Egbert seethed as the little orphan asshole finished plucking his entire vending machine dry without spending a single coin. I should say something! I really should; if I'm to be their parental figure, it's important they know right from wrong!

  Egbert was about to elucidate the thief when they suddenly took off running. Resh practically flowed from platform to platform in nearly effortless leaps, even stepping off the tower on the final platform, so they cleared the tripping hazard easily on the way back. All the while carrying a box of highly explosive crystals.

  He rushed right out the front door to join his companion, and together they scampered out of Egbert's view. Well, shit...maybe I actually will have my work cut out for me if they are all little damned filchers in training. I guess the inspector is back in town? Oh hell, I need to make the little bastard's shacks look more presentable if he's about to do another walk-through.

  Egbert zipped away from the pissy normal lootbugs hissing madly about the kids that just ran through their home and back towards the tavern floor. The evolved loot bugs were already starting to filter down and set up shop in their respective new kingdoms. Egbert stopped suddenly and watched in awe at Twitch’s rather insane migration to his new home.

  He was being carried on a palanquin made from an exorbitantly expensive pillow. One loot bug bannerman held it aloft from each corner by its extravagant golden-hued silk tassels. Twitch himself jittered on his temporary throne, the still mostly full jar of zip dust held protectively in his grasp.

  A wave of bannermen forged on ahead of him through the loot bug village. Fighting back the myconid swarms with fast, jittery attacks. The cobblestone began to run green with mushroom blood as they mercilessly cleared the way for their lord. Rushing back after every especially dramatic kill to be dusted with Twitch’s horde of Zip dust.

  Ebert watched Twitch take a giant huff face first from the jar, then screech an actual bloodthirsty screech straight at the sky, his face dusted in glowing blue “medicine,” before sprinkling the smallest amount on one of his warriors. The warrior let out a very loot buggy scream before charging back to the battlefield, spittle foaming at its mouth. HUH…I feel like this might be one I can’t undo easily. It might be best to just give him a new jar every month or so. Otherwise the cumulative withdrawals might suddenly kill off half of the “employees” of my newest attraction.

  Egbert followed the “totally not a drug convoy.” Down to the tavern area and watched as they trekked out to their new home. He looked over and saw Max had gotten a frankly stupid amount of the tavern built today while he was working on the battlefield. He was surrounded by buckets of nails. Piles of boards he wouldn’t have been able to move if his strength stat wasn’t so crazy high and an amusing amount of floor drains. Max looked to be almost a third of the way done with the floor.

  He was following the general area Egbert had cleared out for him, meaning the building would probably be roughly half-moon shaped and wrapped around the edge of the whirlpool lake. It actually looked like Max was being real brave and actually planning to have a balcony that hung slightly over the whirlpool. Gods, man, with how drunk you get them, is it wise to give them a plank to walk off of? This establishment is going to be a greater hazard than I am.

  Egbert zoomed a few dozen strides away to the collection of orphan shacks. They weren’t bad per se...but he needed to spruce them up at least a little, and he didn’t have much gold to work with. So any semblance of structural improvement was off the table; he had already put the oatmeal feeders into the shacks, so that was covered. Paint! That's it—make it all cheerful looking and such...and just for a few coppers! Wait, I should find out what they all look like first. I can at least do that for that thieving little bastard; I’m sure he would love it. I think the little bastards have to agree to stay here, so...better butter them up a bit.

  Egbert started on Resh’s shack; it was a simple single-room cottage more than anything else. He had put the bare minimum into it: a bookshelf, bed, tables, etc. But now he was going to make it pop. The kid loved the whole rogue aesthetic, probably, so that's what Egbert leaned into. He tossed a dirt-cheap collection of locks and picks onto the kids' table and stole a chest from the loot bug room. Then he began a mural that spiraled down half the building.

  Shadows whirled, blades danced, and coin purses were stashed in the sprawling mural dominated by shadow and gold. Egbert made scene after scene of a roughish figure stealing or stabbing his way through life, culminating with a cloaked figure lounging atop a pile of gold. There we go. Kids love dramatic shit like this, right?

  As if on cue, the unwanted children’s bureau inspector walked in the front door, trailed by a motley collection of three beautiful tax breaks. Egbert zipped up to get a look at them all and make sure there wasn’t any zip dust sitting out in the open somewhere.

  Fred looked tense as he walked towards the pet rock, and not in the way Egbert was used to. Instead of nervously glancing around for monsters or unexpected traps, he kept looking back at the evil trail of ducklings walking behind him, like he was expecting to get stabbed at any moment. The kids following him looked like they had been pulled from some dark lord's child soldier program. Holy hell, those aren’t the snot-nosed orphans I expected; those are walking red flags.

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  Resh led the way, his cloak pulled open this time, exposing a fucking bandolier of throwing daggers that Egbert was certain were stolen. He had narrow, squinty eyes that darted around ravenously, devouring every detail in the room, and a cascading mop of curls that halfway hid his foxlike features.

  Behind him was one of the most terrifying sights in Egbert's life. A slight girl with a damned wizard's staff that looked like it had been cobbled together from a mix of metal scrap and leather. All her features were obscured under a robe that was so oversized it made her look like a damned specter gliding across the floor; occasional wisps of fire seemed to dance from her fingertips.

  Oh great, a mage...it's fine, Egbert, it's fine...think of the tax exemptions...maybe she just looks really intense and filled with hate and actually is a kindhearted, gentle soul. One of the mimic chests opened an eye, and the girl almost instantly cast a bolt of simmering black fire straight at it, setting it and the ropes it was in ablaze in an unholy fire. Ahh, or maybe not…

  Frank’s steps stuttered at the display, and he swallowed nervously before chuckling and turning to the girl. “Please, Lily…refrain from…” He trailed off as the girl just stared him down from under her hood.

  The final orphan in the conga line of evil looked like he had eaten all the other orphans and their food and probably whoever was in charge of his last orphanage. He towered over the others, a disconcerting mix of extreme corpulence and muscle. He had a sword over his back that was taller than Frank was. Wild bushy hair trailed down his square features. He looked around with a mix of guileless wonder and annoyance as the loot bug he snatched at easily evaded him.

  Resh stopped. “Alright, Frank, what the fuck gives? Why did you bring us into the dungeon? Did the bureau finally decide to get rid of us? I mean, a dungeon is a neat way to do it; it's easy to say we snuck in, something ate us, etc. But you are gonna have to try harder than that.” Hah, you little shit, you did sneak in… And I'm guessing your companion was the horrible fire-wielding mage.

  Frank held up his hand placatingly. “Absolutely not! And there is no reason to be unnecessarily hostile, Resh!”

  The big guy in the back pulled his sword free. “Welp, you guys have fun with the word ‘sparring.’ I’m gonna go find something to squish.”

  “Please wait…wait. Our host is right here.” Frank gestured at the rock.

  “Oh yeah, they are finally going to try and kill us.” The big guy said with a chuckle.

  “No, no! Greed...err...has officially requested to start an orphanage!” All the kids looked at the rock in concern.

  “Yeah, scratch that; they are sacrificing us to a dungeon, not just trying to off us,” Resh said with a grim tone.

  Egbert couldn’t take it anymore and had to at least defend himself. “Oh shush, I let you walk away with all my mana crystals without sending an archon of death after you, you filching little magpie of an orphan...ergghhmm... Hello, my name is Greed. Welcome to your new home!”

  There was a poignant awkward silence only broken by what would best be described as a wheeze of concern from Fred. Then Resh smirked. “Well shit, an intelligent dungeon! What, oh great holder of equally fencable goods, would you want the worst of the worst for?”

  “Obviously it’s my desire to help guide the youth to the honest path. My deep abiding need to leave the world a better place than it was for those who come after me.” Egbert said snarkily.

  Resh looked at the rock hard for a moment. “That’s a blatant lie.”

  Egbert snorted, “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

  Fred rubbed his palms across his face in frustration. “Let’s just continue with the tour, shall we? As we already agreed, you three need to consent to this new housing situation.”

  The big one in the back actually raised his hand. “Yes, miniature ogre, what’s your question?” Egbert asked.

  “Orlock” Orlock Corrected. “And I just want to know, will we be able to fight monsters here for essence? My levels have been stuck at sixteen; the fuddy-duddies won’t let me go on actual quests.”

  Fred interjected. “We won’t let you go on quests because you are a ward of the state, Mr. Stonehill. You went against policy even accepting a class before exiting our care.”

  Huh, well, I mean, that's an easy ask. “What? Yeah, go ham. There’s a literal tide of myconids a few rooms in that need to be culled freaking daily. I’d avoid the big mimic, though.”

  “Pardon?!” Fred shouted in concern.

  “Hell yeah! Sign me up!” Orlock said, twirling his massive sword dramatically and walking towards the next room.

  “Now wait just a minute, young man!” Fred tried.

  “Uhh, make me?” Orlock said rather threateningly and kept going. Fred just blanched and shuffled to the side so he wouldn’t be trampled.

  Resh and Lily walked after him, now more intrigued with the tour than immediately concerned this was a roundabout way of killing them off. Egbert got a few "ooos" and "ahhs" from the kids as they walked around the loot pit. Mr. Stealy came shambling on out. Shaking his spectral cup in their direction.

  Lily perked up. “Oh, goodness, a spiritual being! Dibs!” Fred tried to protest but backed right back down as her staff started dripping black fire. She let Mr. Stealy get up to about four strides away before starting to weave a complex pattern in the air with her staff trailing black sparks that stayed in the air, forming a jagged rune.

  She stabbed her staff tip through the rune, and the entire room darkened as a jet of light consuming flames gushed from the staff. The flames stuck to the ghost's body, burning it away in a matter of seconds. I have to keep her away from my core at all costs.

  A popup from the system derailed Egbert for just a second. As the others continued on to the village.

  [Ghost Minion Permanently Slain]

  An essence-burning attack has slain this creature's soul.

  What!? Oh, come on! He survived so many banishments! Even the ghost-be-gone lantern didn’t kill him. Egbert rushed to catch up. Orlock had made it onto the bridge in the mimic village, based on his booming laughter. Freds shrill screams and Resh cackling like a madman, they had decided to go full greedy adventurer mode on the room's challenges.