Was that what I thought it was?!?

“Barn?”

I raised my paw to find a tiny, skeletal serpent peeking out, as though trying to blend into invisibility. Was he blushing with embarrassment over what had just transpired? I mean, he did leave me dangling in peril by falling into a nap—perhaps breaching some sort of clause Lotte had put in place. Spirits and AstralBeasts alike usually had a built-in instinct to follow their contracts, so what Barn did probably wasn’t entirely his fault; I had a hand in it as well.

“Why the sneaky hiding, you little blighter? You know I’m partially to blame too, right?”

Barn glanced up with his oversized, beady eyes—perhaps attempting a pitifully adorable look—before skittering across my paw and taking refuge on the far side.

I twisted my serpentine neck to get a better view. Hang on, he looked a tad different now, with stubby little wings sprouting from his back. Blimey, did he evolve? He used to be gold rank; how does one even top that? Higher ranks generally meant broader powers, so Barn was presumably more powerful, yet still gold rank. How curious. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it, especially now that I had the potential to level up myself. My narrowed eyes made him skitter even further away, like a cartoon character in a mad scramble.

Honestly, his appearance was so outlandish it was hard to even grasp what dimension his body occupied—a hasty brushstroke, as if it hadn’t quite settled into form yet. Sometimes I wondered if any of this was real at all.

But! FINALLY! Barn was awake!

First things first, I wrenched my paw from the gooey, sticky sap. Ugh, at last, I’d be able to escape, though I’d definitely be returning to collect some of this potent healing potion. Leave it behind? Not a chance!

"Oi, stop your sneaking about, you little scoundrel! First things first, give me a hand and help me drop down there," I jabbed a claw in the direction of the chamber below, in the midst of the monster shindig.

I peered out, glancing over to the top chamber—nothing particularly remarkable, just those many tunnels oozing sap, clustered so close together they triggered an uncomfortable feeling deep within me. Trypophobia, that’s the word, isn’t it? Fear of closely packed holes. Well, well, there’s a word for everything in my dreams. Good to know, I suppose. Thanks, subconscious!

Anyway, I waited for the spine-tingling sound of agreement from Barn, and as soon as it came, I launched myself through the tunnel opening. Below, a basin of sap awaited.

Now, I ought to have checked in on Stephan, but my curiosity was positively piqued—what on earth would happen if I gatecrashed this monster meet-up?

As I descended, an invisible force caught me gently, cradling me in mid-air. Blast it, Barn! I’d missed this so bloody much. That familiar warmth of protection, knowing my guardian was a force not to be trifled with.

The force eased me down, hovering me over the basins. A few of those insectoid beasties got their knickers in a twist, snapping their mandibles in agitation, but none dared to launch an attack. Even as I landed in the middle of the monstrous gathering, the wolves slunk back, as if… afraid of me, while the rat monsters busied themselves, scooping up that healing sap with their grotesque paws. They paid me no mind, but they still gave me the heebie-jeebies—there’s just something unsettling about enormous, repulsive rats working in unison that sets off all kinds of alarm bells in one’s head.

The most riled-up reaction, though, came from a creeper that looked an awful lot like the one that had been tailing me earlier. Just a tad smaller. Bile dribbled from its maw, and its barbed tongue lolled out, slick with spit. It was poised on all fours, muscles coiled like it was about to pounce—but the attack never came. I moved, and it snapped its head to track my every step, but still, no strike.

My brain, as it often did, began cataloguing each of the monsters. It wasn’t something I needed to do, but it was a habit I couldn’t seem to shake off. I’d always had this peculiar knack for reading people—sussing out their faces, their expressions, and their moods with an ease that’s almost eerie. No clue where this talent came from, but it’s always been there, simmering in the background, guiding my thoughts.

Even now, a reasoning was stitching itself together in my mind, a logical thread weaving through my thoughts. Perhaps this is why I’ve always been leery of people with masks—the ones who keep their emotions hidden behind a façade.

And, dare I say it, it sort of made sense why I found a certain comfort among monsters. Not in a chummy way, of course, but they were cunning, efficient hunters, always ready to finish me off the moment I slipped up. Yet, they were also simple, straightforward in their intent. It was all there to see—the wolves on edge, the rat fiends indifferent, the creeper spoiling for a fight. Nothing hidden, just raw behaviour laid bare for anyone keen enough to notice.

But why did I cling so stubbornly to this need to understand, to categorise? Perhaps it was a defence mechanism, a way to grasp some semblance of control in a world where certainty was just… rare. By analysing others, I could predict their moves, anticipate their actions, and shield myself from the unpredictable. It was a skill I’d honed out of sheer necessity, especially in a town where everyone seemed to have it in for me. Perhaps it was my way of surviving.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Or maybe… I hadn’t the foggiest clue. AND WOULD YOU STOP ANALYSING YOUR OWN PSYCHE, JADE!!

Hmm.

Perhaps Barn could lend a hand—or a bony tail, rather. I threw the question his way, asking if he could retrace my steps and get me back to square one.

He simply shook his head and clicked his teeth in a rather disheartening trio of 'no's.

“But it’s the same place you were just snoozing! Surely you can remember the way back!” I pressed, offering a smidge more guidance than just "Cultist's lair."

Honestly, why did it feel like I was schooling this gold-ranked calamity on the art of using one's noggin?

But no, the head-shaking continued. Only this time, he managed a slightly more enlightening response: ‘Invocation. Summoned to you. No Path.’

Ah, so it seemed I’d unwittingly invoked some part of a contract that brought him straight to me. No wonder he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get back.

Well, wasn’t that just peachy?

Perhaps I was approaching this all wrong. Instead of finding our way back, why not put Barn’s natural talents to use? These Parda entities weren’t called bloodhounds for nothing.

“Remember that guy I told you to spare? The one with the horns..." I raised a claw, mimicking horns atop my head. "Could you give him a little sniff instead?"

That did the trick! His fake eyes popped open, and he snapped his jaws thrice, practically bouncing with excitement. Absolutely brilliant!

Suddenly, a force grabbed me, yanking me up, and the monsters around me tensed—well, all except the rats, of course. Ugh, they were utterly revolting. I spotted two large tunnels leading out of this place. Ah, which one were we taking to go back—Wait, Barn? Where the devil was he taking me?

The trajectory shifted, not towards the two grand tunnel exits, but straight towards a solid stone wall of the cavern chamber.

Umm…?

The wall was made of the same stone as the rest of this dungeon, but as I got closer, it started disintegrating in this perfectly spherical shape. Oh, I see what’s going on!

Barn clearly wasn’t interested in following the usual monster tunnel etiquette. I asked him to sniff out Stephan, and he did—just with a slightly more direct route. Barn’s method? Straight line, mate. And nothing was going to stand in the way of a gold rank’s willpower.

Blimey! Made me wonder if I’d ever reach that level of power.

All around me, solid stone. You’d think digging underground might unearth some surprises—hidden treasures, forgotten relics, or maybe even a worm or two. But no, dungeons aren’t like that. Just rocks crumbling away, leaving behind a perfectly cylindrical tunnel, with those swirling hues dancing about.

In no time, the earth above yawned open, revealing another tunnel—and not just any tunnel, but one I knew all too well! Those sticky webs were a dead giveaway. This was where it all kicked off. The very spot where that ghastly creeper first started tailing me!

I wondered if they were still lurking about.

"Hold your horses, Barn," I muttered.

He did as told while I had a gander around. Most of the webs had disappeared by now, and the entrance to the cultist’s lair was plain as day up ahead. My eyes drifted forward and—what's this? That giant spider monster’s corpse was still parked right where I left it! Hours had passed since I last saw it sprawled there. Peculiar, I thought, as I glanced upwards, and lo and behold, not four, but now five of those creepy crawlies were perched on the ceiling, their beady eyes fixed on the corpse.

It didn’t take long to unravel what they were up to.

A peculiar rabbit-like beast, about the size of a small dog, with black fur, red eyes, and a rather nasty set of teeth and claws, emerged from a freshly dug hole nearby. I say freshly because it was right beneath that green stain on the wall I’d spotted earlier. I was certain that hole hadn’t been there before.

The rabbit took a tentative sniff of the air before inching towards the spider’s carcass, and the moment it did… well, that was the end of that. A barbed tongue shot out, pierced its head, wrapped around it, and up it went. One of the creepers gobbled it up without so much as a second thought.

Blimey! They were using the corpse as bait. But… something didn’t quite add up. Now, I may not have been a dungeon expert, but I did know this—remnants didn’t stick around in dungeons. You wouldn’t catch a glimpse of skeletons, limbs, or even a stray droplet of blood loitering about. The dungeon had an uncanny knack for gobbling it all up. Corpses? Same story—give 'em an hour, and they’d disappear, swallowed right back into the dungeon’s gullet from whence they sprang. A curious little quirk of that eerie place.

But there I was, hours later, still staring at the remains of that spider monster. So why on earth hadn’t it been sucked into the dungeon’s belly by then? Had those creepy-crawlies discovered some way to slow down the process? Not a chance. Only one possibility danced on the edge of my mind, one I was rather keen on ignoring. Could it be… still alive?

The beast's body was a canvas of certain carnage: a massive gash leaking green goo from its abdomen, deep punctures oozing on its thorax, and a shattered leg dangling by a piece of white web. A ghastly sight. A clear memory of a savage battle.

It wasn’t moving… or was it? “Barn, bring me closer,” I said, pointing at the spider monster.

As we drifted nearer, I kept my gaze fixed on the creepers. Their tricks of stealth and camouflage were no match for my keen eyes and the hues. Oh, and the moment I drew closer, their heads all swivelled towards me in unison, one in particular looking a tad more jittery than the rest, muscles taut, tongue lolling out longer than usual—probably the same rascal that had chased me earlier. Seemed like it was gearing up for another go.

And then, just as I got close to the spider, it struck. A barbed tongue, serrated and dripping with bile, shot towards me like a heat-seeking missile. Poor sod didn’t notice the massive fuck-off disintegration sphere I had hovering around me—a sphere that had just cheerfully disintegrated its way through solid stone, carving out a neat little tunnel.

So, when half its tongue vanished into thin air and it started shrieking like a banshee, losing its grip and toppling onto the spider, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Now that I was up close, I could see it clearly—no movement from the body, but those ghastly eyes, flickering ever so slightly, and the mandibles twitching as if they were trying, and failing, to move. A paralytic agent, no doubt—probably from the creepers’ spit or perhaps something nasty in those barbed tongues, keeping it firmly immobilized.

Yet, a strange fury began to bubble up inside me. I’m all for a good hunt, but there’s a code—a place where one grows stronger from hunting and devouring others. A successful hunt deserves a dignified end. Anything that desecrates the sanctity of life, leaving its prey half-dead in agony, is an affront to the very essence of being a predator. Even monsters deserve mercy and a swift death to conclude the hunt.

“Barn,” I muttered, “think you could take them out while keeping their bodies mostly intact?”