It was time for an inspection. Since Doremi and Sola had already done their part to check through and report back, it was time for him to check through and add his own thoughts to the report. Since the two said it wasn’t dangerous in the slightest, John was free to check it out himself and even get a peek at the core room.
John was glad that the dungeon was still as neutral as ever, and a small part of him… A part he thought flickered out ages ago… Well, it was hungry for more knowledge, just as everyone else in the Dungeon Association tended to be.
A light smile on his face, John investigated the dungeon. He didn’t trust it enough to eat from it - that’d be stupid, and he wasn’t Fizz, - but he did trust it not to bother him much while he inspected it. The dungeon tended to continue normal activities even if John was here. The ‘pastry’ spiders were capturing flies in sticky, sugary webs seemingly made of caramel, the ‘cupcake’ and ‘muffin’ spiders seemed to have a little turf war of sorts going on, and-
John snickered at what he saw. It looked like the dungeon tried to make a donut rat of some kind. It looked goofy, sure, but it was rolling around just fine and seemed happy with its’ odd little life. But that was something to write down; John had a theory that the dungeon was going to start expanding further out than just insects and bugs, and this was good enough proof to him.
John impulsively picked up the creature. It flailed in his hands, but didn’t seem to actually have any defensive or offensive abilities. Gently setting it back down, he watched it roll away. It made him happy to see it for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint; It was just so… Well, he wouldn’t call it cute, but it made him smile.
Continuing into the dungeon, he noted the details. Sola and Doremi did a great job writing down what they saw, and John didn’t find much to add except for the few smaller details, such as the possible ‘ingredients’ in it. Continuing to walk through, John found the bakery he feared he would find; Right in the core room, just as Fizz said. Speaking of Fizz, it seemed he was experimenting a bit too much; He was currently asleep on the floor.
That didn’t seem comfortable, or healthy, but John could relate. The fact the core didn’t do anything was interesting to John. As he idly glanced around the kitchen and tactically avoided waking Fizz up, he noticed all the things that the dungeon made for Fizz. John couldn’t help but mutter to himself.
“...Damn it, Fizz.”
Chuckling softly, John wrote down all the details he thought were important; The dungeon added a ventilation system of sorts - the room seemed fresher - and smoothed out the floors, walls, and ceiling. There were doors in the dungeon now, and it had - seemingly - made Fizz a whole set of all the things he said he wanted. Huh, it even had a pasta presser. John didn’t know Fizz wanted to make pasta.
John noticed the core slowly changing color, but that was the one thing that didn’t surprise him. When a core has so many drastic changes, it should reflect that; The colors reflected what a core would usually end up doing, anyways. Compared to everything else, this was the only thing he did expect.
But, as that was yet another first for dungeons, he scribbled it down anyway. He stared at the core for a moment. A lopsided star, pressed into the wall, with dirt framing it. He didn’t touch it to wipe the dirt off - despite how he wanted to - because he knew it’d likely start panicking if he did. Cores were like that.
Deciding that it was easier to accept this nonsense at face value rather than question and redefine it against what he knows about dungeons, John shrugged, wrote everything down, and shoved the notepad in his pocket before picking Fizz up in a bridal carry. Fizz couldn’t just be left out to dry like a piece of burnt bread, and John had the keys to his bakery.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Fizz lived in his bakery; It was part of why he didn’t need to pay taxes.
John calmly headed to the bakery and dropped Fizz off, sorta just plopping him on his bed before leaving as fast as possible. Firstly, the bakery was too warm for John. Secondly, he felt like he was intruding whenever he went to the upper floors; That’s where Fizz lived, after all.
Quickly leaving and heading to his office in the cover of night, John was struck with the fact that, for days, he had forgotten to ask Fizz to name the dungeon. John shook his head as he continued heading to his office to get some sleep, deciding that he’d just make a note to remember it. He might’ve taken a page out of Fizz’s book, but unfortunately, he paid his taxes directly to the Dungeon Association; No escaping that.
Increasingly tired as the stress of the day was allowed to settle on him, it felt like an effort to do his nightly routine. He did anyway, since he knew that if he stopped now he wouldn’t continue. For some reason, habits were hard for John to make; Once he started something, he either continued or stopped. Quickly adding his notes to the report - although it felt like it took longer - he lazily chugged a cup of water before dropping on top of his bed like a sack of potatoes.
Meanwhile, Lemrio felt conflicted. He was looking at his memories to try and understand what else he could improve with his knowledge, when he noticed just how many adventurers he’d killed. He hadn’t felt anything before - If anything, it was a boon due to the magic they spilled out - but… Now he just felt bad. Really bad.
He didn’t understand why he felt bad. Was it because he had started seeing some adventurers differently? The gift giver, he always wanted to give a gift back in return, but that was different because the gift giver wasn’t other adventurers. And the baker - Lemrio was on the fence if the baker’s name was ‘Fizz’ or not, - seemed to be someone Lemrio cared about too.
Lemrio didn’t get it. Why does he only care about some of the adventurers? Why only one or two, instead of all of them? He didn’t want to ‘hurt’ anyone. Before, he just didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about the intruders that often barged in, killed his spiders, and left with their flesh. But now he started understanding why they wanted his spiders.
The baker baked with his spiders. The gift giver examined and didn’t bother his spiders. Perhaps other adventurers had their own reasons to do things to his spiders, too? With understanding came guilt, guilt that Lemrio didn’t understand. He hadn’t killed many - Only six people had ever perished in his halls - but he felt terrible after revisiting the memory. There was only one death he would never regret, when someone had harmed John.
After a moment, Lemrio decided that he didn’t like the new feeling. He didn’t want to kill anyone ever again, but his instincts reminded him that he would have to in order to protect what he loves. He wanted them to admire his bugs, to be happy and impressed with the things they saw. He even wanted to share his love of baking, the love that the baker had given him. He wanted to give gifts, like how the gift giver did so long ago.
Some part of Lemrio smiled. It was an awkward smile, and one that couldn’t be seen on the outside, but some part of him was glad that he realized this now. His goals have been set in stone now. But first, he wanted to right the wrongs, in some small way. He considered how he would do this, before settling on something.
Lemrio told his spiders to start building. He made sure to adjust little details himself, to make sure that everything was perfect. It wasn’t much, he didn’t have room for something big and flamboyant. Five small statues, one for each adventurer that he’d destroyed except one. At one point, he would’ve seen it as an achievement- But not now.
Lemrio stared at the statues, considering his past. He didn’t really feel connected to his memories, not anymore. Some part of him just felt like it wasn’t supposed to be there. It was like watching videos, really; Seen and heard, but not truly experienced. Only the memories after that donut seemed ‘full’ in that way.
Lemrio felt like he would be okay, however. Everything would be okay, and he would protect his new friends.
Friends. That was another thing that Lemrio liked, and Lemrio internally reminded himself to call the gift giver- Er, John, by his actual name. Sure, John was unaware of the fact that Lemrio knew his name at all, but it was the principle of the thing in Lemrio's eyes.