Victor awoke with a gasp and immediately gagged.

Sitting up in alarm, he sputtered as water dripped off of his face. He looked around. He was back in the filthy, deserted dungeon passageway, and Thomas was standing over him with an open waterskin.

“Thank fuck,” the other boy exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

Running a hand through his greasy black hair, Victor shook his head vigorously to help clear his mind — belatedly realizing how the action could be misinterpreted. “Yeah, I’m good.”

As Victor slowly rose to his feet — nearly slipping several times — he tried to recall everything that had just happened. So we tested a trap. It grabbed my mace, and then I tried to yank it back into my inventory. He frowned. And then the weird bit happened.

Looking down, Victor stared into the distance, his eyes nearly completely unfocused. It was the core, wasn’t it? I tried to fight it directly, and then it noticed me, and then…

An irritating babbling snapped him back to the present. “Dude, are you seriously okay?” Thomas gently reached out to touch his shoulder. Victor involuntarily recoiled, and Thomas snapped his hand back. “Uh… you really don’t seem okay.”

Biting his lip, Victor looked away, consciously refraining from glaring at his companion. Why was he feeling so irritated? He should really be thanking the other boy. Thomas was just concerned — and rightfully so.

Taking deep breaths, Victor shut his eyes. “Sorry.” Calming down slightly, he turned and gave Thomas a faint, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m just a little out of it.”

The other boy nodded seriously, then glanced up and down the corridor. “You were only out for a few minutes at most, but you weren’t waking up, and it was starting to really freak me out.” He paused. “I guess maybe the trap knocks you out as well? Do you remember what happened?”

Victor shook his head. “Barely… but I don’t think it’s just the trap.” He frowned. “I kind of… fought back against the dungeon directly with my own magic, and it gave me a big backlash.”

Thomas blinked. “Shit.” He frowned as well. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Chuckling Victor glanced over to the trap and his mace. The chains binding it had vanished. “I didn’t know it was possible either, but here we are.” He grinned. “Not that I’d recommend it.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. Following Victor’s gaze, he pointed to the mace. “The magic went away just like a second after you passed out. I think it might just be a timed mobility restriction.”

Victor nodded. “That would make sense…” Returning his mace to his inventory, he boldly made his way forward. “Let’s test it. I want to see for myself.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Thomas’s voice carried a wavering edge of unease. “I mean, what if it knocks you out again?”

Grinning, Victor looked back smugly. “Then you can protect me while I’m out, and I’ll consider us even from me saving you.”

Conjuring his mace back to his hand, Victor tapped the patch of trapped ground once again. As expected, lashing spectral chains coiled around the weapon — but he didn’t let go or leap back this time.

Instead, he pulled — only physically. Despite his apparent bravado, he was most definitely not willing to repeat the battle of wills — if you could even call it a battle. It was really more him being indifferently and effortlessly crushed.

The bindings wouldn’t budge. However, they would allow Victor to move the mace around within the narrow range of their reach — he could even twist it in a full circle, and the chains somehow never became tangled.

Looking back to where Thomas watched with concerned interest, he pursed his lips. “So it lets you move, just not far.”

Half a second later, the chains faded, and Victor was able to lift the mace away with no resistance. “It doesn’t seem very harmful.”

Thomas frowned. “Not by itself…”

Catching on immediately, Victor nodded. “Exactly. But if you’re already fighting a monster…”

“…it could totally fuck you over.”

“Yeah.”

Both boys sighed in unison. Thomas rolled his neck and stretched. “Good to know, I guess.” They shared a glance. “It’s totally going to make us fight a bunch of monsters in a room scattered with these.”

“One hundred percent.”

----------------------------------------

Several minutes and several wrong turns and dead ends later, and the two boys still hadn’t encountered another monster. They had, however, encountered plenty of traps.

Victor tested a few others with his mace — yielding exactly the same results. He had wanted to make sure that all of them were the same and that there weren’t multiple types.

Satisfied, he continued forward, with Thomas always remaining behind and slightly to the side of him. While there was pretty much no danger aside from the chance of a particularly unlucky fall, Victor was paranoid that something was going to jump out at them.

Why had the dungeon given them a whole section of nothing but annoyingly difficult walking?

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I wonder if this part is just to make sure we’re aware of the traps.”

Victor resisted the habitual impulse to glance backwards. “What do you mean?”

Thomas remained silent for a moment before speaking slowly. “I mean that like — it’s pretty obvious that these traps are meant to make fighting more difficult, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if you don’t get caught by one, you still have the challenge of avoiding them. So maybe the dungeon is actually trying to be more fair by making sure that anyone who comes through this way is aware of them before being in actual danger.”

Frowning, Victor considered the idea. “That does kind of make sense.” He paused for a moment, stepping over another trap. “But I wouldn’t count on the dungeon being generous or fair. Maybe it is, but for now I’m going to expect a trick.”

“Fair enough.”

Rounding a corner, Victor stopped, and Thomas approached behind him. “What’s wrong?”

Victor peered down the new corridor. It was completely empty and featureless — which was exactly what bothered him. “Look, no traps.”

Catching on, Thomas adjusted his grip on his bow. “Okay yeah, that’s actually pretty concerning.”

Shifting his gaze from the grimy stone floor to the walls, Victor inspected their slick surfaces for anything suspicious. He didn’t find anything other than the dimly glowing, yellowish lamps. Was something different about them?

“Maybe we’re back to monsters, but there just aren’t any in this particular passageway?”

Glancing back at his companion, Victor tilted his head, considering the other boy’s words. “Maybe…”

He returned his attention to the way ahead, taking a cautious step forward. But he still felt like there was something he was missing. The lamps seem fine. But where haven’t I looked? Victor took another step forward, and it dawned on him. Oh.

Victor looked up — just in time to see a glistening black blob drop down from above.

Yelping in alarm, Victor dashed forward. He made it just two paces before slipping. He tried to regain his balance, but he overcorrected, pitching forwards face first.

“Oh fuck what the fuck is that?!”

The disgust of the grime forgotten, Victor scrambled forward on his hands and knees as fast as he could. “Ichor dripper! Don’t let it touch you!”

Finally scrambling to his feet, Victor glanced over his shoulder. The amorphous black blob was advancing on Thomas, who was hastily retreating while simultaneously attempting to notch a spectral arrow.

Seeing that the monster was after his friend and not him, Victor stopped and scanned the rest of the corridor. Looks clear.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to watch his back for the moment, Victor turned around, activating the stealth of his cloak and summoning his mace. While the ichor dripper had attacked him first, they weren’t known to be particularly intelligent creatures, and Victor hoped that it had already forgotten him.

But how was he going to handle this? Part of what made these particular monsters such a pain — both according to the delvers and from Victor’s own experience as a butcher — was that the majority of their interior was a fluid filled sac.

Ordinarily, they secreted it over their surface or dripped it in globs from above. But if a large amount of the fluid came in contact with open air? It exploded. Not a fiery explosion, to be fair — just a spray of acutely toxic, highly corrosive droplets. They were best killed from afar.

Fortunately, Thomas had a bow.

Unfortunately, Victor cried out just a second too late to prevent his companion from backing up straight into one of the traps. The spectral green chains wrapped around both of the boy’s legs, rooting him firmly to the spot.

Thomas yelped, nearly dropping his weapon — but he quickly recovered, raising the bow, conjuring another arrow, and taking aim.

The shot streaked straight into the crawling black sludge, splattering the toxic creature in corrosive green magic.

But to both boy’s horror, the monster didn’t just resist the attack — it absorbed it. As Victor continued to creep forward, the ichor dripper slurped up the sizzling magic, growing tentacled limbs as it did so.

It was just several paces away from grasping Thomas into its corroding clutches.

One strike. Freeze. NO SHOCK.

With desperate determination, Victor rushed forward, channeling magic through his mace. Just as the longest tentacle stretched out in search of Thomas’s exposed flesh, Victor swung his mace.

The wave of frost washed over the blob. Sluggishly retracting its tentacle, the ichor dripper pivoted backwards, targeting Victor. A second later, the chains released Thomas — and he stumbled back with a sigh of relief.

The fight wasn’t over of course — unlike the bats or slimes, their current opponent hadn’t been completely subdued by the attack…

…So Victor swung again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

After the sixth dose of frost, Victor stopped, lowering his mace to his side. The creature was completely frozen, its surface taking on a pale, icy purplish hue. Thomas wiped his forehead. “Fucking hell.”

Victor sighed. “That didn’t go very well.”

Shrugging, Thomas stepped forward to join him — giving the subdued ichor dripper a wide berth. “I mean, we won.”

Victor snorted. “Technically.” He shook his head. “Do you know how close we came?”

Thomas tilted his head. “What would have happened if it touched me?”

Meeting his eyes, Victor didn’t blink. “First, it would give you a nasty burn. Melt away the upper layers of your skin. If any of the toxin entered your bloodstream, it would cause muscle spasms and fatigue.” He paused. “If you just eat it, at best it gives you terrible indigestion.”

Nodding to himself, he continued dispassionately. “But you’d live — if we could get you to a half decent, tolerably equipped healer, fleshcrafter, or alchemist within one to two hours.”

Victor shrugged. “If not? You start to rot.”

Thomas had grown slightly pale, but he nodded seriously. “I would have died.”

“Yes.”

Sighing, Thomas looked back down the now empty passageway. “Not a great way to go either.” Glancing back to Victor, he smiled. “I guess I now owe you two.”

Victor scoffed. “Don’t worry about it.” He paused. “About the saving, I mean. You should absolutely worry about not fucking dying in the dungeon.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

----------------------------------------

They had incapacitated two more ichor drippers when they heard the footsteps.

Both boys froze. Sharing a glance with Thomas, Victor raised his mace, channeling it with arcane energy. Thomas adjusted his stance, putting himself back into their default formation.

Fortunately, there had been no more traps since they encountered the first ichor dripper. Victor strongly suspected that the dungeon was introducing every challenge one at a time and individually before it would put them all together.

Victor wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Do you think it’s another undead?”

Not taking his eyes off the bend ahead, Victor whispered back. “No, I doubt it. They were all super slow and methodical.”

The rapidly approaching footfalls were fast and frantic — it sounded like something running on two legs. Victor tightened his grip on his mace — and then forced himself to relax. Thomas notched an arrow.

A string of curses joined the sound of running. Victor wanted to relax upon hearing the human voice — but he tensed anyway. Not all people are friendly.

But as it drew closer, Victor realized he recognized the speaker.

As she rounded the corner, Chloe skidded to a stop. Staring wide eyed at the two boys, her expression hardened and she dashed forward again — and Victor’s eyes widened as well as he caught sight of the mob of ichor drippers following her.

“Thank fuck you’re alive,” she exclaimed breathlessly as she neared, “I was terrified I wouldn’t get to kill you myself.”