When the blue lights began to fade, allowing Morgan to see his surroundings, he found that he and Issa were standing on a stone platform on a hillside overlooking the high valley where the Citadel sat. There were some tremendous differences between what he saw in the valley now versus what had been there when he and Issa rode their roladii in earlier. The orange hillsides were decked in the same short, wiry trees, but now they were covered in bright green leaves. The valley floor was also verdant, tall green grass sprouting from the soil. However, more strange than the change in vegetation were the dozen tents and campfires surrounding the citadel.

When Morgan followed the rows of tents with his eyes, finally resting on the citadel, he took in a sharp breath. Issa followed his gaze and said, “It’s new!”

“Well, if not new, it’s certainly whole.” The citadel was no longer a crumbling ruin - its walls were sheer walls of perfectly fitted stone blocks, and individuals patrolled the ramparts that Morgan couldn’t see clearly at this distance. “What the fuck is going on? Did we get sent back in time?”

“Look,” Issa said, pointing to a pedestal behind them, “the stone the lights spoke of. If we touch that, we will leave this place.” The stone she referred to was a smooth blue sphere that sat atop the pedestal. “I think we’re in a pocket dimension. The dungeon the swordmaster created with his spirit is this place. I’ve only read about dungeons, but I know they are many and varied; perhaps a dungeon can look like a real place but be apart from it.”

“Huh. There’s a trail leading down into the valley. What do you reckon the deal is with those tents?”

“I don’t know. It seems too few to be a sieging force. Shall we investigate?” Issa’s eyes were bright with excitement, and Morgan couldn’t blame her; what a mysterious place! He nodded, and swords in hand, they walked down the meandering gravel path to the valley floor. It had been late afternoon, judging by the sun, when they arrived; after hiking for an hour down the hillside, the sun hadn’t seemed to move.

“It seems the clock is stuck in this place.”

“What? Oh, the time isn’t changing!” Issa squinted at the low, orange sun poking above the western hills. “How strange!”

“Yeah, it is.” They continued on the path to the valley's center, where it merged with the tight stone flags of the ancient road, though it was no longer ancient. The stones were smooth and flat, and no debris marred their surface. Morgan glanced at Issa, and she nodded with a grin, and they walked forward on the road. “Get ready,” he said when he saw a figure walking toward them from the nearest tent, still a few hundred yards distant. She nodded, and he felt a slight surge of her aura as she began to channel her Battle Chant. She didn’t unleash her voice, but he could see that she was primed; her eyes had darkened to a smokey purple, and black wisps of steaming Energy rose into the air from her shoulders.

Morgan began to channel Energy into his limbs, ready to leap into any of his sword forms at the slightest hint of danger, but the figure stopped a good stone’s throw from them and shouted, in a rough but friendly voice, “Hail, I’m no threat to you, strangers. Are you here to challenge the keep?” Morgan looked at Issa, and she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, indicating she didn’t know what to say.

“Perhaps. Who are you, stranger?” Morgan asked, walking forward warily.

“I’m Yan Gronnik, and I’m waiting my turn to try the gate guardian.” As he spoke, Morgan got close enough to see the details of the man. He was tall, not as tall as he was, but still big for the people of this world. His skin was red, and his hair was pulled up in a high top-knot with the sides shaved clean. He wore bronze-colored chainmail and had a heavy-looking broadsword on his hip.

“There are others in the dungeon?” Morgan asked.

“Dungeon? No, friend. It’s a keep full of the undead and untold treasure.” The man had a puzzled look on his face which prompted Morgan to look at Issa questioningly. She motioned for him to wait.

“Nice to meet you, Yan. I’m Issa, and this is Morgan. Yes, we’re here to challenge the guardian, also.”

“Ahh, well, there are twelve of us ahead of you, and he only makes an appearance every ten days at midnight. I hope you brought camping supplies.” Yan walked forward toward them as he spoke and held out a hand to Issa. She kept her chant ready but reached forward to shake his hand. He smiled and reached for Morgan’s hand next. Morgan took it, noting the rough calluses on his palm and his iron-like grip.

“Is there no way to get in sooner? Would anyone be willing to sell their position, do you think?” Issa asked.

“The only way is to challenge for a position, but you won’t have an easy time of it. Still, the law says you have the right.”

“The law?”

“The Code of the Sword, of course.”

“Forgive us; we’ve traveled far,” Morgan said, “the Code says we can challenge you for your position in line?”

“Ahh, that makes sense; you seem strange to me, indeed. Yes, the Code is clear: those waiting for the guardian must accept or refuse a challenge. To refuse is to forfeit your position.”

“And what if we want to enter together?” Issa pressed.

“Well, naturally, you would. Each of us is here with our partner or squire as Thun-dak calls his second.”

“You’re all in groups of two?”

“Yes, of course.” His voice was flat like it made perfect sense.

“Thank you, Yan. Morgan and I will set up camp shortly, but we’d like a moment alone together if you don’t mind.” Issa smiled her most charming smile. Yan bowed and turned to walk sedately back toward his tent. Issa pulled Morgan another thirty yards or so back down the road and turned to him. “This is all part of the dungeon, I think. It’s too coincidental that they are all in pairs of two, and there’s some sort of ‘code’ that allows us to challenge them for position. I’ll wager that they are stronger, better sword fighters the further up the list we go.”

“This is too weird; are these people even real?” Morgan looked around at the strange valley, frozen in time and, presumably, outside normal space.

“I don’t know; it seems impossible. What if ten people came into this dungeon? Would there be groups of ten swordsmen waiting to challenge the ‘guardian?’ We can’t be the first to ever set foot in here; I feel like the dungeon organizes itself to fit the challengers.”

“He seemed very real, though. What if the dungeon captures challengers that fail and messes with their minds.” Morgan’s thoughts ran through various horrifying possibilities.

“Oh, Morgan; it’s just as easy to imagine the System and the Swordmaster have created these swordsmen out of Energy and matter and filled them with his own will to populate this place.”

“It does feel very scripted. Well, if we’re going to operate on the theory that this place is tailored to the challengers, can we assume the battles, challenges, and treasures are meant to be attainable by us?”

“I hope so! If it was meant to challenge everyone in the world, there’s no way we’d get very far. There are definitely some dungeons like that, though. I’ve heard stories of adventures going into dungeons and getting utterly destroyed at the entrance.”

“Well, shit. Let’s take it slow until we find out what kind of place this is. Am I right in assuming you aren’t up to camping here for four months….” Morgan cut himself off in thought. Issa looked at him expectantly. “Hold up. The sun doesn’t move. How are ten days supposed to pass, let alone a hundred and twenty?”

“Ahh, good point!” Issa reached out with both her hands and jostled his shoulders. “It seems we are not supposed to wait around. We need to challenge the others in order to move things forward.”

“You seem pretty sure. Let’s go see what things look like before we start swinging, though.” Morgan took Issa’s hand, and they walked, more relaxed this time, toward the cluster of tents. “If you’re right, to make things move forward, I think we need to get to the front of the line. Do we start at the bottom or go straight to the top?”

“Well, as you said, we might want to take it slow until we see what sort of place this is.” Issa squeezed his hand, and he nodded at her statement. Soon they were standing on the road with several tents off to each side. Morgan could see various clusters of people here and there among them. Some sat by their cookfires, some lounged on bedrolls in the grass, and some stood around talking. While they looked around, Yan walked up to them.

“Glad to see you decided to come into the camp.” He had a mug of something in one hand and took a long pull.

“Yan, if we wanted to challenge someone for their spot, is there any idea who the toughest is here?” Morgan asked, putting aside pretense.

“Huh, a bit like a viper hound, aren’t you? Won’t let go of that snake! Well, if you want to put forth a challenge, I’d start with those in the lowest spot: Henk Thar and his brother Kell.”

“Let me guess; the fighters get stronger the closer to the top spot on the waiting list?” Morgan didn’t hide his wry smile.

“Hmm, funny coincidence, but, yeah, I’d say so.” As Yan spoke, Morgan looked at Issa, and she winked at him with a sideways grin. Morgan couldn’t imagine this was a random occurrence and was becoming more and more sure that the “challengers” were part of the dungeon scenario.

“Please point me toward Henk and Kell, my friend.” Morgan clapped a friendly hand on Yan’s shoulder. Yan, for his part, smiled gamely and pointed to a large tent on the southern side of the road. Flying from the peak of the domed tent was an orange and teal pennant. Two Ardeni men sat outside the tent, one lounging back and reading a small book and the other roasting a piece of meat on a stick. “Thanks, Yan.” Still holding Issa’s hand, Morgan walked toward the two brothers’ tent. As they drew near, Morgan let go of her hand, and he felt the weight of her aura increase as she readied her Battle Chant.

“What’s this then? We’ve no meat to share, considering the wait ahead of us.” The Ardeni by the fire cleared his throat and spat a wad of phlegm into the fire, where it sizzled. He had close-cut blonde hair and bright green eyes. Morgan noted the eyes because, in his experience, Ardeni hair usually matched their eyes.

“Hello. Henk? Kell? I’m afraid that my partner and I would like to challenge you for your position in the queue.”

“Oh?” The other Ardeni said, standing up and setting his little book down. He raised his voice in a mocking sing-song, “You’re afraid you’d like to challenge?” He stepped around the fire, his bright red eyes flashing as he scowled. “Come on then, fools.” He drew the broadsword at his belt and walked out to the road, his back to Morgan and Issa. His brother stood and spat again, walking after his brother. Morgan saw that he had two short, curved swords hanging from his belt, but he didn’t draw them yet.

“Well, let’s go.” Issa nudged Morgan, and he nodded. He’d been holding his long, black-bladed sword in one hand with the curve resting on his shoulder. He took it in two hands and walked forward with the blade in a middle guard. Issa stalked behind and to his right, her rapier held ready. The two brothers stopped walking when they reached the center of the road and then turned to face Morgan and Issa as they approached. The green-eyed, spitting brother drew his two short swords and smiled crookedly, openly leering at Issa.

“Ready?” The other brother with the bright red eyes asked, shaking out his long mane of crimson hair. Morgan looked at Issa and saw her eyes' purple and black gleam and the black steam rising from her shoulders. He gripped his sword, pouring Energy into his limbs, and nodded.

The two brothers complemented each other nicely, but they were no match for Morgan and Issa. Though they did a good job protecting each others’ flanks, Morgan and Issa had reach and speed on their side, not to mention Issa’s battle chant. She didn’t even Haste Morgan - only herself. Her discordant ringing voice rose above the clang of steel, and Morgan felt his arms grow faster and stronger, and he saw the terror in his opponents’ eyes as their will was sapped. For his part, Morgan kept them at bay with quick slashes and thrusts while he reached out with his advanced Energy Drain. He felt the currents of Energy in their bodies and just started willing it to flow to him. Their faces blanched, and Morgan felt a surge of power and speed as their Energy fueled him further. He launched into The Crane Flutters its Wings, completely destroying the guard of the dual-wielding brother and tearing long deep furrows in his chest. He collapsed in a shower of blood.

While Morgan dispatched the first brother, Issa flashed in a series of zigzagging side steps, finishing her maneuver with several quick thrusts that slipped past the other brother’s weak attempts to parry, piercing him three times - once in the stomach, once between his ribs, and finally a ripping stab in the side of his neck. Issa stepped back, whipping the blood from her rapier as he fell, writhing in the dirt, his life’s blood pumping and spraying forth on the gray flagstones.

Morgan stepped back to Issa’s side and looked around warily. The other challengers stood watching, but no one cheered or objected; they watched impassively as the two brothers died. Golden motes rose from the two bodies and streamed into Issa and Morgan. When the flood ended and the euphoria of victory and Energy coursed through them, they saw that the bodies of their opponents had dissipated into a misty smoke that slowly dispersed in the light breeze.

***Congratulations! You’ve achieved level 21 Vortex Duelist. You have gained 8 Intelligence, 8 Agility, 6 Will, 6 Dexterity.***

“Their bodies are gone,” Issa said quietly, “and I leveled.”

“I did, too. Does that mean they weren’t real? That fight was pretty easy; I almost feel guilty.”

“Well, they could have refused the challenge, and yes, I think that means they were constructs made by the dungeon.” Issa wiped her blade down and stored it away, and Morgan did the same when he looked around and saw that the other challengers had silently gone back to their previous activities.

“Should we eat and rest before we challenge the next?”