Emrys let out the breath he’d been holding. Bingo. The field of battle was decorated by the pit of despair. The diameter of the trap had been about twenty feet. He’d been overly cautious, but not by much. The creatures’ pattern provided for about thirty seconds of wiggle room. It was likely that the next trap would require even more precision, so going forward he would have to be just as careful, if not even more so.

He extracted his feet from the mud and continued on. Sitting still in one place for so long had settled him deep into the mud. He’d have to remember for next time.

Would it be possible to heat the mud so he didn’t sink into it? It might be worth a shot, but it also might be a waste of mana. He didn’t know if he would have the opportunity to meditate again before the boss fight, in which case it would be better to just suffer the mud.

The next copse was just as obvious as the first. Where the rest of the woods were oddly spaced, the copse was a perfect hiding spot for a sniper.

Emrys settled into the curve of the trees. Once he was well and truly hidden from view, the trap was once again apparent. A glowing red spot, this one about half the size of the first, in the midst of… Actually, he couldn’t see any monsters at all.

The arcanist blanched. If he had walked out there on his own, the creatures, wherever they were, would have blindsided him. Even now, he had no idea if they were following a pattern like the first group had, or if any moment at all would be sufficient to take them out.

He watched for as long as he could, but there was no hint of movement. No way to tell if timing was important. He formed the fireball spell in his hand. This time, he paid even closer attention to the density and power of the fireball. What he was lacking in precision, he would make up for in power.

It never crossed his mind that his spell might miss the target. If he was shooting a bow or throwing a knife he might have worried about his aim, but magic was so deeply ingrained in who he was that he never doubted.

The fireball arced into the air. To his eyes it painted a smooth curve from his position to the target, and it landed perfectly. Again there were a few seconds of hushed silence before the ground imploded, and a perfect hemisphere of bog suddenly collapsed in on itself.

It was only then that Emrys could see the monsters he had killed. Snakes littered the dirt, crushed and bisected. Just under the grass had been a nest of them, but they had all been wiped out by the trap. Hopefully all of them.

He shuddered. An unsuspecting adventurer would walk right over the nest without realizing and find themselves attacked from below. Snakes were perfectly suited to ambush attacks in the bog environment; they could slither through water just as easily as through grass. Facing that many foes at once, he would have been a goner. To survive something like that, an adventurer would have to be strong enough to kill each snake in one hit.

He squared his shoulders and headed for the next copse. By this time the thin stretch of forest was becoming familiar, and he strode confidently. Emrys settled into the curve of three tree trunks butted up against each other and ducked down so the bushes completely hid him from view.

Once again, the target was clearly highlighted by a red beacon, and again it had shrunk to half the size of the previous. The fireball formed in his palm, flickering off and on as he concentrated. This trap was more like the first; he could see the monsters roaming around. There were some of the same creatures from the start, wolf-like with long necks and flat feet. He thought he could also make out the flick of a snake’s tail, but he couldn’t be sure.

He settled in to watch for a patrol pattern. His aim would have to be precise, and he had to catch as many of the monsters in the blast as possible.

After about twenty minutes, he thought he understood the pattern. He would watch it twice more to be sure. Ten more minutes passed, and the creatures deviated from the pattern. The wolf-like monsters all stopped in their tracks and looked up, not at him but back towards the front of the room. One by one they prowled away from the trap target, disappearing into the brush.

The arcanist swore. Whatever had caught their attention could not be good, and the deviation from the pattern set him back enormously. If he set off the trap now, it might draw their attention to him and end up causing more harm than good.

He kept going. It wasn’t likely that the dungeon would let him pass through to the next level while monsters were still wandering about, but it wasn’t impossible either. It was rare that adventurers actually did a full clear of each room, because that wasn’t what was required. Some monsters hung back in the darker corners of the dungeon, guarding special rooms or treasure. Others wouldn’t join a fight unless provoked.

No, the requirement was that the fight be won. In the case of your standard adventurer, that meant clearing out all the aggressive monsters. For him, it meant triggering all traps and killing the associated creatures.

Which he hadn’t completed. Because something had pulled their attention away.

It wasn’t likely that the next door would open for him, but there was too much he didn’t know. He didn’t know what had distracted the creatures, and he didn’t know how that would impact his ability to move on.

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So he had to try.

He slammed through trees and bushes, keeping an eye out for danger but otherwise caring more for speed than stealth.

The door to the boss room appeared all at once when he passed the last of the trees. It was a set of double doors as before, but they were even larger and grander than before. He looked for the riddle at the top of the arch, but he couldn’t make it out. The simplest explanation was that it was because of the distance, but it felt like more than that. He had the sense that the riddle was being hidden from him. When he peered at the words, it was like the calligraphy had been smeared.

He pushed at the door with all his might.

It did not open. He slammed one of the knockers against the wood, the noise echoing through the room. But still, the door would not open.

Something wasn’t right. He had solved the riddle and triggered the pit traps. He’d had to skip the last one, but those monsters weren’t being aggressive to him. By all rights, he should be able to move on, and yet…

He looked back at the room he had skirted past. It was the same boggy theme that had plagued his party throughout the dungeon, though this room had rolling hills and the occasional line of stunted trees. Nothing to indicate a deviation from standard dungeon rules.

A high-pitched shriek echoed through the room.

Emrys sucked in a breath. Monsters didn’t attack unless provoked, or if they sensed an adventurer in their vicinity. He hadn’t provoked anything, and he couldn’t see any in his vicinity.

Which meant…

Another adventuring party had entered the dungeon and reached this floor. A party who either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared about the message on the door.

A party he could join.

He waited with bated breath for the adventuring team to make it all the way through the room. Briefly he considered venturing out to meet them halfway, but he had taken the secret passage for a reason; this dungeon was beyond his ability, and if he went alone, even for a short time, it would be suicide.

Banshee shrieks continued to echo through the room. The sound would last for a short burst, or a quick series of bursts, and then violently gurgle to a stop. Whoever it was, they were giving the monsters just enough warning to see them coming and killing them almost immediately after.

It felt like forever, and like no time at all, for the first warrior to come into view. She was tall and lithe, with dark armor and darker hair tied up in a ponytail that hung to her waist. In each hand she held a long, thin sword, and she walked with the veteran vigilance of a seasoned warrior.

She was the most beautiful woman Emrys had ever seen.

“Hey there,” he called out after she had slain the last of the dungeon monsters.

The woman froze. “Hello.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Thanks for the help out there.”

Emrys winced. “I’m afraid this dungeon is somewhat beyond me. I came here with a few adventurers, but they…had to leave. I feared that if I joined the fight, it would be too much for me on my own. Besides,” he smiled, “it sounds as though your party is capable enough.”

“My party? It’s just me out here.” The woman looked him over. “What actually happened to your teammates? If they’re dead, I don’t want to be in your party.”

Emrys scowled. “They’re immortals,” he spat. “They’ll be back tomorrow. Nevermind that by the time they plan to return, the boss we defeated would have respawned and killed me before I could blink. Nevermind that I risked my life getting them as far as we did, they couldn’t be bothered to finish what we started.”

“I…see.” The woman considered his words. “If this dungeon is so far beyond your level, how did you make it through the last two rooms?”

“Well, I had some help on this last one.” He grinned, but she only gave him a flat look in return. “I was careful,” he shrugged. “Mostly, I just snuck around and used traps. Of course, when you came into the second room, the monsters started heading toward you instead of my traps, and that’s when it all fell apart.”

“Hm.” She fell silent again, her eyes contemplative. She sat in silence long enough that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Just before he spoke up, she held out a hand. “I’m Zereh, by the way. I can get you through the final boss fight, but I want your share of the loot, non-negotiable. I’d prefer to clear it on my own and get the bonus rewards for doing so, but you need me. So what do you say? Would you like to join my party?”

He shook her hand without hesitation. “Emrys Arcanist at your service, and absolutely. More than likely, teaming up with you is the only way I can get out of here alive.”

Their party bond officially formed, and Emrys was able to sense Zereh’s general location and health.

“Good. This is just so we can get you out alive, you understand? I would be able to take on this boss alone. I’ve been doing the entire dungeon solo, and I don’t have to stop now.”

Emrys held his hands up in abject surrender. “Of course. No argument from me. I’m a dead man if I go in alone.” He said the words lightly, but he felt giddy. He was saved. For the last several hours he had been forcing down the terror of facing a battle that he wasn’t prepared for. That sort of thing could only be ignored for so long; to have it suddenly lifted was a surreal level of relief.

He did feel a small pang of regret for giving up his share of the loot. For this powerful a dungeon, the rewards were bound to be magnificent. But it was worth it. Of course it was worth it. Loot would do him no good at all if he was dead.

“Take this before we move on.” Zereh passed a red vial to Emrys.

“Is this…?”

“A moderate health potion. For someone who didn’t do any fighting, you look pretty beat up.”

Emrys forced a smile to hide his embarrassment. “Those trees are brutal, I’ll have you know.” He threw back the potion in one gulp. It wouldn’t have been strong enough to heal a more devastating injury, but it was plenty for the cuts and scrapes he had gathered during his mad dash through the two deadly rooms. Warmth slowly suffused his entire body, tingling where the life magic met his injuries. “Thank you.”

The warrior just nodded. “There’s no sense going into a fight at less than full strength. How are your mana reserves?”

“Nearly full. I had a chance to meditate not too long ago, so I’m ready to go.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“I’ve only got one spell, and I have more than enough mana for that. When we get in there, stay back as much as possible. It wouldn’t hurt for you to throw in a ranged attack every so often, but I should need your help so prioritize your safety above all else.”

Emrys nodded. What a strange woman. She was stoic and direct, almost gruff in the way she addressed him. The way she spoke was callous and disinterested, but her actions were beyond considerate.

“Let’s go.”