It takes two turns of the tunnel during which I happily fly around, going toward the warm light burning brighter and the noise that is growing louder, until I run into them.

They are men, humanoids, but smaller. And chubby. The arms thick, packed with muscles, almost as thick as their legs.

I’ve seen dwarfs too many times not to recognize ones. But never this ugly.

These ones have super big ears, full of hair growing out of them. Bushes of them. Disgusting. Until I look at their crooked noses. Oh, man.

And. that's not even the worst. Do they stink. Oh, man. I try not to breathe through my nose, and move a bit away from them.

There are four of them, one uglier and stinkier than the other. All in rugged clothes. Miners, of course.

I should call them the Fetid Four.

“Hey guys, mind telling me what are you doing here?” I ask politely, positioning myself right behind them, whispering to them and hoping to scare the shit out of them, hoping they pack full those baggy pants of theirs. I doubt they would smell worse. “Did you get lost or something?”

They do not react.

I even try smiling, that professional politeness that was ironed into my face by years of restaurant management experience. Smile and nod. No matter what a customer says. I almost feel sick of myself. At least once I’d like to scream.

But, no matter how nice I play it, they pay me no attention.

All four go around their business, ignoring me. They have picks and chisels in their hands, and they are swinging them at the rocks on the right side of the tunnel.

Maybe I should try a different approach. I first close my nose tight, then step closer to them, and scream in their ears “HELLOOOO! Anybody home???”

One of them stops for a second, takes an old rag out of his dirty pants, and wipes his dirty face with it. His rag is so dirty I'm not sure he cleaned his face or the rag. I’m hoping he heard me, so I scream again at him.

But then, he puts his dirty rag inside his pocket and raises the pick shovel above his head again to land it into the dirt wall with new vigor.

And it hurts.

Every time they hit the wall, and chip out a stone, it stings me. More and more.

I flash my hands in front of them. But nothing. They can’t see a ghost of me, I know. No witches there. Just stupid miners.

But what else can I do but try and get their attention somehow? “Hey, you guys need to stop. This is not making me happy. You need to stop that! You hear me??”

They do not hear me of course.

So, I… yell. Hard. And harder. My body trembles how hard I yell. I think I yell harder than when Mat broke the family-room big screen TV by smashing it with his sister’s soccer ball. They said that was very loud. They said neighbors two streets down could hear me.

I think I yell harder now. But, unlike my family and my next-door neighbor, these guys don’t seem to mind it at all.

I’m letting all the frustration of eating crap for the past countless years out. For each time I remember hearing, ‘My fries are not warm enough’, ‘I did not order pickles', or my favorite, ‘My coffee is too hot', the decibel of my voice goes up a notch. It all comes out at those dirty, deaf bastards. Asswipes! Literal Asswipes!!

And… They suddenly stop.

I cannot believe it. Almost wish now I did not just call them all the dirty names.

“Did you hear that?” one of them asks.

“Hear what?” the oldest of them, the one whose beard is almost all gray, replays with a question.

“I thought I heard something. Something strange…?”

“So, you do hear me?” I ask, suddenly hopeful with my voice almost all gone.

“You’re just ready to rest already, aren’t you?" the oldest of them asks the young one.

"Or are you getting spooked?" another one of them adds. "A little bit of dark and your drawers are all packed now??”

“This place has been deserted weeks ago, so you have nothing to fear,” the oldest of them says and taps the youngest one on the shoulder.

Shit. This is not working out.

I exhale a long breath, and then I figure why don’t I ask for info? A dumbass.

“SAMS, why do they not hear me? And how do I make them stop?” I ask my system.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

[The subjects inside your dungeon cannot hear you since their hearing capacity does not include your frequency and level.

To talk to them, you will need to enable your voice to speak at those levels.]

“So, how do I do that? Or how do I get them the hell out of my dungeon? They are hurting me! I'm feeling pain, man!?”

Another pick in, another rock crumbles, another needle in my flash.

“SAMS, don’t play dummy, Answer me!” I’m exasperated now.

[This basic version of SAMS Dungeon Configuration does not include advanced analytics and does not offer possible strategies to deal with intruders.]

“What the hell do you include then?” I cut it off.

It spits letters and words right into my face

[Menu:

General

Standings

Holdings

Attributes

Options

Specials

Update:

Processing the Integration: 75 percent completed]

I don’t think I’ll find anything in General, so I go to the Standings.

[Standings

Class: 5 Dungeon

Level: 1

Reputation: -1100

Karma: -10,000

Experience: 0

Type: Extirpating - Putrefying - Consuming]

What does it mean to be Class 5 Dungeon, I have no idea, but I will have to figure it out later since I don’t think the answer to my problems can be found there.

My Reputation and Karma suck. Thank you, my Elf Lord Asshole!

And what does that mean that I have no experience? He said I had just the kind I needed. He should spend a day in my restaurant, managing all the shit that would come my way, and then tell me I have no experience.

I do not even want to think what they labeled me as my type, so I go to Attributes.

[Attributes

Total Health: 15

Total Strength: 20

Total Power: 1]

Do not know the difference between Strength and Power. Hopefully one day someone will explain it to me, but right now, I see nothing that can help me.

Down the list, I go.

[Options:

Automatic Healing: Disabled

Climate Control: Disabled

Energy Marketing: Disabled

Energy Optimization: Disabled

Warnings: Disabled

Updates: Enabled]

“Automatic Healing seems right, and… just enable them all, would you, SAM?”

[Automatic Healing cannot be enabled since your Holding does not include at least 5 LIC Energy units]

“Damn! Such is my luck. Should not have even tried.”

My last hope rests on Specials. And I eagerly activate it to find…

Nothing. There is nothing there, nothing I can see that can help me. Not a secret weapon of any kind. It’s all just blank.

“Nooo!!!!”

I sigh and try to compose myself. Can’t be blowing my fuse and think I will find an answer that way.

So, relax. And think.

So, there is no help from the system. And this is all on me. But what do I do?!? No employee to ask and order around. No corporate support nor the company’s legal team to call for consulting. And this basic version of SAMS is good for nothing.

I do not know shit, but one thing is crystal clear. The more the level of integration goes up, each time they drive their picks and chisels in my tunnel, the pain goes up with it.

How much more can a person take??

I am a ghost. It’s supposed to be pain-free. That freakin’ elf. I knew I should not have trusted him. Not the moment I saw those eyes, especially when he said he was a baron. Why would anybody listen to anyone calling themselves some baron of some hemisphere or something?

A stupid moron that I am.

I run through one of the dwarfs. See his hair rise.

“Did you guys feel that?” he asks.

“Oh, you’re getting soft again, aren’t you, Yogrix? Didn't I say he would buckle under dark? Didn’t I say we should not bring him along?” says the one who looks as if he has been winning the first place in frowning, their national sport, repeatedly.

“Hush, I've already told you, Gorinx. Yogrix will do just fine. And you, Yogrix, your uncle would not lie to us about this dungeon being raided and left for dead, so you don't need to worry so much," the oldest of them interrupts them. "We should still hurry though. There might still be evil in here.”

Evil? Oh, I’ll give you evil. “I! Summon! Balrog of Moria! Show your face! You, evil beast! Abra-ca-Moria!!! There. Now, he’ll impale two of you on each of his horns. And then you'll be sorry, and then you'll be running and crying back home to your ugly mommas.”

Yeah, I wait, but… Balrog of Moria does not show up.

As they stop for a moment to drink something from the skin bags they laid on the ground, I exhale a few times and try to think

The first thing is that… I’m actually glad I could not summon some evil monster. Don’t want to be a bad guy. I need to find a better way. Besides, I'm here for one reason, and one reason only. To get stronger. Level up to 100. So I can get back to my kids and wife.

But how can I get stronger while… these guys are hurting me? They. Need. To go.

I try moving through them again, but this time, they do not react. Then I go to try and move the ground, a boulder, a stone, a pebble, but nothing. My hand just goes through it all.

They return to work and their picks continue to hurt me and I run back into darkness. Away from the noise. But it still chisels inside my heart. Hurting the very inside of my soul. I cannot escape it.

Then something else worse than pain strikes me. A thought. And thoughts are so dangerous. Worse than chisels. I realize they are digging. Not out of enjoyment, for sports, or entertainment. They are not working on their muscle tones there and this is not their gym.

They are digging for treasure. And that treasure… that’s probably my core, my heart, mind, and all that is keeping me alive here. If they get it, the dungeon will probably be dead. A little voice inside of me says I need to make them stop. But how?

Little voice, okay... I'm listening. All ears.

But I hear nothing. Such is my luck. Now that I need it, it goes silent.

What I do hear are those dwarfs suddenly sounding all ecstatic. “Hey! I think we finally broke through!” one of them screams proudly just as I fully comprehend its implication.

I come and look. They seemed to have dug a hole inside the side of the tunnel. There is something on the other side, another cave. Something is shining through. Hell. Hate when I’m right.

[Processing the Integration: 95 percent completed

The Sense of Smell has been almost fully recovered

The Sense of Touch has been fully recovered]

Shit. I’ll be dead before I even get properly integrated, whatever that means.

And worse of it all, it might just be their pungent stink that does it before they even plunder my core. They reek worse than durian fruits, worse than fermented fish or spoiled eggs. Maybe if you combined all three… I’m ready to puke.

Their hands reach inside the chamber, and I suddenly know the pain, the true pain, feel as if the very inside of my trembling soul is being molested by the dirty, greedy hands of pure evil.