Marked Skull strode purposefully through the Wendren village, his mind occupied with preparations for the upcoming festival. The predators had been vanquished, balance was restored, and the Wendren deserved a celebration. The village buzzed with activity—hunters sharpening their weapons, shamans preparing ritual herbs, and medicindren tending to the wounded. A sense of triumph filled the air.

As he passed beneath the watchful gaze of an Oculnid, the sacred presence of the tree touched his mind. The voice resonated in his thoughts, clear and commanding.

“Ahh! Marked Skull! Exactly the man I need right now!”

Immediately, he dropped to one knee, his glowing eyes dimming in reverence. “Oh sacred tree, you need me? What can I do for you?”

The voice continued, calm yet insistent. “I’ve finished rebuilding the first two floors, and I’m completing the third. But I need the humans back.”

Marked Skull’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “Why would you need the predators? I thought you wanted them gone after they sent their fiercest warriors.”

The sacred tree’s tone grew patient, as though explaining to a stubborn child. “Listen, Marked Skull. Humans with the system bring something valuable—biomass. I need them to enter the dungeon and be happy doing so. Happy enough that a few deaths won’t deter them. I need a steady flow of them to maintain balance.”

Realization dawned on Marked Skull. “So you need the predators for balance.” He nodded slowly. “I understand. But how do we get them to return?”

“You will go to them,” the tree instructed. “Speak to the guild. Tell them the dungeon is repaired and open. Assure them that as long as no one goes on a rampage, they are welcome.”

The Wendren chieftain’s shoulders tensed. He was a warrior, a protector—not a messenger. His voice held a note of reluctance. “Is not Lucy your sacred messenger?”

A faint sigh echoed through his thoughts. “I asked her. After what those fools did to her, she’s practically glued herself to the walls of the hollow tree. Trust me, I tried getting her out. If she doesn’t want to move, you’re not getting her off that wall.”

Marked Skull’s three eyes glimmered with concern. “I will do as you ask, sacred tree. Perhaps the festival will lift Lucy’s spirits.”

Rising to his feet, he turned to find the village’s eyes upon him. The Wendren knew when the sacred tree spoke to their chieftain. Anticipation buzzed in the air.

“I need a hunter, a warrior, a medicindren, and a shaman!” Marked Skull’s voice rang out, firm and resolute. “The sacred tree has commanded that we invite the predators to return, to restore balance.”

In mere moments, four Wendren stepped forward, their faces set with determination.

A proud, female warrior met his gaze. “The sacred tree has spoken, my chieftain. We will follow your lead.”

Marked Skull nodded, his resolve solidifying. “Good. Let us complete this task swiftly. And then, we shall ensure the festival is a success for all.”

With that, the delegation gathered their gear and turned toward the secret tunnels spiraling up through the hollow tree. The air was thick with purpose, the weight of the sacred tree’s will driving them forward.

The heavy rain drummed against the academy’s shroomwood roof, the stormclouds above casting a permanent twilight over the swampy grounds. The air was damp, the scent of wet earth and strange fungi mingling into something vaguely unsettling.

Adventurers milled around in uneasy clusters, eyes darting toward the dungeon’s entrance at the mountain’s base. It had been three days since the dungeon closed. Three days of waiting, wondering, and speculating about what had happened inside.

High atop the academy’s walls, Guild Leader Thalia Greaves scanned the landscape. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she adjusted the hood of her cloak against the rain.

A sharp intake of breath came from one of her colleagues beside her, followed by a tense shout: “Alarm!”

Thalia spun around, hand reaching for her weapon, and froze. Five upright deer-like figures stood at the dungeon’s entrance. The reports described them as Wendren, but even so, they looked strange. Something about them was off. Their presence made her skin crawl, but they were too far away to see clearly, and she had no intention of going any closer.

The tension between the two groups was a palpable thing, a knife’s edge that seemed ready to snap. Then, without warning, one of the Wendren tossed a bundle of shroomwood to the ground and ignited it with a flick of something Thalia didn’t quite see. The flames crackled, casting eerie shadows.

They sat down.

The Wendren just… sat there, their glowing eyes fixed on the academy’s walls.

“Ma’am…” one of the adventurers beside her whispered, gripping his weapon tightly. “Do you think... that’s an invitation?”

Thalia’s heart thudded in her chest. Her instincts screamed at her to stay put. But she wasn’t here to follow instincts—she was here to lead.

“Everyone, weapons down!” she ordered. Her voice was sharp, but her hand was steady.

She took a breath, forcing the tremor out of her limbs. “I think we are invited,” she said, eyes fixed on the eerie figures. “I’ll go. We match their numbers. You and you three—come with me. No sudden movements.”

Slowly, they approached the fire. Thalia’s heartbeat drummed in her ears as she closed the distance. Now only three meters away, she got a good look at the largest of the Wendren. He dwarfed the others, his presence commanding, his muddy face adorned with one extra glowing eye. Strange parasites clung to his wrists, their tails shaped like wicked blades. More parasites armored his shoulders, their thick shells bristling with tiny quills.

“Sit, predator,” the Wendren said, his voice deep and calm. “Sit and listen to the message the Sacred Tree asked me to deliver.”

Thalia hesitated, her mind spinning. Sacred Tree? Was this some dungeon god? She lowered herself to the ground, her cloak soaking up the damp earth.

“The Sacred Tree?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “What do you mean?”

Another Wendren hummed something melodic to their leader. The sound was oddly soothing, a contrast to the tension thrumming in Thalia’s body.

“You seem ill,” the leader said. “My hunter says he can hear your heart beating too fast. My Medicindren has herbs to calm you if you wish.”

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Thalia swallowed, forcing a shaky smile. “No… no, I’m fine. It’s just not every day dungeon creatures come out to talk to us.”

“We are Wendren, not dungeon creatures,” the leader said with a note of pride. “The Sacred Tree told us we are different, so it must be true. My name is Marked Skull, and I am the chieftain of the Wendren tribe. The Sacred Tree asked me to deliver a message.”

Marked Skull, she noted. The muddy half of his face looked like a crude mask. “What message do you bring, Marked Skull?”

“The dungeon is repaired,” he declared. “The Sacred Tree, in its wisdom, asks you disgusting predators to return. You are necessary for balance. But know this: if you ever rampage like that again, the Sacred Tree will destroy you.”

His words dripped with contempt, but Thalia held her ground.

“It wasn’t us who rampaged,” she explained, her voice firm but calm. “We tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen. We sealed the gate to trap them. Their deaths were their own doing.”

The Wendren exchanged glances, their melodic hums rising in a brief, haunting chorus. The sound tugged at something primal within her.

“So the predators have different tribes?” Marked Skull mused. “Interesting. We have seen many who respect balance and only hunt what the Sacred Tree offers. What is your tribe’s name?”

Thalia took a breath, her heart finally slowing. “We’re not a tribe. We’re the Adventurers’ Guild. We explore dungeons, catalog what we find, and collect resources.”

“Fascinating,” Marked Skull said. “But I have a feast to prepare, and little time for talk. Remember this: do not hunt for Lucy. She is the Sacred Tree’s messenger. She is hurt because of your kind, and the Sacred Tree does not forgive easily.”

Thalia’s throat tightened. “We promise no more rampages. And Lucy will be safe from us. Anyone who harms her will answer to the guild.”

Marked Skull gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Good.”

He stood, his towering form casting long shadows in the firelight. Without another word, he and his companions turned and disappeared into the dungeon’s entrance tunnel.

As they vanished, Thalia’s knees gave out. She fell onto her backside, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

“Gods dammit,” she muttered, wiping rain from her face. “Where are the guides when you need them?”

One of the adventurers beside her chuckled, tension finally breaking. “Well, the nice-looking one, Nole, was just about to take off her shirt when Ulrick dragged her off to ‘explore the swamp.’ Lucky bastard.”

Thalia groaned. “I need a drink.”

Adrian:

Adrian felt the familiar skittering presence returning through the hollow tree’s tunnels. Moments later, Chomp burst into the heart chamber, his mandibles clicking excitedly, antennae twitching in all directions.

“Adriiiiaaan! New floors! So many things! Big trees, squishy rivers, and dark places!” Chomp exclaimed, vibrating with barely contained energy. He scuttled in frantic circles around the dungeon heart, his legs moving so fast they were a blur. Adrian’s core pulsed slowly, trying to keep up with the barrage of information.

“Slow down, Chomp. One thing at a time.”

“Okay, okay! First, big trees! Like, huuuge! And mushrooms with weird colors! Then rivers that go squish! And—oh, oh!—I saw shadows that were like, sssshhhhhh!”

As Chomp zipped around the hollow tree chamber, the oculnid mounted on the wall valiantly tried to track his movements. Its large eye spun wildly in its abdomen, jerking left, then right, then left again—faster and faster.

Chomp skidded past the oculnid. “And then! There was this biiiiig mushroom that went—”

The oculnid’s eye suddenly crossed, its spinneret legs trembling. It wobbled, its grip on the tree wall loosening. For a split second, it clung desperately.

Then—

Plop!

It tumbled off the wall and landed on the fleshy ground with a soft, defeated thud.

Adrian’s heart glowed faintly as he watched the fallen oculnid try to right itself, still dizzy, its eye spiraling in confusion.

Adrian gave a long, weary pulse. “Chomp, maybe slow down... You’re taking out my surveillance.”

Chomp barely paused, his legs a blur again. “Sorry, sorry! Too much to tell!” He zipped off in another circle.

The oculnid flopped on the ground, its legs twitching in confusion. The noise reverberated through the hollow tree chamber.

Lucy, hanging limp from the wall in a bizarre sleeping position, twitched. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused.

“Huh...?” she mumbled, her voice muffled by sleep. She glanced down, saw the oculnid wobbling back to its place, and groggily asked, “Did... did the wall fall down?”

She yawned, stretched her limbs her insectoid legs splaying in all directions one at a time.

Adrian’s core pulsed with exasperation. He watched the oculnid finally reach its spot again, still wobbling, its eye now refusing to rotate further than a few degrees at a time.

He let out a mental sigh. “What the hell has my dungeon developed into?”

Meanwhile, Chomp zipped by once more, barely missing the oculnid as it flailed in terror. “AND THEN I SAW THESE REALLY BIG TREES THAT WERE ALL BONES AND I THINK I—”

Just as the chaos reached a crescendo — Lucy dangling upside-down, Chomp vibrating with excitement, and the oculnid woozily clinging to the wall — the entrance to the hollow tree rustled slightly.

Marked Skull appeared, his imposing figure framed by the damp twilight of the swamp. He stepped inside, his glowing eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene:

* Chomp skittering in frantic circles, legs a blur.

* Lucy swaying gently, still clinging to the wall, stifling a giggle.

* The oculnid, looking like it questioned every life choice that led to this moment.

* Adrian’s core pulsing steadily, exuding an air of exhausted resignation.

Marked Skull’s jaw shifted. He blinked once. Twice.

Without a word, he took two slow, deliberate steps backward.

Then he turned around and walked back toward the village.

A beat of silence.

Adrian muttered, “Probably for the best.”

Chomp stopped mid-skitter. “Did I scare him off?”

Lucy snorted. “Nah, I think we all did.”

Adrian sighed. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

“Okay, enough of that! Chomp, sit! Lucy, go out and play with the Wendren or something!” Adrian commanded, his core pulsing with irritation. Then he focused on the oculnid, its eye still spiraling. “And you! Close your eye until you’re steady again!”

Chomp skidded to an abrupt stop and plopped down, legs twitching. Lucy groaned but unlatched herself from the wall, her insectoid limbs stretching. “Fine, fine… I guess I’ll see what Marked Skull wanted.” With a reluctant glance at Adrian’s glowing heart, she finally slipped out of the hollow tree, leaving for the first time in three days. An angry Adrian could work miracles, it seemed.

The oculnid obediently closed its eye, trying to recover from its dizzying ordeal.

“Ahh, much better.” Adrian’s pulse steadied as he turned his attention back to Chomp. “Alright, Chomp, let’s go over what you saw. Nice and slow this time. You were gone for three days—start with the third floor.”

Chomp’s mandibles clicked excitedly. “In the third level, it was dark. Very, very dark. I couldn’t see much—only the Daddy Tree glowing with moss and stuff. Everything else was shadows. I ran into a tree twice!” He huffed indignantly before continuing. “But something was there. I heard sneaky-sneaky things! Maybe four or five of them. And there were glowing shroomtrees, but not many. Big glowing bugs too—almost as big as a Flesh Crawler! They had bright, glowy spots on their bellies.”

Adrian processed this, his mind already spinning with ideas. “Anything else?”

“Yeah! Near the tunnel to the fourth level, there were bone trees! The leaves were made of flesh. Tasted weird but… good?” Chomp tilted his head, pondering. “Oh! And a fleshy tentacle tried to grab me, but I was too fast!”

Adrian’s core gave a thoughtful pulse. Bone trees, flesh leaves, and tentacles? This place just keeps getting stranger.

“Alright. What about the fourth level?” he asked, curiosity tingling through his awareness.

Chomp shuddered, his antennae trembling. “That place was weird. Flesh everywhere! Tentacles on hills trying to eat me. Walking flesh-things. Rivers of red stuff. And the rain—it was red too! Tasted like… like when I ate Lucy’s parents’ legs.” He paused, considering. “Everything chased me. Way more than it should’ve. Even the bone trees were there. Good thing you made me fast!”

Adrian’s pulse dimmed with unease. The dungeon attacking its own monsters? Something’s wrong down there. I’ll need to send someone smarter than Chomp to investigate.

“Got it,” Adrian muttered. “And the last level?”

Chomp brightened. “It’s a swamp! Like the first floor, but not like the first floor! The trees were huuuuge—I couldn’t even see the storm, but I heard it. The rain was still there, though. The water was clear, no mud! The ground was hard, and there were flowers everywhere. Big flowers! All different colors. Lucy will love it!” He paused, mandibles clicking thoughtfully. “It was boring, though. Nothing tried to eat me, not even the giant bugs.”

An oversized, tranquil swamp with clear water and flowers? Adrian mused. That’s… oddly peaceful.

He was about to consider biomass costs for populating the floors when a surge of awareness hit him. Through his oculnids, he caught sight of multiple adventurer teams entering the dungeon’s first floor. His core pulsed brighter.

Perfect.