Uno

I peered over the third floor Trial in amusement. Somebody managed to reach it at last! Well, to tell the truth, it wasn’t that big of a challenge. Yet for some reason, the adventurer teams seemed to avoid it.

Come to think of it the same could be said about the whole third level. At this moment from three ways down humans had discovered only a single one. Both the “true” staircase guarded by Flamecaller - the Ironflame Rat King (and his entourage), and the path leading under the Central Pond stalked by Guardian and his kobold minions were hidden from their sight.

And it seemed like this state of affairs would persist as long as I didn’t repair the hole left by the half-elven princess. It was an easy, unguarded way down, so why search for alternatives while it was available? I could certainly understand that notion - that laziness. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that the hole stuck out like a sore thumb, located smack dab in the middle of my second-floor eastern tunnel.

Now that I think about it this might have added to the meekness of the explorers. I mean, anyone in his right mind would be worried about the monster (or, in this case - a person) capable of such destruction. Especially since the half-elves didn’t describe the contents of their adventures to the humans - thus nobody in Silver Oasis knew the truth, Lord Hawk being the only exception. Still, it seemed like he didn’t further share his information. Was it a lapse of judgment on his part, simple forgetfulness, or maybe a part of the larger plot?

I shrugged.

It wasn’t important.

There were more pressing matters I had to take care of. The most irritating one was this itchy feeling telling me time and time again to repair the damage done to the second floor as soon as possible. These ideas were probably a part of my Dungeon Core instincts. Right now it was easy to squash them, overruling the need with logic but the same couldn’t be said about the future. Creating new minions and preparing the laboratory floor put a strain on my resources. It was only a matter of time before I was forced to surrender, stemming the flow of the intruders down to a manageable stream. Which in the process would announce to the world that I remained unbroken.

It had been some time since I was declared dead and both of my shallowest floors were now being constantly raided. Or should I say that the first floor had been completely tamed and the excursion parties continued to spread their tendrils to the second floor?

Most of the exploratory teams avoided moving east towards the glaring hole and instead focused on either farming my minions in the Central Pond Room or exploring the three other cardinal directions.

Well… right now only two of them remained, though.

Since not a single human returned from the western tunnel (where always hungry Glass Progenitor was dwelling under the waves) that road of expansion was abandoned too. Despite the lack of information (or because of it?) the word of mouth ended up creating some otherworldy horrors much more interesting than those I had in stock. Still, the gossipers were uniform in claiming that some man-eating monster was behind the disappearances. They weren't entirely wrong…

A combination of the tentacled monstrosity and Non’s hatred towards the Geinard’s Kingdom troops meant a zero survival rate for those foolish enough to explore the Underground Lake area.

With two of the four paths barred, sentients turned their greedy gazes elsewhere. Their recon teams encountered heavy Lebir resistance to the north but that didn’t dissuade them - it was even the other way around! Many prowling monsters meant better experience and loot after all - at least that was what the dungeon logic dictated.

Not dying instantly was also a plus.

Thus my guardposts defending Battery Devourer farms came under heavy fire. Still, unlike before they weren’t critical to my effort. I already stockpiled more Crackling Maces than I could use so the rest of the monsters just kinda… grew in silence?

With time the resistance was broken… and I couldn’t stop laughing when I gazed at the exploration team’s bitter faces. They battled away hordes of my monsters, braved dangers and collected scars only to be rewarded with a field full of Battery Devourers, the man-eating plants shaking happily at the sight of incoming prey.

Unfortunately, they pushed through once again, the red-haired Charles showering the flora with his destructive magic. Most of the Devourers succumbed to the fire, their flammable stalks and leaves turning to ashes.

Their demise pained me greatly, yet I knew that they would repopulate in time. Unbothered by the sentients who lost their drive when it became obvious that no grand treasure was hidden behind the backs of my guardians they would grow back or simply *pop* into existence.

This result meant that the situation in the southern tunnels had changed. The minions out there were a combination of Ironflame Rats, Rat Temple Warriors (beasties skewed towards the fire element), and Tamed Glass Dragonflies who carried Ratling pilots. In the back, large numbers of Lebirs were stationed - just in case. They looked a bit different than the rest of my forces.

Their armor was carved with what I remembered about runes… which wasn’t much. It was an experiment of sorts. When it wasn’t working in bore-- I mean in desperation - I started to replace these mystic symbols with various shapes, adding a danger factor to their look. I was trying to check if adding these would produce high-level minions.

Yet it turned out that the changes weren’t enough, outside their fancy armor the performance in battle was pretty much the same, thus the experiment ended up in failure. I decided to keep them though - you never knew when they would come in handy. Even if half of them looked like rejects from Fallout or Wasteland series.

Anyway, these halls were the current target of the Silver Oasis natives’ expansion. Their adventuring teams - or should I call them militia squads? - smashed their heads against my defenses many times. Each of their visits was repelled by combined forces of Ironflame Rats led by their Temple Warrior brethren. The fire magic that invaders brought to the table proved more a detriment than help, my servants proving resistant or outright immune to its effects. Adding to this a constant harassment by the Dragonflies and their rock-throwing riders meant that no intrusion managed to make it past the first room - the grandly named Metallic Jungle.

The place was full of silvery trees and other vegetation making it hard to keep a stable formation. The Ratlings of all types were able to strike without warning, their hit-and-run tactics impossible to avoid. Adding to it, pockets of Lebirs operated in small, cohesive teams, attacking and then retreating under the command of Ratlings' Black Mages. Due to the difference in their performance, humans started to call them “runic undead” and classified the monsters to be an advanced form of the Lebirs. I hoped that this recognition would propel them into becoming something more, alas both their strength and behavior didn’t change. Yet.

Interestingly, the rumors about the third floor had already spread - the knowledge about Berserker’s appearance and powers were twisted by word of mouth but remained horrific enough to discourage most of the humans, leaving only stupid or desperate challengers to contend with.

And that neatly led me back to the team of criminals currently imprisoned in the Trial room on the third level. They weren’t the first to sneak into the dungeon in some senile hope to gain riches and power. On the contrary, they seem rather commonplace nowadays. All their predecessors ended up as fuel for my growth.

These guys, however, were a bit different - be it by luck or skill they managed to reach the trial room. But, as the doors closed behind them a familiar sense of panic engulfed the chamber. The feeling of losing control. The eye plants were watching the intruders intently, each of them recording the posture, used weapons, their expressions, and droplets of sweat slowly dripping from their faces, nourishing the ground.

After a beginning wave of emotion, the sentient who stayed in the middle of the room were warily staring at the surrounding flora. Luckily for them, none of these plants were combat-capable. After a few minutes of this type of psychological warfare, nothing happened so the high tension had naturally passed. The invaders were free to investigate what interested them - an invisible text, no doubt describing the Trial that stood before them.

I was curious once again - it was clear that the contents of their magical blue boxes differed from those presented to me. There was something else at work here, something that I failed to grasp. Shrugging, I forced the Trial description to appear before me. It had been some time since I made this place and a refresher was in order.

Trial of Greed

The trial encompasses the Hall of Eyes, Chamber of Daggers, Chamber of Swords, Chamber of Axes, Chamber of Spears, Chamber of Maces, Chamber of Shields, Chamber of Helmets, Chamber of Gauntlets, Chamber of Breastplates, Chamber of Greaves, the Great Greed Hallway and Cursed Golem Enclosure.

The rules of the trial are as follows:

- the challengers are allowed to walk into the Great Greed Hallway unmolested unless they dealt damage to non-hostile entities in the Hall of Eyes (in case of damage the curse-type punishments apply)

- the challengers are allowed to enter any of the Chambers on the condition that they have to defeat the Golem inside to proceed

- the Golems are armed with one piece of cursed equipment each

- each defeated Golem adds its piece of equipment to the Cursed Golem, raising the difficulty

- the main trial begins when the challengers open the Cursed Golem Enclosure or eliminate all auxiliary Golems

- once challengers enter the Trial they cannot escape unless it’s finished or all of them are dead

It was just like I remembered it… or was it? I could sense small discrepancies - like some things were clearer or even changed in the time I wasn’t looking. A few words here, a sentence there, and the meaning changed completely.

I stared at the blue box like my gaze could bore holes into it. An avalanche of questions followed, all left unanswered. I could feel something - someone - smirking back at me with deranged, happy joy.

With a shake of my head, the bright box dispersed into nothingness but the sense of wrongness remained. I felt it - the time was running out. Yet while the situation had changed - so what? I only needed to adapt and overcome, and - to tell the truth - what could this pathetic band of criminals even do to my honed war machines?

I already decided that I’ll survive, even against all the odds. Even if I have to… With another shake, I clear my head and focus. The invaders, that’s what’s the most important right now. Where was I? Right, third floor, the Hall of Eyes, and the humans were… here. Arguing.

Why I was not surprised?

“We can’t go back!” Knut bellowed, his teeth clenched. “This place won’t let us - read the description again, dammit!”

“But we need… we must… or we’ll die!” Silence’s tone was much too different from before. A broken man? Or just a good actor? I thought that I saw a flicker of coldness under his panicked expression.

“The Family’s man isn’t wrong, you know?” Mudan added his three cents to the discussion his eyes trembling each time they met the gaze of a camera.

“What do you want me to do? Search for a way out? I already checked! There isn’t any!”

“Really? Even with your skills?”

“By the Belle’s sweaty ass! I’m no ranger! How many times do I have to repeat that?” The lanky man punched the wall, sending a wave of unease through the lidless eyes observing them. Yet the threshold of damage was not reached, so no retaliatory curse was activated. “This place is far outside my knowledge. You all knew that. You all knew the risk.”

“I-I understand…” Mudan answered lifelessly, his earlier energy gone in a blink of an eye.

“Besides, did you even read the descriptor? The words of the World are saying that it's guaranteed that we won’t leave before finishing up this place. Which means facing the boss.”

“I was hoping for a better solution.” Muttered Mudan. “Just thinking about facing the enemy as powerful as this mysterious roaming Guardian is enough to stop my fucking heart.”

“There isn’t any other way, old friend. The moment we stepped into this room the decision had been made!”

A heavy silence followed. It was Mudan who broke it with his solemn words.

“Then we’ll have to try to barrel through. Just do enough to survive - I am happy with the path of the least resistance!”

“That still means beating one of the Golems and then the Boss.” The slim thief rapped his fingers against the stone. “That’s a tall order for a rag-tag team of militia…”

“Fightin’!” Big Jon smiled, hobbling closer to the carved door leading deeper into the Trial.

“Wait! I said WAIT! You big, stupid log!” Knut shouted while running after his companion. Mudan, Silence, one of his minions, and the bald brothers were left behind, looking at each other in confusion.

“We better follow. I would prefer to leave this dreary room behind.” The fat man was sweating, his eyes glancing at the unblinking flora of the room. With a muffled sigh, he turned back to join his companions.

With a small nod, both of the brothers gripped their weapons, hurriedly following.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

That left only Silence and his minion.

“Boss…” The subordinate whispered, his hand clutching the remaining blackjack. “What are we going to do now?”

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Silence lost his earlier panicked demeanor, returning to a sly and ruthless visage. With nervous movements, he stroked the daggers hidden on his body while his gaze wandered. “We need something to show the Chief after the failure of this mission.”

“Failure? B-but we managed to discover the Trial. Isn’t that enough?”

“And who do you think will monopolize this place? The Family? Other syndicates? Local criminals?” He snorted. “Of course not! They’re going to fall into the hands of the nobles. Blueflames, Geinards - they’re all the same.”

“We can’t stop that from happening… even if we sabotage this team a secret that big won’t stay hidden for long.” Silence started to bite his nails. “But we can still profit. And with this, we’ll acquire a means of survival.”

“From the sale of magicked weapons?”

“Yes. The descriptor hinted at these being available as a reward for defeating the Golems during the Trial.”

“A real magical weapon would go for a fortune… especially since most of their production is limited to country-controlled dungeons. They rarely appear even on a black market.”

“True... That’s our chance.” Silence’s gaze landed on his subordinate. “Whatever happens you just need to follow my orders. Understood?”

“Of course!”

“Then go - join the rest of the gang and see what this place hides from us. A Forgotten Dungeon’s Trial… I wonder what it hides?” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “I need to think. In peace.”

“Yes, sir!”

As his subordinate left Silence’s countenance changed once again. The sure and cold expression he sported melted instantly replaced with wide-eyed terror.

“We are fucked. I am fucked. They won’t forgive me.”

He sniffed.

“T-their eyes… they begged to be saved.” He curled up on the ground. “I c-couldn’t help you, Hort. I-I am sorry. S-sorry…”

His sobs continued for a few minutes. I learned that he knew both of the dead personally - and for many years. Hort and Numako were their names.

Irrelevant.

In the end, he just sat there, his eyes red from crying. And, like a switch was flipped, he sprung up, glaring at the surrounding cameras.

“What are you looking at, huh? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN’ AT?” His red face and bared teeth seemed nearly… monstrous.

“Do you see this fist?” He screamed, punching out. “Do you see it? It’s steady! Courageous! And it will blow all you fuckers away! The humans will be the ones to rule the day!”

As he finished his rousing speech a small cough came from behind.

Silence slowly turned back, only to see a confused face of Knut.

“Hi there…” He muttered awkwardly.

Humans.

I wanted to sigh in disappointment.

Even during the greatest trial of their lives they can’t help but betray, plot, and turn insane. Ah, but that was why it was so entertaining now, that I wasn’t a part of their world.

A moment later I observed as Silence and his subordinate (Knut in tow) joined the rest of the criminals gathered before a large, carved door. The Family’s leader's demeanor changed completely. Twitchy and embarrassed as he was the non-syndicated members stared at him with a mix of disgust and pity. Only, under that shell of weakness and madness, a sliver of cold intelligence slithered unnoticed.

Shameless but effective - to use the rest of the party as meatshields and try to desperately survive. It was something I could understand.

“Now… who wants to open these?” Knut pointed at the stone halves.

I didn’t bother with any traps or special activation conditions - these gates were purely physical obstacles. Normal. They were normal. Then again - after their creation Sculptor went a bit crazy, adding various pieces of his knowledge to the stone. And by “knowledge” I mean a mumble of lore about Devils and Gods… inspired by video games I played in my past life, sprinkled with a big dose of mythology.

At least he tried to keep it thematic.

The face of a middle-aged man with curly hair was carved into the gates with great precision, his madness-addled eyes staring intensely at the newcomers. He sported a bright smile, and two iron tear-shaped clappers were attached to his cheeks.

Only I knew that it was supposed to be a depiction of Midas - a symbol of greed from Greek mythology. For the people of this world, it was only a creepy crying old man.

“Did you discover any traps?”

“None. But if they’re magical then we’re shit out of luck.”

“There is no need to hesitate.” Answered Mudan. “The descriptor doesn’t say anything about the traps, only a trial of combat, so… let’s believe in the System.”

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his hands landing on the clappers. He grasped them tightly, then started to pull with a subdued grunt. A second later a way ahead started to open.

“Slow!” Big Jon stomped ahead impatiently, grabbing the rough inner surface of the door.

“What are you doing!” Knut screamed once again but in the end - nothing happened. No trap, poison, or lightning activated.

The gate opened and a large hallway - the Great Greed Hallway to be exact - appeared before the invaders, eleven more doors set on their left, and the biggest one - overlooked by a lonely arch - waited at the end.

“Well… that was anti-climactic.” Rasped the lanky thief, relaxing his grip on the weapon. The spear hung down, mimicking its wielder's mood.

“I wel-welcome this k-kind of trial.” Gasped Mudan, even sweatier than before.” Haaaaaa… j-just with fewer d-doors. P-pretty p-please.”

“Haha. Yes, yes. Let’s explore. Remember - do not touch anything if you value your fucking lives! I guess that behind each of these doors is a Golem. We don’t want to face every single one of them because of someone's grubby fingers, eh?”

With a few affirmative nods, the rest of the party spread out, leaving only Silence and Mudan near the door. The former was trembling in fear, while the latter slowly regulated his breathing. It was clear now that the fat man opened the gates only to raise the group’s morale. Which, admittedly, worked well enough.

The place was pretty large, with a floor made from flat stones, exquisitely carved walls, and large amounts of Electrical Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was bright, silent, and rather wide - a perfect arena for what was supposed to happen.

And then I took another look at the scenes depicted in the carvings.

Why?

Sculptor, why?

Why were you depicting the fucking God of War protagonist, Kratos, ripping his enemies apart?

What the fuck?

I mean, I remembered these scenes vividly, they left a lasting memory, their sheer brutality, and the innovative cruelty leaving a deep impression on a child like me… but to make them a focus of this whole Colosseum?

“W-what is THAT?”

And here it comes…

“H-huh… is this a story of some demigod fighting against the monsters?”

“A temple, then?”

“In the dungeon? Does it show a long-forgotten legend? Maybe a hero of old?”

“B-but… they look so realistic! Here - you see how he rips out an eye from this cyclops?”

“Or how he cuts off their legs?”

“Or how these wings are getting pulled out by his sheer strength?”

“Marvellous!” The two usually silent brothers were laughing and constantly running from one scene to another, like people who saw comics or manga for the first time.

It was Knut who returned them to reality. “You know that this guy could be a Boss of the Trial, right?”

These words put a damper on their mood. “That’s true.”

“Ah, but the descriptor said something about the Golems? Unless this thing is an advanced one?”

“It would be tough to survive, then.”

“Not to even mention being able to win against it.”

Their exchange was interrupted by Mudan’s loud clapping.

“Please return! We need to talk.”

A few moments later the whole team understood the gist of the challenge. How the rooms were decorated with various types of weapons and armor, and how they had to choose from at least one, beat its guardian, and then defeat the Boss.

So, of course, they started bickering, trying to pick the easiest opponent.

“I would say that Axes, Maces, Swords, and Spears are out of the question.”

“Why? A magical weapon like that would set us for life!”

“You do remember that to claim it we first need to beat its wielder, right?”

“We can do it!”

“Really…” Knut nursed his growing headache. “How many Golems did you encounter?”

“Ummmm. None?”

“Then what makes you so fucking sure that you can beat it?”

“We have numbers! And our training!”

“They’re not worth shit!”

“Hey, hey, what did you say?”

“You wanna go?”

“GENTLEMEN!” A loud voice interrupted the incoming scuffle. Too bad. It would be entertaining to see them beat each other senselessly in the depths of my dungeon. I could even let the winner go.

Just kidding.

“We should go for a Helmet or a Dagger.” Mudan finally took part in the discussion, after remaining silent for a long time.

“Why?” Whined one of the brothers.

“The idea is - what kind of weapon or armor would be the easiest to contend with.” His hard gaze wandered from face to face. “Not to bring back the best loot. Even with all of us present surviving the ordeal, we would still get a cut big enough to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”

“And it’s not a certainty that all of us will survive.” These words silenced the malcontents.

“As to whether we saw a Golem before… Of course, we did!”

“Eh?”

“What?”

“When?”

Mudan sighed, combing his sweaty hair. “On the first floor, there is a Smith Golem, endlessly churning out weapons, armor, and various tools. Each of you was forced to observe him for a few hours.” He smiled. “How the fuck did you forget that? Every fucking single one of you bothered me about it for weeks. Weeks!”

The faces of the surrounding warriors grew paler as they averted their gazes. Only Silence and his minion stood in confused calmness.

“The past is the past, brother!”

“We remember now!”

Mudan’s face twisted in anger, quickly dimming, and then returning to his uninterested “default state”. “Whatever...” The collective sigh of relief nearly reignited his fury but the man somehow managed to keep it under wraps.

“Any----way. Assuming that they are the same type of monster, we can guess that they can wear armor, use weapons, are very strong, and are good at enduring enemy attacks but not very fast or agile. Their intelligence should also be questionable.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Nu-uh.”

“Oh Gods, give me strength…” After drinking a small sip from his cantine, Mudan continued. ”Don’t you remember when one of the Helmet Grandpa people tried to do his dumb experiment?”

“The one about messing with the Golem?”

“Yes.” The fat man waited for them to finish up yet seeing the shifty expressions he raised his hands in surrender and continued the story. “They took some of his botched jobs from the finished pile back to the materials pile to find out how intelligent this thing was. And vice versa - a material was shuffled into the stuff ready to go.”

“The effect? Well, the dumb thing ignored the ingot and reforged the whole breastplate into a few swords…” His gaze wandered among the listeners.

“Ah, I remember the guy who had to donate the armor bitching about it!”

“Yeah!”

“So… they’re not very smart?

“It would seem so.”

“And… how do we use that knowledge?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ehhhhhh?” A collective sound of disappointment left the lungs of the party.

“Listen up, you dumb fucks!” Mudan was at the end of his patience. “I won’t make a strategy meeting about a foe we didn’t even encounter and we have no intel on!”

“We can only guess! That and I want to make you all aware of what risks we are taking and what can be done to mitigate them! If you don’t want to listen - fine! Let’s get on with it! Vote: Dagger or Helmet. Even you lot should understand the difference between attack and defense.”

“Helmet.”

“Also Helmet.”

“Dagger.”

“Helmet.” A moment of confusion. “D-dagger.” It was strange. For the first time, the brothers reacted differently.

“Dagger.”

“Helmet. The smaller chance to die, the better.” Silence mumbled under his nose, surprising not only his stogie but also the rest of the criminals.

“This means four for the Helmet and three for the Dagger. We’re set.”

“Get ready!” Knut bellowed, preparing a defense formation. A shield wall with spears poking out like needles of an ill hedgehog. Another order and the sharp ends turned mostly in one direction.

“Do it.” Mudan nodded and the lanky man sprinted towards the carved door, pressing a marked button.

For a moment nothing happened.

Knut returned to the formation, lifting his gear and breathing loudly with excitement.

Then the wall rumbled and a line appeared in the middle of a scene depicting Kratos slaughtering some of the Ares’s soldiers. A second later big, metal-clad hand smashed the crack open. With a scream of protesting stone, the Golem walked into the light, freed from its tomb.

Its look surprised both the invaders and me.

Unlike the Idiot-Smith (which I should probably check on, no matter how uncomfortable it will be) the new monster wasn’t covered in armor or flame-resistant “flesh”. No. Instead, it sported a large, three-meter tall skeleton, with barely humanoid proportions. Large, strong legs were supported with wide feet, while three-pronged hands looked more like claws used to tear and cut than the fingers of a sentient creature.

I would swallow the lack of armor, weapon, and even the obvious attempts to monsterify my design but one thing I couldn’t stand - WHY THE FUCK DOES IT HAVE A GLOWING WEAK POINT?

And. It’s. Right. In. The. Middle. Of. It’s. Fucking. Chest!

I get it! Dungeon Cores were bound to be trainers and game masters designing a fair challenge to the sentients.

I really, really get it.

But I would love some reason. Some boundaries.

As I seethed it was time to look at the second surprise - which wasn’t as nasty as the first one but still made me rethink this whole idea of a Trial being a type of punishment.

Trial of Greed random reward has been generated and set!

Trial of Greed - Helmet reward has been randomly generated.

Trial of Greed - Helmet reward has been set to:

Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger

[Analyze.] I mumbled, noticing that the Golem was wearing a small-ish piece of metal. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that it was similar to the medieval pot helmets, with an open front and flat upper part.

Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger

A magical helmet made from mundane iron and enchanted with the boon of regeneration and the curse of hunger. The boon and the curse are connected and will activate simultaneously.

Any biological entity wearing it will constantly regenerate damage, burns, destroyed organs, or lost limbs back to the last remembered form of the user. During the process of regeneration, the user will have to endure constant hunger pains and a desire to feed. Be it flesh, plant, or even rotten matter - all will be consumed to fuel the enchantment.

This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures.

Now… that was interesting.