Uncle Uter was not having a good day. Not by a longshot.

His face was beet red and his breathing sounded like the death throes of a particularly obese hippo.

Nevertheless, he kept going. Trailing us, even as we sped down the stone forest that made up the first floor.

It was odd, seeing him like this. Uncle Uter had always presented himself as someone people relied on. If someone else needed something, he'd lend it out or just flat out gift it to them. If an elderly neighbour needed help with their lawn or their cupboards or their plumbing, he would offer his assistance and always go above and beyond in whatever it was that he did.

I'd always admired that part of him. The gratitude and respect people showed him made him seem, bigger. Larger than life.

That illusion was now thoroughly shattered. Uncle Uter wasn't an invincible giant. He was just another person doing their best. Same as me. Same as everyone.

Realizing that he wasn't the steady pillar I'd thought he was had shaken me to my core. Realizing that I was probably stronger than him shook me even further.

Yet I wasn't discouraged. He'd protected me all these years. Gave me a home. The least I could do was return the favor. I would get strong enough to keep him safe. Him and aunt Cheryl and Eva.

I shook my head to dispel the distractions and made to retrieve my spear from the ghoul's skull. The tip had landed right between its eyes, piercing the weak spot in the otherwise thick bone plating.

Fangs of ivory had been sent flying in all directions when the blow landed. The outer rows of yellowed teeth splintering from the sudden force as the inner rows cracked and fractured. Green pus oozed from its saggy skin and gathered underneath it. Creating a viscous pool which promised a painful clumsy death to anything dumb enough to get near the poison.

"Hey man. I just wanted to let you know how awesome that throw was." Marco commented.

The praise felt genuine. Which was weird, because I was fairly certain he could've killed a hundred of those things by swinging his weapon in their general direction.

"Hey, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Putting yourself down. I noticed you've been doing it a lot. This is, what, the start of your second week?"

"Yeah, just about."

"Then that throw puts you in the tippy top percent of noobs. Trust me, I've seen what passes for talent in the other dungeon towns. The new guys they bring in take months to be at your level. And do you know why that is?"

Not really, but I could make an educated guess based on what coach Russell ranted about.

"Because they don't push themselves as hard?"

"Because they don't push themselves as hard." He agreed. "Seriously. They call it quits after four or five hours of hunting. Per day. No wonder they don't get any good cores. Even your Uncle is doing better than them."

Uncle Uter took that opportunity to vomit on the floor. Half-digested giblets mixing with the offal of disintegrating monsters.

"I'll take your word for it." I replied. Choosing to be as diplomatic as possible.

"Nah dude. You don't get it. Here, watch. I'll use one of my skills. " He brought up his club. A long and thick stick of steel that was far wider at the end than at the handle.

I felt the telltale tingle of magic at work and stared in fascination as both his arm and the weapon grew to a tremendous size. It was to the point where the limb wouldn't have been out of place on a kaiju as it tore a city to pieces. My eyes went wide with surprise, followed closely by terror as I was suddenly made aware of how close the ceiling was.

'It took us more than half an hour to walk to the first floor. If that much bedrock collapses on top of us...'

"Stop! Stop you idiot! You'll get us all killed!"

He snorted. He actually freaking snorted.

"Watch and learn Cecil. This is what you can look forward to." He brought the limb down with a thunderous crash. Slitting the earth apart at the point of impact.

I heard the shockwave. Though perhaps it would have been more appropriate to say that I felt it instead. It was a boom that shook my very bones and loosened my bowels. Actually going so far as to lift me off my feet for a fraction of a second.

A wave of displaced debris flew towards us. Coating me, uncle Uter and the rest of our party in a layer of ashy dust.

It went everywhere. Into my eyes, my mouth, my lungs.

I fell forwards. Coughing. Choking.

Feeling like I was asphyxiating until a firm hand started patting my back and pouring water down my face. At the same time, strong swooshes went past my face. Waving away the rapidly settling cloud.

"And that will mean two weeks worth of detention for you Marco. You will report to my office tomorrow after classes. Let's see if I can shove some discipline into you this time."

Marco blanched.

"Oh come on coach Homer! I barely did anything! I used one skill! One! It wasn't even my strongest one!"

"Like that matters." Drew protested. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to clean and re-dye my hair yesterday? A long freaking time! That's how much! I'm not a chinchilla! I can't keep doing this!"

"Oh cry me a river."

"No man. Drew's right. This has gotten way out of hand." Ramji protested. Hitting the side of his head as he spoke. The motion caused a small handful of ashes to fall from behind and from within his ears.

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"I have a date after this you know. I'm gonna need to shower for hours to get all of this off."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Okay, first of all, its just a little dirt. You'll manage. Second of all, this is my magic. You guys get to do all the spooky mental stuff, so you get to show off without getting dirty. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Um, wait until there's a monster in front of you?" Drew offered.

"There were monsters in front of me!"

"A monster. There was, a, monster. As in, singular. And it was a Ghoul. Cecil could handled it himself and he's level 0. Without any magic."

"I'm just saying that he should get to know us better if we're gonna be team."

"And he will get to know you better." Coach Homer assured him. "From a relatively safe distance. Until his stats are up to the task of surviving a real fight."

"I don't know junior." Coach Russell interjected. "I think Cecil's been doing a bang-up job of surviving real fights so far. In fact, I think it might be time to step it up a notch."

Coach Homer narrowed his eyes in a manner that turned my bowels to water.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Junior, you do remember I'm your Pa, right? I could do this all day." He raised a hand to forestall his son. "I've also been trusted with Cecil's tutelage. Which means I get the final say in what we do today as part of our little excursion. Which means yes. We go to the second floor. Today."

"Its barely been a week since he got seriously injured up here on the first."

"Which means he's had a week to learn from his mistakes. Besides, I've seen Cecil fight and know how fast he's been improving. I figure he only got hurt because you were playing too fast and loose with the curriculum."

Coach Homer made a series of comical noises after that comment. Almost choking on empty air as his eyes blinked at hypersonic speeds.

"You-you're accusing me of playing fast and loose? You!?"

"Tut-tut sonny boy. I said you were playing TOO, fast and loose. There's nothing wrong with a bit of improvisation now and then, but ya got to know your limits and the limits of your students. You barrelled past those limits. Crashing through several brick walls and driving off a cliff. I am pushing him gently. There is a difference."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The second floor was nothing like the first. This one was a desert, where the last one had been a forest. Furthermore, this one wasn't darkened by constant fog and dim lighting. No sir.

This floor was one big field of sand that seemed to go on forever. Dunes dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see. It was, a strange sort of mirage where the ceiling looked like a sky at high noon. Complete with gently rolling clouds and cool winds the buffeted against our party the second we stepped off the stairs.

And speaking of stairs, these ones were different too. The ones on the first floor had looked like regular steps carved out of a deep, dark cave. These ones were nigh-invisible, but for a thin layer of shimmering light shining off the topside and the errant grains of sand that clung to it when the wind blew them over.

"Is there a chance we could lose sight of the stairs?" I asked, with more than a little trepidation.

"Us? Totally." Drew said, nonchalantly. "Them? Not a chance. Coach Russell and coach Homer could probably pin a fly to a tree from a couple of kilometers away."

"I could do it without killing them too." Coach Russell boasted. An impish smile creeping onto his features.

"Now then. Its time to run kids. Go wild."

"Wait, what do you mean?" I asked, suddenly getting a very bad feeling about this.

"Exactly what I said, my star pupil. It just so happens that I wholeheartedly agree with Marco. You kids are a rambunctious lot and you need to get familiar with each other's powers. That goes double for you, Cecil. Since you've hardly seen any magic until now."

If looks could kill, coach Homer's stare would have been enough to send him to the Hague for crimes against humanity.

Coach Russell didn't seem to care. Marco was shaking with excitement, as if he hardly got the chance to let loose his full might. Drew and Ramji were smiling too.

For my part, I took a deep, steadying breath. Rubbing some of the soreness from my muscles in anticipation of the incoming carnage.

'I just hope uncle Uter can keep up.'

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As it turned out, he could. Barely.

His outline was constantly chasing ours. Following along while my spear flew through the scalding air and into more scorpions.

"Hey! That one was mine! I was controlling it!" Ramji protested.

"Sorry! Sorry! It's... I have trouble telling them apart."

"The one he's controlling aren't trying to kill you." Drew offered. "Oh, and you can tell which ones I'm controlling because they're barely standing or tearing each other apart. Feel free to kill them by the way. Mine will try to kill you right back if you get too close."

Indeed, Drew's magic was making the scorpions dance along the dunes and dusty underpasses. Their knife-like legs stabbing into the ground in erratic, hysterical patterns while their stingers lunged at anything that came too close. Sometimes, that meant sticking the piercing organ into the floor. Other times, the piercing pointy end would chance upon an ally. Another hapless scorpion or a Sand Gull that got too close for its own good.

It was almost like a carnival. A whole block or its equivalent filled to bursting with partygoers re-enacting some play. Only the play was more akin to a grisly 80s movie. The kind where a musclebound actor could rip his way through hordes of foreigners unimpeded.

She would wave and sparkles would fly out to coat the shells of her victims. She would holler in a way that made her voice carry through the din of battle while still retaining a melodious pitch.

Her targets would then start biting and clawing and tearing. Over and over again with wild abandon. As if they knew no fear or pain or exhaustion.

It made for some good combos when Ramji was near. He'd single out the best among the hordes and call them over to our side. Drew would them stop affecting them, leaving him to maneuver his rapidly growing numbers so that they flanked their former compatriots. After that, the tide would only keep turning more and more in our favor.

Any errant beast that happened to break through the formation was finished off by either Marco or myself. Giving us plenty of chances to hone our own skills. Well, mostly his skills if I was being honest.

Back on the first floor, my gains had been great enough to stun me, as I found myself one-shoting most monsters if I managed to fight them one on one. Here, the scorpions shrugged off all but the most critical of wounds. My spear bouncing off their shells after leaving barely noticeable indentations along the back of near the eyes.

Thankfully, Marco was having no such trouble. All he had to do was swing his club and death would follow in his wake. The very same shells that had blocked my spear now imploding under the monumental weight of the deadly instrument.

I was, more than a little clumsy at first. The soreness in my body acting as a constant distraction from the fights.

Those faults lessened with time and I found myself falling into a sort of, flow state the more we ran and the more battles we won. My mind isolating the mounting agony into a little corner while the rest of my brain dedicated itself to finding the right position for the right moment. Looking for the perfect chance to pick off an otherwise healthy monster while it was distracted by one of Ramji's enslaved minions or Drew's frenzying choir.

In that same vein, minutes turned to hours.

We ran and fought and ran and fought and ran again. All under the scorching heat of the false desert sun.

We hunted chickens the size of cars, with velociraptor-like claws instead of wings.

We hunted wasps whose elongated bodies resembled a grotesque mix of insect and hyena. Four legs scrambling over embankments as buzzing wings kicked up localized sand storms that threatened to blind us.

We hunted a thing that looked like a floating starfish, with three great eyes in its center. One blue. One yellow. One red as freshly-drawn blood.

It fired rays that froze what little moisture the was in the air, until a cool mist robbed us of our senses. Marco made his arm big again and brought it down just as he had earlier.

And that was that.

I was so engrossed in the task, that coach Russell's voice took me completely by surprise.

"That'll be enough for today kids."

"Aw." My three friends said in unison.

"None of that now." He chided. "We've made a lot of progress remarkably quickly. We might even go for a boss sometime soon."

"I can keep going." I said, not quite aware of how much pain would come later.

"I bet you could. That's not the issue though. Your uncle's been stung. We have to get him to a healer. Now."