Floor seventy-three sucks.

I pull myself out of the waist-high muck that is bubbling around myself, as I trudge through the pool of mud, the wet, thick coagulation seeping through and into my boots and legs. Thankfully, all of the giant leeches are dead. Double thankfully, I don’t have blood for them to drink to begin with. But…

I rub a hand along my chest, pulling off a small leech that has latched onto my metal breastplate and I yank it off, throwing it away into the distance. I appreciate its enthusiasm, but there’s nothing here for it and apart from that -

I shake out my hands, a shudder running up my arms and to my spine.

- leeches are gross.

Blech.

Apparently there are still small leeches everywhere. I guess they don’t count as monsters, but as critters like those tiny spiders from uh… floor… uh…

I stop, scratching my head.

Well, whatever floor that was. I don’t remember.

Shrugging I keep walking, trudging forward as fast as I can, but it’s slow going.

  I have no idea how far behind the hero is. I have no idea how far behind the thing that reaches is. I can’t feel either of them anymore. It is as if they simply ceased to be after having left my own sense of perception. Which would be very convenient for me, but I don’t think that’s how object-permanence works. Sometimes this all feels like a weird dream. Like an extended metaphor being stretched out very, very far.

I reach down, grabbing another leech and pulling it off. The wormy body of the creature stretches out as its teeth stick, latched into my armor. Talk about good bones, these little suckers could bite into a dragon if they felt like it. Something squishes beneath my boot. A dead giant leech perhaps. I’m just assuming the dead part, but let's hope. Hope together with me, guy. But it doesn’t move, whatever it is. So I pretend this never happened and keep walking. It’s a good way to live your life, honestly. Very healthy.

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I see the staircase come into form ahead of me and I keep pressing towards it, I keep pushing through the muck towards it. I hate it here and I want to go.

This is a good body and I’m going to use it to the fullest. I can’t let this one go to waste. Who knows what I’ll be next time, assuming the dungeon-master doesn’t try to torture me somehow. But that’s assuming the dungeon won’t just override their intentions again. I shake my head.

Strange times.

A claw latches onto the staircase and pulls myself up and out of the mud.

A claw? No, that’s just my hand. I shake my head. Focus. Focus.

  Rising up onto the lowest steps, I shake my body, trying to get as much of the filth off and out of it as possible. Just because I’m a skeleton, doesn’t mean I can’t hold myself to high hygienic standards, guy. Besides, we have a guest, so we have to be on our best behavior, at least until eyeyoume goes home. So keep it together, you animal. I know what you’re like, guy.

Looking back across the mire, I take a moment to appreciate the distance I’ve traversed. One could say that I’m… ad-MIRE-ing it. Haha!

Floors are a lot easier to clear in reverse, since everything has been taken care of already. It’s just a straight walk from one staircase to the next.

  Something glints on the far side of the muck and I narrow my eyes, looking as I see him rising up the staircase. As I see a hero’s silhouette rising up the staircase, shadowed by the three further ones just behind him. I should keep running, but a part of me wants to stand here and watch the hero have to jump into the mud. Let’s see him get his stupid face a little dirty, his stupid, perfect armor a little muddy. It’ll do him some good to sink into the dirt and it’ll do me some good to see it happen.

I smile in giddy anticipation, rubbing another leech off of my leg.

A bright light shines out on the far end and I narrow my gaze suspiciously, as I see the wave of white-magic shine out. As the priestess makes a bridge of solid-white magic that they begin hurrying over after me.

I forgot that she could do that.

Damn it!

  Turning, I run up the staircase, mud splashing out of my boots. It’s just not fair. It’s just not fair! It’s just not fair how some people just seem to always be carried across the metaphorical swamp, how some of us have to sink down neck-deep and press forward while others get a nice, comfy, rainbow colored bridge to walk over.

I hate him.

I run, the metal of my boots clanking.

I leap, bounding up the stairs, landing to only leap again a second later as I hurry. I’m a frog! I’m a frog! Ribbit!

Stupid hero, having his stupid easy life. I bet my cape looks like shit now. It’s all wet and mucky and it doesn’t even flow right now. I bet I looked stupid running away. All of my hard work from before is probably ruined. They probably think I’m some dirty, mud-covered weirdo now.

Ribbit!

I won’t forgive him. I won’t forgive them.

Those jerks.

I climb towards floor seventy-two.

I can probably keep up this pace for a while, assuming I don’t mess up or get stuck or something dumb like that. But if there are too many floors like that, where they have an advantage, they’re going to catch me before I make it much further.

Better them than the thing that reaches though. But I’d prefer neither. If I had the choice, I’d make it all the way.

If it was up to me. I’d run all the way to floor one in this body. Even if I don’t have a sense of taste or smell, even if I don’t have skin to feel the warmth of the sun above the dungeon. If I can get out, I’ll take whatever I can.

I don’t really care anymore. I just want to get out.

Floor seventy-two shines out from above and I leap towards it.

Ribbit.