A Dungeon’s Survival

Fable

“Sean, Execution of the Wicked, and Fable Aspenbow, scion of the Adventurers Guild, I presume?”

The words rang out the moment we'd stepped through the entrance to the next room, and I froze. There was so much wrong with both the question and the one asking it that I didn't know where to begin.

“Um, I prefer not to go by that title, actually,” Sean, audibly taken aback, responded in far too casual of a tone given the situation.

“Ah, I see. My apologies. Do you prefer Enforcer of Light or Hero of Abustine?” the monster followed up.

“Um, neither really, but Enforcer of Light, I guess?”

I blinked and momentarily focused on my Mana Sense to make sure the scene I was witnessing wasn't some form of illusion or other trickery. Inside the next room of the Dungeon were three distinct figures. The other two aside, I could immediately tell there was something off with the one addressing us, but for the life of me, I couldn't place my finger on what. The hulking, fungal monster's appearance, from his bulging muscles to his massive weapon, were one thing, but the way he carried himself and spoke seemed completely at odds with what else I was seeing. Then, there was the strange magic I could feel coming from him and, more concerning, his words.

“Excellent! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sean, Enforcer of Light. I am Sir Archibald II, alchemist of this Dungeon and loyal servant of the mistress of the stone. Please, allow me to introduce my associates: Stein and Prism.”

“Blurb!” the inky black slime next to the massive goblinoid creature cheered as it bounced in the air, gurgling at its introduction.

In contrast, the undead remained motionless, save for the series of small, nearly imperceptible, and jerky movements it was making. Its teeth were bared and it was glaring daggers our way. It did not speak. Instead, it just growled out a low, guttural groan.

“Um, nice to meet you?” Sean returned the greeting uncertainly before adding to me in a far lower tone of voice, “Hey, is this normal?”

“No, far from it,” I answered immediately before speaking up for the monster to hear, “You have addressed my companion by his station, title, and class, and that is to say nothing of your mention of my own linage. Do tell, how do you know so much about us?”

Though I asked that, it was actually the least of my concerns. It wasn't hard to piece together who might've tipped him off. Still, I needed time to gather intel of my own, and I certainly wouldn't have complained if Sir Archibald confirmed my suspicions in the process. That was why I didn't so much as acknowledge how unusual the situation was and, instead, went straight to the heart of the matter. Whatever response he gave, just him giving one was enough to buy the time I needed to send a small surge of magic into my ring.

[Trenti

Level: 3

Health: 180 (225)

Stamina: 585 (665)

Mana: 550 (660)

Stats: FORT 36 (45), VIT 17 (25), STR 83 (105), END 117 (133), SOUL 55 (66), MIND 32 (40), WILL 30 (33), COM 46 (56), DEX 9 (16), AGI 35 (43)

Skills: None

Abilities: Bark Skin

Spells: Spore Wave

Description: A monster that, to some degree, is different from the rest of its species. A small goblinoid monster that is something between a plant, animal, and fungus. Weak but crafty, they enjoy playing pranks on members of the mortal races.]

It took everything in my power not to let my disbelief or utter confusion show on my face. Those weren't the stats of a level three monster. Those weren't even the stats of a first-tier monster. They were the stats of a monster in its low thirties without even accounting for the stat modifiers, modifiers that most certainly weren't those of a new, mutation-oriented dungeon.

Somehow, though, none of that was what stood out to me as the most absurd thing I was reading. No, that was the fact that the creature was clearly intelligent to the point of striking up a conversation with us, going so far as to even introduce itself by name and profession, a profession it didn't have the skills for, yet according to what I was seeing, it wasn't a named monster. That should've been impossible.

Everything about that discrepancy felt wrong to me and screamed of outside interference, yet for the first time since we'd entered the Dungeon, I was forced to ask myself one thing. Was this really the kind of thing a baron and disgraced alchemist would be capable of, and if so, just what had that man been up to for all these years? Then, there was the question of who the mistress of the stone this monster had mentioned was.

Completely oblivious to my inner turmoil, the monster answered my previous question as casually as one might comment on the weather, something else that rubbed me the wrong way, “When one's home is being invaded and life threatened, isn't it only natural for one to do their due diligence?”

It was a nonanswer that failed to address his source of information entirely, and while I'd initially only asked where he'd learned about us from in order to buy time, my desire for a serious answer was rapidly growing alongside my list of questions in general. Still, though, my need to know what we were up against was stronger than my idle curiosity about the less pressing details, so to cover the second use of my ring, I blurted out, “It was the baron, wasn't it? He warned you about us.”

[Stein

Level: 1

Health: 40 (70)

Stamina: 40 (70)

Mana: 1,080 (1,220)

Stats: FORT 8 (14), STR 37 (46), END 8 (14), SOUL 108 (122), MIND 19 (26), WILL 35 (45), COM 37 (45), DEX 14 (21), AGI 89 (101)

Skills: Calligraphy, Evasion, Stealth, Throwing, Swordsmanship, Intimidation, Instructing, Group Organization, Misdirection, Performing

Abilities: Feast, Decaying, Skill Mimicry, Record Memory, Memory Eater, Inflict Memory, Imperfect Imitation, Phase

Description: A monster that, to some degree, is different from the rest of its species. An undead husk with an unusually sharp, though forgetful, mind and an overwhelming craving for flesh. It can copy the movements and actions of those it comes into contact with with unerring accuracy, but it quickly forgets them.]

“Ah, Sir Peter Gyle?” Archibald clarified, but this time I wasn't able to so carefully hide my surprise at the information presented to me, my mouth falling slightly agape as he continued, “No, unfortunately–or perhaps fortunately, depending on how you look at it–I have not yet had the honor of meeting the man. I do, however, know that he is a most esteemed fellow alchemist, and I hold the utmost respect for him.”

There was a brief pause before he appended a question to the end of his words, “Are you quite alright?”

I was not. The undead's stats weren't quite as unbelievable as the Trenti's, placing it somewhere around being on par with a freshly risen second tier or a particularly powerful first, but that was where anything resembling ordinary about it ended. Nothing about its eight abilities or ten skills, least of which were Calligraphy and Performing, could be considered normal. It almost didn't feel real.

That was no excuse to show weakness, however, so recovering my composure, I answered, “Yes, I am fine. I was only wondering about something you mentioned. This mistress of the stone, just who–”

As I spoke, I sent one final surge of mana into my ring and, at first, felt relief. Unusual abilities aside, the slime's stats actually seemed to align with its low level. Once I'd skimmed far enough ahead to pick out something from its description, however, that was when my mind blanked on me.

[Prism

Level: 7

Health: 70 (105)

Stamina: 70 (105)

Mana: 140 (210)

Stats: FORT 14 (21), VIT 14 (22), STR 14 (27), END 14 (21), SOUL 14 (21), MIND 1 (7), WILL 14 (22), COM 16 (25), DEX 14 (22), AGI 14 (21)

Skills: Bluffing, Stealth, Intimidation

Abilities: Mana Sense, Slime Body, Mana Digestion, Elemental Shift, Cleanse Mana

Description: A monster only found in the Den of Creations. This is a mutant form of the Metamorphic Slime. This is a juvenile form of the Metamorphic Slime. A Metamorphic Slime is a variety of slime that, unlike other related species, is easily influenced by its environment. Once it has absorbed enough energy, it changes to a form based on the type of mana consumed.]

“–What is a monster exclusively found in another Dungeon doing here!?” I couldn't help but to put words to my bafflement, what I was previously saying left forgotten.

The possibilities raced through my mind, but as I tried to piece things together, I found that only three things could explain all of these abnormalities. As for which option aligned with reality, I couldn't be certain.

The first two hypotheticals, while different, effectively meant the same thing, only with some nuance. The first was the least likely, but I wasn't willing to discount it entirely. The baron had hosted us for three days. I couldn't begin to imagine what it would require to do so, nor had I ever heard of something comparable happening, but with his immense talents, I wasn't convinced it was outside the realm of possibility. Perhaps he had tampered with my ring, somehow causing it to provide incomplete or outright wrong information.

The second possibility was more likely. The only difference was that it afforded the baron plausible deniability. It was that these monsters could somehow falsify their status sheets. It would explain the inconsistencies and improbabilities I'd spotted, but I also knew that, for such a thing to be the case, it would've taken exceedingly rare abilities or other exorbitantly expensive preparations.

Then there was the final possibility, the one I was leaning toward being the case. It was that these monsters weren't native to this Dungeon, and if that were true, it would've meant a variety of things, the slime being a named monster from another Dungeon chief among them. If that was so, the same would likely be true for the undead and the shadowy monsters we'd encountered earlier, which only served as further evidence for this theory. As for Sir Archibald himself, if he was intelligent without a name, he likely wasn't a Dungeon monster at all, though that still wouldn't have explained his complete lack of skills.

The real problems were the farther reaching implications, however. I doubted the baron had the skill set necessary for this, and with the mention of a so-called mistress of the stone, it didn't sound like he was behind it either, at least not directly. He still could've hired the person who'd brought them here–no, more than there being a chance of it, it was likely that he had, especially if he'd already known about the shadow monsters ahead of time–but that wasn't the most important detail. Instead, that was how likely it now seemed that someone with an incredibly high-leveled or rare taming class was behind this.

In a best case scenario, that person had only been hired by Gyle. Considering I'd never heard of someone with the abilities necessary to make this happen, however, it lent credence to another possibility. Someone like that didn't just come out of nowhere, so it was incredibly likely that, whoever this hypothetical tamer was, they were part of an organization rather than a lone agent, an organization that could potentially have more malicious aims than mere mercenary work, and if that were the case, I could only think of two groups with both the motives and means to carry something like this out.

The cults were one possibility. The fact that Dungeons had begun acting strangely lately throughout the world had already called their involvement into question, and this case was no exception. It would've been the only confirmed case of their involvement, though. As for the other possibility, with the war approaching, Drulin seemed a far more likely culprit. I didn't know which Sir Gyle being involved with would've been worse, but if he had sold out our country, regardless of to whom, that alone had the potential to spell disaster for us all.

“Ah, that would be your Appraisal ring at play, no doubt,” the Trenti spoke up, snapping me from my racing thoughts as he answered a question I'd almost immediately forgotten asking as more pressing concerns had begun racing through my mind, “You see, Prism here has traveled a great distance to serve the mistress. Never mind that, however. First, there is something I must ask. Is there really no way to convince you to leave and spare us?”

“No,” I responded immediately, a new sense of the situation's severity settling over me.

“I see. That is unfortunate,” he responded, “In that case, please allow me a follow up question.”

As he spoke, his tone gained a degree of confidence and seriousness it'd previously lacked. That drew my attention outward and caused me to tense. It also allowed for a degree of my awareness to return to my surroundings, where it had previously been almost entirely directed toward my racing thoughts. That was when I noticed it.

I shuddered, but the Trenti's words came undeterred, “Can you really afford to remain here conversing with me when a much more immanent threat approaches?”

There it was. At the edge of my awareness, a mana signature was approaching. Whether it was human or monster, I couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it was powerful, on par with us at the very least, but unlike us, I somehow doubted it was worn down with depleted resources.

Immediately, I realized my plans had backfired. I'd been stalling for time so I could get an idea of our opponents capabilities before it came time to trade blows, but the Trenti had been all too willing to accommodate me. No, I realized that was wrong. I'd been the one accommodating him.

He had been the one to start this conversation, and I'd made the mistake of playing along. I should've noticed sooner, questioned what his motives had been, but I'd been too preoccupied by my own thoughts, them and the sharp, persistent pain that clung to my mind, making everything just a little bit harder to process. None of that mattered anymore, however. All that did was how we handled this problem. The time to preemptively nip it in the bud had passed.

“What do you mean by that!? What threat?”

As I froze up for a brief moment, all of those realizations hitting me, Sean yelled out at Sir Archibald. That was enough to snap me back to reality. As soon as I'd regained my senses, I moved.

“Sean,” I yelled out, “you deal with this! The undead is fast, physically weak, and has a substantial amount of magic power. Sir Archibald is durable and strong but not much else. Don't worry about the slime. It has some weird abilities, but it's just a slime. You've got this!”

“Wait, what? Where you going?”

I didn't respond. I was already moving, but a moment later, something else answered for me in a way that conveyed far more than I ever could've. A loud, bellowing roar echoed throughout the room. There was no doubt about it. Whatever manner of beast it was, whether another imported monster or something else entirely, one thing was clear: this was going to be an uphill battle.