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Fangmore slowly stirred the honey into his warm tea with a long dark claw. It was going to settle to the bottom and not integrate well, but he was too far from his kitchen and he wasn’t going to stand up again if he could help it. He was feeling pretty damn good, and his large reptilian body lounged back in his padded comfortable chair. His magnum opus was coming along splendidly. He glanced over at the detailed and massive map of The Continent hanging on the far wall. He had tiny red pins and thread pushed into the ornate tapestry that let him know where the line of demarcation was. Over the years he had watched that line sway forward, and be pushed back.

When he had been younger, every time that line had moved forward he had felt an immense surge of pride in his people. And every time it had been pushed back he had felt crushed, knowing that soon the “forces of good” would sweep through his land and burn all that he cared for. But now he felt that it was simply an illusion. It wavered like the shimmer above hot sand, the mind thinking it had meaning, when it signified nothing but energy expended.

The problem was that the only REAL way for a forceful push was for a Hero to manifest that surged past all their peers. Once a hero hit level sixty and onwards, they could level castles and often had abilities that could empower allies to be power houses in their own right. These heroes would sweep forward and continue to level as they mowed down increasingly powerful monsters and heroes from the opposing side. Often they would become overconfident and die at this point, and the lines would resettle to where they were previously.

However even if they did not die, chances were they would hit level eighty, and then the option to Ascend would be granted. That option became less and less an option as you grew even stronger, and as far as Fangmore knew once you reached level ninety you Ascended immediately. Good for them, they got to bask in paradise for all eternity and all that, but the armies they had acquired and the territory they had fought so hard for would be like a body deprived of a heart, and would almost immediately collapse.

If there were multiple high level heroes leading the front at once, then this wouldn’t be such a problem. But most Chosen were abject failures. Small surprise there, they often had no idea how to actually fight or even to think. Out of each ten year batch, only a tiny percentage of them would even get to level twenty before dying. The bulk of the fighting was done by the naturally born denizens of The Continent, and they could simply not grow strong enough to make a difference. Unless his side gained an edge this would be the status quo forever. But HE was going to provide it.

Through hard work, a healthy dose of nepotism, backstabbing, and truly being smarter than a whole lot of idiots, he had risen to a position of power and influence. He wasn’t at the top, but Lord knows he was no longer at the bottom. He was far from the front lines, and his cozy little castle was well defended by minions, a boss monster, and even some nasty traps of his own invention. But the TRUE treasure that Fangmore invested nearly every hour of every day into was his Leveling Labyrinth. It had taken ages to set up, and being allowed access to a handful of newly arrived Chosen had required wheedling, favors, bribes, and not a small amount of killing. But now he had his life's work well in hand, and although the bags under his eyes were testament to his lack of sleep, the smile on his scaled face was genuine.

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The problem, he had always felt, was that Heroes had to be in REAL mortal danger in order to level up quickly. But when you are in real mortal danger sometimes you DIE. And if you got too strong, then either you grew cautious and stopped increasing in strength, or else you had to get real stupid with the risks you took.

Thus, the LEVELING LABYRINTH. The first few Chosen he had thrown into it had perished, unfortunately. They had never even gotten past level five. Still he had quickly iterated, and his most recent Chosen was doing AMAZINGLY. He almost couldn’t believe it, “The Hero”, as he affectionately called him, was PERFECT. Numerous powerful skills, wonderful fighting instincts, tough as anything. This hero was fast approaching level twenty and with every day Fangmore grew more invested. He was simply wonderful, and Fangmore delighted in pushing him right to the edge of death, and then hauling him back, stronger than before.

He let out a long slow contented sigh and sipped his warm tea. It actually was pretty sweet. “Dolcia, I’d like to see The Hero please.” His imp, Dolcia, flitted into the room, tittering as if she had just heard the funniest thing. “As you wish, darling!” He loved Dolcia. Yes she had been promised some small part of his possibly immortal being, but she was irreplaceable day to day and he thought she was quite cute in a mischievous “bite your fingers off” kind of way. A shimmering plane of pink energy warped the air in front of him, manifesting into a gently swirling view of the Labyrinth. A large and well muscled young man was slumped against a wall, a thick black puddle of blood pooling around him from under his tattered dark robe. He would probably be quite handsome if his face didn’t look so tired and spattered with gore.

Fangmore sat up, a bit alarmed. “Dolcia, you didn’t let him die did you?” The little imp giggled. “Oh no no, don’t worry, I was just about to fix him right up!” The swirling view showed a tiny hole open in the wall above the collapsed Hero, and a stream of sparkling liquid splashed down onto the still body. He jerked and gasped in air. He didn’t sit up, but his chest rose and fell more easily. Fangmore watched as one of The Hero’s hands slowly curled into a tight powerful fist.

“That looked painful, hopefully he got some experience?” Dolcia nodded, flying up to the viewing portal. “Oh yes, he found the Thorn wolf! Honestly he could have defeated it without getting injured, but I assume he didn’t know the barbs could be launched. Still! He struck the killing blow after receiving what could have been a fatal wound, so I would think the experience was multiplied by quite a bit!”

Fangmore nodded, smiling still. That was the beauty of his Leveling Labyrinth. You could push people right to the brink, while having them fight monsters and creatures far above what they could normally deal with, and then snatch them back from that precipice. The leveling speed was incredible. Fangmore knew that soon nothing would be able to stop him, or his Lord. Once this Hero was at level twenty five he would present him to The Lord, acquire praise and riches, and then EXPAND. He imagined a decade from now running dozens of new Chosen inside his Leveling Labyrinth and shivered with delight.

Dolcia smiled and rubbed up against the side of his head. She was soft in an unsettling way, like fleshy velvet. Fangmore had grown to enjoy that feeling, which he felt was probably some kind of charm she was casting on him. That was fine, he didn’t mind being a little charmed. Dolcia’s voice was low and inquisitive. “But Fangy, what happens if you make your little Hero too powerful, and he breaks free of your [Mind Corruption] skill? And then he gets all mad and comes and kills you and everyone you love?” Fangmore smirked. He didn’t resent the question. Dolcia loved teasing him, and he thought it was kind of cute. “Well my darling, that’s why when this hero finally graduates and gets to leave the Labyrinth, we will fit them with a VERY expensive control collar. If they play nicely then they’ll receive all the rewards our Lord can offer. If not, then they will be a mindless but powerful weapon to drop where they will serve best. A high-level Hero can do a lot of damage, even if they don’t have free will.” The two laughed at that. There was a reason they got along so well.