One great benefit about a good crying session was that it allowed for restful sleep.

By the time I awoke many hours later, all my renewables were filled to the brim.

I fetched the fey item, the so-called Mirror of Remembrance, and stored it in my inventory. I had no interest in returning to the dream world anytime soon, but I also couldn’t bring myself to discard the item. For good or for ill, it had allowed me to speak with Mom one final time, and that was a grace worth appreciating.

My next course of action proved a bit harder to decide on. I had three goals that needed to be resolved, though only two lay within my power.

The first and most difficult to accomplish involved my teammates. The Labyrinth proved too vast to scour on my lonesome, even with the added boon of fast travel. Unless Paz and Nicola made it to the center of the dungeon, our chances of reuniting were slim to zero.

I could still abandon all else to search for my teammates but loathe as I was to say it, that wasn't the most efficient decision. I had to believe in their tenacity and position myself to receive them whenever they appeared.

The second goal involved the goddamned Traveler’s Room and my outstanding quests. To complete the objectives of [Damien the Explorer], I needed to uncover the secrets of the Labyrinth. The dungeon’s center was the only region I hadn’t explored, which segued into the third goal . . .

Find the dungeon heart. And, this was no longer optional, considering that Byron had amassed a force capable of doing so. The dungeon run ended tomorrow in twenty-something hours if my internal clock was right. Byron couldn’t be allowed to emerge victorious in this festival, not after forcing my team apart and sending assassins after my head.

I had the means to dash his hopes and dreams right at my fingertips. And, I would use it, his followers be damned.

I glared at the Traveler’s Map with the model of a dungeon heart spinning at its center.

What was going to win out when it came down to it? An army of rankers or the power of teleport?

“An army of rankers and the power of teleport,” I answered.

I needed a crew to take with me to the center. I was under no illusions that I could beat the dungeon on my own. However, obtaining first-hand knowledge of the obstacles that waited would help me pull ahead of the competition.

“Very well,” I said. “Let’s start with goal three.”

Expanding the Traveler’s Map.

Please, select a destination.

“The dungeon heart,” I croaked out, even though non-verbal commands worked just fine.

Destination selected.

Preparing transfer . . .

A small lag followed as the Traveler’s Room, well . . . traveled.

Transfer completed.

Welcome to the Dungeon Heart, traveler. Best of luck.

A small pause followed.

You’ll need it.

Oi, oi, oi. That last bit was so not funny. Who had programmed that message?

The Traveler’s Map did not reply.

That was a legitimate warning, wasn’t it? Wouldn't it be smart to back out now that I still had the chance?

I shook my head. I didn’t come here to fight the dungeon boss. I only needed to take a peek. After which, I’d flee like nobody’s business.

I nudged the wooden door open.

A long hallway stretched just outside the room, running in a perpendicular direction. An imposing double door of gold and brass towered in the wall across the gap from my position. The hallway bore a luxurious carpet atop its surface, the color of fresh blood. Golden candles burned on hideous-looking scones, casting long shadows over the ground.

I ignored the double door at the moment to focus on a strange mist that hung a few inches over the ground. It curled and wafted in loose formation, never rising beyond the ankles. A few tendrils of mist slithered past my feet and into the Traveler’s room.

The mist felt strange to the touch, cool and warm at the same time. An unlikely combination of steam and ice: undeniable proof of magic at work.

Two stone archways provided the only points of entry into the hallway, one on either side. Magic barriers of some sort glowed blue in them. Byron’s group would eventually make their way through one of the archways unless the chimeras succeeded in obliterating their numbers.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I committed the parameters of the hallway to memory and settled my gaze on the large double door that stood opposite my position.

A humongous thing of gold and brass; the double door bore depictions of chimeras etched into its surface. A golden basin hung from its lintel, rife with decorations of the same vivid images. Above that, an empty progress meter hovered, alongside a [System] message:

Loading . . .

Well, that wasn’t ominous.

I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know that the final boss waited beyond the door. Which sucked, because experience had taught me that opening boss rooms always triggered a fight.

I stepped into the hallway. The feeling of ice running down my spine was all the warning I got before a giant mace swung at my head. I ducked by mere inches and leaped aside to regard my attacker.

Mist Enenra LVL 27.

Again with the odd naming conventions. But, the creature before me could technically pass as a Mist Human Chimera.

The enenra wafted gently in the breeze, even though its transparent shape indicated its preference for violence. It loomed a good three feet over my head, forged from pure mist, including its armor which looked like it had once belonged to some eldritch god.

Spikes protruded from its epaulets and helmet, the latter of which masked blue eyes set in a blank, featureless face.

The Mist Enenra raised its mace which despite being made of vapor promised real pain. A fell light poured out of its eyes.

You have been hit by the skill [Evil Eye].

You are now [Dismayed]!

All stats have been reduced by two.

[Dismay]? That’s my trademark! Did you just use my own spell against me?

I rolled aside to avoid its swing and winced at the plethora of [System] notifications that informed me that every attribute at the threshold had just lost a tier. Stupid skill!

The Traveler’s Room stood close enough to allow an escape—

I crashed to the ground as a large axe slammed against my guard. The enenra had formed the new weapon at the last possible second, along with a third arm that sprouted from the small of its back.

The sudden attack cost me a fifth of HP. The progress bar above the double door’s receptacle dinged.

Progress till chamber unlock:

0.2/20.

What?

The Mist Enenra advanced. A sour taste blossomed on my tongue as my gaze traveled from the receptacle to the weapons in the monster’s hands. If the loss of HP had caused the double door to respond . . . time to test my suspicions.

I dodged a second blow to the head and retaliated with a strike of mine across the enenra’s heel. My blade passed through its armor with minimal resistance, without distorting the enenra’s form, yet the cut counted as damage. Despite the drop in HP, the progress bar didn’t respond.

I brought my arms up in time to block a ferocious kick which launched me across the hallway. My health meter sank from the blow.

And, there it was . . .

The progress bar dinged like clockwork:

0.4/20.

Suspicions confirmed.

Mist spouted upward behind me, forming two more enenras. I didn’t plan to wait around.

I dove through the open doorway of the Traveler’s Room, narrowly avoiding a mace to the face. The Mist Enenras looked like they would follow me into the room, but then their eyes dimmed, and they stiffened. A short while later, all three collapsed into mist.

The progress bar dinged and went empty. All prior progress evaporated with my retreat.

I let out a strained breath and shut the door on the hallway. The brief skirmish had cost me some HP, but nothing a round of [Meditation] couldn’t fix.

The rogues had spoken about Byron's intended betrayal back at the item room. I didn’t care much for their words at the time, occupied as I was with survival. But, it all made sense.

The receptacle only responded to losses in a ranker’s health.

And, Byron currently led an army of rankers toward the final chamber.

No wonder he had been playing nice.

My stomach tossed. “Crap.”

I spent another hour recuperating in the Traveler’s room before I ventured out into the corridors. Someone needed to stop Byron, though I couldn’t begin to imagine how to accomplish that.

A sinister thought urged me to stop taking action. The rankers accompanying Byron had taken sides against me without a second thought. Let them test their mettle against the trial in the final chamber. It was simply just desserts.

But, could I live with such evil on my conscience?

Aside from the fact that good people like Mathideus could be hurt by my silence, doing nothing meant letting Byron win by sacrifice. And, I’d rather gouge my eyes out than stay idle as he climbed to glory over a mountain of corpses.

For that matter, was it possible that Mathideus also knew about the final challenge? He didn’t seem as confident of his way around the center as Byron, but he was the one who had proposed the idea of beating the Labyrinth as a group. What if that had only been a ploy?

The Labyrinth sucked for demanding bloodshed in exchange for its final prize, but the true beasts were the rankers who decided to meet that demand. I had to prevent Byron from accomplishing his plan. No treasure was worth that amount of blood.

It was armed with that logic that I returned to the corridor wherein Byron had rescued our group.

Sadly, the Labyrinth had other plans.

Chimeras filled every nook and cranny of the dungeon, probably in response to enemies getting closer to its heart. The sounds of fighting had also increased in frequency, complete with tremors from the showcasing of powerful abilities. More groups of rankers had made it to the final region, triggering clashes all around my position.

One such clash emanated a short distance away. I moved within the shadows, thankful for my skill in hiding, and found the culprits within a few minutes of searching.

A party of four squared off against an infestation of lion roaches, led by three Cynocephali.

The rankers held their own pretty well. One Warrior with black braids and skin the color of coal brandished a broadsword. He sliced a chimera into two perfect halves.

His companions darted around him—and I had to blink to ensure my eyes weren’t deceiving me—on two large leopards made of smoke. One Rider wielded a spear; the other, a bow. However, it was the spell that bloomed amid the chimeras that ground my feet to a halt.

A mass of black tentacles ruptured the ground, knocking two Cynocephali flat on their face. Even before seeing the cleavage and familiar pointy hat, a grin snaked across my lips.

Found you.