“So this is Genenwell.”

There were precious few carriages traveling to the small elvish village on the edge of nowhere, but they were increasing day by day. Each of those carriages, however, were filled to the brim with explorers, enthusiasts, and supplies. Ulbert, thankfully, was able to receive transportation services via his work.

The relatively tall and lithe demon man disembarked onto a dirt path carved between two swaths of bright green grass. He took in a deep breath of fresh air and sighed contentedly. Despite being a demon, Ulbert appreciated raw nature… up to an extent. He was as bad with bugs as any of them, but the trees and flowers were lovely.

Sadly, he couldn’t stand around and take in the sights forever: he was a busy man with places to be and people to meet.

Ulbert proceeded down the path, toward one of the only stone buildings in the village full of towering elf trees. Along the way, he brushed off whatever curious glances he got, though he did pick up some whispering with his sharp hearing. In particular, two young twins were chatting atop an exceptionally broad tree canopy.

“He doesn’t have horns, huh.”

“Do you think it hurts?”

Relax, it doesn’t hurt, Ulbert thought with a chuckle.

He was used to comments like those. The children didn’t mean any harm, and Ulbert knew how interesting it must be for them to see a hornless demon for the first time.

“You’re assuming he’s a demon though,” the first kid pointed out. “He could be another dungeon friend.”

“You mean a human friend? But he came from the wrong direction, and the colors are all wrong.”

Now this was new. Ulbert hadn’t been compared to anything besides a demon with such casual certainty before, and he had never heard of a human either.

Twin feelings bloomed in his chest. On the one hand: anticipation. He was a researcher by trade, and clearly this town would live up to its rumors. On the other hand: anxiety. How was the local guild branch—how was his sister—managing things here even before the dust had settled?

When Ulbert’s feet had carried him into the local guild building, the calm rural town atmosphere vanished: replaced by the hustle and bustle of blue collar workers scurrying hectically.

On the ground floor, over a dozen explorers were lined up waiting to fill out their arrival papers and dozens more were looking to get their exploring license in the first place. Demon and elf receptionists hurried up and down the stairs transporting crystals, ink, and paper.

On the second floor. Multiple dozens of guild researchers and mages had formed into pockets of intellectual fervor, pouring over stacks of papers without end.

Ulbert picked up a stray page beside his foot and hummed. It was a very detailed anatomical diagram of a brain. Probably an elf brain, according to his best guess at a glance. He glanced at another nearby page for comparison and instantly noticed a pattern.

“Synaptic firings interacting with mana channel releases?” The papers were pieces of the 2-D representation of a 3-dimensional picture, and the fidelity between sketches was quite high. “This is some impressive data. Is this part of a case study?”

The guild staff member nearest to him looked up from his absorption and blinked.

“Who’re you?”

Ulbert set the papers down and held out a hand. “I’m from the Dungeon Research Institute. Ulbert Nzeft Irenthi.”

“Ah!” The staff member quickly straightened himself up for a more professional look. “Of course, we’ve been expecting someone to come. We have an office ready for you. Shall I show you the way?”

“Sure, and can you take me by the junior inspector’s office while you’re at it?”

The staff member bobbed his head and led their new dungeon researcher up to the top floor where both of those offices were. Ulbert rapped crisply at the door and was given permission to enter shortly after by a very familiar voice.

His gaze softened, seeing his foolish little sister busily pouring over paperwork at her very own desk.

“Good afternoon, junior inspector Irenthi,” he teased.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cherise looked up from her work with disbelieving eyes. “Brother?!” She stood up in a hurry and shooed away the staff member who guided him. “What are you doing here?”

“I applied to come here as a researcher when I found out this was where your first independent assignment would be.” Ulbert smiled, approached the desk, and gave his little sister the tender pat on the head she didn’t dare to ask for while on the job. “Since my request went through, the dungeon here must have some irregularities after all.”

Cherise bobbed her head enthusiastically. “It’s been a mess every single day! Even if it’s you, I’m glad we can have a researcher on-site so soon.”

“Hey, that hurts. I take my work seriously.”

“I can’t imagine you being serious about anything,” Cherise allowed herself a chuckle.

“That’s fine. I like it that way,” Ulbert chuckled. “But I do have to work, since I’m here now. Could you gather up all the information you have on the dungeon so far and send it to my office?”

Technically, the Explorers Guild and the Dungeon Research Institute (DRI) were separate, cooperating entities. Neither of the siblings was above or below the other in the hierarchy, nor were they exactly equals.

“Of course,” Cherise sat back down at her desk and nodded. “You’ll have to share the biopsy data with the staff until they’re done with it, though.”

“Biopsy data? Are you referring to those papers scattered around downstairs? What do those have to do with the dungeon?”

Cherise frowned; the levity from a moment ago left a tired and stressed face behind. “Who do you think put all that together in a remote place like this? That thing isn’t a normal dungeon at all. Good luck, Mr. DR on-site.”

Ulbert went to his office after that to seriously take a look at the situation in this remote elvish village. Every few minutes, a staff member would come by with yet another stack of papers for him to study. The amount of data that had accrued in such a short time was mind-boggling.

As for the basics: its name was Archimedes. It currently had three floors, and it was an unusual dungeon that challenged visitors with puzzles while discouraging violence.

There was an incident list relating to Archimedes that had more pages in it than the dungeon’s number of days in this world so far. The incident between Cherise and the dungeon in particular made Ulbert hold his head.

I knew it was too soon for you to go on an assignment alone! he groaned internally.

Certainly, the central misunderstanding wasn’t her fault, but everything about the handling could have been done better.

Rybo, and this Anther kid. I think I owe them lunch.

Personal matters aside, Ulbert continued reading through all the dungeon information.

This is interesting. As a young dungeon it’s actively communicating with the guild and even sharing its floor plans with us. I understand why it does this, but the fact that it can is astounding. It really is much too intelligent for such a small dungeon.

He poured over several of the carvings and puzzles that had appeared and disappeared over time. It learns quickly, seems like a bit of a perfectionist, and is very curious about the world outside. Ulbert frowned at a particularly melancholy carved phrase, in a room where the walls were literally crying. The phrase predated the puzzle it was later incorporated into.

Can I really just call this curiosity?

Ulbert had studied a variety of dungeons throughout his several-centuries-long career. He had even had the pleasure of conversing with Babel, one of the oldest dungeons in the world. Babel was alive during the era when dungeons weren’t well understood. It had fought bloody battles for its survival for decades before its intelligence grew and communication became possible. It was still fearful and suspicious of outsiders to this day, but ultimately it cooperated for the sake of mutual survival.

Something about Archimedes’ bitterness reminds me of Babel. Could two attacks by bandits have created such a deep scar? Impossible: the signs were there even before the first attack.

But one of the more interesting things Ulbert learned about Archimedes was his propensity for mind reading.

It was widely known by dungeon researchers that Babel and several other ancient dungeons had the same ability. Both those dungeons and the researchers felt it was better to keep that fact out of the public eye, both because of the paranoia it could cause in ordinary people and because it was a power those dungeons rarely actually used.

Mind reading was a strategic weapon that ancient dungeons used during the early days of our communication with them at the risk of unwanted personality alterations and insanity, Ulbert recalled. Younger dungeons who have the privilege of peace, of direct and honest conversation, typically don’t ever learn they have such a power.

Reading minds was complicated even for dungeons. It required experience and a non-negligible amount of processing power that a dungeon at peace should never feel the need to devote.

Yet Archimedes is delivering biopsies to the guild? Complete brain scans? And he’s learning and replicating the spells the guild teaches its inspectors?

Ulbert found it unlikely that all the dungeons in the world were lying about the difficulties of mind reading. At least one of them would have been caught before now—it wasn’t like they had a way to communicate with each other to weave such an elaborate lie.

More than likely, Archimedes was the outlier here, and it was about time Ulbert went to greet the dungeon in person.

Naturally, he’d prepared a gift to smooth things over; one that he found even more necessary seeing how things had gone for the guild so far. Every dungeon’s personality was different, but they were all still dungeons. They appreciated anything that could help them grow.

So, Ulbert stood up from his desk, checked his breast pocket for a small fragment of hard clear material, and charted a course for the mountain behind the village.