Godfrey stared at the flame—Casper, apparently—in utter disbelief. His patience, already tested to its breaking point, teetered on the edge of imploding. He glanced over at Merlin, who looked as though he might keel over any second, then at the rogue, who was smirking as if enjoying the absurdity of the situation. Karlos remained unconscious, blissfully unaware of the chaos around them.

“Official review?” Godfrey repeated, his voice flat and dangerously calm.

Casper bobbed enthusiastically, its faint glow pulsating like a heartbeat. “Yes! A proper signature! Something tangible! You knights and mages are always so serious, but don’t you think it’s nice to leave a mark of your experience? A legacy of ten-star service!”

The armored figure—still clearly entertained by the flame’s antics—pushed off the wall and clapped their hands together. “Oh, I love this. Please, knight, indulge the little guy. He’s been dreaming about this for centuries.”

“Centuries?” Merlin muttered weakly, his voice a rasp. “You’re telling me this thing’s been harassing adventurers for that long?”

“Not harassing!” Casper chirped indignantly. “Refining the art of dungeon hospitality! You wouldn’t understand. It’s a niche craft.”

Godfrey pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of composure he had left. “Casper,” he said, his tone carefully measured, “I am tired. My mage is wounded, my rogue was tied up for reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, and I have an unconscious teenager over there who probably thinks this is all some fever dream. I am not signing anything.”

Casper’s glow dimmed, and it drooped dramatically. “But… it’s my legacy,” it whispered, voice quivering.

The rogue snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Godfrey, just sign it. What’s the harm? You might even get a discount on your next death trap.”

Godfrey shot the rogue a withering glare before turning back to the flame. “Fine. You want a legacy? I’ll give you one.” He drew his sword with a flourish and etched a crude “X” into the stone floor beneath Casper’s hovering form. “There. Consider it signed.”

Casper spun in a dizzying circle, emitting a delighted squeal. “Oh, this is perfect! A signature! A real, knightly signature! I can’t wait to show this to the other dungeon spirits—they’ll be so jealous!”

The armored figure chuckled, folding their arms as they watched the scene unfold. “You know, Casper, you might want to leave out the part where you were bribing knights for stars. Doesn’t exactly scream professionalism.”

Casper ignored the remark, too busy buzzing around its precious “signature” like an artist admiring a masterpiece. “Best day ever!” it proclaimed.

“Good for you,” Godfrey muttered, already turning away. “Let’s move.”

The rogue sidled up next to Merlin, offering a shoulder for support despite their earlier antics. “You know, this might actually be the weirdest dungeon I’ve ever been in. And I once got stuck in one where the final boss was just… a really angry chicken.”

“Sounds peaceful compared to this,” Merlin replied dryly, wincing as they began to move.

As the group made their way to the exit, Casper’s voice called after them. “Come back soon! Remember—Casper’s Violet Inferno Dungeon is always open! Tell your friends!”

“I’d rather walk into the Void itself,” Godfrey muttered, his voice low enough that only Merlin caught it. The mage chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

As they emerged into the open air, the tension that had weighed them down inside the dungeon finally lifted. The sky was a muted gray, the sun struggling to break through the clouds, but to Godfrey, it felt like freedom.

“Next time,” the knight said, glancing at the rogue, “you’re not splitting off from the group.”

The rogue grinned, unrepentant. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

Godfrey shook his head, too exhausted to argue. He glanced at Karlos, who was still unconscious but beginning to stir. “And as for him…”

“Let me guess,” Merlin interjected, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’re blaming him for all this, too?”

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“No,” Godfrey said, a faint smile breaking through his stern expression. “But I am making him write the next review.”

Godfrey had just begun to enjoy the sweet taste of freedom when the high-pitched voice of the flaming spirit pierced the air behind them.

“Wait! You forgot your book!”

The knight froze mid-step, his jaw tightening as a muscle in his temple visibly twitched. Merlin, barely able to stand without leaning on the rogue, groaned. “Tell me it’s not following us.”

The rogue turned, stifling a laugh as Casper floated out of the dungeon, a weathered, purple-bound book clutched between two fiery tendrils. “Oh, it’s following us. And it brought reading material.”

Godfrey’s grip on his sword tightened, but instead of unleashing the frustration burning within him, he spun around and faced Casper with an expression of forced calm. “Casper,” he began, his tone deadly soft, “we’re leaving. We don’t need the book.”

“But you do!” Casper protested, waving the book energetically. “Every adventurer who completes my dungeon gets an official logbook. It’s tradition! You can document all your victories, mishaps, and memories! It even comes with a quill and enchanted ink—never runs dry!”

The rogue let out a low whistle, clearly impressed despite the absurdity of the situation. “That’s actually not a bad deal. Free gear. You sure you don’t want it, Godfrey?”

Godfrey closed his eyes, silently counting to ten. It didn’t help. “Casper,” he said through gritted teeth, “if I take that book, will you stop following us?”

The flame bobbed enthusiastically, its glow brightening. “Absolutely! And you can even—”

“Fine,” Godfrey interrupted, snatching the book out of the spirit’s tendrils before it could finish its sales pitch. “There. Taken. Now go back to your… niche craft.”

Casper buzzed in delight, twirling in the air. “Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you, Sir Knight! Remember, when you’re telling your friends about Casper’s Violet Inferno Dungeon, emphasize the ambiance. I worked really hard on the ambiance!”

Godfrey didn’t dignify that with a response. He turned on his heel and resumed walking, the rogue chuckling beside him. “I think Casper really likes you, Godfrey. Maybe you’ve got a knack for dungeon spirits.”

“Say one more word,” Godfrey warned, “and I’ll leave you in the next dungeon we find.”

The rogue raised his hands in mock surrender. “Touchy. Got it.”

Behind them, Casper’s cheerful voice echoed one last time. “Come back soon! Remember, five-star reviews keep the dungeon alive!”

As the dungeon entrance faded from view, Merlin finally spoke up, his voice dry. “Do you think it knows we’re never coming back?”

Godfrey exhaled, his expression dark. “If it doesn’t, it will figure it out soon enough.”

The knight glanced down at the book in his hand. Against his better judgment, he cracked it open, revealing pages already filled with glowing script. To his horror, the entries documented every single moment of their time in the dungeon—right down to his sarcastic “signature.”

“This thing’s enchanted,” he muttered, flipping through the pages.

The rogue peered over his shoulder. “Ooh, it’s like a journal! Look, it even recorded that time you—”

Godfrey snapped the book shut with a resounding thud and fixed the rogue with a glare. “Not. Another. Word.”

Merlin chuckled softly, his amusement breaking through his exhaustion. “You know, Godfrey, you might actually need that book. For posterity.”

The knight didn’t respond, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. As they pressed onward, the tension eased, replaced by a shared understanding that they had, somehow, survived yet another ridiculous adventure.

And somewhere far behind them, Casper floated back into the depths of the dungeon, humming a tune as it admired its latest “guest log.”

“Best day ever,” it whispered to itself, glowing brighter than ever. Then it remember it has another book it has to give for the ten star review.

“Wait! You forgot your guest book! How am I supposed to record your thoughts on the ambiance? Or the traps? Or the refreshments?”

Godfrey’s steps slowed as his shoulders stiffened. He turned slightly, casting a murderous glance over his shoulder. The flaming specter hovered anxiously at the dungeon entrance, holding what looked like a glowing, translucent book. Pages flickered between materializing and disappearing, and a quill floated beside it like an eager pet.

“Keep walking,” Merlin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He was leaning heavily on the rogue, who grinned at the spectacle.

“I think you should go back for it,” the rogue teased, clearly enjoying Godfrey’s misery. “Might be your chance to critique the spiked walls.”

Godfrey didn’t dignify that with a response, instead fixing his gaze forward. His grip tightened on his sword, the motion almost meditative. Yet Casper persisted.

“But your experience is incomplete without proper feedback!” the flame cried, its glow growing more frantic. “How will I improve? Do you know how hard it is to get constructive criticism when adventurers are either dying or too busy looting?”

The knight’s gait quickened, his armor clinking with each step. “If you take one more step toward that thing, I will leave you in the next dungeon,” he growled at the rogue, who was inching toward Casper with mock curiosity.

“I’d leave a stellar review for this dungeon,” the rogue mused, earning a sharp look from Godfrey. “Five stars: Great fire hazards, an eccentric host, and a bookish exit.”

Casper caught up, flickering with determination. “Don’t worry! I can jot down your comments as we walk! I’m flexible like that. Also, have you considered rating our treasure distribution system? Some say it’s a bit… random, but I pride myself on fairness!”

“Casper,” Godfrey warned, his voice low and deadly. “If you continue following us, I will extinguish you myself.”

“Oh, you knights and your dramatics,” Casper sighed, sounding almost amused. “Fine, fine. No review, no guest book. But next time—”

“There won’t be a next time,” Godfrey interrupted, quickening his pace. “Not for this dungeon. Not for you.”

Casper hovered for a moment, its glow dimming as it processed the rejection. Then, in a burst of defiance, it called out after them, “You’ll be back! They always come back! Especially for the ‘Heroic Bundle Deal’—free healing potions with every trap-triggered injury!”

“Still a better sales pitch than yours,” Merlin muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smirk despite his exhaustion.

As the dungeon’s entrance finally faded into the distance and Casper’s voice became an echo in the wind, Godfrey allowed himself a deep breath. The tension began to uncoil in his chest, though the absurdity of the situation left its mark.

When Karlos stirred, groaning softly, Godfrey’s relief was short-lived. The teen blinked up at the knight, disoriented but clearly on the verge of asking questions.

“Not a word,” Godfrey said preemptively, his voice firm. “Not one.”