Simon led the way down the tunnel, crushing luminescent mushrooms beneath his feet. The small and squishy fungi grew so close to each other that it felt like walking on a gym mattress. How could they sprout out of the solid stone? Simon had no idea, though he was getting less and less baffled by things like this. Magic. This world was filled with the unexplainable.

The mushrooms cushioned his feet nicely, which came as a small relief. Both of his legs had been bitten by the swellers, and though the salve they had gotten from the Bolob helped a lot, he still felt a jolt of pain each time he took a step. It was bearable; he would persevere. He was capable of fighting, and that was what truly mattered … though it didn’t stop him from grinding his teeth in frustration. He needed an opportunity to prove himself, and his injuries were setting him further behind.

When he had first woken up in this world, he thought this would be his second chance. He had been failing as a leader on Earth, but here he could start over with a clean slate. The stakes were much higher – it concerned their very survival – but he rose to the challenge with great determination. He wanted to shape this motley team into a cohesive unit, into a well-oiled machine that overcame any odds. If only his efforts weren’t all in vain! Oh, his team had overcome every challenge so far—that wasn’t the problem. The frustrating part was that he could barely claim any contribution to those successes. He hadn’t been leading anyone so far.

Respect. Simon was well aware that he hadn’t done anything to earn enough respect. He needed a chance to take the reins and show results. His team didn’t listen to him, and why would have they? Their Abilities and combat capabilities outshone his in every regard. His diligence and determination alone wouldn’t be enough to convince anyone.

Envy. A feeling that Simon knew very well from his past. No matter what the others said, he still believed that his kidnappers conducted social experiments too. Why else had they put him in such a situation? They were purposefully giving him weaker Abilities compared to the rest of the team, so that he had to prove his worth in other ways. A balance, of sorts. People who had other strengths – Imaya with her gamer-knowledge, Teva’ryn with his combat experience – received underwhelming Abilities. Meanwhile, people with weaker will or character? They got magic armor and the power to grind mountains to dust. They got miniature portals and endless number of clones. They got shapeshifting weapons with teleportation tricks and the instincts of an expert swordsman.

Simon wasn’t entirely ungrateful for his Pyromancy, truth be told. It was a power he never even imagined he would possess. Back on Earth, magic like this – real magic – would have made him a superstar. Here, though? His Pyromancy made him a glorified campfire-starter. He had been harboring high hopes that his second Ability was going to be much stronger, only to be let down again; he had been forced to choose between Heat Detection and Flaming Slashes. It wasn’t even a choice, really. Picking Heat Detection would have pushed him further into the support role, and so he didn’t hesitate much before selecting the other Ability.

Flaming Slashes; another flaming disappointment. The Ability made his Weapon Skills send forth a trail of fire wherever his blade passed, which was basically a fancier version of conjuring fireballs on his palm. At least his Pyromancy synergized with Flaming Slashes rather well, allowing him to control the flames that sprung forth from his sword. His fire still wasn’t strong enough to seriously hurt anything or anyone, but that would perhaps improve as his Abilities gained levels. Yes, he could work with what he had. He would work with them, and he would prevail. No matter how much some of his team overshadowed him at the moment.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have any words for them,” Randel’s hushed voice could be heard from behind. “Just what kind of planet have you been living on? Mushrooms are just about everywhere!”

“No mush,” came the accented reply.

“Mushroom.”

“No mushroom.”

“Not even the ordinary, non-glowing ones?”

Simon ground his teeth, finding it more and more difficult to keep his annoyance bottled up. They were in a dungeon, a place straight out of videogames filled with monsters and traps—and Randel was taking it about as seriously as a leisure hike on a weekend. They had almost died two times already, and that was just since they had entered this place. That Randel still wouldn’t stop wooing his blue-skinned chick was telling a lot about his character.

At least there was a bright side of it, Simon reminded himself. The team needed Devi’lynn’s magic and Teva’ryn’s expertise, and Randel was doing a good job at building rapport with the Sylven. Simon wasn’t above admitting that he felt relieved by delegating this job to someone else; the pair of aliens disturbed him more than a little. Something about their appearance felt off to him, though he couldn’t really narrow it down to a single thing. Was it their larger-than-normal eyes with the oddly-colored iris? Their horns and pointed ears? The proud, almost arrogant way they held themselves?

Simon had seen people cosplay weirder things than blue-skinned aliens, and he had been fine with them. But there was a profound difference between speaking with cosplayers and interacting with creatures that looked almost human, yet clearly weren’t. The Sylven existed a bit too close to uncanny valley—though Simon had to give it to them, it could have been much worse. He still broke out in shivers whenever he remembered meeting with the Bolob.

“Watch out!” Imaya suddenly hissed, and Simon came to an abrupt stop, summoning a ball of fire into his palm by reflex. He was forced to realize that he hadn’t been paying as much attention to their surroundings as he should have been; a familiar-looking archway adorned the sides of tunnel just ahead, eight segmented limbs running up the sides of the wall to join a bulbous body up at the ceiling.

“Stone sweller ahead,” he called out, keeping his eyes on the monster. Another opponent where his magic would be useless.

“It looks similar to the one before,” Imaya confirmed everyone’s suspicions, her eyes overflowing with green light. “It has these weird mana-lines all over inside its body.”

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“Let me handle this,” Pell said, stepping forward.

“Alright,” Simon said, nodding at him. “Tamara and I will cover you, should you need it.”

Truthfully, Simon wouldn’t be able to do much against a monster made of stone … but as a leader, he was expected to show a brave face. He couldn’t just stand back while his teammates risked their lives.

This part of the tunnel was wide enough for three of them to stand side by side, so it posed no trouble to form a rough triangle with Pell on the front. He cast his Protective Shell, ripping dozens of mushrooms and chunks of stone out of the ground to cover his body. The glowing mushrooms filled in the cracks between the stone plates seamlessly, turning the large man into a magic-powered stone golem. An impressive display. Pell broke into a run without further ado, moving with surprising speed. The stone monster didn’t react to his approach—in fact, it remained motionless even after Pell punched its foremost limb. A feeble punch, but Pell was only just getting started. He hit the gigantic spider leg again, and a sharp crack resounded in the tunnel. The stone archway suddenly flinched, the sweller coming to life even as Pell followed up with a third strike. The impact sounded much louder this time, and Simon heard a distinct crack as the spider’s limb broke apart.

The monster had more than enough legs left, however. It dropped low, angling its bulbous body forward before lurching toward Pell. Given the size of the creature, this left no space in the tunnel to dodge—

“Take this!” Pell yelled as he met the monster head on, slamming his fist into the sweller and stopping it cold in its track. He swung his other fist immediately, striking his opponent so hard that an explosion of sound and dust filled the tunnel. Tamara surrounded herself with a bluish, semi-transparent bubble, and Simon ducked a moment later when a flying stone fragment almost hit his head.

Consecutive Punches. No one could deny that Pell held the team’s scariest Ability at the moment. It was a simple yet overwhelming power; at a minimal cost of Pell’s stamina, each of his punches following the last doubled in strength. If that didn’t sound completely ridiculous already, the Ability also protected his body from the backlash of his superhuman punches. And the limits of his power? Untested so far, because they had feared the cave would collapse upon them. Although Pell had to hit something to keep increasing his strength, considering that walls and floors were eligible targets it was just a minor drawback.

Compared to Consecutive Punches, Simon’s Flaming Slashes felt like a joke.

The dust settled eventually, revealing the utterly annihilated remains of the sweller. If the broken chunks of stone didn’t make it clear enough, the absence of white soul-streaks further confirmed that their opponent hadn’t been a living creature. Pell tore off his stone helmet, coughing from the dust but looking all too pleased with himself nevertheless.

“Did you get a Feat?” Imaya asked, being the first one to speak as usual.

“Don’t think I did,” Pell replied. “This was hardly a challenge, to tell the truth. Not a feat-worthy deed in my opinion…”

He chuckled at his own remark, making Simon cringe. Pell obviously liked the idea of playing the hero, which was fine, but this needless boasting felt a bit too much. Ever since they had repelled the sweller swarm, Pell’s confidence had grown by leaps and bounds. Even Tamara started giving him the eye; that alone bothered Simon more than anything.

“Come on team, time’s wasting,” Simon said as he strode past Pell. The tunnel didn’t quite get clogged by the sweller’s body, but it was a close thing. Simon climbed over the remnants of the stone sweller, eyes on the front, trusting the rest of the group to keep up. As it turned out, they didn’t have to go far; a few twists and turns later, the tunnel came to a dead end.

It appeared to be the result of a cave-in, though it had happened long ago; the dirt and stone sealing off the tunnel were overgrown by glowing mushrooms. In their midst, just in front of the collapsed ceiling, a man-sized circle of light hovered in the air. A portal. Purple and white colors cascading inwards, the two-dimensional apparition made Simon dizzy if he looked at it for too long. Cautiously, he walked closer and thrust his sword into it—and the blade disappeared in the swirling lights immediately. When he retracted his weapon a couple of seconds later, the weapon was intact.

Simon then considered telling Devi’lynn to send a clone through next, but he dismissed that idea. It would have given the impression that he was just biding their time, afraid to enter the portal.

“Alright,” Simon said, turning back to his team as they gathered up behind him. “We’re going to go through this portal. Any objections?”

He pointedly looked in Randel’s direction, though he couldn’t see much of the man behind Pell and Teva’ryn.

“Fine by me,” Randel said, peeking past Pell’s shoulder. “I’ll leave Soul Eater on this side, in case we want to do that switcheroo stuff again.”

“Switcheroo?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, teleporting over in case the way back is closed. Come to think of it Devi, can I give you a tattoo? I have a cool trick in mind that I’d like to try out.”

“A tattoo?”

As the conversation lapsed into another annoying language lesson, Simon looked the rest of the team over. Tamara, her head bandaged and her expression grim, gripping her spear tight. Sharp and determined as always. Imaya stood next to her, fidgeting with her dagger as she watched the portal, eyes unblinking. Pell clenched and unclenched his fists impatiently, giving Simon a nod when their eyes met. All good. Simon adjusted the small shield hanging on his left arm, then cleared his throat to get Randel’s attention too.

“If everyone’s ready, then let’s move on. Follow me close behind!”

He then turned around, took a deep breath, and stepped into the portal. He blinked reflexively as the plane of light hit his face, and by the time his eyes opened, it was already over. He emerged in a completely different place, and fell in awe.

A disc of stone floating on a sea of light—that was Simon’s first thought. He looked down on the impossibly large, flat surface that hung in the air, wide like a football stadium, defying gravity. Only a few narrow bridges connected it to the domed cavern—no, not a few. Eight. Eight bridges, like the legs of a spider perching on the ceiling. Simon stood at the end of one such leg, his feet rooted in place as his eyes went over the bridge, looking down at the sea of lights below.

Yes; they had reached the central cavern of Stonehearth without a doubt. Like pebbles on the bottom of a clear pond, the stone buildings looked little more than small bumps from this distance. But the lights—those lights were everywhere. Blue and green and everything in-between. Coming from fluorescent plants, perhaps? Enveloping the entire place in a soft glow, casting the spider’s shadow onto the ceiling.

Someone yelped behind Simon and he staggered forward, his heart beating in his throat as he stumbled closer to the side of the bridge. The railing was only about knee-height; a careless move and he could easily plummet to the depths below.

“Sorry,” Imaya apologized behind him. “You were in the—woah! Huge!”

Simon took a moment to compose himself, stepping back to the middle of the bridge. He looked back just as Tamara came out of the cavern’s wall, the stone rippling as if made of water. Alarmingly, Randel had been right; there seemed to be no way back. The wall turned solid behind Tamara as soon as she was through—and Simon spotted writing on the wall. Neatly written lines above Tamara’s head, carved like the ones on the self-repairing gate had been.

> If you want to open this door,

> You must claim the Dungeon’s Core,

> Or slay the one with the control.

A small carving of a sweller decorated the last line, painted in bright red. Ominous. They were getting shepherded deeper into the Dungeon, just as Simon had feared.