The next two days were spent learning about the varied, dangerous monsters known to spawn within Camp Thorne Dungeon. There were the skeletal warriors—literal walking skeletons with swords and shields, disturbing and relentless. Next were the lower ghouls, which were basically zombies—walking corpses with no weapons, but flesh-eating, of course. Then came red-eyed wolves that moved in packs. No need to explain why wolves are scary. Next were melon spiders—squat creatures with sickly green, bulbous bodies that exploded when injured. And let’s not forget the deathworms that burrowed beneath the dungeon floors, viper-bats with razor fangs and venomous stingers, blood-sucking leeches that could double in size within seconds, and mistlurkers—shadowy figures that seemed to dissolve when struck only to reappear right behind you.

The problem, as the instructor made clear, was that these were only the known monsters. Dungeons weren’t static—far from it. Every few weeks, new species emerged while others simply disappeared, as though replaced by some unseen force. Even more unsettling, each floor could completely change from one day to the next, or two teams could enter with completely different floor plans, so trying to make maps were completely useless.

Dungeons weren’t a test with clear instructions or predictable challenges. The point of dungeons was always to risk your life for the reward. How could you expect a true reward if you knew exactly what would be thrown at you? Probably another reason why the mortality rate was so high, Kaiden thought.

“Be prepared to not be prepared,” the sergeant intoned, pacing on stage.

That unspoken motto—“be prepared to not be prepared”—echoed through Kaiden’s mind as he took in the lectures, soaking in all he could learn about weaknesses, attack patterns, and known behaviors for each creature. With the sheer variety of creatures, the lessons stretched through both days.

Kaiden’s platoon wasn’t complaining about all the lecture time, though; anything was better than whatever fresh nightmare Sergeant Farron was cooking up for them once these lecture days wrapped. Kaiden joined his platoonmates in commiserating over her intensity, but, privately, he found himself almost looking forward to it. Maybe it was his newfound constitution talking, but he knew that the tougher the training, the stronger he’d be when it mattered.

The day after the lessons were completed, the platoon assembled at the stump, standing at full attention and waiting for Sergeant Farron’s instructions. To almost everyone’s relief, the usual pile of armor and gear was nowhere in sight. Farron paced in front of them, her gaze razor-sharp, and began with a scathing glare.

“So,” she started, her voice low but carrying, “it’s come to my attention that I’ve become the talk of the base.” She crossed her arms, pacing slowly. “‘That crazy new sergeant’—isn’t that right?”

Everyone visibly stiffened and gulped. Her expression shifted into mock confusion as she continued, “Now, why on Aterra would anyone call me that?” She stopped pacing, fixing them with an even harder glare, and a few beads of sweat appeared on foreheads. ”Unless you’ve been talking...”

Then, to everyone’s surprise, she sighed, her tone softening as she relaxed her stance. “Perhaps I was a little too hard on you all your first day.”

There were a few tentative nods, the movements barely visible, as if each trainee was uncertain if she was serious or setting them up. “So let’s do this,” she said, her voice almost encouraging now as she walked up to the first trainee in the first squad. She looked over him and, in a perfectly calm tone, gestured at the entire first row facing her. “First squad, take it easy. Sit down. Relax.”

The platoon was divided into four squads of ten, so the first row of trainees, which was squad 1, glanced at each other, hesitating, still bracing for a trap as they slowly lowered themselves. Farron nodded in what looked like approval. “That’s it, take a seat,” she said. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

“The three people standing behind each seated private—you’re now a team,” she announced. This created ten teams of four, clearly mimicking a typical dungeon party.

“Now, I know these aren’t your usual dungeon parties,” Farron said, her voice still calm. “But that’s okay. We’re taking it easy today.”

Then her tone changed, slicing through the air. “Squad one—guess what? You’re dead! Actually, you’re casualties in the dungeon, and your teammates are responsible for dragging your sorry asses to safety. So for everyone standing,” she paused as faces began to fall, the realization dawning on them, “grab your downed teammate and FUCKING RUN!”

Trainees scrambled to lift their seated “casualties,” the scene dissolving into pure chaos.

“Oh, and by the way,” she barked, “you’ll be doing ten laps!” Her voice cut through the confusion like a whip. “Each lap, switch the downed teammate. Let’s go!”

Faces twisted in panic. “How far’s a lap?” someone shouted.

There were no cones, no markers, no tracks—so really, it was anyone’s guess until Farron started running alongside everyone, yelling out instructions and pushing them to keep pace. Her speed was relentless as she drove them forward. Guess we’ll see, Kaiden thought, half-carrying a large Defender and a 90 lb Caster who was in full-blown panic.

Guess we’ll see, Kaiden thought as he half-carried a large Defender with a 90 lb Caster who was in full-blown panic.

“Let’s go, Zero Platoon!” she shouted.

Unlike their first unexpected run, this time the platoon didn’t forget to make full use of their abilities to tackle the challenge. By the end of the ten laps, most of the trainees were in somewhat decent shape; of course, a few didn’t make it, and others just barely did. While everyone caught their breath and guzzled from their canteens, Farron began addressing the platoon.

“This is practice for when you’re actually in the dungeon,” she said, pacing as she lectured. “There’ll be times when you’ll need to retreat and carry a wounded teammate with you. Some newbies would rather leave their teammates behind entirely, thinking of themselves—but that mistake could cost them more than a party member.” She paused, looking over the group as they panted, searching for understanding in their eyes.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Kaiden nodded, recognizing the method in her madness. This run was exactly the challenge he was looking for, even if it didn’t win her any popularity. Farron continued, “If you can successfully retreat as a full team, get a breather, heal up, your chances of survival shoot way up compared to a team of three—or less.”

A shadow passed over her expression as she added, “Now, there are times when it won’t be possible to bring everyone back with you... Let’s leave it at that.” Kaiden noticed a momentary sadness in her eyes, one that hinted at disturbing memories she didn’t care to share.

Straightening up, she resumed, “Help each other whenever you can. This is what the Art of Four is all about: survival. That’s why there are four of you.” She scanned the group one more time. “And now that our warm-up session is over, let’s move into the main lesson of the day.”

Several privates flinched, bracing themselves for another bout of PT, but they relaxed as they broke down into their usual groups of four and Farron began going over dungeon tactics. Now that they’d learned about the dungeon monsters, she set up scenarios for encountering mobs of specific creatures, challenging them to work out the best strategies as a team. She roamed from group to group, testing each team’s approach and drawing out the strengths of each party.

BREAK

The door floated in the air like an eerie mirage, shimmering faintly as if caught between dimensions, casting a glow onto the dirt road in the middle of nowhere, near an old village called Tarn. Standing before it, Sergeant Boran squinted up at the golden door floating out of place. Its shifting, translucent surface, was a portal into the unknown. The sun was barely visible now, tangled up in the graying afternoon clouds, casting long shadows around them. Every so often, the light would catch on the strange engravings that adorned the door’s perimeter—ancient symbols that pulsed, casting faint shapes onto the ground.

He placed his hand on the portal and a timer appeared in his vision: 2:58:17. Less than three hours. That was all the time they had left before the Dungeon of Opportunity would blink out of existence and be gone forever.

Boran shifted his weight, glancing over at Master Sergeant Hales, who stood with his arms crossed, his steady gaze fixed on the door. Even in the dimming light, Hales looked as calm as ever, his face betraying nothing of the urgency of their mission or the risk of entering a dungeon like this one. Boran’s fingers flexed at his side, eager but cautious, still uncertain of what lay within. Where are the other two?

"So, how’s my little investment doing?" Hales said, breaking the silence.

Boran grunted. “Doesn’t seem special to me.”

“But you saw it, didn’t you?” Hales pressed.

Boran exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I saw it.”

"And?" Hales raised a brow, his gaze penetrating.

“I’m not sure what to think,” Boran admitted, shaking his head. “I just don’t see the big deal.”

Hales chuckled in disbelief. “Why’s the mortality rate so high?”

“Because people freeze up, it’s their first time, they’re too nervous—” Boran began, but Hales cut him off.

“No, I’m not talking about Camp Thorne Dungeon. I mean all dungeons,” Hales clarified.

Boran hesitated. While Camp Thorne's 50% mortality rate was daunting, he knew higher-grade dungeons could be deadlier. Some reached fatality rates of 70% or higher. “Well, dungeoneering’s just dangerous work. You can’t prepare for everything. Some get cocky, let their guard down, or are just plain unprepared.”

“There’s that,” Hales said, “but that’s not the root of it. Humans are weaker than they used to be. Much weaker.”

“The lost magics…” Boran murmured.

“Exactly,” Hales replied.

Boran gave him a skeptical look. “And you think… no, come on, you don’t think he’s got something to do with that.”

“I dunno,” Hales said, shrugging. “But what if?”

Boran shook his head, incredulous. “Right.”

“Looking out for him is a small price to pay for a gamble with a massive payoff,” Hales continued.

“For mankind?”

“For me,” Hales grinned. “Well, and maybe mankind, too.”

Boran shot him a sideways glance. “Was Farron part of this too?”

“Maybe.” Hales’ grin widened.

Boran knew the Master Sergeant’s influence ran deep. Hales had been around for years, and he’d never been one for strictly following rules. In the dungeons, the ranks meant little to him; he’d once told Boran to “leave the formal shit for headquarters,” a sentiment Boran had never forgotten. But the selection of Sergeant Farron as his replacement puzzled him. She was one of the best dungeoneers in her generation, quickly rising through the ranks. In a few years, she’d be one of the Corps’ best.

“She’s got a bit of a reputation,” Boran finally said.

“I know. I’m counting on it. I think she’ll make a fine trainer,” Hales replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Boran frowned. “Do you plan on having her completely replace me?”

“Well, that depends,” Hales said.

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but let me ask—do you want to go back to training or back to dungeoneering?” Hales asked.

Boran exhaled, looking away. “Honestly? I want to go back to training. I think teaching’s where I’m meant to be.”

“I figured you’d say that. Who wants to risk life in a dungeon when you could live a cushy life teaching?” Hales teased.

Boran chuckled, a little defensively. “It’s not about that.”

Hales waved him off. “I know. That’s why I planned for this. My plans will go exactly as expected.”

Boran snorted. “Does that scheme include you actually going to a command post this time instead of back to recruiting duty?”

Hales grinned widely. “Command post, of course. My recruiting days are over. And I’m not forming another dungeon party without you.”

Boran grinned back, “Just promise you won’t tell the Major to go breathe underwater and get yourself kicked back to recruiting duty for half a year.”

Hales laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Totally worth it! And hey, if I hadn’t pulled that stunt, I’d have never met that young man, and you’d have never taken up training. And I think I told him to hold his breath underwater, not breathe underwater... I think.”

“That’s right. Now I remember.”

Six months ago, Hales and Boran had been part of a dungeon party when Major Draylan confronted Hales, pushing him to accept a command post and give up dungeoneering. While Hales had a lot of respect and pull, he wasn’t one to listen to lower-ranking officers. But a major wasn’t exactly low-ranking; it was the point where an officer was beginning to be a big deal.

In their argument, Hales had met Draylan’s demand with his usual defiance. “Hold your breath underwater for thirty minutes, Major,” he’d said, “then we’ll talk.”

The fallout was swift. Hales was sent to recruiting duty for six months—his longest punishment yet—and this had effectively broken up the party. If Hales had said that to a Lieutenant or even a Captain, nothing would’ve happened. He probably could’ve even gotten away with it if it had been another Major. But Major Draylan was a high-ranking noble, and there were witnesses of the high-ranking type. What should have been a demotion to Sergeant with a year of latrine duty instead became a six-month vacation in recruiting duty and a delay in promotion.

Boran couldn’t wrap his head around how Hales had so much pull. He’d only known the man for a few short years and hadn’t seen anything to warrant it. But, anyhow, after all that, Boran decided it was a good time to take up training, and with a shiny recommendation from Hales, he got right in.

Now, here they were again for one final dungeon. This D-O-O had seen multiple failed attempts, but the intel suggested their team had the right skills to finally clear it and so the orders came.

Once it was done, their party would disband again: Hales would finally take his command post, and Boran would return to training. They stood waiting for the last two members of their team to arrive.