Anire found a seat in the adventurer’s guild tent, but just as she stepped toward to sit, Wattyson beat her to it.

  Her grin turned into smirking. “Hey, Wattyson~,” she said fluttering her sweater covered hands to the weird person. “Don’t you know ‘ladies first’?”

  Wattyson didn’t budge. He was seated and cross-legged, already leaning like he owned the chair. “Never heard of it.” He said, not facing Anire at all.

  She scoffed and hopped to the nearest stool instead, bringing it with her to sit beside him. “Well now you do, and you should learn about it!” She plopped the stool down before plopping onto it herself.

  The two glanced in a single direction, to where Arlene was with a person crouched down near a pile of papers. It looked like they were chatting and enjoying themselves.

  Anire leaned forward, resting a hand to her chin. “Who’s that?” Her ear flicked and pointed to it. “Her boyfriend?” She grinned wider. “Looks like you’ve lost the war, Wattyson~.”

  “Lost what?” He replied deadpan. His face remained straight.

  “Hmmmm,” Her eyebrow raised as she side-eyed him. “I see. I see.” Her ear danced in circle in tuned with her teasing tone. “Who is that by the by?”

  “That’s Naciv. One of the member who dived with us previously.”

  “I see. So she’s just catching up?”

  “Possibly. I think she’s just hitting him up to join us again. The dungeon needed five people after all. Last I checked,” He turned to her then mouthed one, then two to Arlene and three to himself. “We’re missing two more.”

  Anire clapped with only her fingers. “Astute observation~!” She leaned back and stretched her arms upward. “Can I ask something?”

  “Are you going to ask anyw—“

  “—Arlene told me about the supernatural. You must’ve know about it. When did you he—“

  She found her mouth shut by a stern palm of his. He didn’t even turn to face her. His eyes glanced all around the room for something else.

  Wattyson’s voice dropped to a whisper meant for only them.

  “You shouldn’t talk about it in public, or anywhere unless you think it is secured enough.”

  Anire slapped his hand off. “Oh come on, it’s not like we’re discussing state secret.”

  “This might very well be.”

  Her ear bended forward to him. Her eyes studied him. As usual, the way he conducted himself was too strange, too monotone and lethargic.

  She shrugged. “Alright. If you say so, but this does prove something for me.” Her head tilt to show him her full grin. “Arlene said you knew just as much as she does, but I think,” she tapped his shoulder, “that you know more than her.”

  Wattyson didn’t reply. He kept his silence and masquerading as a weird brooding man while Anire continued to tap him endlessly for a reply. Her face had a clear phrase written on it; ‘Am I right?’

  “Oh what’s going on here?” A new voice joined the fray.

  “Oh nothing, I’m just testing something on him.” Anire said to Arlene with a big smile.

  “Hey!” Arlene did a karate chop on the excessive tapping. “Stop that. What did you promise?”

  “Yes yes, but it’s not the experiment I usually do~.”

  Arlene gave her a look—half-musing and half-worried. Did she actually do it? Wattyson looked unbothered. Though to be fair, that was his normal mood.

  She nodded to Wattyson. “You doing alright, Watty?”

  Wattyson’s eyes dragged to her like they were stones being pushed. “Been better.”

  “Right.” She clapped to gather their attention. “I have talked with Naciv and one of the guild’s official Hecruz. Looks like we can enter the dungeon freely without the party size restriction.” She flicked a finger to them both. “We three are all we need.”

  She eyed both of them. They seemed rested enough. Anire was poking Wattyson and the latter was seated completely turned into a statue.

  “Alright. Let’s head out!”

  “Now?!” Wattyson had a mildly offended look. “We just got here for ten minutes!”

  “Five.” Anire chimed in.

  “Ten.” He crossed his arms. “We spent half a day to get here, why are we rushing to the dungeon already?”

  Arlene rested a hand on her hip as she relaxed her shoulders. “Oh? Last time you were fine going in immediately. Now all of the sudden you don’t’ want to?” A half smiled played on her. “Does his majesty, O’ Grand Chaos, require much more succor and rest?”

  He shot her an eye, but she only smiled wider.

  Anire raised her hand. “How about you and I go outside a bit, and let Wattyson rest? You do not have the map right?”

  Map. Right. It was Rinea who had it and was escorting them last time. If this dungeon was anything but ordinary, especially now given that the werewolf was slain. Things might had changed since.

  Though truthfully, Arlene didn’t need the map. It was just straight three lanes corridors to the stairway exit till there was only one lane left starting from around Floor Twenty.

  “That’s a good idea.” She nodded. “But instead of a map, how about you and I go talk to the adventurers instead? The dungeon layout is really simple so we don’t need for it. There were barely any traps last time.”

  “Are you sure? How so?”

  “It’s a three lane forward type.”

  “Ah. I thought it would be more of a labyrinth. And no traps?”

  “Yeah. I doubt it will manafully formed up just after two days—not with endless adventurers swarming in after I and Watty left.”

  Anire seemed to stroke her own cheek, taking in the answer. She nodded. “Alright. Lead the way then.” She herself got up, and rather than doing what she said. She left first.

  Arlene sighed then turned to Wattyson. “And you, be sure to rest up. Ok, Watty?”

  Wattyson shook his head slightly. “Yes yes. I’ll be here don’t worry whenever you come back.”

  She gave him a thumb up. “Also,” she quickly added. “Don’t stare at Naciv too much. He’s very conscious of you.”

  “That’s great. Wouldn’t be entertaining if he isn’t.”

  Arlene winced at that. “You’re retired. You said so yourself. Cut him some slack.” She jabbed at his arm before leaving, following Anire.

  Anire was waiting outside, swaying left and right as she looked around. The entire Hub was there—waiting to be found.

  “So,” she began as she heard the sounds of a coming footsteps, “where to?”

  Arlene went to her side and scanned the surrounding also. Currently judging by the time they had left from Toulasi to now, it should be afternoon. People were less near that mineshaft entrance to the dungeon and more so gathering by the resting area—mess hall, anywhere with a nice shade to sit at or the blacksmith area.

  Information would be easily attained if they went to the mess hall, but Arlene felt the blacksmith area would be ideal too. The adventurers’ recounting of their struggles that caused their weapons to wear down or chip would give a proper look on dungeonsters there if they did spawn at all.

  “What about—,” she quickly stopped herself remembering who was with her. Anire wouldn’t stop looking at everyone with endless curiosity. Such a trait could help right now, but the questions Anire were likely going to ask were going to yield less result. More on the mana or structure of the dungeon rather than the content of it.

  “Let’s go to the shade there.” She said pointing to the tent like pavilion near the few trees left standing there before the clearing for the Hub.

  Anire nodded and let her arm out, beckoning Arlene to lead the way.

  The two began to walk with Anire looking around all over the Hub and Arlene’s eyes were elsewhere more specific—The Holy Helios Church’s tents. Why were they here?

  Since the destruction of the Citadel and the death of the Dark Lord, Arlene had been to the church officially once during the celebration ceremony. In all her two years of travelling afterward, she had always dismissed their letters and invitations. Using the letter of her mentor Vilvane as excuse to decline all of them, but now she had none of that.

  A thought pranged her. Why was she ignoring them like that anyway? Since leaving the Red Grove, she had felt more agency and times to reflect back. She could’ve just said no rather than using an excuse.

  “Hey, Arlene?” Anire tugged her. “Something on your mind~?”

  “Nothing,” a reply came quickly from Arlene.

  “Hmmm. If you say so, Great Saint~.” Anire tugged once more before letting go. She leaned forward a slight, just seeing enough of Arlene’s side. “Not very convincing when you are still staring there.”

  “G-Great Saint?!” Arlene quickly turned to her all flustered. “R-right. You did say that before. That’s what the churches are parading me as, huh?”

  Anire grinned. “Are you thinking of having a few words with them?”

  “No. I… was just thinking about things.” She scoffed. “Besides, you said that about the Luminare Church. That’s Helios one.”

  Anire watched her before her posture straightened. “If you say so. Just for your record, I don’t like the church.”

  “You don’t?” The question came from Arlene in a more curious tone. “You were saved by the Church no?”

  “I was, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.”

  “That’s… alright. Fair point. May I ask why?”

  Anire’s grin faltered a bit. “I just do not buy into the whole pantheon’s teaching. If such divine beings are so helpful and benevolent, why do we struggle with threats out of mortal hands such as the Dark Lord and its machination?”

  Her ear flicked to Arlene. “Why do such a pantheon send someone like you as an answer?”

  Her grin returned to normalcy. “As well as… why are there so many different types of churches with different pantheons and divine gods? Make it hard to believe they are actually real and not just made up, you know?”

  Arlene nodded with a softened smile. “There are real gods, you know?”

  “I do, but I can’t help it.” Anire tapped herself on the chest. “I’m very inquisitive and curious at heart~. For all we know, Wattyson might very well be one too.”

  The statement caused Arlene to blinked twice. “I’m sorry?”

  Anire raised her own hand, waving a pointy finger around as if to make a point. “He’s a paradox in the flesh. He has null mana, yet he casts magic by using everything around him—sucking everything into the void before hurling them back out.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She pointed to Arlene. “You demonstrated something—Float. There’s a magic for it that allow you to hover with a passive limit on how far you will float. No doubt, such a thing was made far in the past that were refined more and more in teaching passing along the generations, but why doesn’t he know it?

  “Unless… he is operating on something else. Purer. Primordial. When everything is more primitive.”

  Arlene chimed in, cutting her off. “Or he just doesn’t know about it? You said it—primitive. Maybe he just doesn’t actually know?”

  Anire chuckled. “That could be it as well yes, but one fact remained through all of this that even you questioned. He doesn’t chant. The rule of magic and spells that is taught to every aspiring user that you must chant into order to manifest it. He doesn’t.”

  “Well perhaps we should save that conversation for later.”

  “Of course~. Perhaps while we’re walking in the dungeon. There’re bounds to be downtime.”

  Arlene didn’t answer back. She kept walking and leading Anire. There was information that Anire didn’t know. That Wattyson did started out chanting like everyone else till he just suddenly needn’t have to. Anire were likely thinking he always started like this.

  However, what she said made sense. Arlene herself did joke to Wattyson at one point if he was a primordial ooze. His ID belonged to a dead kingdom from two hundred years ago. He claimed to live in a city long gone. Anire’s theory regarding the primitive magic casting may be true after all.

  She shook the topic away as she stood still, and grabbed Anire’s shoulder just as she walked past. “Hold it. A few things I need to run through you.”

  She nudged her head to the pavilion in front. “I know you are very eager to study the dungeon and everything about it, but those people are adventurers. They are there resting or just chatting around.”

  “I know~.”

  “I know you do. You’re a senior explorer after all, but we should be asking about the content inside the dungeon like any dungeonsters—“

  “Dungeonsters?”

  “Monsters that spawn in dungeon. That’s the term I coined and use myself.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “Anyway, we’ll be asking mostly about those areas. Any dungeonsters spawning in, traps, any other you know usual dungeons appearing in there. If not, are there anything they may feel wrong about the dungeon.”

  Anire let out an OK hand sign. “I will do as you ask~.”

  Arlene squinted her eyes at her before letting her go. “You know, saying that just make me trust you less.”

  Anire grinned wider. “Then you have a good head on your shoulder! Let’s go~!” She, surging with freedom from being released, marched straight to the pavilion. Arlene followed.

  The pavilion was there with roof large enough to cover grounds in shades despite the entire canopy above blocking the sun. It was probably built out of habit. Something to ground people in.

  The seating in benches, chairs and stools were laid out, but most adventurers preferred to sit on the green soils. The smell of roasted meats and vegetables flooded the area. Blankets were laid all around to place the foods. This pavilion was acting more like a picnic area rather than a resting area. Though Arlene thought about it—the two weren’t that distinct from one another.

  She followed Anire to one of the free seats with a table. She stood by the chair there, resting her arms on the chair back.

  Already the murmurs of nearby adventurers were heard. Quiet—enough for the two to hear.

  “The Chosen One?”

  “Why has she returned?”

  “Is something going on with the dungeon?”

  “It has to be. Why would she be back?”

  It seemed her reputation outweighed her own reason to why she was back; she just wanted to clear a dungeon and solve the anomaly while she was at it. Her reputation and status as the Chosen One indicated otherwise.

  No one was approaching her. Adventurers tended to keep to themselves unless there were something important to break that. Important matters such as; bragging, cheering, eating, chatting, negotiating, or alliance making among other things. It did not involve talking with the Chosen One with such trifle matter.

  She could see it. It wasn’t the same as they didn’t want to because they had nothing to talk about. They looked restless and straightened their postures—like they were in a presence of something great.

  Anire leaned onto the table, spreading her arms out before resting her own head on it. “So,” she whispered. “How do you want to do this? We just walk up to someone or you have someone in mind?”

  Arlene didn’t answer right away. Part of her had thought the adventurers would be like Naciv, Rinea and Xylia. They didn’t seem to revere her like this. Xylia with her gigantic wizard hat just kept talking about her own greatness while Rinea was confident at first about the dungeon’s knowledge. Naciv was Naciv.

  The identity of the Chosen One was one with her now in the eyes of the public.

  “Arlene?” The neko near her asked once more.

  “Hold on.” Arlene replied as her eyes scanned around. “I’m just making a mental note on something.”

  She thought she should’ve went to the blacksmith area instead. At least she could pretend she wanted her longsword repaired. Here, she had to do the basic of going up to someone and talk. A process that also required the second party to engage with.

  Anire tugged her by the cape. “Hey,” she pointed to the tree near the center. “What about that one?”

  There was a girl in a sort of robe much similar to Wattyson’s, but in black with red trimmed. There was some sort of insignia on the right shoulder, though the two couldn’t make it out from the distance. She was alone, sitting against the tree reading a book.

  Arlene didn’t want to disturb someone who seemed to be at peace, but seeing the others were at edge of reverence. She had no choice. At the very least, that girl didn’t seem to look up once from her book and if she did by the time they arrived and revere Arlene too? Arlene would deal with that then. There would be conversation at least.

  “Excuse me,” Anire greeted as she crouched near the girl. “Can we bother a bit of your time?”

  The girl didn’t respond. Her features were more visible now. Long braided hair of red let down to the front on her shoulder. Tan skin suggested she was more outdoor. The book she was reading—a fiction series about the tales of an arch-mage.

  “Weird. Usually when I do that, I would get attention.”

  Arlene walked to the right side of the girl and finally took note of the emblem there. A circle with a book and a goblet reaching out—the emblem of the School of Magic.

  She remembered Xylia’s words. The School of Magic was supposed to be investigating the dungeon matter regarding Floor Forty, but they took forever to show up. Now there was one. The question remained if she was the one they designated to investigate, or just someone coming here to dive.

  Learning this, she mouthed to Anire. ‘This one is a mage, School of Magic type.’

  Much to her ease, Anire did know how to read lip, and also to her embarrassment as Anire asked, “Why are you doing that? She can’t even hear us.” Arlene scratched her cheek as she chuckled.

  Anire crouched again, taking a look at the girl face. The mage’s eyes were barely opened. Anire leaned closer and heard a long hum.

  “Veeeeeee…”

  The mage was snoring. She was asleep.

  Arlene shrugged. “Come on Anire. We shouldn’t disturb someone who’s asleep. We’ll talk to the next group or person nearby.”

  She turned around and already started walking, but only a few steps forward she felt Anire wasn’t following along. “Anire?”

  The neko was still there crouched, but now her arms reached out to the mage’s shoulders—gently placing onto them. A small rocking to the mage as if Anire was massaging her.

  Then, she shook the mage like she was having a spasm.

  “Wake up~!”

  The mage’s eyes widened. Her mouth hung open. She let out a howling cries as she was rocking back and forth, creating an echoing effect. “AAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAaaaaaAAA!”

  “Oh good. You’re awake~.”

  “OF COURSE, I’M AWAKE!” The mage retorted as she gripped onto the book tighter, then pushed it forward—slamming into the neko’s face.

  The neko tumbled back, landing on her back and laying on the grass. “That hurt~.”

  “GOOD! YOU PSYCHOPATH! WHY DID YOU WAKE ME UP?!”

  The mage looked around. She saw the laying neko, then everyone in the pavilion staring to where she was. They must’ve made a scene. Then she noticed another figure standing nearby and was walking toward her.

  “C-C-C-Chosen One?!” She shrieked, hugging her book. “Why are you here?!”

  Arlene crouched beside Anire, caressing the neko’s face while also pinching her. “Sorry about my companion. Are you okay?”

  “I’m ok… I was okay until she woke me up!” The mage thrusted her foot forward, kicking Anire’s foot. “But why are you here? Next to me even! I’m sure there’re other spots you can rest in.”

  Her voice was shaky and flustered. Maybe it was her sleep deprived finally seeping back in when the adrenaline being waken up violently wore off.

  “Is it because I was late? I swear I didn’t get the message about this dungeon’s matter from the Board until like yesterday!” She said holding her book up to hide her face in shame.

  Arlene gently pushed the book down. “No. It’s not that… though the matter was dire, but it was now dealt with. It’s in the past now. I’m here for something else. Have you been inside the dungeon yet?”

  “I-Inside? Yes, I have. Why? You’re here to quietly evaluate me, aren’t you?”

  “If that was the case,” Anire cut in. “I think you already failed.”

  “Shut up!” The mage kicked her again. “Well,” she looked to Arlene. “Are you?”

  “I’m not.” Arlene replied softly compared to the teasing neko. She sat down on the ground too. “You can think of this as sharing notes between two adventurers.”

  “Sharing… notes? Ok. I can do that. I’m good at notes.” A small pause. “I think? I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing compare to you though, the Chosen One.”

  “Please,” Arlene held a hand up. “You can call me Arlene. What’s yours?”

  “Uvela. My name is Uvela.”

  “Alright, Uvela. Nice to meet you.”

  Arlene saw how the girl before her burned red at her cheek. Nonetheless, Arlene began first.

  “I entered the dungeon roughly two days ago. I’ll skip over the dungeon’s layout and instead focus on what I faced there. There weren’t any dungeonsters or traps at all until Floor Twenty.”

  “Dungeon…sters?”

  “Monsters that spawned in dungeon.” Arlene proclaimed proudly. “I know. You may use it too.”

  She continued. “On Floor Twenty, there were slimes that weren’t behaving like one. Like they were mimicking something else. We defeated it then until Floor Thirty-Nine. We faced something.”

  “A Challenger.” Uvela muttered. “I read in the report. A Kobold undergoing a cursed evolution by the name of the ‘Moonless’. Your party wrote that.”

  “Yes, we did. We never ventured onward from then on. Hence why I’m here with you now, are there any changes or things I should be aware of before moving in?”

  Uvela’s shoulders dropped—slumped like an overworked person. “It’s the same as you when I entered myself. The entirety of the dungeon was empty. We went further and… well… Floor Forty to Forty-Two were filled with mangled corpse and flesh all over the walls and floor. That Challenger really did the work. It’s fortunate you came when you did… there would’ve been more piles of names on a table, stacked on more piles of names.”

  Arlene had seen it already. There were corpses of bones darted all over leading to the confrontation at Floor Thirty-Nine, but hearing it again that there were more—fleshes instead of bones. Her own hands tightened into the fists, curling up dirt underneath.

  She glanced quickly to Anire—to see how she was taking that in. Anire was… intrigued. Her face screamed that there were data to be collected, but that usual grin of her faltered to a small one. Confliction. She was taken aback by the horrors too it seemed.

  Uvela continued. “Right now, adventurers are pushing at Floor Forty-Three. Seems like the Challenger’s carnage didn’t reach there and we’re just facing regular monst—dungeonsters. Armored Golems, Arachnid Fighters and Archers, and the usual Dire Wolf that has element powers too.”

  Anire sat up now, and leaned forward to Uvela almost nearing her face.

  “WOAH! SOCIAL DISTANCING!” Uvela tried to swat her, but she dodged.

  “Never mind that!” Anire said in glee. “Do you have anything about the dungeon itself? Like its cores?”

  “Its core?”

  “Yes! Arlene told me the whole dungeon is like stuck in a limbo right? Wall and floor don’t match then suddenly it changed from marble to workshop appearance?”

  “...Yeah? That is strange.”

  “So? Have anything on it? Hypothesis?”

  “Why are you so eager about it? Who are you anyway?!”

  Anire sat back straighter, then pulled a card from her sweater. “Anire. Senior Explorer at the Explorer’s Guild. Second only to the Master Explorer in Toulasi.” She flashed her ID, just enough for Uvela to read it before swiping the card away.

  She continued. “So? Anything? Also I’m in a party with the Chosen One~.” She flourished to Arlene with both hands.

  Arlene simply nodded.

  Uvela sighed dejectedly. “How lucky…” she murmured to herself. “Well,” she spoke up, “if you want to know. I think the core itself is interfered.”

  Interfered. The word snapped Arlene’s attention to full. “How so?” The worst outcome that something from the Dark Lord’s era was in use irked her. The thought was running in the back of her head.

  “Now this is only hypothesis of mine!” She waved her arms out, panicking from the stern and earnest expression from Arlene. “I think whatever was going on in this land—its mana was picked up and swoop in by the core.”

  She put her book down and started mimicking a wave motion. “Core is usually created after a set amount of time by absorbing the surrounding mana of the land to then come alive and create a dungeon. That is why every instances of the same dungeon changes with each respawn. They are never the same with the exception of its entrance. You can think of it like a reaction to the history of the land or region here.”

  She pointed her finger vaguely into the sky. “After the defeat of the Dark Lord, the mana was in flux as many low level demons vaporized into the land. They couldn’t sustain themselves without the Dark Lord’s aura and its blessing. This lead to my point.”

  She gestured to the mineshaft. “There could be mana of demons being sucked in by the core. Given its abrupt vaporization, the mana itself may be stuck in trying to become alive and being dead mana returning to nature. That’s probably why the dungeon itself is stuck between alive and dead. One is brand new like it was born and the other is dead like the wall and floor.”

  Anire squinted her eyes at the explanation. “So what? Those mana are still alive like… they got its own feelings and desire?”

  Uvela nodded. “I suppose that make sense. We all have an innate yearning for something no matter the species or races—to live. I guess when you are suddenly raptured in an instance, your mana probably registers that it’s still alive but where is my body?”

  Anire widened her grin. “So the School of Magic confirmed it? Mana do have feeling! Should we treat them nicely?”

  Uvela beamed red and started trying to hit Anire with her book. “That’s not what I meant! You’re contorting what I said!”

  While the two bickered, Arlene was lost in thought. This wasn’t the worst case scenario when something from the Dark Lord’s era was corrupting and interfering with dungeon’s core nor was it someone using corrupted blood to pursue their goal. This may very well be nature finally caught up to the pivotal moment of the world.

  That raised a new worry. If that was the case, what about other dungeons? Were they the same? How many were infected? How many… did she need to go to now?

  Arlene stood up abruptly, catching the two by surprised.

  “Thank you,” she bowed slightly to Uvela, “I intend to clear the dungeon with my party. I’ll be sure to give you a report first when I come back out.” She smiled confidently. “Don’t you worry.” She gave her a thumb up.”

  Uvela tilted her head. “Full report you say? From the Chosen One herself…” she muttered before realizing. “How? You can see the flow of mana?”

  Arlene shook her head then jerked a thumb to the now standing neko. “She can. Don’t worry. She’s very thorough in her notes.”

  Uvela winced. “Ok. If you say so… and thank you. This dungeon is weird. It would be great if you can clear it. It’ll lose the adventurers’ a lot of potential loots and money, but I doubt they’ll complain if the alternative is death.”

  She raised her head smiling too though shakenly—unsure between genuine and flustered. “I’ll be here in the afternoon always. You can find me here.”

  “Will do,” Arlene nodded. “Thank you again, Uvela. Until then.” She gave her a wave before turning around.

  “I’ll be back with more questions.” Anire said teasingly before waving to her too, following Arlene.

  “I’M NOT GOING TO ANSWER ANYTHING IF YOU’RE GOING TO SHAKE ME AWAKE AGAIN!” Uvela shouted before shrinking back to her sit. She used the book to hide her face as she realized all eyes were on her from yelling.

  Arlene walked now, away from the pavilion. “Do you have enough potions?” She asked to Anire.

  “I do, and I could always grab more from my storage.”

  Arlene hummed in acknowledgement. “Let’s go get Watty. He should have enough resting time by now.”