Death growls like a predator and surges forward like fresh meat is dangling in front of it. Hollow laughter halts the mana dead in its tracks.

"That's weird," says Bones to the creepy mana. "People don't do that. Sure, I'm probably not one to talk on behalf of people... and mana isn't really people. Still... corrective feedback is good for the soul. So stop forcing yourself on people." The pale mana recoils. I prepare for another onslaught. Death doesn't strike. Bones continues to laugh as if taunting the mana to pounce.

"Hey, Bones." I have to muster the strength so my greeting doesn't come out broken. I'm fairly successful. I cut off my death mana and cycle as much mind mana as possible. My energy bolsters my strength.

"I knew you'd still respond to T'am," Bones says, pausing his mad cackle. "I think we both know it's your best name yet."

"No one uses apostrophes in their name. That's not a thing."

"No one that we know of." Bones steps closer to me. The silver mana draws back further. As the energy pools, the bloody and the wet air returns to a more natural state.

"Statistically speaking," I say, taking a deep breath and relaxing, if only a little. Bones' presence has stilled a storm, but I'm still on edge. "There's no one based on our pool size."

"Our sample size is beyond constrained. It's way too small and specific. Now I know you're just holding on to your ignorance. This happen often?" The skeleton chin nods to the pale energy. Death is gathering strength to devour us by binding to us. It's a strange relationship.

"Once before. It was much more unpleasant then."

"Want to talk about it?"

"It's complicated."

"Color me intrigued." I raise my eyes at the expression. Bones deflates just a little. "Go on."

"Now?"

"Probably no better time. This is my domain, after all." Bones steps closer to the hollow mana. The energy retreats, crowding to the edges of the glass dome.

"Death isn't chasing after you?" I ask Bones as I watch him and the mana curiously. "Can you not feel its draw? Its thirst to consume? Its need for power?" Bones laughs.

"Death is more repulsed by me." The skeleton cracks all twenty knuckles of his hands. "My guess is its hunger is shallow compared to mine." I don't question Bones' desire for power. Still, he defends his stance with a simple explanation. "I'm a dungeon, after all. Much life depends on me. You know this mana will only make you stronger?"

"That's what death said."

"We're closely associated." Bones grins a clever grin.

"I know I need to be stronger. Much stronger, especially if I'm going to make true my promises. But this is not the power I want. Growing in strength from slaughter… it's the way of the world, I get it. I've benefited from that dynamic and continue to do so, but I don't like it. It feels especially wrong when death presents itself like a reward and forces me to yield."

"I thought you were joking about the complicated schtick." Bones rests an elbow on the arm folded against his chest. Beard stroking commences. Surely, there will be pacing to follow. "This is some intense contradiction you're dealing with.

"I wish I was."

"Would it not be easier to accept the gift, become stronger, and just hate yourself a little more?"

"I don't hate myself." Now Bones raises his brow. "I'm scared of who I might've been or what I might've done. But I don't hate myself. At least not right now."

"So you can afford a little self-loathing. I hear it's all the rage. Even adds to your charisma skills which I know you've been trying to improve. People love the cold, broody type. I think it makes them feel better or sad people are easier to relate to."

"I hate that it's just how life is. That we accepted that we only get stronger by consuming. Then, we aren't presented with a choice. If you weren't here, death would force me to accept its ways. Just give me a choice. Let me decide if I want the power or not. It's selfish, but I want complete freedom." The thought brings my companions to my mind. "Bones, do you want me to release you?"

"No changing the subject."

"I don't know if I can, but I'm willing to figure it out."

"Jim."

"I need to know, boss." Having faced my own oppressive force, I'm scared to know if I'm that same oppression for my friends. Even if I'm not oppressive in my rule, the fact that I have authority over them is oppressive enough. For the love... death has done a number on me.

"My answer is and always will be no. And you can't. I made sure to check to see if I needed to prevent you from doing something ridiculous like destroying our bond. Call it self-preservation. As strong as I am, and I'll deny this if anyone asks, I only exist because you allow it. The same goes for Gene. We cheated the system before, but the bond isn't a system to cheat. It's the consequence of our actions. The dungeon only binds to me because I'm connected to an actual source. Remove the source, I lose the core… my reason for being is gone."

"Does it bother you that you are tied to me in such a way? What if we can find your power without the leash?"

"What leash? I'm your boss. I have as much autonomy as anyone else."

"You're bound to me."

"The same as friends are bound to each other or families. There's restraint and conditions, but how different is that from anything else." Now Bones is playing the ignorant card.

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"They always have a choice, though."

"And so do I. Don't I?"

"Of course."

"So what ropes do you fear are binding me?" Bones holds up his arms and waves them freely in front of me. "None. There are none. Even when you asserted your will over me in our fight, I had the choice to allow it. Now, do me a favor and drop the issue. You're carrying weight unnecessarily. Gene agrees, too. OK?"

I can't answer. I don't have an answer.

"Your silence is consent." Bones winks and steps closer to brooding mana trying to avoid him. "So, back to you, Jim. These people you feel guilt over aren't even dead. They will come back to fight us again. So will the horde, for that matter. Is it really wrong to take what they are giving and use it to get stronger?" Bones hits me with the same question I've played over in my mind. He knows he's struck a strong argument.

Bones paces slowly into a thick haze of pale gray mana. The very mana that tried to force a deeper connection to my soul scatters from the presence of my companion. I know I'm already connected to death. That happened lifetimes ago when I was vulnerable and unaware. It just seeped in and claimed a spot in my soul. I was ecstatic then and still greatly appreciate the power I have because of it. Bones, Gene, and my endless chair summons would not be a thing without the hungry mana. It's a part of me, and I'm grateful for the part it has played… for the most part.

So why can't I accept it? Why do I recoil against the thought? I need more strength. Death would only increase my ability to keep my promises.

"Do you think ill of those who embrace this power?" Bones pauses his pacing to hit me with another question. I must adjust my mindset to answer, but I'm too slow, and he hits me with a follow-up. "Will it be wrong for me to accept this power?"

"I have no issue with you or others growing in strength. It's when it becomes predatory that it becomes a problem."

"So why can't you take it?"

"I don't know," I say with frustration. Now I'm pacing. Or I would be, but I can't move much. Death must've seeped around me when it fled from Bones. It holds me in place with a desperate clutch.

Live.

To hell with this. I center my frustration into my will and push out with my mind mana. I will not be constrained. I push out the maroon mana more and more until there is a pop. The grasp around me releases, and I can move around for a few steps. I'm quite content in my cage. It's not much movement, but I'm no longer held in place.

"It just feels wrong." I look at the hungry mana reaching for me and running from Bones. "Like death is my direct opposition, and the more I give in, the more it gains on me."

"Life still messing with you?" Bones asks after a pause.

"It hasn't stopped."

"Be honest... do you feel like you are a chosen warrior of some type? You are the champion of life and need to fight death."

"I'm not going to answer that."

"Oh, come on. Destiny is a powerful drug. Who doesn't want to be special? You have to admit you even have a proper backstory."

"Abandoned in the desert?"

"Forsaken by the power that chains the world and chosen by the force death callously tramples over. You, the heroic underdog, are the last hope for a new life. You've even made it a personal goal to punch death in whatever chinny face it has."

"Death is such a prick. It deserves a good punch."

"Says the hero of life," says Bones. I shake my head and chuckle as I pace in my box. "These stories can't write themselves."

"Isn't that the very essence of destiny? It's written, and so it must be?"

"So… you drinking that, Champion of Life?"

"Destiny is another word for shackles. I'm no chosen. Cru, now that's the real champion of life."

"The goblin that abandoned us?"

"He had his reasons. He didn't want to endanger us."

"So he pulled his spiders away?"

"Well, he wasn't planning on you blowing yourself up and simultaneously taking away the entire dungeon. I'm sure he has his reasons for the spider withdrawal."

"That shouldn't happen again."

"Explosion of Bones? That's nearly a signature move at this point."

"No, not that. My death no longer wipes the entire dungeon. I spent some capacity to remove my death penalty. It's a silly consequence of the dungeon being tied to me. Just needed to do a little upgrading."

"That's smart."

"Right? What good is a minion dungeon boss if he can't die freely? I think that's one of my best assets."

"Agreed." Bones fakes offense. "No, Cru is the champion," I say with confidence. "That probably means you're the villain. Which makes me the mediator. Now that's an original story. The summoner usurped by his minion is befriended by a lowly goblin who blossoms life with every step. Minion and friend are destined to destroy each other, and I must watch as it unravels, unable to take a side."

"I don't think mediator is the right word. Seems too protagonistic, especially if you claim you're not the hero."

"I'm not the hero."

"So you agree Cru is the enemy."

"He's the hero. I'm sure I made that clear when I called you the villain."

"I thought we agreed everyone was a hero in their own eyes."

"That was two or three battles ago. And no one agreed with you."

"So, what's the takeaway to your tragedy?"

"Live the life you're comfortable with?"

"That's terrible and I'm pretty sure a repeat."

"I know." My pacing stops. I try to reach deeper for some meaning and a rationale that makes this less complicated. My grasp comes back empty. "That's all I got for now."

"Are you good with that?"

"For now, until I can figure this conflict out."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll consider myself living."

"Alright."

"Really? You're capitulating on that? You aren't going to convince me I'm a fool and a hypocrite and need to just accept the power and get stronger."

"You've clearly stated your murky stance. I'm good with it as long as you are."

"Thanks."

"You're good, right?"

"I will be."

"Good enough." Bones sighs. "It's time to show these demons who's their bone daddy."

"You probably shouldn't say that ever again." It's too late. My warning falls empty as the demon's villain heads to the exit; death wraps around his fingers and follows behind him like he is the leading surge of a bursting river — a trepidatious bursting river.