The mood in the tavern was charged with a mix of curiosity and tension. The adventurers had arranged chairs for the Wendren, but the seats were far too small for the towering, antlered beings. The Wendren, however, didn’t mind; they sat comfortably on folded blankets on the floor, the table’s height still allowing them easy access to the food.

The only exceptions were Lucy and Chomp. Chomp, with his broad grin, stood tall enough to snatch whatever morsel caught his eye, while Lucy, who couldn’t sit due to her insectoid body structure, happily handed him food — along with generous head pats and affectionate scratches. Lucy didn’t mind standing; she even slept that way.

As the Wendren removed their ceremonial masks to eat, their skull-like faces and branching antlers were on full display. The parasites integrated into their bodies, forming additional limbs or body parts, drew mixed reactions from the adventurers. Some hesitated before biting into their own meals, their gazes flicking between the Wendren and their plates.

Marked Skull surveyed the feast laid out before them — a bounty of roasted meats, bread, and vegetables — and commented, “This is a lot of hunted meat! We usually eat many plants. Meat is tasty, but it takes much longer to digest.” He carefully filled his plate, prioritizing salads, roasted vegetables, and only a modest portion of grilled meat.

Thalia, watching curiously, asked, “From what we’ve learned, your kind evolved from herbivores. It’s fascinating that you can eat meat at all. Do you have farms inside the dungeon to grow plants?”

Marked Skull paused, his head tilting slightly. “What is a farm? What does it do?”

“Oh, farms?” Thalia began enthusiastically. “Farms are areas where we nurture specific plants. We remove the unwanted ones — those that take nutrients but don’t provide food — and care for the useful ones. By making the area more suitable for growth, we ensure a steady supply of edible plants.”

Marked Skull’s eyes gleamed with interest as he munched on a handful of greens. “This could help feed my kin and the lowersiblings! Feeding them is very important.”

Thalia’s curiosity deepened. “What do you mean by ‘lowersiblings’?” she asked, taking a bite of her meat.

“Lowersiblings!” Marked Skull said, his tone filled with reverence. “They are like us, but they walk on four legs. On their Day of Awakening, they rise to stand on two legs and become full siblings — Wendren.” He paused and glanced around. “But now that I think about it, I don’t see any pens where you keep your lowersiblings.”

A moment of confused silence hung in the air. Then Thalia, barely suppressing a smile, explained the human method of reproduction.

Marked Skull’s jaw went slack, the half-chewed salad forgotten. His eyes widened in abject shock as he absorbed the explanation. The Wendren warriors nearby leaned in, sensing something important had transpired. When Marked Skull finally found his voice, he turned and relayed what he’d just learned.

Four Wendren warriors froze, their expressions cycling through confusion, horror, and disbelief. One of them muttered a guttural phrase in their language. Another covered their face with both hands, shaking their head.

The adventurers at the table couldn’t help but chuckle, the initial tension giving way to shared amusement.

As the banquet continued, one of the Wendren warriors quietly rose to his feet. His antlers caught the flickering light of the braziers as he moved with slow, deliberate grace toward one of the flames illuminating the room. Reaching into a small pouch at his side, he withdrew a handful of dried plants and tossed them into the fire.

The braziers hissed softly as the herbs ignited, releasing a sweet, calming fragrance. A pleasant warmth seemed to radiate from the scent, easing the tension in the room. Conversations softened, shoulders relaxed, and no one seemed inclined to object to the unexpected ritual.

Satisfied with his task, the warrior turned to return to his place — but something caught his eye.

An adventurer, seated at the far end of the table, leaned back with his arms crossed. He was broad-shouldered and heavily muscled, the flickering firelight accentuating his physique. The Wendren warrior’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and challenge.

Marked Skull, observing the exchange, made no move to intervene. He trusted his warriors. They knew their purpose here — diplomacy and respect — and what lines not to cross.

The warrior stepped forward, his movements cautious yet purposeful. He stopped in front of the muscular adventurer and tilted his head slightly, studying him. A silent challenge passed between them. Words weren’t exchanged; they weren’t needed. With careful gestures, the Wendren conveyed his desire — a test of strength.

The adventurer blinked, then grinned broadly. He slammed his elbow onto the table, his hand open and ready. Other adventurers noticed and began to gather around, their excitement growing.

“This,” Thalia explained to a curious Wendren nearby, “is called arm wrestling.”

The Wendren warrior’s eyes narrowed with focused intensity. He stepped up, mirroring the adventurer’s pose. Their hands locked together, sinewy strength meeting raw muscle.

“Ready? Go!” someone shouted.

The struggle began. The Wendren’s muscles tensed, the parasites woven into his arms pulsing slightly, their segmented forms adding reinforcement. The adventurer’s teeth gritted as he pushed back, veins bulging on his forehead. The table creaked under the strain.

A few moments later, the adventurer’s arm wavered, then slammed to the table with a resounding thud.

Cheers erupted. The Wendren warrior’s face lit up with a proud, toothy grin — a rare expression of joy.

Laughter and claps on the back followed, and one of the adventurers slid a large mug toward the victorious Wendren. The warrior picked it up cautiously, examining the frothy liquid inside. The strong, malty scent tickled his senses. He glanced around, noticing the other adventurers eagerly downing their drinks.

Hesitant but curious, he lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip.

His eyes widened, and his whole body jolted upright. The unexpected burn of the alcohol shocked his senses — but then the warmth spread, pleasant and tingling. A slow smile stretched across his face.

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The adventurers cheered as he took another, larger gulp.

And so, he became the first Wendren to ever taste ale.

By the end of the night, the Wendren warrior and the adventurers were laughing, leaning on each other, and challenging anyone and everyone to more rounds of arm wrestling. The divide between the two groups seemed to shrink, the laughter and shared challenges building bonds stronger than any words could.

Marked Skull watched with satisfaction, his eyes glinting with approval. Perhaps, just perhaps, true understanding wasn’t so far out of reach.

Ulrick and his team felt a wave of relief wash over them. The nerves they’d been carrying since the Wendren accepted their invitation finally started to settle. The memory of Marked Skull’s brutal efficiency was still fresh, and they were all too aware of the possibility that their earlier encounter with him — involving the death of his sister — might have left a bitter taste.

Marked Skull’s occasional cold glances reinforced that fear, but it was clear he placed his people above personal vengeance. He took no action in retaliation and was surprisingly pleasant — so long as he wasn’t consumed by raw rage and hacking royal idiots to pieces.

As the evening wore on, another dynamic became increasingly obvious: Lucy’s fascination with Nole’s friendship. The two of them were practically inseparable, whispering and giggling like they’d known each other forever.

But the night’s funniest moment involved Gale, Nole, and Marked Skull’s impeccable timing.

Nole, in her usual playful way, took Gale’s hand and pressed it against her chest after he complimented her. “Awww, you little charmer! At this rate, I’m going to make a man out of you!” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

Before anyone could react, Marked Skull, thoroughly misunderstanding the situation, blurted out, “Oh! Gale! I think this female wants to mate with you!”

The entire tavern exploded in laughter. Adventurers howled, Wendren warriors exchanged confused glances, and Gale turned crimson. Marked Skull tilted his head, utterly baffled, as did the other Wendren.

As the laughter finally died down, another incident stole the spotlight.

A male adventurer accidentally brushed against Lucy’s insectoid lower body. In an instant, she shrieked and scuttled up the wall, clinging upside down to the ceiling above the table. Her bioluminescent markings flickered with anxiety.

The adventurer apologized profusely, his face pale. Fortunately, Lucy’s insect parts preserved her modesty, though her face glowed with embarrassment.

Nole tried coaxing her down, her voice gentle. “It’s okay, Lucy! He didn’t mean it. Come back down.”

Lucy’s trembling calmed slightly, but she stayed put.

With a sigh, Marked Skull stood up. His towering form stretched high enough to reach her easily. Without ceremony, he plucked her gently from the ceiling and set her down beside him.

A flustered Lucy shuffled back to her spot, her eyes fixed on the floor. Ulrick’s laughter bubbled up, setting off another wave of chuckles that did nothing to ease Lucy’s embarrassment.

Just as the tension was dissipating, Thalia froze in her seat, her eyes wide with terror as she glanced down between her legs.

A pair of beady eyes stared back at her. Chomp’s head poked out from under the table, tongue lolling.

In a voice as innocent as ever, he asked, “Do you have more chicken?”

Her shaking hand reached for a chicken leg. Without breaking eye contact, she held it out. Chomp’s tongue shot out, wrapped around the drumstick, and reeled it into his mouth.

Then, with unnerving slowness, his head receded back under the table, his eyes never leaving hers. A string of saliva dripped onto her clothes.

Thalia exhaled shakily. “I need a drink.”

The table roared with laughter again.

Lukas:

The order was clear: Only selected adventurers were allowed inside the tavern while the Wendren delegation was there. The guild had conducted a thorough investigation to identify anyone who might cause problems. Anyone deemed a risk — even slightly — was ordered to stay in the dorms.

Not much was known about the Wendren: their strength, culture, or numbers. A single mistake could turn them into a dungeon-backed threat against humanity. Nobody wanted that.

Lukas wasn’t one of the problem-makers, but he wasn’t chosen to stay in the dorms either. His role was clear: guard duty. He stood watch, his eyes scanning the surroundings, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

He knew who was inside that tavern. Lucy. He remembered confronting her parents for her. She’d always been a good kid, and when they thought her lost, it had almost broken him. Now, here she was, half-insect, tied to the dungeon, and yet somehow… still Lucy.

It gnawed at him that he couldn’t be in there, sharing in the cultural exchange, making sure she was okay. But he’d do his job. After his experience in the dungeon — the only adventurer to have seen the dungeon heart — he knew he could be more than he was now. The academy being so close to his village had opened his eyes to new horizons. The world was vast, and now that the swamp had overtaken everything familiar, he felt the urge to explore it.

A traveling adventurer — it didn’t sound so bad. And with Karry joining his group, he wasn’t held back by duty to the village anymore. Other adventurers were delivering food and protection; in a sense, he was free. He could see it clearly: journeying with Karry, discovering the ruins of old empires, unearthing treasures and secrets hidden in the wilds. But to survive that life, they’d need to be stronger. There were monsters out there — ones not bound to dungeons — lurking in woods, mountains, and forgotten places.

He took a deep breath, determination settling in his chest. The future felt open, full of possibilities.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

Lukas squinted into the distance. Something small and spindly was making its way toward the academy gates.

“Is that…?” His eyes widened. “Okay, nobody sound the alarm. I’ll go check it out. Those things are harmless as far as we know.”

He hurried down the stairs of the guard post, nearly stumbling in his haste. He slipped through the small door built into the gate, meant for easy access when the gates were closed. Outside, he got a clearer look.

An Oculnid.

The peaceful spider-like creature stopped and stared at him, its large eye glinting in the torchlight.

Lukas hesitated. “Uh… hello, eyespider thing. Are you looking for the Wendren?” He spoke cautiously, unsure if the creature understood him.

The Oculnid remained still, its gaze fixed on him. Just when he thought it might not respond, it moved — not away, but toward him.

“Okay… I can take you to them if you want?” he offered.

The Oculnid seemed to consider this. Then, without warning, it scrambled up his back. Lukas froze as he felt the creature’s legs wrap around him: two hooked over his shoulders, four around his waist, and the last two resting on his legs.

For a moment, panic shot through him. Had it decided to attack?

But no. It just clung there, motionless.

He let out a shaky breath. “If you bite me, you’re not getting into that tavern. I hope you know that.”

Carefully, he started walking back toward the academy, the Oculnid riding along like an unsettling backpack.

From the wall above, his fellow guards gawked in disbelief.

“Lukas! Have you lost your marbles? You’re cuddling a dungeon monster, man!” one of them shouted.

“Listen,” Lukas called back, trying to keep his voice steady, “the last time something happened to Lucy, the whole dungeon went insane. I’m pretty sure the dungeon just wants to make sure she and the Wendren are safe.”

A tense silence followed. Then a voice behind him muttered, “Fine, whatever, man… I’m right behind you.”

Lukas didn’t glance back, but he could hear the adventurer’s boots trailing him, accompanied by whispered curses.

“Just keep your hand off your sword, okay?” Lukas said. “Is the giant eye staring at you?”

“Yep,” the adventurer replied, his voice tight. “It’s totally staring at me. That thing could blink sometimes… it’s creepy as hell.”

“Then don’t do anything that looks like a threat,” Lukas instructed, his tone firm.

As they approached the tavern, a faint glow caught Lukas’s eye. He glanced up — and his stomach dropped.

Dozens of Venomwings circled high above the academy, their bioluminescent patterns casting eerie glows against the night sky. Their silent wings sliced through the air, a menacing presence that couldn’t be ignored.

“Oh shit,” Lukas muttered. “The dungeon really doesn’t do things halfway…”

The adventurer behind him looked up and froze, his face pale. “We are so screwed if this thing thinks we’re a threat.”

Lukas took another steadying breath and kept moving forward, the Oculnid clinging tightly to him. The weight of the spider was nothing compared to the weight of the dungeon’s watchful eyes.

He just hoped the night wouldn’t end in disaster.