As I awoke, the first sense which alighted was smell. Delicious wafts of cooked meat roused me from the inky darkness and even before consciousness had truly taken hold, I was chewing. My gratitude for the meal was expressed only after I had voraciously devoured a whole three plates of hurriedly piled food.

I eventually surfaced from my gluttony with a sleepy smile. From Serge’s flinch, it was more toothy than I meant it to be. “You cooked this?” I asked, still drowsy. My body barely felt like my own, though the food definitely helped. I blinked at my left hand where the middle finger was bandaged at what was now its stump. I felt numb all over, which I supposed had its benefits.

Serge just grunted an affirmative and shrugged. “There’s so many supplies, I was just hungry.” I realised I had eaten his meal and we chuckled together. Before I needed to ask, Serge continued explaining. “You did it, little dragon. The city's yours. For the second time, I think? This one is happy, at least.”

The massive man threw a slightly screaming skull through the air at me, which I caught. It was a close thing. Ledge nearly smacked me in the nose and they were very close to my face when they started speaking. “Without the leader, all of the other beings in the city vanished without a trace. The wealth of the city is your’s! Please take me with you!”

I laughed while turning a quizzical look to Serge who held up his hands. “I was looking after you and the others aren’t used to the head, still.” Well, that was fair, I conceded. I was a little more used to the weirdness of the new world than others, something I had to remind myself of sometimes.

“I’m glad you’re excited, buddy. So, are the others exploring now?” Serge confirmed they were pilfering everything that seemed valuable, magical or more advanced than what we currently had access to. With only four inventory spaces to hold things, my heart threatened to break at the thought of what would be left behind. I saw green and avarice removed any last vestiges of drowsiness from me. My breathing hitched as it clicked.

I had won. The dungeon was defeated and it was time to take the spoils.

————————————————————————————————————————

Picking the city clean was an impossibility, but Izaark was nothing if not thorough. It was a side of him that Serge had seen on occasion during their dungeon delves, but the Sagacean city was different from previous instances they had scoured. As a dungeon of a higher tier, and possibly further influenced by the kobold’s unique nature, the gains were also in a higher echelon.

Even with the prodigious strength of a Tier 1, the party was left exhausted from the collection effort. They might have complained if the smallest member hadn’t also been the most fervent, carrying the most things with the fewest breaks. Mutinous thoughts of creating some kind of dungeon diving union died as each of them were inevitably charmed by Izaark’s indecisiveness.

Serge found him looking at the different styles of armchair which could be found within the dungeon. Once the dungeon boss died, the dungeon had completely emptied of the Segaceans and not a single item was going without being catalogued at the very least. They were essentially just waiting for the little dragonman to decide what they were going to leave before, down to the furniture. Having decided he was done for the evening anyway, Serge took a seat in his favourite looking chair.

I was just at that moment when Vee walked by. “How does this make any sense?” Serge asked with a contented groan. Whether it be the construction techniques, materials or some underlying magic, these chairs were the most comfortable seats he had ever used. “A chair should be a chair, with only a little difference.”

He hadn’t meant to, but his words came out sounding like a complaint. She smiled in her wonderful way, and took the seat next to Serge. Her moan of pleasure obliterated any thoughts that Serge was attempting to have in her presence. He had strong feelings for Vee, but none that he had an interest in pursuing within a dungeon. Things were changing too quickly for that kind of thing. Then she smiled at him, and he doubted his attempt at chastity.

“Opulence is an acquired taste, I agree.” She stretched her long, perfect legs out before curling them underneath herself and smiling at Serge. “A taste I acquired some time ago. Politicians, you know?” The way she asked the question startled Serge, and he looked at Vee in a new light. Serge did know. He knew exactly what she was implying, and what she was asking him in doing so.

“We all survived our own ways before the System arrived. Do you still seek opulence?” I could be opulent, Serge thought to himself. If it was something she wanted, he would do it whether she asked or not. She had saved his life in a dungeon early in their time together, and Serge had found it hard to stop looking at her since. Making himself-

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Vee’s barked laughter cut off Serge’s thoughts as they swirled like water in a drain. “No,” she chuckled, “not at all.” With a devilish smirk, she took a knife and dragged it along the fabric on her chair’s arm. It ripped and even the sound felt decadent. “I just know how to take advantage of wealth when it's around. None of it lasts, really.”

Serge just beamed at her. Every time she did something new and surprised him, he fell more and more into his emotions. He didn’t call it love, but he knew it was something similar. Adoration, at least. Vee smiled back before raising an eyebrow. “Wh… what is it?” Serge asked, half-looking over his shoulder to see if he was missing something.

“Would you like to go and see if the beds are as comfortable as the chairs?” Thinking he was ready for anything, Serge’s mind completely switched off at the implication and began to stammer. Vee just laughed at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him from his chair and off towards Furniture Loading Area Three, where all the bedroom supplies were.

————————————————————————————————————————

Toulou felt as empty as the city, and wandered around it like a ghost. He traced his fingers over children’s drawings on walls, the markings on door frames stating their growth. He ignored the smell of rot and saw kitchens which had been in use right up until the inhabitants disappeared. He read the tapestry of life which told the story of the people in this home.

The healer was struggling with the reality of dungeons. Or perhaps it was the surreality. Ignoring his own wordplay, Toulou shuddered. He had seen the same markings repeated over and over throughout the city. The System had seemingly printed neighbourhoods, and then essentially hoped they wouldn’t look too close.

It was all so wrong.

When the citizens had vanished, Toulou had felt it. If Dao was a connection to the soul, then his soul was scarred by the sudden loss of life he had experienced. It had been like the death of a million people at once, from all directions. Their blood just… gone. The vacuum their presence had left pressed down on him like the weight of the world.

“Oi.” A small, yet sharp call from behind Toulou caused him to shriek. Like a child caught with a stolen treat, he whipped around with wide eyes. Though he recognised the voice from the singular word, he was still surprised to see the short, dangerous form of Izaark. Giving him a look which could only be described as reproachful, the kobold entered the home.

For some reason, Toulou felt like he was in trouble, and he shrank a little subconsciously. Izaark didn’t comment, but he did notice. “Bizarre, isn’t it?”

“The dungeon? Yes, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I can see that,” the kobold brought a finger to his chin and scratched, “and I understand why.” The words sat in the air for a comfortable moment, undisturbed. Toulou didn’t know what to say, as he felt defensive but without any real reason. Izaark sighed as he scanned the space. “It feels far too real, right?”

Toulou hadn’t been subtle about his hang ups, so he wasn’t surprised Izaark had hit the nail on the head. “Except with glaring fallacies which almost make it worse.” The kobold nodded for Toulou to continue, so he did. “I know the people who were here were alive. They were living, breathing beings… and they just disappeared.”

The next sigh from Izaark seemed older, somehow. “I’m sorry.” There was such sadness in the kobold’s scratchy voice that Toulou felt tears form in his own eyes. “I don’t know if it’s an intentional thing by the System aimed at me or not… maybe it’s a question all cultivators need to find an answer to themselves…”

“Which question?” Toulou asked, hopefully. If the kobold had dealt with these thoughts and philosophical minefields before, then maybe he could guide the inexperienced human through his confusion.

“What matters?” Izaark’s question was the answer, and Toulou frowned. Izaark saw consternation of Toulou’s face and sighed slightly before removing a pair of chairs from his internal inventory. While the kobold didn’t have a looting ability, the personal space could still be used. Purple scales stretched out upon red velvet and gestured to the other seat. “When you’re ready,” he added.

Toulou wasn’t paying much attention. He was already swimming through the implications of Izaark’s statement. “Can it truly be that simple?” The kobold just shrugged in answer, letting Toulou make his own conclusions. He was being vague intentionally, avoiding leading the man somewhere. After a while Toulou had pondered enough and began to speak again.

“I matter.” Toulou winced as he spoke, but gained confidence as Izaark nodded encouragingly. The words started to tumble freely. “My brother and my friends matter. Our lives. Being safe matters to me, but there’s a thousand ways to do that. I won’t sit in a fort. There’s opportunity in this new existence. That has meaning, and is worth chasing. So much that the System offers is beautiful.

“The lives inside these dungeons matter, too.” Toulou’s face was serious, staring into a middle distance without focusing on anything. “They were alive, and their lives were as real as our own. They got hungry, they slept… But they weren’t allowed to think for themselves. Not really.”

“That matters,” Izaark interjected neatly. “I know you feel some kind of loss for the people of this place but I saw this same kingdom in ruins. Did these people exist? Would they, if we had never entered the dungeon? You’ll go crazy twisting your head around those questions. For me, leaving them in a state of limbo like that would be too cruel.”

The pair continued talking back and forth for a while, but eventually the conversation ran its course. Izaark made an excuse about a series of armoires which still needed to be processed and left Toulou on his own. He felt better, he thought, though he wouldn’t know for sure until he had time to process himself.

No one commented on it the next day, but Toulou spent the night tearing down a few of the empty houses in the city, much to the distress of Ledge.