife-bushes growing near the walls. Not counting these a whole lot of unknown flora was happily growing in the lightless environment.

Normally Knut would be ecstatic about the samples. New types of plants meant more money after they returned to the surface.

Right now however a much simpler thought rattled inside his skull. Which of those fucking plants are dangerous?

As an explorer, no matter how inexperienced, he knew that dungeons rarely made creatures and items that weren’t lethal. Thus seeing the straight, whiteish trees growing near the walls, the varied bushes, and exotic flowers made him doubly cautious.

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Step after step, clang after clang he moved over the coppery bed, first advancing west, where the tunnel seemed to expand in a large, silver-green area.

The lights grew brighter as he hid behind a plant he recognized - a thick bush covered in sharp leaves. Knut poked his head out, his eyes widening at the sight of the organized movement in the room.

There were dozens of rats wearing brown robes working away in the near-silence. Rarely one of them squeaked, ordering their brethren or the undead to finish some tasks. Amongst them, a sole figure drew his attention - a giant rat, half-covered in pulsating roots.

The scout immediately dived back behind his cover. “Shit! A leader-type monster!” He mumbled under his nose, trembling. “Think, think, think! What did they say about them during training?”

“They lead other creatures - duh, obvious! Some are aggressive, others passive. Even the passive ones are territorial.” He gulped. “There are those who manifest magic skills or magic-like abilities. Most of them are intelligent and capable of strengthening their subordinates.” His whisper turned even more frantic. “But what do they do after the dungeon collapses? I don’t remember… I don’t fuckin’ remember!” He massaged his temples in panic.

“Calm. Calm. I need to be calm.” He poked his head out once again, only to notice the root-rat staring directly at him.

A soundless scream escaped Knut’s lips.

“Retreat!”

Without any hesitation, he turned back and ran in the direction of the hole. His thoughts were galloping. Fuck that! A leader-type monster can lead the whole room towards us! We don’t stand a chance!

Seconds later he arrived, ready to pull the rope and inform his comrades about the danger. And then, preferably, get the fuck out of here.

Then he stopped.

“Wait a moment.”

“I didn’t feel my skill feedback kicking in…” He thought. “It means that the creature either ignored me or isn’t powerful enough to do us harm.” Knut mused. “Then I guess we’re… safe?”

He stared at the brownish flora surrounding him. “There is always the eastern route to scout too. It would be a shame if we retreated before getting something worthwhile out of this place.” The feeling of greed started to win out.

“Let’s do it.”

The thief decided to bet on the other side of the tunnel. Slowly and methodically he avoided the copper grass, using the fallen boulders as impromptu platforms. His advance was completely silent.

He also made sure to not step on one of the three Sundews lying flat on the ground, their smooth surfaces easily recognizable amongst the rubble and copper grass littering the place. Looking at them curiously, Knut threw a large rock on it only to wince as the plant’s sharp spears attempted to skewer it.

“These fuckers are down here too, eh? I swear I’ll find and strangle the guy that called them Sun-dews...” He mumbled to himself, remembering how some careless civilians had been hurt by the plant’s equivalent growing on the surface.

The tunnel he chose was curving southwards and ended up in a brightly lit room that contained a stairway leading upwards. Knut glanced at the chamber from far away, noticing that it had a much more civilized feel than the rest of the tunnels.

“I smell loot!” He mumbled happily but still had the presence of mind to retreat and gather his comrades before continuing. Turning back he failed to notice small green sprouts tracking his movement. Seeing their prey leaving before it entered the optimal range caused the little monsters to sulk, their barrels pointing sadly at the ground.

Unaware, Knut returned to the rope and pulled it three times.

The next half of an hour was spent with his companions slowly making their way down. The ever-present darkness present unnerved them, but at Knut’s behest, no torch was lit. He quickly explained the dangers he encountered - mostly the rats he saw next door. Hearing that tale any voices of dissent (no matter how they longed for light) were immediately crushed.

The team walked through the blackness in a single file, led by the slouched scout.

“I’ll repeat it one more time. Step only where I step, move quietly, and, for Gods sake, do not touch anything!” He spoke, mainly looking at the Big Jon lumbering just behind him.

The giant nodded in acceptance.

Minutes later it was clear that Knut’s warnings had fallen on deaf ears, the large man physically incapable of following the agile movements of the thief. Big Jon managed to barely dodge out of the way of Sundew’s spears only to tumble right into the pressure plate of another.

There was an ominous *click* as his foot landed in the middle of the plant, and with a powerful sound, sharp wooden spears emerged to pierce the incoming prey. The large warrior tried desperately to avoid the incoming attack, but his effort only partially paid off. His thigh was pierced anyway, both the trained muscle and throw-away leather armor a small obstacle for the bloodthirsty enemy.

“Gyaaaaaaa!” The giant bellowed, snapping the spears with sheer force and sending the carnivorous plant reeling back. “Shut up!” Knut whispered angrily.

The damage was done, however. A moment later Big Jon crashed on the floor, whimpering in pain. The copper grass floor reacted with a choir of metallic noises. In any other situation, the sound would feel poetic and peaceful. Right now they couldn’t help but feel that the flora was jeering at them, celebrating the invader’s demise.

“Fuck!” Silence swore while glancing back restlessly. Big Jon’s screams echoed in the tunnel, which could bring unwanted trouble. The eyes of the criminals were turning colder and colder the more they looked at the fallen giant. “If only you retards were competent enough to follow orders!” He gnashed his teeth.

“What are we going to do now?” Huffed Mudan, his face paler than ever.

“Let’s just bandage the wound. Then cauterize it.” His fat friend flinched.

“Is it necessary?”

“Down here I would rather bet on the smell of cooked meat than blood.” Knut smiled grimly, heating his knife over the quickly lit-up torch. At the same time, Silence turned to him and spoke through the clenched teeth.

“We will go ahead.” His gaze was clearly focused on the skinny criminal, not Mudan, the nominal leader. “You’re welcome to follow.”

“Sorry, I’ll stick with my guys.”

“It could get you killed.”

Knut shrugged. “I’m good at running away.” In his mind, he added and not stupid enough to follow the guys who wanted to kill me before.

“Have it your way.” Silence stare lingered on him for a long while, until he turned back to his cronies. “Let’s go. Prepare your weapons.”

On his command, the cloaked thugs slowly took out the blackjacks. Knut squinted his eyes. These were proper weapons, totally different from the shabby equipment given to the Oasis militia.

“Hmph.” One of the bald brothers snorted derisively.

“What?”

“It’s all good, but if they wanted to have some blunt instruments, why not buy the Lightning Maces? They’re magical, sturdy, and cheap.” He stared at the Family’s thugs. “Overall they should work much better when braving the underground.”

Knut tilted his head. “I guess you’re right.” He observed the thugs' confident stride. Their eyes were full of greed. He could nearly tell what were they thinking. It was not his problem. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the whimpering giant. “Now, Jon, be a big boy and make sure you won’t scream.”

“W-will it h-hurt?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Then I don’t wanna!”

“For fuck’s sake! Don’t be a child…”

They conversed back and forth for a few long minutes until Knut managed to “convince” Big Jon that there was no other way. Focused on the task ahead none of them noticed the slight rumble coming from their surroundings. With a cloth gag filling his mouth and bound hands, the large man looked like an animal ready for the slaughter. He gnashed his teeth in pain as the searing blade roasted the wounded leg. Normally there would be a lot more screaming and kicking, but the blood loss had already weakened the giant.

The whole process lasted no more than a few seconds, his companion working quickly and precisely. A sickly sweet smell filled the air. The speed he worked at was not solely for Big Jon’s benefit. As long as the odor of blood was present, not to mention the horrendous screams the giant tried to produce none of them were truly safe.

By the time the blessed silence returned to the tunnel, the party noticed a sound growing in the distance. The copper grass clanged louder and louder, smashed by the hurrying feet. Because of the gruesome scene, the rest of the party reacted slowly to the approaching threat. The militiamen barely managed to enter in a defensive stance, their spears sticking out dangerously when the fastest of the arrivals shouted in a weak voice.

“S-stop! F-f-friendly… we are friendly…” He gasped, the earlier run draining Silence’s endurance.

Not much has remained of his earlier confidence, with only one of his companions making it back alive. Their clothes were torn, and full of holes, while their skin bled from wounds made by cutting and piercing weapons. Seeing their state Knut’s face twisted as he bellowed.

“What’s going on? Where is the rest of your guys?”

Silence ignored his question, his eyes darting around the place, before collapsing on the ground. His blackjack was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a worn dagger. After a while, he stopped gasping for air a bit of color returning to his face.

He curled up, whimpering softly.

“Dammit, man!” Knut stood just above him, his face flickering. In the end, he unclenched his fist and turned towards the Family henchman standing nearby, motionless like a human-shaped statue.

“Can you tell me what happened?” There was a dangerous undertone in his voice.

The man turned pale, his eyes dilating. Still, he swallowed his fears before answering.

“T-they’re dead… sp-p-plattered e-everywhere. S-slaughtered... KILLED!” He suddenly screamed. “Hands r-re-reaching, pale fingers, h-hu-hungering faces. Hungering… T-their hatred, their greed… M-m-monsters...” The thug continued to repeat random words, a disjointed speech turning their blood cold. He was immersed in his personal nightmare for a few long minutes before quietening down, visibly deflating, and finishing the rant in a tiny, weak voice. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me… Please.”

“Fuck. What the hell happened?” Knut repeated his question in a much softer tone.

“Let me see.” Mudan hesitantly stepped forward, in a few calm movements checking the erratic man’s eyes, hands, pulse, and nails. With care, he barely managed to extract something that looked like metal shrapnel from his arm, eliciting only a small yelp of pain. Immediately the blood started seeping from the wound, prompting him to bandage the poor sod. There was also a strange needle sticking out of his clothes, which was carefully extracted.

After that he moved to clean Silence’s wounds, finding him in a much better condition than he appeared at first. On the other hand, the shivers, dilated eyes, and small chuckles escaping his mouth told a different story about the criminal’s psychological state.

“So?” Knut asked impatiently.

“Something tore them a new one.”

“I can see that. Details?”

“New monsters, probably? Some of them seem familiar though. The shrapnel is easy - these blue fuckers ambushed them. This explains the trauma.”

Knut gulped loudly. He still remembered the first encounter the militia had with the exploding undead. They lost good men that day. “What about the needle?”

“Now, that’s a problem. I mean… it's coated in something, probably poison. No idea about how dangerous it is - and these chumps aren’t in the position to tell us. We can only infer that it’s bad.”

“That’s not much to go on.”

“Well, yeah. But at least we know that there are at least two types of enemies out there.”

“True.”

Their conversation was disrupted by loud wailing, alternating with bouts of a hysterical laugh. Silence was having a field day, screaming and kicking.

“Hyahahahahaha! We’re going to die! A-all of usssss! Damned! Left in this underground grave!”

This was too much for Knut, already angered beyond reason.

“Oh shut the fuck up!” A quick slap returned the Family’s thug to his senses. “Tell me what you saw and what happened to your companions.” The lanky man demanded with a cold expression on his face. His thought process had changed, degrading Silence’s importance from a powerful enemy to a mere annoyance.

“Huhuhuhu…” The despairing man chuckled hollowly before raising his head to meet Knut’s eyes. “We’re dead men walking. This place will never let us go. My people are dead. I am dead.”

“Can you please start making sense?”

“You’ll see. You all will see.”

“So you’re not going to work with us?” Knut cracked his knuckles.

“What’s the point?”

“Then what do you want to do now?” Asked Mudan in a serious tone.

“Retreat!” Silence’s answer was clear.

“Then do it. We’ll go ahead.” Knut spoke at the same time as the Family’s henchman.

“Are you stupid? We’ll never manage to return on our own!”

“So?” The lanky militiaman smiled. “What are you afraid of?”

“We will all die if we continue! It was a mistake to come here!”

“I disagree. You have already paved the way forward with your bodies. As long as we observe our surroundings and don’t touch any weird stuff we should be fine.” His expression sharpened. “Right?”

Both the brothers and Big Jon nodded seriously. Mudan was also on board, his sweaty palms and pale face telling a tale of determination. On the other hand Silence and with the last of his subordinates were only staring wide-eyed at the sudden commotion.

“You’re all insane.” He rasped.

Knut ignored the trembling man. “Big Jon, are you ready?”

His comrade stood up with a grunt. “Hurts. I’ll get over it.”

“Give him a sip.”

Mudan produced a leather flask from somewhere. “It’ll numb the pain. Just don’t drink the whole thing. We may need it for later.”

With a smile Big Jon swallowed a large portion of the liquid, ignoring Mudan’s cries of protest. “Good.” He flashed a wide smile, breathing out a nearly visible cloud of alcohol.

“Let’s get moving.” Knut ordered while turning back to the Family’s henchmen. “Do you want to stay here, or follow us?” There was a trace of disdain hidden in his voice.

Seemingly noticing it Silence grit his teeth. His eyes widened, darting between the rope and the back of the other criminals. “W-we’ll follow. You’ll understand what we faced…” His voice trailed off, the small tremble coming over the man.

“We’ll see.”

The group moved slowly and methodically, with their shields prepared. Only a few minutes later they noticed the change - both the floor and the walls were now made from carved stone. While covered in vegetation there was an unmistakable intelligent design behind it.

Following the Family’s footsteps, they arrived in the stairway chamber and noticed marks of the earlier battle. Pieces of armor, cloth, and flesh were strewn about, the smell of blood overwhelming their senses.

“There!” Shouted Silence, recognizing the “shooter” plants that were the cause of their demise. The team stiffened in worry, but no matter how long they waited, nothing happened in the end. The world stood still.

The secret doors in the four corners of the room were already opened, revealing small, dark, alcoves void of anything interesting. The four vivid statues of humanoid figures standing in the chamber created an unholy ambiance even if each of them was damaged nearly beyond recognition.

“Let’s get closer,” Knut mumbled, and the whole team moved while trying to maintain the shield wall formation.

The tensions were running high as they walked step-by-step…

But once again - nothing happened.

It was only when they arrived in the vicinity of the innocently looking plants that understanding appeared in their eyes.

“Little fuckers are spent.” Knut mused while nudging the weakly swaying plant with his feet. “Seems like we’re in luck.”

“Okay, people. Keep the shields up, we don’t know what else is out here.” He ordered. “Now, we have three ways to go.” He pointed to the ceiling. “We can move up the stairs, which is a stupid move, as there should be some unknown Floor Guardian waiting for a snack.” The choir of grunts attested that the rest of the team had the same opinion.

“We can move back through the chamber where a leader-type creature had been spotted.” He grimaced. “Which could bring a whole lot of shit on our heads.”

“Or… we can go through there.” He pointed towards the ornate door surrounded by the statues of escapees twisted in various forms of panic.

“These options are not great. I know. We need to make an informed decision.”

“Our only real option is the door and you know it.” Mumbled Mudan.

“Yeah, but it gives me weird vibes.”

“Is it your ability speaking?”

“What? No. Just my intuition.”

“It’s nothing, then.”

“Sure. Sure. You can interpret it this way.” Knut waved his hand in defeat. “Do as you wish… Let’s go.”

The door was hard to open. It seemed like there was some kind of safety mechanism involved, trying to keep it closed. This didn’t discourage them as they pushed and pushed, their combined effort slowly managing to force a small opening. One by one the humans slipped through before unavoidably it closed, temporarily trapping the adventurers in the next chamber.

“Whew. That wasn’t so bad.” Knut spoke aloud, observing the ornately carved rock door. Yet when nobody answered he turned around full of worry.

“Hey, guys what are you…” His words trailed off.

“What the fuck is that? By the Belle sweaty tits!” He stared agape at the chamber, trembling in fear.

“By the Gods!”

“Ahhhh… ahhh…”

“I told you, I told you… you weren’t listening! We’re dead men walking!”

Sounds of mewling, prayers, and pure horror assaulted his senses. Knut, however, didn’t have time to reprimand his companions.

He was busy staring at the room full of plants with eyes.

Dozens of creepy eyeballs were filling every free space in the chamber, more and more of them noticing the intruders and turning to get a better look. Their unblinking stares weren’t hostile nor friendly, just… detached. Like a crazy mage observing an animal lying on the sacrificial table.

The only thing that allowed Knut to keep his calm was the fact that his ability wasn’t screaming out, which meant this situation wasn’t lethal.

Small comfort in this nightmare.

Then, he noticed the blue box floating before him and screamed in surprise.

“A fucking Trial? Out here? By the mercy of the Gods… WHY?” A moment later he added. “The Trial of Greed… I don’t like the sound of that.”

As he read through the explanation his face flushed between happy and terrified expressions. Something that a certain Dungeon Core observed with fascination.

Knut mumbled. “Trial of combat… choose… can’t retreat… two fights.” He corrected himself. “At least two fights… but then… magical weapon. Armor. Haaah…”

“We’re going to die down here… Am I right?”