We couldn't move forward. We had no idea if another swarm of Mantids was in wait down this tunnel. All of the knights were at low HP and some would need days to heal. Without alternatives, we prepared our retreat back to the first floor boss room. We gathered all the Mantid corpses and doused the carcasses with the crude oil we brought for this very purpose. I stayed behind with my bonds, waiting to give the rest of the delve party time to return to the stairs leading to the first floor.

Once I got the signal, a shout from Hector, I set the corpses on fire and fanned the smoke away from us. Someone had to stay near the burning monster remains or the Dungeon would still absorb what it could. I had my hat and its Force barrier, I was the one best suited to stay behind. Half an hour later, I followed the path back. If the Dungeon wanted this pile of scorched ashes, it was welcome to it.

I also conducted an experiment. The Dungeon didn't shift the air currents inside the tunnel, nor spawned an ambush. Either it was low on energy or plotting an offensive elsewhere. It could also be insane or irrational but I wouldn't bet my life on that. I'd rather overestimate the Dungeon and be surprised it was easy than the other way around. But when I thought of the tactic of spawning monsters outside above our heads, I completely ditched that idea. The Dungeon was intelligent and smart. It could even be the soul of a dead delver, one who committed heinous crimes in the depths, if the churches of the Gods were to be believed. It was a long climb and I was tired. My mind wasn't at its sharpest.

Once back at the first floor boss room, we made camp again, in the same configuration. I lamented the repeated effort but it couldn't be helped. If this was a normal hole in the ground, we could leave the camp and only move when the way to the next one was clear but anything left behind would be consumed by the Dungeon. Just like that stupid helmet.

*

*

The mood was somber. Hector was in his tent, the Knights were tending to the wounded, the porters dragged their feet as they went through the motions and executed the chores. Kara was keeping watch and I knew better than to disturb the one on watch. That left me with two choices. Either go to my tent and unwind or seek more trouble.

I couldn't let a golden opportunity to farm more Experience and test a theory. I moved closer to the dust room. Ten meters from the threshold, I examined the suspended dust. It moved and swirled at a lazy pace but not a single speck crossed the invisible boundary between the two rooms. Even in a world seeped in it, magic was always awesome. Focusing, I tried to find the skittering sound. There it was. The sound confirmed that the Gibbermouths had respawned.

Staring at the swirling dust carried by a mysterious wind, I was tempted to see if the dust would ignite. I could imagine killing all the Gibbermouths in one single go but the explosion would surely reach our camp. The room in front of me was a big-ass room and held too much dust. While some invisible force kept the dust from entering the boss room, I had no doubts it would let the heat and shockwave through.

It could very well be an illusion, now that I thought about that. Nobody complained about breathing the dust. Bloody hells, why hadn't I thought about that before? To test it, I used a waterproof bag. Holding the mouth open, I stepped into the dust and waved the bag around. Clamping the mouth shut, I walked back to the boss room. When I opened the bag, nothing came out, only a puff of air. I rubbed my face, disappointed at myself. I had to be on top of my game if I had any hope of going out again. I should've noticed it earlier.

When I returned to camp, I nodded as I passed by Kara. She nodded back and snapped back to attention. I respected her dedication to duty and kept my silence. Her expression was unreadable but I could sense she was upset. We would have our opportunity to talk later. But at least I could make sure she wasn't alone.

"Sleepy, guard. William, guard."

My bonds would be of no help where I was going. To fight a battle without weapons.

*

*

Hector let me into his tent right after I announced myself. I moved the flap aside and entered. Damn. I needed one of these spatial tents for myself. Hector still wore his pristine armor. He hadn't attempted a single attack, didn't drag a single Mantid corpse to the back.

"What is on your mind, George?" He asked with feigned congeniality.

I had a lot in mind. Leveling the porters, restoring morale, planning the descent, reviewing the last fight, taking inventory of the spent resources - they drank a lot of potions - and... that fucking arm wound. I was sure Hector couldn't fight shit but I wanted to hear from him.

"Do you know how long it will take for everyone to heal?"

Those Venomclaw wounds looked bad. The knights tried to keep me from seeing them but they underestimated how perceptive I was. That was on them for removing their armor in the open. If they only had a tent that wasn't so cramped as... yeah. I started to "suspect" that Hector was the fulcrum of this expedition and it was a broken one. We were fucked.

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"A couple of days, maybe three. Do you want to go ahead and level up the porters? I think we can do that now."

Was he taking over my idea? No. I couldn't also put all my frustrations on Hector alone.

"Cool. I'll scout some Gibbermouths and have them each take a hit on the monsters before I let Sleepy kill them."

With the Attribute points Sleepy had now, he could deal with a pack of Gibbermouths on his own. I would cripple them with well-placed arrows, have William do crowd control, then... yeah.

"Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?" Hector asked. His voice said "get the fuck out", though.

I walked closer to Hector. "Yes, there is. How's your wound?" I went to tap his right shoulder and he flinched. So, my hand wrapped around the left side of his neck. I leaned closer.

"Dude, I saw how bad the Wolfertinger sire mangled your arm. And counted how many potions you quaffed during the fight. It is a miracle the arm is still attached to the shoulder and alive. But this expedition needs you to give it your all. Leave the young master crap outside. These men believe in you and will give their lives - one already did - so you can have a shot at greatness. Centuries from now, when you hit level three hundred and ascend, I want you to say each of their names."

Hector clasped my left shoulder. "I don't deserve a friend like you, George."

He could have convinced me. I thought he saw everyone down here as expendable. His only positive reaction to my speech was when I mentioned the ascension quest humans got at level 300. He was hopeful. But calling Hector on his bullshit was the wrong move here.

"Get good then. I will do some weapon drills with the porters so they don't poke themselves with a pike."

Hector chuckled. A guy needed to mess up really well to poke himself while wielding a five meters long spear.

"Good luck," the lordling said.

I walked out of the tent. The spoiled guy had an Epic Class. I had a Parallel Progression that granted me almost five hundred extra Attribute points. The world wasn't fair. But I would do something to bridge the gap, no matter how minutely.

*

*

I walked in silence to where Kara and my bonds stood guard. "Kara."

Her head turned as she first checked the staircase landing and the dust room opening before she faced me. "Yes? What is the matter? You seem distressed."

I rubbed William's head, feeling the broken horn.

"We are stuck here until the knights are ready to descend again. Hector green lit my project to power-level the porters. Maybe I can convince a few of them to prestige."

"Prestige? Are you sure?" She asked.

Prestige was something done only in fiction or as an act of desperation. The people who needed it the most couldn't afford the cost of hiring trustworthy combatants to power-level them or just couldn't afford to lose their income while they leveled up. It was the same as getting stuck in one job because it was the only job you knew how to do.

"Yes. We have dozens of Gibbermouths roaming in the dust room. My team and I can cripple the monsters and let each porter get a hit before we kill it. If you want to get some Experience points too…"

She frowned and then shook her head. Leaning closer, she confessed. "They are too low level for me."

I was shocked. I thought Kara had a level closer to my own. But that meant she was more than fifteen levels above the Gibbermouths. That was the usual cutoff where kills granted not a single Experience point for most people. Being a Very-Rare, Kara could earn her Experience somewhere better.

Mathematicians extrapolated the System experience table and figured out that, for each level below one's own, the experience dropped by twenty percent. A monster of the same level as yours granted a hundred points but one a level below granted only eighty. Two dropped it to sixty-four, but kills three and four levels down, awarded only fifty-one and forty. A whole point vanished between these because of the "always round down" feature. That caused experience awards for fourteen and fifteen levels to plummet to ones and zeroes. And that was for solo kills. If it was a group kill, the division would force another step of rounding down and leave everybody unhappy.

That was why people hit their soft level cap depending on the rarity. When you couldn’t kill a creature that gave any Experience even in a group, you could hang your sword, bow, or wand and go live in the countryside as a philosopher.

"You should still fight a few one-on-one. To hone your combat instincts and get some real training with a real weapon."

"Okay. When my shift ends."

"It's a date," My mouth moved before my brain could stop it. Kara froze, then nodded. I was expecting her to have a worse reaction than that. "I am going to prepare the porters."

I let my bonds roam the room but not go down the stairs or into the dust room. Then I went to round up the porters. Time for some weapon training montage.

*

*

The Porter Class was a common one with Skill and Perks. They needed only one thousand Experience points to level but also only gained five Attribute points. I wasn't joking when I said they gained the same as one of our subclasses. To summarize, the rarity list was, Common, Uncommon, Rare, Very Rare, Epic, Legendary, Mythic, and then nobody had a consensus because nobody knew if anyone had a Class with a rarity above Mythic. If anyone did, they wisely kept that secret to themselves.

The only common Classes that gained ten Attribute points per level were Villager, Serf, and Peasant. At least for the civilized species. Other creatures with Classes might have their own version. Grunt, Peon, and so on. They had no Skills and gained no Perks. Without a specialty, they did the lowest and most menial jobs ever. Their Class experience was unlocked from level zero and it was just to survive. They gained four Experience Points every day, one each at sunrise, noon, dusk, and the last one at midnight. An automatic level every two-hundred and fifty days. Exactly twenty-five years after their Class selection day, every Villager reached level thirty-six.

These Classes were so special they couldn't be selected as a subclass. Some said they were so useless that this prohibition was an anti-idiot feature by the System.

Common Classes were crap. Uncommon were bad but most people had to make do with them. Rare Classes were the best one would see outside of the upper echelons. Very Rare and above were the regional leaders. And on top of that lied the stuff of legends.