The office was far too spacious for its purpose. Being almost twice the size of any one of my old classrooms. The walls were richly decorated with a plethora of stuffed heads belonging to a wide range of creatures. There were furry ones and scaly ones on display, their mouths hanging open in abject terror. Mirroring the last expression they donned while they still drew breath.

It would have been in poor taste, if they were common animals. However, them having belonged to monsters that laired on the deeper floors gave off an entirely different feel. The empty, glassy eyes made it so that the very walls screamed out a message. A warning or a threat.

The weapon racks placed at the back added to this ambiance. Their mere presence attesting for the status of whomever sat behind the desk. Some of them had been carved out of the milky-white stone that covered the lakebed on the fourth floor, making them far heavier and more durable than even the best industrial alloys out there in the wider non-magical world. Others were obviously made up of sharpened fangs or bones. Their still-sharp serrated edges betraying the fact that they'd come from a horror powerful enough to give their current wielder a run for his money.

'Now there's a terrifying thought. Here's hoping none of those manage to make their way to the surface anytime soon.' The mere notion brought out chills that crept up and down my spine. Recent recollections of the Giant Jellyfish already deeply ingrained in my psyche.

My own weapons had been made of steel or titanium and the thing had laughed them off until Marco enlarged them. These ones though...

The supernatural weight would've packed a punch all by itself; without the aid of any skills. It would've been like getting hit with a battleship's guns or something equally devastating.

'I wonder if I could lift any of them?'

Probably not.

It was funny, in an ironic sort of way. I'd known other kids who were disciplined for shouting or cursing or, at worst, bullying and stealing. If someone had told me I'd find myself in the same predicament two months ago I would have laughed in their face. If they'd specified why I'd be finding myself in an office... heh. I probably would have thought they had a few screws loose.

'Why did I tag along anyway? I mean, being constantly nagged at by my family wasn't that unbearable... Actually, no. It was. But I could have done something else. I could have jogged some more. I could have gone tree-climbing with Mark and Tracy. Sure, Elsie would have been there. As insufferably smug and condescending as always, but it would have been safe...'

My eyes wandered away from the back of the office and over to its owner.

Coach Russell looked, extremely pleased with himself. His big bushy beard barely containing the mirth on his face.

Indeed, he looked like someone who'd been informed of the birth of a grandchild or that his cancer had disappeared overnight.

Which was very suspicious, given that he had caught the lot of us red handed as we were leaving the Dungeon. Minors entering without an escort was frowned upon, though there was some leeway with teens in general. That said, any such niceties went straight out the window the second you went below the second floor by yourself.

That was usually seen as just a tiny bit too reckless. Even by the rather loose standards of the town.

The locals still did it of course. Marco, Ramji, and Drew seemed to think the Dungeon was a second home, in spite, or maybe because, of all the horrors nesting within it. They merely took care to avoid getting caught.

Not only had coach Russell seen us leaving without a supervisor, he'd also discerned that we'd delved far deeper than was acceptable, given Marco's wounds. The barely-visible tendril had injected quite the cocktail of neurotoxins and digestive acids into him during their kerfuffle, so that a massive line of red blisters had blossomed on the surface of his skin.

It looked like death.

Smelt like it too.

In fact, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would've died if we hadn't gotten him topside as fast as we did.

A fact our dear coach no doubt knew all too well.

"Look, coach Russell... I'm sorry." Drew began. Putting on her best recently-chastised impression. "All we wanted was to fish for a few hours. We even brought out fishing rods and bait. We weren't going to fight any of the monsters on the way and we definitely weren't going in there so we could fight the boss."

"Yeah!" Ramji agreed. "We didn't even know the boss had re-spawned! We're not stupid."

Coach Russell raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

The others squirmed alongside me, but otherwise stuck to our story.

For my part, I kept quiet. Whatever punishment he decided was appropriate would mean little after we escaped with our lives. Besides, I was already being worked to the bone as it was. What was he going to do? Kill me?

I sighed and hung my head low. Waiting for the hammer to drop.

When he spoke, his voice was even. Devoid of any of the anger I'd expected.

"What you did back there was very impressive." He began suddenly.

My eyes shot wide open. Even as my jaw hit the floor.

"You don't think it was stupid for us to fight it?" I blurted out. Unable to believe what I was hearing.

"Oh, no. It absolutely was. You lot are all morons. But you're fourteen and pent up here without theaters or arcades or skating rinks or anything else that might take the edge off. Fighting monsters is actually among the more preferable outcomes in these situations. Trust me. I've seen some nasty.... accidents."

He chuckled. Theatrically wiping non-existent sweat from his brow while whistling.

"I've been young too. Homer... well, he was always a bit too uptight, even at your age, but he's done his fair share of stupidities. Being moronic is within expectations. What isn't within expectations is being stupid to that degree and coming back alive. So, kudos to all of you."

"Hey. Thanks coach. You know? I don't care what other people say about ya. You're all-right."

"Whoa there. Don't get ahead of yourself Drew. You didn't let me finish."

His grin went from jovial to diabolical so fast that I barely had time to suck in a breath, before he had me in a headlock.

"What I was going to say, was that you rowdy hooligans had way too much energy to spare. Which is clearly my fault. I've obviously been going way too easy on you all if you want to spend even more time in the Dungeon. I mean, really. I give you one day of rest. The only one in a month, and what do you do? Go deeper than I would've taken you! I don't know whether to be proud or pissed off!"

"Proud." Ramji wheezed. Using what little oxygen he had left to do so.

"Yeah. What he said." Drew added. Her already pale face losing much of its remaining color.

Coach Russell pursed his lips. In the exact same manner Eva did when she was losing an argument.

"No. I don't think that sounds right. I think I'll be a little bit of both. Just to be safe."

I tried to plead for mercy, only for the words to die in my throat. Strangled chortles came out instead. Weak, pathetic hisses that could not fully contain the desperation I felt.

"But. But. Big stinky but. I'll forgive you. This one time. Because we have something important to celebrate!"

He let go. My lungs bringing in fresh air as fast as was humanly possible.

"We have to throw a party for Cecil's budding core! Oh. My. Goodness! It's so exciting! You're already on the home stretch Cecil! Almost there! So close you can almost taste the magic! This is a key moment in your development! Your last chance to push past your limits! It is critical that we come together at this time, because you'll experience a final rush of experience where stats come far more easily than before!"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He placed one overly muscled hand on my right shoulder. Turning me around so that I was facing him once more.

"And what better way to celebrate than by going back into the Dungeon!"

"You want us to go back?" I managed after half a minute. "I thought you didn't want us going in there for a while."

He made a rude noise.

"Of course I want you guys going into the Dungeon silly! Like I said, this is the last hurrah! Cecil needs, and I really do mean, needs, to work himself ragged now. His stats will be shooting up much faster than usual since he's approaching level one. Especially if he's getting the core we think he's getting. It's just that I want you going with me. So that I can make sure that all your pretty little limbs are going to stay attached when you go out! Now, you went down to the fourth floor, is that right?"

"Yes." Ramji and Drew confirmed.

"Fantastic! If you were able to beat a boss like the Jellyfish, then you should have no trouble going deeper before the day is done."

I gulped.

"Where, exactly, do you want to take us?"

That manic grin never left his face.

"The sixth floor. To fight the Wailing Tree."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Our descent was much faster than our previous ascent. Coach Russell took us in his arms. Hugging us as if we were sacks of potatoes. Screaming, kicking, pleading, sacks of potatoes.

"Hey man! Let us down! This is inhumane!" Drew screeched as the wind buffeted her face.

"Yeah! It's all Drew's fault anyway! Let me go!" Ramji agreed.

"You traitor!"

"I'm the traitor!? I wanted to go do something safe! Like moose tipping!"

All their protests were in vain however.

The maniac took us lower and lower. Deep into the cavernous bowels of the earth. Past the stone forest of the first floor and the sun-kissed dunes of the second. Past hordes of Rippers and swarms of scorpions. Past the decimated landscape we'd left on the fourth floor and past the icy ridges of the fifth.

I...wasn't paying too much attention. All I could think about was the exact wording coach Russell had used.

'If he's getting the core we think he's getting.'

It could mean nothing. All of our Analyzers were connected to a main computer, so all of our stats were available to the adults 24/7. Its completely possible they had a list of possible cores for particular stat ranges and that they, whomever they were, figured I would get a certain staged core. Maybe a fourth or fifth stage one.

Yet, it could also mean something else. That he and the others already knew the exact core I'd be getting.

'But that wouldn't make any sense. They kept telling me that it was dependent on my efforts. That I needed to work myself to the bone so that I didn't waste the opportunity. Was that all a lie? Did they know from the beginning? If they did, why go through all of this?'

I was still trying to make sense of the puzzle when we arrived at the poisoned swamp.

The air down here was utterly saturated with the stench of death. Each and every intake of oxygen bringing an unhealthy dose of miasma along for the ride. So thick you could have cut it with a knife and so malignant that asphyxiation became downright tempting by comparison.

It was, as if a thousand battles had been fought here. Between the crooked mangroves and above the sucking mud. With all those festering corpses being dumped into the deepest sections of the marsh. Where the sludge was greedy for human flesh and a single step could see you losing your leg forever as it and the rest of you was dragged down to depth unknown.

The mosquitoes that buzzed around those twisted trees were almost as big as cats. Their mouths connected to lacerating needles which secreted a potent hemotoxin. Ensuring that any minor scratch exposed a never-ending tide of fresh blood to the many parasites and leeches crawling through the effluvia.

Meanwhile, the few spots of high-ground were universally claimed by black spotted roaches the size of cars. With heads half the size of their bodies and six different antennae that crackled ominously with barely suppressed arcs of electricity. They would spread their lighting around their bodies as an aura. Frying any swarm foolish enough to try their luck on their turf. That is, when they weren't loosing bolts of brilliantly concentrated fulmination at unlucky targets from their elevated vantage points.

Then there were the trolls and the venomous gargoyles and the psychic newts and the gravity-bending earthworms that hid within clumps of bacteria-ridden mud while launching said mud at you faster than you could blink.

Yeah. Yeah. This wasn't a nice place.

At least the fourth floor had had a ceiling made up of bioluminescent coral and towering crystalline structures that reflected light in hypnotizing patterns. At least it was clean enough that you wouldn't get sepsis from keeping your eyes open for two seconds.

Case in point, Drew and Ramji were crying. Those two had stared down a boss monster the second Marco was in any real danger and fought without rest in order to get him to safety. And now they were inconsolable.

"Coach, listen. I'm so..."

He threw me.

That fucking bastard actually threw me.

I was so surprised that it took me a couple of seconds to process the fact that I had, indeed, been thrown. When my brain started working again, it registered the muck underneath me and the way it refused to let go of my armor. Furthermore, I also noticed the hundreds upon hundreds of little crawling things slipping between the openings for my arms and legs. Quickly covering ground and making contact with my skin....

The sound that came out of my mouth was half a song and half a scream. A melody that sprang forth from the soul. Carrying the purest panic. And vengeance. That too. There would be a reckoning.

I tried to stand up, but my arms simply slipped deeper into the blackened mud. I tried to kick, but the soil merely swallowed my legs faster.

It was like quicksand. Wet, pulpy, disgusting quicksand. Like a carnivorous plant refusing to let go of its prey.

I felt that surge again. A bristle that came from my spine and stomach and heart all at the same time. A tingle that raised goosebumps while feeling all to natural.

The feeling revealed a muscle I had never known was there.

I flexed it. Hard. As hard as I possibly could. The act made me tired. Exhausting me at an inconceivable rate.

But it also made me strong.

Very strong.

So much so that my mind went completely and utterly blank. Allowing some beast to take its place. A thing that lusted for blood and violence. Impulses and desires sending chills down the entirety of my being.

My feet finally made some headway, the repeated kicks causing faint shockwaves throughout the refuse. I was standing on two feet before I knew it. So relieved that I barely noticed the slugs and the leeches and the myriad other things....

As they fell down.

Dead.

Drained.

The beast purred in the barest hint of satisfaction. The sensation lasting barely more than a second, before a new hunger made itself known.

Mosquitoes flocked to me then, maneuvering around my arms as I tried to swat them. My killing blows turning into mere glancing touches. Yet, glancing touches was all I needed. They too fell. Dragged down into the mire and gone forever.

I breathed in. Inhaling a lungful of tainted air with each routine motion. Strangely enough, the act, made me feel better. Not worse.

I felt less tired. Less overwhelmed. As if invisible weights had been lifted from my shoulders.

More mosquitoes came and more mosquitoes died. Their mortal shells losing a vital part of themselves mid-flight. Struck down by the loss of that all-too-important energy.

While they got weaker, I got stronger. Consuming more and more and more until I felt the excess might escaping through my pores.

I squeezed the muscle again and managed to keep the tide trapped. Looking around for another foe. Another obstacle to overcome. I searched for my spear on instinct, my hands grasping the sash that usually tied them together to my torso and finding nothing.

Small, barely-present thoughts surfaced through my reddening, blurry vision. Congealing with my sense of smell and hearing. It was a howl of rage and frustration that stripped away all fear and doubt.

'I swear... if that insane sadist caused me to lose my spear, I'm gonna rip his head clean off his shoulders!'

That would have to wait however. The roaches were attacking. Throwing arcs of lighting my way. Bright flashes striking the mud and my body in concert prior to the resonating boom of falling thunder.

It...should have hurt more than it actually did.

Instead, all I felt was a rapidly fading burning sensation that soon became a distant itch.

I looked around for something to throw and settled on a fallen log that was half-submerged in swamp water. The force of the throw surprised even me as it not only impacted with a resonating explosion of concussive force, but even went so far as to stay in motion. Carrying the roaches until they and the remains of the wood shattered and burst upon meeting a solid pillar of stone.

I chuckled and looked for more prey. Finding a feral hunger in place of the fear that had so recently ruled me.

Thoom.

I felt my heart beating and felt other hearts beating with it in unison.

Thoom.

The echo bounced off the high ceiling and travelled back down along the walls.

Thoom.

All the remaining beasts looked my way. Knowing I was the source of the disturbance.

Thoom.

They saw me. The new me. The real me. The beast of bone.

Thoom.

They grew fearful. The beast smiled.

I smiled.

Pushing more power to my legs. Then, the ground beneath me exploded as I lunged towards the tree at the center of the swamp.

I... hadn't put any thought into the attack. It had simply, felt right.

The tree came alive while I flew towards it. Branches moving like serpents a they intercepted me. They dragged me down into the filth.

Or...they tried to.

I grabbed them as well and crawled up them and towards the center of the monster. Towards its overflowing vitality.

I felt it panic. I felt it trying to swat me off it like I was one of the parasites on the ground.

I drank deep of its energy. Doing so until I felt parts of it and parts of the parasites and the mosquitoes resonating within me. My own skin grew harder. Rougher. Like tree bark. All while my fingertips changed into envenomed needles. Dripping vile death with every touch and injecting the fluids into the branch I was crawling on.

The tree changed tactics then. Ripping its own roots off the ground while an open maw appeared on its trunk. Jagged fangs made of splinters rushing towards me.

I grinned. Braced myself, and kept drinking its might.

Keeping it up until a boulder smashed into the center of it at hypersonic speeds. The force of the throw disintegrated the massive stone as well as the monster. Vibrant vitality turning to dead toothpicks in a fraction of a second.

I was stunned. Bewildered. Incensed.

"I had it!" I yelled in defiance. "It was mine!" Fangs erupted from my mouth as the claws rent the air asunder.

More rage. More frustration. More red in my vision.

I looked around for the culprit. For coach Russell's overly muscled form. But I didn't find it. Not in time.

When I did, it was his arm wrapped around my neck. Squeezing.

"Good job Cecil. You exceeded my already high expectations. Rest now. Your core will be finished when you wake up."

I tried to respond, but the light was fading.

Too quickly for me to react.