The room was darkly lit by the flickering glow of candles and a few braziers. Shadows danced across the faces of the gathered advisors, teachers, division leaders, and — for some reason — the tavern owner. As the last person finally took their seat, Thalia Greaves, Guild Leader of the academy, took a deep breath.

The emergency meeting could begin.

“As you all know, the Wendren were recognized by the system as a sentient race. This could throw the entire dungeon operation off its wheels if handled poorly,” Thalia began.

An advisor immediately interjected. “Not only that, but the political landscape just got another player. We need to decide if we support or suppress this new race. For now, they live in the dungeon, but what happens if they venture out? And let’s not forget — the Theocracy in the north is already engaged in a trade war with us. This will give them the perfect excuse to declare full-blown war!”

A teacher, who had been deep in thought, spoke up. “If we can get the Wendren on our side… they might be interested in allying with us. The Theocracy would undoubtedly try to wipe them out if given the chance. But our king isn’t a murderous idiot, as far as I know. The Wendren’s potential military strength could be impressive if they keep multiplying.”

Thalia rested her chin on her hand. “We don’t know their levels yet, or exactly where they reside. But since the dungeon’s recent level-up, they must be on the third floor.” (Unbeknownst to them, the dungeon had leveled up three times at once.) “We should prepare a diplomatic mission. We don’t have the authority to speak for the kingdom, but I doubt the king will mind if we establish proper channels to reach them. I volunteer to lead these diplomatic relations.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“That’s insane!” one of the division leaders blurted out. “You’d have to go in there yourself! We don’t even know exactly where they are. The dungeon just expanded to the academy’s doorstep, and let’s not forget — it killed a 15-strong delegation of the royal knights!”

Thalia rolled her eyes. “I’ve thought about that. But let’s be honest — this dungeon isn’t normal. An entire ecosystem inside, a new dungeon type, and now the Wendren evolving. And don’t forget — the Wendren came out to invite us back in. They did that on the order of the ‘Sacred Tree’ who supposedly rebuilt the first and second floors. There’s more to this Sacred Tree than we realize, and we need to find out what before the person the king sends in royally screws this up.”

She paused. “The real problem is — how do we find them and talk?”

A sly grin spread across the tavern owner’s face. “We throw a party to celebrate their achievement,” he said. “Send Ulrick and his team in to look for the Wendren and invite them. I’ll stock up on drinks and food. Give me three days, and I’ll have everything ready. Everything’s easier with drinks! And don’t worry about the cost — I’ll just send the bill to the king. ‘For the establishment of diplomatic relations!’ Hahaha!”

A little shock rippled through the group at the tavern owner's suggestion. He was clearly motivated by profit... but... that could work. If the Wendren sent representatives to the surface, it could open the door for peaceful contact. The Wendren leader, Marked Skull, had shown curiosity about how they conducted business when he last invited them back into the dungeon.

It sounded insane — but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

Ulrick and his Team:

The group sat around a crackling fire deep in the swamp, sheltered beneath a tarp that Vin — of all people — had somehow packed into his backpack. The aroma of stew simmering over the flames filled the damp air, offering a momentary reprieve from their hunger before they slept.

Ulrick and the others were still processing the global announcement they’d witnessed just a few hours ago while collecting herbs.

“I can’t believe it… the Wendren, a sentient race under the system… and they look more dead than alive!” Nole blurted out, disbelief clear in her voice.

“They aren’t stupid, though,” Brill interjected. “We’ve all seen them talking to Lucy, especially their big leader, Marked Skull. If you ask me, it wasn’t a question of if they’d be recognized, but when. The same thing probably happened to humans eons ago — we just don’t remember it.”

“Theory interesting. Very plausible.” Vin stirred the stew with his usual deadpan expression. “Hope goblins don’t get recognized. Hate goblins.”

Nole snickered. “Well, being covered in shit all the time doesn’t exactly scream sentience. Don’t worry, Vin — goblins aren’t getting recognized anytime soon.”

A sigh escaped from Vin as he continued cooking.

Gale leaned forward. “The Theocracy in the north is definitely going to have a problem with this. Those fanatics have been itching for an excuse to declare war for years. My dad would send me a message if anything serious happened. He’s one of the king’s advisors.”

The group fell silent. The only sounds were the croaking frogs and the gentle patter of rain on the tarp.

“Wait…” Ulrick coughed, nearly choking on the jerky Vin had warned him not to eat. “Your father is an advisor to the king? We recruited you in a trade city, not the capital! Why are we only hearing about this now?!”

“What? My mom lives in that trade city. I wanted to be my own person — not just sit in my dad’s shadow!” Gale muttered, realizing his slip-up.

Nole grinned mischievously and scooted closer. “Oh, you should have told us earlier! That means you have money, right?” She playfully ruffled his hair.

“Nole, get off him.” Brill’s voice was firm. “We’re not using him as a walking bank. I respect that you want to make your own path, Gale. We’re an adventurer group — stuff like this shouldn’t matter to us.”

Nole shrugged and shifted back, much to Gale’s relief.

“Right, right!” Nole waved a hand dismissively. “Back to the Wendren. We’ve dealt with them before, and I have this creepy feeling the guild is going to send us on a mission related to them as soon as we get back.”

Ulrick watched the ominous storm cloud above, safe from the rain under the tarp. “Our bags are full of meat and herbs, and I desperately need a bath. But after that global announcement… we have no choice but to go back. We’re the guides for this dungeon. Maybe the dungeon even opened up again while we were out.”

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The fire crackled softly, the storm rumbling in the distance. Tomorrow promised more than just a return to the academy — it promised a new chapter none of them were ready for.

The Royal Court:

The throne room of Castle Valenridge was a grand hall of polished marble, golden banners, and heavy anticipation. King Aldemar Valenridge sat atop his ornate throne, fingers tapping the armrest as murmurs spread among the gathered nobles. Beside him stood Chad Gepit, his trusted advisor, and before them, Guildmaster Eran bowed low.

“Explain it to me again,” King Aldemar said, his voice cold and precise. “What, exactly, are these... Wendren?”

Chad adjusted his spectacles, his tone calm and measured. “Your Majesty, the Wendren are creatures that dwell within the newly-formed dungeon near the academy. They’ve recently been recognized by the system as a sentient race.”

“Sentient? And they developed inside this new dungeon?” a rotund nobleman scoffed. “That dungeon is what... two months old?”

Guildmaster Eran stepped forward, his expression grim. “I’ve received multiple reports on the Wendren. They look like humanoid deer, about one and a half times the size of a regular human. They’re riddled with parasites, but the parasites seem to be a part of their bodies — one parasite even acts as their thumb.”

He continued, “In the earliest reports, they were seen herding and guarding deer-creatures — similar in appearance but walking on all fours. These deer-creatures seemed like animals. However, recent information suggests the Wendren have unified into a tribal community and now reside in a root labyrinth around the dungeon core, defending it. The deer-creatures have vanished; we assume they are with the Wendren.”

“The Wendren are strong, relying on raw muscle,” Eran concluded. “But now that the system recognizes them as sentient, they’ll likely gain classes. This makes them potentially dangerous — and potentially valuable allies.”

“Allies?” another noble exclaimed. “You’re suggesting we ally with monsters?”

“They’re not monsters anymore,” Chad injected. “The system deems them people. We should start doing the same. There’s another question: are they now citizens of the kingdom? Technically, they live inside our borders, but since they reside within a dungeon, they may not see it that way. And is the inside of a dungeon considered kingdom territory?”

Eran nodded. “This dungeon is... unusual. It doesn’t have traditional rooms. So far, we know of two floors, but reports suggest a recent level-up. The first floor is an open field inside a mountain caldera, covered by a perpetual storm cloud and filled with a sprawling swamp. New reports indicate the area around the mountain is turning into swamp as well. The second floor is a vast underground cavern filled with a mushroom forest.”

The king leaned forward. “So, this dungeon encompasses a large territory?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Eran confirmed. “For most dungeons, this question wouldn’t matter — small rooms and corridors don’t interest kingdoms. But here, with open spaces, resources, and territory, it’s different.”

King Aldemar considered this. “For now, I declare the interior of the dungeon a lawless gray zone. The surrounding area remains part of the kingdom. In a few days, Lord Cedric Marveil will depart for the Swamplands as the new baron. Chad, you’ll accompany him to consult with Lucy and advise Lord Cedric. While there, try to establish diplomatic relations with the Wendren. It will be more effective than attempting diplomacy from here.”

“I will do so, Your Highness.” Chad bowed.

The king’s gaze hardened. “Next, we must strengthen the northern border. The Theocracy of Hreinlond, their so-called God of Purity Vareth, will see this as an affront. They’ve been waiting for an excuse to escalate our trade disagreements into a full-blown war.”

A ripple of shock passed through the nobles. Many hadn’t considered this consequence.

“The Theocracy may excel in offensive magic, but we know how to build fortresses,” the king continued. “We’ll send the captain of the royal guard to train the troops. He’s the only Tier 4 warrior we have — his presence will make a difference.”

The king’s voice dropped, cold and resolute. “Prepare yourselves for war. It’s only a matter of time.”

Theocracy of Hreinlond:

The hall of Purity’s Light was a place of cold brilliance. White marble walls, adorned with gold-inlaid flames, rose high above the gathered clergy. Braziers filled with holy fire burned at regular intervals, casting flickering light that left no shadow unjudged.

At the head of the hall, seated on an elevated throne of polished ivory, was the High Priest of Vareth. His robes, immaculate and shimmering white, seemed to radiate an inner light. His eyes, cold and unwavering, swept across the assembled cardinals.

A low murmur of unease filled the air. The global announcement had shaken the foundations of their faith.

“Silence!” the High Priest’s voice cut through the whispers, sharp and final.

The room fell deathly quiet.

“Explain to me,” he said, his voice trembling with restrained fury, “how these abominations — these parasite-ridden monstrosities — have been deemed sentient by the system.”

A cardinal stepped forward, his face pale. “Your Holiness, our spies in Ashenvail’s Adventurer’s Guild confirm that these creatures, called Wendren, have unified. They now dwell in the root labyrinth surrounding the dungeon core. The dungeon itself... it has grown. It now encompasses not just the caldera, but the lands beyond.”

The High Priest’s jaw clenched. “The misguided kingdom of Ashenvail cannot keep their corruption in check. And now, they allow this blight to fester beneath their very feet?”

Another cardinal spoke, his voice shaking. ““It is worse, Your Holiness. My spies report that these beasts have been seen multiple times in that parasite-riddled swamp. And the last sightings... they were conversing with adventurers. There is a possibility that Ashenvail may choose not to eradicate these abominations. Who knows what those heretics are capable of?”

The High Priest’s voice dripped with venom. “They would consort with filth and aberration? This cannot stand. In the name of Vareth, the Cleansing Flame, we will purge this cancer from the world!”

The cardinals murmured in fervent agreement, their eyes gleaming with righteous fire.

“Mobilize the troops!” the High Priest commanded. “The time for patience has passed. We will march upon Ashenvail, cleanse their corruption, and eradicate these parasite abominations. The flame of Vareth will burn away their impurity!”

He rose from his throne, his presence towering and unyielding.

“The Holy Crusade begins now.”

A chilling silence fell over the hall, broken only by the crackling of the sacred flames.

In the shadows, a cardinal with a hidden smile slipped away. His spies had served him well — and in the fires of war, he would forge his own path to power.

At the Academy Tavern:

The tavern at the academy was alive with the usual bustle: the clinking of mugs, bursts of laughter, and the warm glow of the hearth. In the corner, Lukas, Karry, and two other adventurers sat, their faces flushed from drink and cheer.

At their table, the spy — known to them simply as Corwin — took another slow sip of his ale, the bitter taste doing nothing to settle the turmoil in his gut.

They’re good people, he thought, his fingers brushing the holy emblem hidden inside his pocket. The cold metal of Vareth’s symbol pressed against his palm, a reminder of his true purpose.

“Another round?” Karry asked, her smile wide and carefree.

Corwin nodded, forcing a grin. “Sure. One more.”

As the conversation flowed around him, he felt the weight of the global announcement like a stone in his chest. The Wendren — those parasite-ridden abominations — had been recognized as sentient. And worse, the academy’s leadership was already discussing diplomatic relations with them.

Blasphemy.

He took another sip, eyes flicking to Lukas. The young hunter, so earnest and reliable, had no idea what Corwin truly was. None of them did.

“By the way, Corwin,” Lukas said, leaning back in his chair. “You coming with us tomorrow? We’ve got a new route mapped out. Should be good hunting.”

Corwin’s smile felt like a crack in his mask. “Yeah... sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

But his mind was elsewhere. Tonight, he would receive another message — a missive slipped under his door, written in coded phrases. The High Priest of Hreinlond would want to know the academy’s next moves. He would demand action, obedience, and if necessary... betrayal.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the noise of the tavern fading into a dull roar.

“Oh, holy Vareth, grant me clarity.” The prayer echoed silently in his mind. His fingers tightened around the emblem.

When the time comes, will I be able to do it? Will I be able to turn on them — on Lukas, Karry, and the others?

The answer, he knew, was already decided. His loyalty was to Hreinlond, to the Cleansing Flame. Everything else — friendship, laughter, trust — was an illusion.

He opened his eyes, the false smile still in place.

Tomorrow, he would hunt with them. And when the time came, he would be ready to deliver the cleansing fire they never saw coming.