It’s just a road.

I run down the way that cuts through the floor which is filled with a thick, dense bramble. Thorns the size of my head, sprouting out of gigantic, coiling green vines fill the space on either side of the way that I follow.

But apart from that, there’s just the road. Just me and the road and I hurry down the way, listening to the voices talking in the distance behind myself, as the hero-party gives chase. They’re fast. How are they always so fast? I really do hate them, guy.

Well, not really.

But really.

It’s both, okay?

  I narrow my eyes, ducking underneath a brier that hangs out over the path and I jump over the scorched body of a person, sticking out of the equally, just as charred bud of a giant flower beneath them, that they grow out of. Flower people. Flower people. It’s like the meat floor, but its people and they’re made out of flowers.

Well. Grew out of. Before they got set on fire that is. On the bright side, their ash will go into the ground and nourish the thorns, which means, technically speaking, they’re still growing. Life is beautiful.

I duck, weaving through a tightening space of vines that seem to have overgrown the road here a little and then even more dead plant creatures. Ew. That one’s impaled on the thorns. Gross.

Dungeon life really is violent sometimes, you know?

Yeah, you know.

  Floor seventy-two is a road and some thorns, it’s nice though. Sometimes you just want to be in nature for a while, you know? I look around at the green of the thick, lush plants. I look at the bright, vibrant color that is nourished by the bodies of the dead. I like them. The briers. The brambles. The thorns that are just out to cut me. They remind me of something.

I run my fingers along the green, sharp edge of a particularly slender and elegant thorn that sticks out like a pointed ear, wiping off a drop of old blood from the tip of it.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

But I can’t remember what it is exactly.

Shrugging, I continue on my way, just as the sound of an explosion rings out from down behind myself. An orange light fills the room and I turn my head to look. Did they see me?

No. I narrow my eyes as I see the plume of smoke and the towering fires rise in the distance.

They’re burning their way through.

Gods I hate them.

They’re always taking the easy way.

Slipping through the next bramble, the thorns scratching my armor, I press further. I climb higher. I run faster.

  I hate how they always have an easy solution to every situation. They don’t get it. They’ll never get it. Those jerks. Don’t they know? Don’t they see? That struggle is the key. That CONVICTION is fine and good, but you need a little something more. Something with a little more glitz, with a little more glimmer. Something with a little…

Twinkle.

  Twilight is a door that will open no matter what you do or don’t do. The sun is going to set, the night will rise. And both of those things are going to happen no matter what. So you might as well do it the right way. Sometimes, sometimes the easiest way just isn’t the right way. That’s something the hero-party can’t understand. Well. Everybody except the monk. I’ll make an exception for her, if only out of personal reasons.

Though maybe that’s me being unprofessional again. I really should learn to separate my emotions from my work.

Just do the job. Just get it done.

  I leap, grabbing hold of a thick green brier and pulling myself up onto it. Turning around, I spare a glance to look back at the burning inferno behind myself. Flames tower and spiral high into the air, twisting and churning as they consume everything and anything and I watch, the orange glow reflecting off of my skull as the smoke seems to coalesce into a dark, ominous cloud against the far ceiling above.

A pale, cool wind breaks through the fire, lifting my cape up high, which I appreciate a lot for the dramatics it adds to my appearance. Thanks wind!

  “S’cool man,” says the wind and I nod to it before returning my gaze back to the destruction behind myself. My eyes look over the crimson forest in the distance and I watch as a towering bramble, blackened and charred, collapses down into a heap of ash and beyond it, I see a single silhouette levitating in the air, her hands spread wide and fire oozing out of her fingers, her body burning, burning like…

I narrow my eyes.

  I was going to go on some dramatic tangent about… I don’t know. Fire and birds and stuff. A phoenix maybe? Or maybe something dragony, but hey, she looks a little like Piotr from here and I like that more. I rub my skull. I miss Piotr. He was a good friend. Raising a hand, I wave to the burning silhouette in the distance. Hi wizard!

  She doesn’t wave back, rude, instead a single fireball flies my way, exploding just behind myself and destroying the entire, perfectly good, bramble-forest. A wave of fire washes over me from behind. I narrow my eyes, looking down behind myself at the destroyed mess I was looking forward to struggling through. At the dungeon-set obstacle for me to overcome that is now destroyed. She’s ruining it. She’s ruining it. My glare tightens. She’s ruining my struggle. I grip my lance harder. I won’t forgive her for it.

Turning back towards her I shake my head in disgust and sigh, leaping back down and running towards the next staircase that is visible behind this fresh inferno.

Floor seventy-one lies ahead and with some joy in my heart, I run towards it, setting foot on the next staircase as I rise towards something new to overcome.

I just hope they stop ruining my fun. I’m trying to escape a dungeon here. My eyes catch a glimmer of fire bounding off of the blade of my lance. Otherwise I’m going to have to make them.

I might not be able to beat the hero in this body. But I can beat the rest of them and if I have to, I will.

Just so that they’ll finally learn.