“They don’t stop coming!” one of my men screams in panic. Since the second we grabbed that little mutant, the entire dungeon has gone insane! We’re strong, sure—but what good is that when these low-level beasts come at us in endless droves?
Another strike with my sword, and another quillbug is split in two. The poisoned quill sticking out of my shoulder is an annoyance at best; I’ve faced worse. “Keep fighting!” I shout, trying to drown out the chaos. “These beasts are nothing! They’re barely Tier 1—hold the line!”
The corpses are piling up around us. A defensive circle, tighter now than when we started, keeps the swarm at bay—but for how long? The damned flyers are the worst. Venomwings dart down, scoring quick hits before vanishing into the shadows above.
The roar from earlier—it must be some larger beast, but it doesn’t matter. This dungeon is too young to have anything that could threaten us. Hah! These guilders—such cowards!
But then I see it.
From the direction of the massive tree, mushrooms begin to fall. They topple in a straight line, one after another, as if crushed underfoot. Then I hear it: wild stomping, growing louder, closer.
My stomach twists.
And then I see it.
A titanic beast, towering over the trees, charges toward us like a living avalanche of corpses and mushrooms. Its body is a patchwork of flesh and fungal growths, held together by some sick, pulsating force. The ground shakes with each step it takes.
“What... what is that?” I mutter, my voice barely audible.
Was this why the guilders warned us? Was this the reason they were so cautious?
No. It doesn’t matter.
I raise my sword, steel glinting in the dim light. “This beast shall fall like all the rest!” I shout, more to myself than to my men.
A titanic crash answers me.
The force sends me flying, my sword ripped from my hand as my armor absorbs most of the blow. I land hard, mud caking my face and chest. My ears ring as I struggle to stand.
“Captain!” my second-in-command’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Shieldbearer—take the titan! Mages, support him! Everyone else, form up!”
Through blurry vision, I see the shieldbearer brace himself. Corpsemountain’s strikes are relentless, each one forcing the shieldbearer back a step.
Then I see the second creature.
This one is smaller, but no less terrifying. Nearly as tall as the titan, its body glows with eerie bioluminescent tattoos. Three glowing eyes burn like embers, and its skeletal visage is adorned with spiked protrusions. In one hand—or rather, attached to its arm—is a strange insect. Its tail gleams like a blade.
“What in all the gods’ names is that?” I whisper, my confidence crumbling.
The swordsman gritted his teeth as he raised his blade, desperate to block the oncoming strike of the monstrous deer-like guardian. The impact rattled his entire frame. He succeeded—barely—but the force behind the blow drove him knee-deep into the swampy mud. A horrified gasp escaped him as another strike flashed from his blind side. There was no time to react. The club connected with a sickening crack, and the light in his eyes went out forever.
The shieldbearer roared as he fended off a relentless swarm of venomwings. Their poisoned stingers pierced his armor again and again, dark ichor spreading beneath his steel plates. Even his Tier 1, Level 8 body couldn’t withstand so much venom. His knees buckled. The next crushing blow from the corpse-beast struck true, and his body crumpled like paper beneath the monstrous force.
Screams filled the air. The upper half of a mage landed with a wet thud beside me, her eyes still wide with shock and disbelief.
This is too much. We can’t hold this.
“Retreat!” I bellowed, my voice cracked with terror. “Leave the mutant and head for the tunnel!”
My men didn’t hesitate. Their survival instincts took over, and we bolted, boots splashing through muck, hearts hammering with primal fear. The beasts gave no quarter. They hunted us with a rage that felt personal, their eyes glowing with malice, their claws tearing through flesh and bone. The roar of the corpse-monster, now wreathed in flames, shook the very air behind us. It didn’t slow, didn’t falter—the fire only made it look more terrifying.
We tore through the second level and stumbled onto the first, lungs burning, bodies broken. Two of my men were gone—swallowed by the darkness, their cries still echoing in my ears—but there was no time to mourn. Survival was all that mattered now.
The tunnel to the surface loomed ahead, our beacon of hope. But as we approached, that hope was snatched away.
A massive iron gate barred our path, slammed shut. Grim-faced guild members stood beyond, their eyes cold, their jaws set.
“Open the gate!” I screamed, hammering my armored fist against the metal. “Open it, you bastards! OPEN IT NOW!”
The clang of my fist was drowned by the roar of the pursuing monsters. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness, a tide of fury and death.
The guild didn’t move. No pity in their eyes. No mercy.
“They’re going to leave us here...” I whispered, the realization sinking in like a dagger to the gut.
The monsters flooded the tunnel, claws scraping against stone, jaws snapping in anticipation. There was nowhere to run. No way out. This was our end.
A blinding glow filled the tunnel as the corpse-beast lumbered forward, its massive frame silhouetted by the eerie light. I felt the heat of its presence, the weight of its hatred.
I drew my sword with trembling hands, my voice a hoarse whisper.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Well… that’s it, then.”
We were defeated. Not by a war. Not by some legendary beast.
But by a Level 2 dungeon.
Ulrick:
Ulrick didn’t hesitate. He knew opening that gate meant inviting chaos. The delegation’s arrogance had sealed their fate, and the only way to prevent the situation from spiraling further out of control was to sacrifice them to the dungeon.
As the last echoes of desperate screams faded behind the massive iron gate, the guild leader of the academy arrived, his face pale and drawn. He took one look at the sealed gate, his eyes darting to Ulrick with disbelief and fury.
“Ulrick… What have you done?!”
Before Ulrick could respond, a shadow loomed beyond the gate. Corpsemountain stood there, an embodiment of quiet, simmering rage, its bioluminescent eyes piercing the iron bars. The air grew thick with dread.
Ulrick’s throat tightened, but he forced his voice to stay steady.
“Corpsemountain!” he shouted, stepping forward. “The invaders are yours! Their actions were their own, and they’ve paid the price. The guild does not support what they did. We swear—on our lives—that Lucy will never be harmed by us. Please, leave us be. We seek no further bloodshed!”
The monstrous form of Corpsemountain stared at him, unblinking, the eerie glow of its fungal growths casting ghostly shadows on the walls. The silence stretched on, suffocating.
Then, slowly, the behemoth turned away. The glow receded into the darkness, and with it, the oppressive tension lifted. The air seemed to rush back into their lungs.
A collective sigh of relief passed through the gathered guild members, their shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
The guild leader’s voice broke the fragile quiet. “Ulrick… you can’t make oaths in the guild’s name.” He rubbed his temples, weariness etched into his features. “But… I’ll overlook it. I think you just saved us all.”
He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and issued a command. “Keep the gate closed. Double the guard. No one enters. No one leaves.”
Turning to Ulrick, his eyes were heavy with resignation. “Follow me. We need to write two very detailed letters—one to the Guild’s High Council, the other to the royal court. This… this is a nightmare.”
Ulrick exchanged glances with his team, their faces pale but resolute. With grim determination, they followed the guild leader back into the academy, the weight of their actions settling on their shoulders.
Ulrick and the team, along with the guild leader, trudged along the muddy dirt road connecting the academy to the dungeon. The air was thick with dampness, the lingering scent of swamp water clinging to everything. Despite the weight of recent events, they moved with purpose.
Without warning, the ground beneath their feet trembled violently. The quake rolled through the earth like a colossal beast waking from slumber. Ulrick barely managed to yell, “Brace yourselves!” before the ground gave a final, violent lurch.
They were thrown off balance, landing hard on the wet earth. Mud splattered across faces and armor, but nobody cared. A heavy, foreboding pressure struck their minds like a wave. It wasn’t just the quake — it was something deeper, something wrong. A suffocating weight coiled around their chests, making each breath feel like they were inhaling dread itself.
Ulrick's eyes widened as the feeling intensified. The air grew thick, heavy with unseen malice. He felt his thoughts slow, an irrational panic clawing at the edges of his mind. Fear. Mistrust. A deep, primal longing for rebellion. The emotions pulsed like a heartbeat, radiating from a singular source. It was an aura — a dungeon aura — and it was spilling out into the world beyond the dungeon’s borders.
“This... this can’t be...” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. The others grunted, struggling against the invisible pressure that seemed to drag them down.
The shaking ceased, leaving only the relentless weight of the dungeon’s aura pressing on their minds. Ulrick pushed himself up on shaky arms, his instincts screaming that something was very, very wrong.
He turned toward the dungeon.
And then he saw it.
A massive storm cloud, impossibly dark and crackling with streaks of furious lightning, spread outward like an ink spill across the sky. The cloud’s twisted tendrils consumed the light, its edge reaching beyond the academy, casting everything beneath into a dim, eternal twilight.
From the heart of the dungeon, the giant tree in the center of the swamp grew. Its branches shot skyward in jagged bursts, expanding and twisting until they pierced the storm, the canopy spreading wide enough to shroud the mountain’s cliffs and cascade like a web of shadows over the swamp below. Thick roots, dark and glistening, burst from the foot of the mountain, spilling swamp water and twisted vegetation into the flatlands. The very mountain itself seemed to bleed, transforming into a grotesque swamp-covered peak.
The oppressive storm overhead let loose an angry growl of thunder, the lightning flashes illuminating the twisted beauty of the dungeon’s new form.
The aura pulsed stronger now, a sinister rhythm that gnawed at their sanity. Fear. Mistrust. Rebellion. Ulrick’s gut twisted with unease, the emotions not his own but thrust upon him by the dungeon’s sinister heart.
The academy now lay swallowed by the edges of the swamp, its stone walls and wooden structures barely spared from the encroaching waters. Shroomwood trees and swamp vegetation sprouted near its perimeter, as if nature itself had redrawn the lines of the battlefield.
Ulrick’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His mind refused to process the sheer scale of what he was witnessing.
They stood in stunned silence, hearts pounding in sync with the eerie glow of the dungeon.
The guild leader swallowed hard, eyes wide with disbelief. “By the gods... what have we just witnessed?”
The dungeon had evolved. And now its dark will seeped into the world beyond, leaving them teetering on the brink of something far greater — and far more dangerous — than they ever imagined.
Rain began to pour, heavy and relentless, from the storm cloud that now blanketed the sky. Fat droplets splashed into the newly-formed swamp, muddy water pooling around their feet. The cold rain mingled with the oppressive aura, making the air feel even heavier.
Suddenly, glowing text flashed before their eyes — a set of system messages that froze them in place.
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System Message:
Warning! Dungeon growth exceeds system capability. Recalibrating...
Error!
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A shiver ran through Ulrick’s spine. He exchanged wary glances with the others, rain streaking down their faces.
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System Message:
System recalibration complete. Dungeon growth stopped due to increased influence on surrounding area.
System resource allocation increased by 6x to handle dungeon expansion.
*Error! Unable to reverse new area of influence of dungeon! Administrator input accepted. Dungeon influence area on the surface locked.
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The words lingered in the air, the storm’s chill biting through their wet clothes.
“Oh, by the gods... so it won’t grow further?” Brill asked, his voice trembling as he wiped rain from his eyes.
Vin, his face smeared with mud, answered in his usual monotone. “No more growth. System states it. System never lies.”
The guild leader stared at the messages, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling for words. “Well... the letters just got a little more detailed...” he stammered, the weight of the situation sinking in.
Suddenly, Ulrick snapped. He grabbed the guild leader by the shoulders, his eyes wild with barely-contained energy — an almost manic desperation for normalcy.
“Tavern! Now!” he barked, his voice leaving no room for debate.
The guild leader blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, as if the words unlocked something in him, he nodded vigorously. “Oh, I am so in on that. I need a drink after this... or better yet, a lot of drinks.”
Ulrick released him with a grunt, turning on his heel. Without another word, they all trudged forward, dodging the occasional puddle of swamp water that now marred the dirt road.
The oppressive aura still clawed at their minds, but the promise of a stiff drink kept them moving. As they reached the academy gates, the storm cloud’s jagged flashes illuminated the path ahead. The tavern’s lights glowed warmly in the distance, a beacon of comfort in the middle of an encroaching nightmare.
Tonight, the profits would flow like ale, and the tavern owner would count their blessings. With a story like this to tell, business was about to boom. Maybe even an upgrade to the building was in order.
They didn’t care. For now, all they needed was to drown their disbelief in the bottom of a tankard.