Artivan Morro entered first, vanishing in the dark doorway. When Owin stepped through, he felt a chill and then appeared in a dimly lit room. A set of roughly carved stone stairs led down to a patterned cobblestone floor. Uneven walls surrounded the stairs in a semicircle with openings on the far ends.

Artivan stood at the bottom of the stairs. He ran his hand over one of the walls and tapped it with his longsword. “The walls appear to be real stone. Same with the floor. There could be traps, so always let me step out first. You have more health now, but a trap could still wipe you away.”

Owin remained on the stairs. He watched Artivan check the openings on each side for traps before the knight returned to the stairs and looked up at Owin.

“Ready?”

“Why have I seen four heroes on this floor and none on the second?”

Artivan raised his visor. “Good of you to notice. A few dungeons have what we call Isolated Floors that you have to do alone. Even if you enter with a friend, an isolated floor is always solo. They are usually heavily quest focused.” Artivan lowered his visor and looked both ways. “Left or right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either. That’s part of the problem.” Artivan walked to the right and peered around the corner, then walked back left and did the same. “Who did you ally with on the last floor?”

“The satyrs.”

“You fought Nosolus?”

“And the Malignant Spirit.”

“Oh? And you survived?” Artivan walked back to the center. “Both ways look the same. It will be a gamble either way.”

“I had two cultists on my side.”

Artivan laughed, which was muted by his helmet. “You turned them against Nosolus? I’ve never heard of that happening. I’m impressed. Left or right?”

“Left.”

Artivan held his shield and sword at the ready and inched toward the left opening. The light inside the labyrinth had no discernable origin. It was just bright enough to see, but not light enough to notice fine details.

Owin followed directly behind the knight with his greatsword at the ready. Their footsteps echoed through the labyrinth. It was uncomfortably silent. Each of Owin’s breaths seemed unreasonably loud.

The hallway wound forward without taking any dramatic turns. An intersection could be seen in the far distance, barely visible in the dim light. Just a few steps ahead was a wide opening on the left. It wasn’t a doorway, but rather a section that looked like it was lacking a slab of stone. It led right into a turn with a soft green glow.

Artivan inched up to the opening and tried to peek inside. “That light is concerning.”

Owin snuck around the back of the knight and fully looked around the corner. There was another wall with an opening. Whatever was the source of the green light was behind the next wall.

Artivan gently pushed Owin back and led the way down the short hall. It sounded almost like water flowing from the next room. Artivan didn’t say anything as he walked slowly ahead.

Up to this point, the third floor had felt different. In the short time that Owin had been on the third floor, he had been outside in the sunlight. Time passed quickly on the second floor and he had spent a good portion of the time in buildings, whether it was the cultist compound, the satyr village, or Naxile’s laboratory. With all the scaltari fires, Owin had assumed the whole floor was outside.

This labyrinth was distinctly different from everything else on the floor. The stone was different from everything else Owin had seen. It was underground where everything else was spread out on the small islands across the wetlands. It felt wrong. Something was off.

A giant green blob flowed around the corner. There was some structure to it with evidence of a brain and bones that looked to be floating within the vibrant green liquid.

Great Forest Mob

Shapeless Specter

Level 16

“That’s a problem,” Artivan said. “Our swords can’t hurt a specter.”

“What does?”

Artivan took a step back, using his shield to guide Owin back as well. “They are immune to Luminous and Abyssal damage. Elemental is the best. It would be a great time to have a wizard.”

Owin stepped around the knight. “I am a wizard.”

“Well, no.”

Owin held out his greatsword, which Artivan reluctantly grabbed. “I’ve killed mobs with this before.” Owin’s mana had recharged enough that he could cast Discharge. It wouldn’t be full power because his mana bar wasn’t all the way full, but it would likely be enough.

“With what?”

Owin held both hands out and walked right at the shapeless specter. It didn’t have a face or skull. Most of the bones appeared to be humanoid in shape but with the addition of a tail, as if it was made from scaltari skeletons. There were far too many bones for it to be all from one scaltari. The brain floated aimlessly, not in the center or in any way where a head would normally be.

“Do not touch that thing,” Artivan shouted.

Owin stopped, hands still outstretched. “I was going to use Discharge.”

“Not a good plan. Specters deal apparition damage, which is very difficult to heal. A health potion can’t fix it. It’ll burn your skin and damage your mana.”

“I could use Bolt.” Owin took a few steps back as the shapeless specter continued pouring out of the doorway. It filled the entire width of the hall as it oozed closer.

Artivan grabbed his bag from his hip and took a look inside. He sighed and dropped the bag, letting it hang again. “Better than what I have. Give it a try.”

Owin backed up until he bumped into Artivan’s legs. He pointed his finger forward and selected Bolt. The blue lightning shot and struck the green slime that flowed toward them. Electricity quickly coursed through, cracking a few bones, before vanishing in the overwhelmingly large creature. It kept getting bigger and bigger as more of it flowed from the room beyond.

“How big is it?”

“These can be the size of a building. This one seems a tad smaller.”

“Smaller than a building?” Owin took his greatsword from Artivan and continued backing up. The knight was also backing up into the first hallway. If Bolt didn’t do any visible damage, what other options did they have? Owin couldn’t think of anything he had that would damage the specter.

“Specters will damage your mana first. Once that is drained, it will sap your health.” Artivan pushed Owin back until they were both near the stairs they had entered from. The shapeless specter flowed in, thinner than before.

“How do we kill it?”

“Usually I’ve had a magus or wizard to help me out. Fire, ice, electricity. Even a telekinetic magus is great against them.”

Owin crawled up the stairs while Artivan continued to slowly back up. “I used electricity.”

“It will need to be stronger.”

The shapeless specter’s brain and a collection of bones flowed in through the doorway in a thicker wave than the rest of the glowing green ooze that covered the cobblestone floor. Owin drank a mana potion, set his greatsword on the stairs, and leapt at the brain.

Green slime squelched around him as he sank right inside. It burned unlike anything else Owin had ever felt. It was as if his veins were on fire throughout his whole body. It was instantaneous. As soon as he touched the specter, pain flared to life around his whole body and his mana bar started to drop. Owin grabbed the brain with his hands and cast Discharge before he ran out of mana. Electricity exploded through the specter’s body, even shocking Owin. Green slime exploded in all directions.

0 Experience

Artivan hid behind his shield as bits of the monster splattered against his armor. Owin’s health had only dropped a few points, and most of it had been from his own spell. By the time all the slime settled, Owin sat in a small pool of liquified ooze. Bits of the specter dripped from the ceiling and ran in chunks down the walls.

“I think I see how you survived the Malignant Spirit.” Artivan flicked his shield, throwing chunks of specter onto the ground. “You are insane.”

A film of slime covered every inch of Owin’s body. His hair was slicked back and stuck to his head. It was disgusting. If he had known how sticky and horrible it would be, he would have found a different way to kill the specter. He stood and shook, throwing as much slime as he could manage from his body.

Artivan raised his visor. He was laughing. “When we’re done here, you can wash yourself. Plenty of water out there.”

“Disgusting,” Owin said, spitting out specter slime. It had stopped burning as soon as the specter died, so he wasn’t panicking to get it all removed. “What if there are more specters?”

“That will be a problem. Your mana will be damaged until we find a mender or a talented alchemist.” Artivan looked at the black doorway. “A mender that isn’t trying to kill you, I suppose. I am hoping that whatever else is in here is from the Great Forest.”

“Where are shapeless specters from?” Owin kicked some slime across the cobblestones. The room and hallway beyond were now brightly illuminated with the glowing slime spread all over.

“They show up in a few places, but are most known for the Fortress Dungeon.” Artivan shook his head and lowered his visor again. “One of the worst floors I have ever experienced. Shapeless specters are the weakest.”

Owin focused on his empty mana bar. About half of it was grayed out, and he had only touched the slime for a moment. If he actually relied on mana like a real wizard or a magus like Rattis, then Owin didn’t know what he would do.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Artivan grabbed Owin’s greatsword and handed it back to him. “Thank you for handling that.”

Owin nodded and got in line before the knight, who led the way back into the hallway. Each step squished in a thin layer of slime. It felt like Owin’s clothes would probably never be clean, but the slime at least continued dripping off his skin.

Artivan kept his shield raised with his eyes barely peering over the top until he passed through the opening where they had first seen the specter. He kicked a pile of slime out of the doorway, causing it to flow and thin out.

“This is not what we are looking for, but it is a prize.” He waved Owin over.

There was another little passage behind where the specter had been waiting. This room was barely big enough for both of them to stand inside. Two small piles of golden coins sat on the bare floor, not yet covered by slime. Owin picked one up and looked at it. One side showed an ugly creature with fangs and pointed ears, and the other showed what looked like a giant rat.

“What is this?”

“Dungeon gold. The most valued currency in the world. It’s one of the main reasons people come into the dungeon.” Artivan crouched and separated the pile into halves. Then he moved a few coins from his half into Owins. “Normally, I would split things evenly. Normally, people don’t dive into specters.”

Owin scooped the gold into his bag. There was slime inside the bag, clinging to his potions. He scooped some out and flicked it against the wall.

“Do you have the empty bottle from your mana potion?” Artivan asked.

Owin pulled the empty bottle out. Usually he tossed them to the side, but this one he had put back into the bag without thinking about it.

“Scoop some of the specter slime into it. You will be able to sell that to an alchemist.”

It took very little effort with how much slime was already inside his bag. Thin globs dripped out of the body as it filtered through the bag. Eventually it would all drip out, leaving a shining green trail behind Owin.

Artivan tapped his longsword against the rough wall. “This is a dead end.” The knight calmly led the way back. Even within a minute, most of the slime had dissolved or sank in between the cobblestones. Green light still shone bright between the blocks.

Owin had been watching Artivan closely, curious as to what the knight had on his mind. He was different from the other humans Owin had met. Visibly calmer. Even in danger, Artivan kept a watchful eye but didn’t panic. As he led the way down another passage, he kept his shield raised, but his sword hanging with the point just over the ground. He would be slow to react with his sword, though from what Owin had seen before, he was quick enough to stop just about anything.

Owin walked beside him, staring up at the ceiling. It was made of flat, smooth stone, unlike the walls, which were textured and uneven. Owin abruptly stopped and looked around, as if realizing he was somewhere completely odd for the first time. “Why do humans come into the dungeons? I’ve seen them saddened by death. I’ve killed them. What is there to gain?”

Artivan stopped right before the next opening and sheathed his sword. “There are many answers to this question, each one personal. Some climb for power. Some climb for wealth. Some climb just to see what they can achieve. Those who try to reach the top do so to get their wish granted. Carrying a Shard helps a hero level up quicker. Far quicker than someone like me. There are plenty of secrets I don’t know about them. Shard Carriers often aren’t the most social lot. I know that the dungeons become more difficult with each Shard you carry, but if you collect all seven, you have any wish you can dream of granted.”

“People are willing to die for a wish?”

“Humans will do anything to improve their lives. Some dream of the wealth one would get upon gaining the wish. Others hope to wish for a better world, to end poverty or hunger or war. Hundreds set out every year with the goal of conquering a dungeon and perhaps one or two gain a Shard each year. Even fewer gain two or three shards, and almost none ever get to four.”

Artivan lifted the visor of his helmet. “I tried living a calm, slow life outside the dungeons. Chorsay encouraged me to try again, to gain money for the company. I don’t need much of it myself.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of golden coins. “But others benefit from everything I do. Now, the reason you’re here? That’s complicated, isn’t it? You didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Ruvaine told me to climb the tower.”

“But do you have to? Can you leave?”

Owin shrugged. A glob of slime fell from his shirt, splatting on the stones beneath him.

Artivan crouched, wincing a little as his knees bent. “What is it that you want?”

“I wanted to help people. To stop people from being scared.” Owin pointed behind him, in the general direction of the door. “But the humans I see are scared of me just because I’m a goblin.”

Artivan sighed and placed his armored hand gently on Owin’s shoulder. “It will always be that way. There are people like me out there who will take you as you are. But everyone else . . . everyone else will shun you or try to kill you. As far as they’re concerned, you belong in those caves and nowhere else. You will need to earn your place in the world.”

“Ruvaine said people only respect power.”

“And the goddess, unfortunately, speaks true. What is it that you want, Owin?”

“I don’t know yet. I want to learn what the world is actually like outside this dungeon. I want to learn to live.”

Artivan gripped his shoulder. “We’ll get you as strong as we can, and when we get out of the dungeon, we’ll get you even stronger. People will know who you are and they’ll learn to leave you alone so you can live in peace.”

“Live in peace,” Owin repeated quietly.

“Now, we need to push through another doorway, and I fear we will run into something before long. If it is another specter, I suggest we retreat and come back when we find a way to fight them. If it is anything else, we can handle it.”

“Okay.” Owin stared up at the huge knight as he lowered his visor and drew his sword once again. He was incredible.

“Come along.” Artivan nodded for Owin to catch up. “Keep an eye out. You can hit harder than me, so I’ll be trusting you to handle some things yourself.”

Owin tightened his grip on the greatsword and watched the dark edge of the doorway, trying to spot whatever lay beyond. They stepped through where a gust of wind without a clear origin blew against them. Artivan paused as the stone beneath his foot sank. “There it is.”

Flames erupted from both sides of the wall from holes Owin could barely even see. Artivan gestured with a single finger of his left hand while holding his sword. It was so casual, so natural, that it seemed like nothing.

A blue bubble shield appeared around Owin just as the fire struck. It poured over the bubble, fully engulfing him. Flames rushed over Artivan. The knight disappeared in the sudden burst of light.

It was over almost as quickly as it had started. If Owin hadn’t been shielded, he would have been burnt to a crisp. His shield fizzled out, cracking, then shattering and dissipating in the suddenly quiet room.

Artivan Morro stood at his side, looking entirely unharmed. He rolled his shoulders and looked down at Owin. “I wasn’t certain I had cast that in time.”

“Are you hurt?”

He thumped the pommel of his sword on his chest. “Fire resistance. If it had been anything else . . .” He shrugged. “Without getting abilities as you level, the most important thing for you will be equipment. That greatsword will be great for fighting other demons and for anything luminous, should you encounter it. Those slime-covered clothes could do with a replacement.”

Artivan waved him on, stepping carefully through into the next passage. There were openings evenly spread out on each side. Luckily, there weren’t any glowing lights coming from the openings.

“Where did you get your armor?” Owin asked.

“This old thing is from the Fortress Dungeon,” Artivan said, knocking the pommel on his breastplate again. “Gauntlets are from the fourth floor of the Great Forest, right above us. I got them about five years ago when I first started delving into the dungeons again. They’re only journeyman, though I can’t say anything bad about them.” He sheathed his sword, undid a clasp, took the gauntlet off, and handed the piece of armor to Owin. “Take a look.”

Gauntlet of Firm Grip

Journeyman Magical Item

The Gauntlets of Firm Grip, when worn as a pair, assure the wielder will never be disarmed. The Gauntlets of Firm Grip cannot drop items, unless the wielder chooses to do so.

Note: Magical item effects vary by user

“You can’t drop anything?”

Artivan took it back and reclasped the gauntlet. He drew his sword and waved it around. It didn’t look different from normal. “It won’t stick to my palm, but if the ceiling dropped on me, I would still be holding this sword. Nothing less than cutting my arm off can force it out of my hand.”

He reached over and used his longsword to tap on the greatsword resting on Owin’s shoulder. “That was a good choice of a weapon last floor. Abyss is strong against abyss. Without any abyssal powers, it’s not all that different from a regular sword.”

“I had a knife before this.” Owin grabbed Naxile’s curved knife and showed it in the dim light.

“Oh.” Artivan shrugged. “Keep using what works best for you. Darkblades are meant to use knives. They’re somewhere between an assassin and an umbra. I suppose without those abilities, you don’t need to follow the recommended set up.” He bent down and looked closer at the knife. “That looks familiar.”

Owin held it out in a flat palm as Artivan used Examine.

“How’d the alchemist give you her knife?”

“I killed her and the goblin. That’s where I got the buff potions last floor.”

“Hm. Do you know you could have traded with her? That’s part of what dungeon gold is for.”

Owin stared at the knight’s obscured face. Artivan was kind, but he wouldn’t understand the horror of watching Kidibose die, or the panic when Ponk first threw a grenade at Owin. Encountering Naxile was worse than anything else Owin had experienced on the previous floor. He’d rather fight the Malignant Spirit again than go back to see Naxile.

Artivan seemed to pick up on Owin’s discomfort. The knight rolled his shoulders and looked around, as if reevaluating their situation. “Let’s find the treasure. Maybe there’s a magical item for you.”

He led the way around a turn, stopped, and took a step back. “Dammit.”

“What?” Owin brought his greatsword up, ready to chop something in half.

Something hissed around the corner. Claws clicked on the cobblestones.

“I really had been expecting more specters, or something a little more sophisticated.” Artivan positioned his shield right in front of his chest. “Would you like to handle this one?”

A creature about as tall as Owin stepped from around the corner. It stood on two little pink feet with skinny legs that led to an oblong body covered in coarse gray hair. Two little pink hands stuck out from the bushy hair, gripping what looked like a piece of shattered stone, sharp enough to use as a stake. Its head was long and ended with thin, sharp teeth sticking out from the sides of its long mouth.

Great Forest Mob

Giant Rat

Level 10

“Is it holding a knife?” Owin asked.

Artivan took another step back. “It appears that it is trying to hold it like a weapon, though it likely wouldn’t even damage you, little goblin.”

The rat chittered and lunged forward, smashing the stone against Artivan’s shield. It immediately crumbled from the impact. He pushed back, tossing the rat around the corner.

“They’re not claverstan, so we can be thankful for that.” Artivan made a show of looking up. “Thank Ruvaine.”

“What are claverstan?”

The rat scurried back around the corner, now on all fours. It lunged at Artivan, but he easily moved his foot away from its bite.

“I will be happy to tell you once you dispatch this creature.”

Owin walked up, swung the greatsword down, and took a step back as the head rolled away.

0 Experience

Artivan stepped over the corpse, searched the dead end, then reappeared immediately. “Nothing. It was simply meant to maim us with the trap and finish us off with the rat.” He crouched, cut off the rat’s tail, and tossed it to Owin. “Alchemy ingredient. Keep it to sell.”

“Why didn’t you kill it?”

“Experience is important.”

“I don’t get any.”

Artivan chuckled as he walked past Owin. He stopped beside the trap and gestured to the stone that he had stepped on before. Owin easily stepped over it and back into the previous passage.

“Experience and knowledge. Knowing how to handle different creatures, knowing how to wield your weapons. It is a separate thing from experience points. You may not gain attribute points like I do, but you learn the same, and you know less than many who make it this far.”

They passed over some glowing bricks with dried specter slime. Owin immediately recognized where they were, having to pass back by the entrance and around to the right side where a nearly identical passage led to a doorway on the far end, exactly where the fire trap had been on the opposite side.

“Once one is as high of a level as I am, killing something as low of a level as that rat doesn’t give enough experience to make a difference. I gained more progress toward a point by blocking its attack than I would have from killing it.” Artivan gestured to stop and stepped through the opening on his own. Nothing happened. “Come on.”

The room forked into three separate directions. A soft green glow shone on the walls to the right, and to the left, the sound of rat claws clicking on the stone floors echoed. Artivan pointed toward the rats.

“I don’t have mana,” Owin said.

“Best avoid specters for now.” He moved far quicker than he had been in the labyrinth up to this point. The giant rat dove at Artivan as he passed the corner. His shield caught it mid air and launched it back toward Owin, who had been wholly unprepared.

The rat crashed into him, tossing them both backward onto the ground. Small claws gouged his skin as the rat scrambled to climb off. Owin shoved the rat off and tried to swing the greatsword, but the rat was on top, pinning the weapon to the ground.

He grabbed Naxile’s knife and rolled, smashing the curved blade right into the top of the rat’s skull. With his increased strength, the rat’s head exploded as his fist smashed onto the top of its skull. Brains and blood covered his face and splattered across the walls.

“I apologize,” Artivan said as he pulled Owin to his feet. “I thought you were ready.”

“No.” Chunks of rat brains dripped down Owin’s face. He had some fur stuck to the tip of his pointed ear.

Artivan carefully picked the fur off and wiped the bloody chunk on the wall. “I will ensure you’re prepared next time.”

Owin would have glared at the knight if he could see anything clearly through the viscous chunks hanging from his eyebrows.