My friends stepped trepidatiously into Duni as entering a dangersome beast's lair. I followed, glancing around in confusion before asking: "What is it? Why are you all so tense?"

"It looks the same." Bessie almost seemed let down.

"Yes?" I moved to my usual spot for my circle. "Duni is a Starting Dungeon still, what did you expect?"

"But it's supposed to be some super-anomalous superstar dungeon! And we gave it a whole month!"

I shook my head, proceeding with my chalking. My theory on Duni's anomaly had apparently shaken my friends more than I'd thought. "Intelligence is a huge advantage," I said, "But it builds on available resources... like a snowball effect. I doubt we'll see any difference today, but give it time."

However, I soon had to swallow my words, and not in a way any of us were expecting. "They just... won't attack?" Bessie repeated, peering down the empty hallway.

"Fleeing not fighting," Blake confirmed. "Smart and stupid. Sort of like Rena."

"Hey!" I protested.

But when I went to observe for myself, I thought I understood his point. Instead of acting as mindless minions, the rodents now retreated from danger, cowered from pain. One rat bodily shoved another at us before taking off: so much for intelligence promoting cooperation. How had so much changed in a single month of absence?

Greater intelligence was a glorious thing, but I belatedly realized that didn't necessarily translate into greater combat ability. I still believed Duni's potential far outstripped that of other dungeons, but... in the here and now, its defenders' panicked ineptitude was nearly comical. I was reminded of another anomalous dungeon, specializing in the double-edged freedom: even its Constructs had willfully done as they pleased, leaving open holes in its defense until one ambitious minion took advantage and consumed the core.

If too much freedom could be self-destructive, why not intelligence?

Still, the deeper into the dungeon, the more the Constructs tried to stall us. Not when I was prepared with a circle, unfortunately: they employed hit-and-run tactics while we were on the move, which I supposed was clever of them, but frustrating at this time. How was I to productively apply Mana Dome like this? Eventually I said, "I need to speak with Duni."

"You want to split the team for the second floor," Bessie said. "Again."

"I can't properly communicate up here." Then I added: "And the denser mana's probably better for gaining Skills."

"Also for more powerful monsters."

Blake scoffed. "These are weak."

"Do not underestimate any dungeon. Ever!"

Hadn't I heard something similar before? Feeling Bessie's enduring worry, I tried to speak gently and reasonably. "I need to reestablish communications sooner or later. Or what's the point?"

She kept frowning at me. "Nobody will believe Duni is normal like this," Tom pointed out.

"We'll look out for her," Hannah said before snorting a laugh. "Sorry, but how weird is it Bessie's the one..." She flapped a hand helplessly.

"Our fearless leader, the voice of caution?"

"Oh, fine." Bessie huffed. "Might as well go whole hog. On one condition: Blake scouts first."

We were all agreed except the minions. This unfortunately included King Rat, whose permission or death we needed to open the stairs. I was prepared to argue with it until Duni awoke, same as last time, but Bessie lunged forward upon its first translated refusal, and subduing it effortlessly, started swinging the boss around and around by its tail while it shrieked and squealed.

"Bessie!" I exclaimed after a stunned pause. This felt too much like bullying for my tastes, but she ignored my protests, and I didn't dare draw closer to those sharp teeth or claws. Also, her 'persuasion technique' worked: a few more vigorous applications and the stairway opened.

As Blake disappeared downstairs, I stared at her with conflicted feelings. Bessie was unmoved. "He's not a friend, Rena. You know he'd kill you given half a chance. And don't say we should be better, because I didn't kill him and we need those stairs open."

What could I even say? No, you should've waited while I squeaked in vain? But as King Rat glared at us with hate-filled eyes, puffed up with outrage and humiliation, I too felt terrible. For all I tried to be a good and moral person, I thought this world sometimes conspired to make us complicit in countless subjective wrongs, benefiting off indentured labor like Keith's or the commodification of nonhumans like undines.

And now this. Perversely, I took some solace from my own powerlessness to effect real change, which I felt or needed to believe absolved me from responsibility. "Sorry," I said, though I knew it for too little, too late. "We do not mean your Creator harm, I promise."

"May you all become food," the boss hissed.

As time ticked on and Blake did not return, I started to fear this had actually happened. What if he'd been surprised and swarmed, or, or slipped? Nightmare scenarios flooded my mind despite Bessie's reassurances: "If he was really in danger, he'd have returned already."

Her easy confidence was proven justified when he popped back up looking none the worse for wear. Apparently he'd taken his time neutralizing the second-floor minions, which had uniformly fought rather than fled. "No signs of intelligence." He paused before adding, "Same as people mobs."

"You're sure you found all of them?" Bessie threw up her hands when Blake just gave her a look. "Well excuse me for not wanting to let Rena out of my sight!"

"Um. This isn't the first time, though?"

"Last visit the core was practically next to the stairs. And I didn't think you the type to chat up monsters that tried to kill you... no offense. You are absolutely not dying on me, you hear?"

Guilt clogged my throat, but I swallowed the lump and said, "I'll be careful. I promise."

We split the team just like last time, leaving Bessie and Tom in the boss room, and I was doubly grateful for Blake leading the way and Hannah at my back. Must dungeon stairs be so creepy? The curving descent into darkness added a wholly unnecessary psychological component, as though we needed more tension. I knew for some reason dungeons rarely staged ambushes on stairwells, but I was still relieved to greet the bottom... until I saw what awaited us.

Blanching, I averted my eyes and then averted them some more. I ended up staring at the ceiling.

Following carefully after Blake, I tried to take my mind off the shifting, squeaking forms huddled along the walls by pondering their aggression compared to their first-floor compatriots. Easily explained: these minions were younger and less experienced, and actually, wasn't today the first hostile encounter for the majority? Competitive variety in Constructs didn't come until the Developing stage -- Duni appeared the same in this regard -- so thus far they'd have had no outside impetus to learn and improve.

We stepped into a mana-denser room, whereupon I felt Duni's awareness settle over me like a slightly warm and oppressive blanket. Picking up my pace, I sensed recognition and wariness and then we were through to the innermost room.

The core glowed steadily, a bright beacon on the far side underneath its bindings, but I stopped just in the doorway. I was keenly aware it still saw us as a foreign presence and threat. That didn't necessarily mean it hated us or wanted us gone; it reminded me of a wild animal watching with both curiosity and caution, having grown more tolerant of our intrusion into its territory through repeated exposure.

I sent.

It responded to my query with its own.

Argh, I'd nearly forgotten how frustrating our communication attempts could be, and this was with the benefit of [Intermediate Universal Translation]. I'd originally intended to send a polite greeting, the equivalent of 'Hope I'm not intruding,' but I supposed we weren't at a tea party. To business, then: .

After an unnerving pause, it came back with: . . , , .

Yes, I knew we had previously agreed to stop with the attacking and killing, but I needed its help to expedite gaining [Mana Dome]. I tried my best to simplify and convey this: . , ,

. .

, .

. .

I sighed in frustrated annoyance myself. "Rena?" Hannah said.

"It... it's not understanding me."

"Try simplifying your ask," Blake said.

I paused before regretfully sending:

, , .

What the... It was still confused? Wasn't this request easier to grasp than the original agreement we'd hammered out? Or possibly it had understood that better because it involved self-preservation, one of the most translatable concepts, whereas my current request was instead interpreted as lunacy. I tried again: .

.

Blake said, "Still no go?"

"Rather, we're going in circles. I'm not sure how I can apply Mana Dome at this rate."

"About that, I do have one or two ideas."

I glanced sharply at him, hope leaping in my chest, before turning back to Duni. I refused to give up, no matter how incredibly odd it felt to implore its cooperation in attacking me. I was still stuck repeating myself with variations on the same transmissions when it sent: .

And here I'd almost forgotten that particular impediment to communication.

We trooped back upstairs. Per Blake's first suggestion, King Rat was more than amenable to attacking me and had to be restrained from making the attempt prematurely. Though it didn't seem that intimidating (and this was coming from me), Mana Dome was considerably weaker than Mana Barrier, a natural tradeoff from the much greater coverage. I at first worried as the boss circled my defense; then relaxed as it swiped and prodded ineffectually; and finally, I had to resist giggling as it leaped and bounced off, repeatedly.

When King Rat's enthusiastic persistence won through, shattering my Mana Dome, it actually stopped and stared in shock. Remembering itself, it belatedly crouched to spring...

...and then backed away from my intervening friends. "Um, it's arguing it should be allowed one hit?" I translated. "Says I should also practice dodging."

"Talking instead of doing," Blake said in satisfaction. "Like a Scholar."

Credit where it was due: the boss learned fast. Soon it targeted the same area in rapid succession and then charged unhesitatingly forward; Tom started standing next to me after it came a little too close for comfort. I watched carefully for any sign of Skill usage, but either it had yet to gain one or was keeping that hidden for now.

When I ran low on mana, we moved to the neighboring room. Running in Duni was such a relief, the difference from outdoor exercise so grand, I for once noticed my friends' workouts as they switched off keeping watch. (Tom had the flashiest drills, performing one-handed pushups with someone on his back. How had I totally missed this before?)

When I was ready for more Mana Dome, Blake told us his second idea. "I don't like this," Bessie said. "Not with only the two of you with her."

"We'll be the ones outside and unprotected," Blake said. "Have you ever known Rena to miscast a spell? You have to let her protect herself sometime."

"Rena? What do you think?"

I glanced between my friends nervously, but in the moment I was more afraid of losing to Lord Didane. "Let's try it."

For some unknown reason, dungeon floors operated differently depending on whether outsiders were present. Since we'd stayed off the second floor, the minions should hopefully have somewhat recovered. After creeping down, I quietly chalked a circle right at the foot of the stairs, took a deep breath readying myself, and nodded.

They came in a chittering wave, limping or crawling, but still they came. I flinched as the swarm crashed into my Mana Dome, but Blake and Hannah worked fast. Afterwards, I dropped the spell and scrambled up the stairs.

"Well?" Bessie said, relaxing at the sight of us.

"It worked," I said, "But only because there weren't that many."

"Duni didn't interfere?"

"I think it's still sleeping." I glanced to King Rat, who was watching us with beady eyes but didn't understand a word.

"Speaking of. If you don't mind..." Bessie cracked a yawn. "It's getting late. You can study your Skill Book, right?"

I nodded, though I couldn't help feeling disappointed, mostly at myself and Duni. I knew I was already benefiting off it through my running and casting, but I greedily wanted more. What truly frustrated me was my ignorance regarding where the breakdown in negotiations had occurred... or if it even had. Should I approach it again tomorrow, or was I straining Duni's patience? How much did it understand, and... well, what did it think of us, of me? The gaping holes in my knowledge itched at me.

I tried to shelve these thoughts while studying the Book, but they kept on returning. I wondered and fretted even when I finally lay down exhausted in bed... and Duni was my very first thought the next morning.

"...Miss Loress!"

My head snapped up, and I was startled to see my two noble competitors both staring at me. I cleared my throat. "My apologies, my lord. Could you repeat that?"

"What has you so preoccupied this morning?" Lord Didane mused, watching with interest as I flushed. Argh, why the sudden attention? I had the absurd image of him as a cat, turning away disdainfully from admirers and then refusing to be ignored. "I hope you did not stay up in the library until the small hours. It can be terribly dangerous for a young lady such as yourself, walking alone at night... You did return home?"

Though he felt mildly concerned, I thought he was far more interested to know any information on a competitor. "That's no issue, my lord, since I am staying in the Scholar's Quarters." Remembering my friends' urgings, I added somewhat redundantly: "I'm a Scholar."

Both nobles gazed at me with neutral faces while internally twinging with surprise. Lord Lynch turned to the other and said, very casually, "Did you know this?"

"Evidently not. I was under the impression Scholars do not care for money, enjoyment, or other such worldly things." When I kept quiet, he pressed: "Why are you toiling as an adventurer?"

Thus in the second surreal day in a row, I found myself describing that first expedition into the newly discovered dungeon and how it inspired my wish to conduct field research. I was careful to only state the truth, never mind any omissions, and tried to veer the subject onto all the unexplored possibilities out there and off of my personal self. Thankfully, Lord Didane seemed more drawn to the former topic himself, at one point adding, "You can drop the 'my lord, my lord' every sentence. We don't hold to such stuffiness when it's just ourselves."

While he paid rapt attention and questioned me closely, Lord Lynch merely half-listened and then murmured: "Aren't you the lucky one." I looked at him in surprise: he was entirely sincere and honestly envious. "Really, I would hate to be poor but love to be free."

Lord Didane heaved a dramatic sigh. "Honestly, Stefan, it's a marriage not enslavement."

"Oh, do you know anything scandalous pertaining to the Ashmorrow family? Most especially of Lady Amelia Ashmorrow?" Lord Lynch turned to me suddenly. Seeing my confusion, he continued, "My lord father said Scholars know everything."

"And you believed him?"

"And what of you, Lord Dillian? What happened to rebelling against tradition, scandalizing society, stuffing all those silly rules?"

"If the good Duke and Duchess dared to broker an engagement on my behalf, I certainly wouldn't sit here and complain about it." I shifted uncomfortably, very aware of the eavesdropping invisible bodyguard. I had the feeling they might be watching over him but they weren't on this Lord Didane's payroll. Turning to me, the lordling continued blithely: "You have no idea how dreadfully tedious nobility can be. Even Stefan here might be more outspoken, but in the end he will do as he is told. If I weren't Lord Didane, son of Duke Didane, he wouldn't dare this much!"

"You are full of yourself, Dillian."

"I believe the problem comes from our assigned positions at birth," he continued, appearing to be deep in thought and as though the other hadn't spoken. "We are taught we are so superior to the masses, but only if we also accept our relative rankings below our royal sovereigns, titled lords and ladies, elder siblings etcetera. Most nobles lack any aspiration to climb higher or fear of falling lower. Thus life stagnates and revolves around rules, rules, and more rules. Well, what do you say, Miss Scholar?"

If I weren't an Empath, I would have honestly bought into his act. Instead, I sensed his sudden bout of philosophizing had the cadence of long repetition. Perhaps he'd used those exact words again and again to pull in other discontent nobles, forming his posse of supposed rebels. I also realized he was distracting me from casting while he conveniently needed to recover mana. Instead of admitting to these conclusions, I tucked away my mana potion and asked, "Is that why you are becoming adventurers?"

As the two nobles happily expounded on the virtues of adventure and escaping the aristocratic doldrums, I reflected they were mostly sincere in their sentiments if not their expressions. Perhaps they had been raised so such sincerity did not come naturally to them; this thought, among others, made me sympathetic despite myself. I realized despite knowing and feeling they were just people, I was biased against them because... well, because they were nobles and consequently scared me.

Similarly, their problems seemed relatively small compared to the dire straits of Duni and Nailla, but that didn't invalidate them as problems. Shame on me, falling for the fallacy of relative privation.

I did wish they would stop talking or let me politely continue casting, though.

Afterwards, in Duni, I considered how everybody was taken with their own troubles. I'd come here preoccupied with mine, desperate to strike another deal for my benefit. But what did Duni want? What was it feeling, if anything?

Bessie didn't demur this time when I descended to ask. Standing across the room from the core, I sent:

There was a pause, and then the floodgates opened. I felt as though I had just left one masquerade of a pity party only to invite a foreign child into throwing a full-blown tantrum. It was sincerely delivered, but I winced and clutched my head. Thankfully, the 'volume' lowered slightly, enough to pick up its lamentations, and underneath, its impotent fury.

Everything came back to its bindings. In truth, I'd mostly put them out of my mind, but Duni lived with the magical chains. It had never forgotten, never forgiven. It wanted me to remove them. All this was conveyed not through our stilted communication but as a single anguished wail encompassing a spectrum of subtler emotions, which I absorbed in the time it continually projected them. I was reminded of when we first met, and it cried, and cried, and cried. I'd heard a single long stream of grief, but perhaps even then it had contained more nuanced feelings, if only I had known to listen.

When it finished, I simply stood there in stunned silence for a long moment. But first off, I couldn't remove its bindings, and secondly, if I could -- doubtful -- then it was impossible without setting off an alarm. (Thirdly, I wasn't sure it was a good idea.) It just wasn't practical, but I hesitated over how to convey this to Duni.

However, it already seemed to realize I wouldn't help, as its awareness seemed to sulkily withdraw. I hesitated further... but then stepped across the room, reached out, and placed my hand on the core. It didn't warn me off but also gave me the metaphorical cold shoulder.

Up close, the bindings made me shiver. I said and tried to send: "I was a slave too," imagining its chains around myself. That seemed unsuccessful, so thinking fast, I instead wrapped up the feelings it had sent -- that hurt and horror, the hopelessness and fury -- and returned them along with remembrance and understanding. I wanted to finish with something uplifting after, but I could not do so in good conscience.

Fortunately, my transmission interrupted its self-absorbed grieving. And that was... yes, definitely curiosity. Following which, it sent redundantly:

Maybe it wanted to know more in order to replicate my feat, but it still felt like progress? Smiling to myself a little, I suddenly recalled its immature age in how it seemed young and excitable, easily prone to extreme emotions and distracted from the same. Hadn't I once been like that?

Instead of hitting my head on our communication barrier, I said, "Maybe when you can speak, I'll share my story." Along with my words that were meaningless to it, I sent:

And maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought this it understood. It seemed a universal concept, dating back to the first parent who spoke thusly: "I'll tell you when you're older."

The third day of our contest, I woke in a wonderful mood. This was of course because of Duni, but also I was, perhaps irrationally, grateful to the nobles for inspiring the idea. Hopefully they would continue harmlessly chatting.

Instead, the two lordlings strode in, one after the other, stone-faced but with emotional storm clouds hanging over them. This obviously went past simple rivalry in a contest. Where had they even found the time and energy for feuding?

I stared down at my circle as they studiously ignored each other, but the strained silence didn't last long. "I didn't ask for any of this," Lord Lynch said.

"Do you ever stop feeling sorry for yourself?" Lord Didane said. "All I hear is whine, whine, and more whining. If you are so miserable, do something. Besides try to infect everybody else with your misery."

"When is the last time you were in an ugly mood and kept it to yourself?"

I was struck by how oddly they argued, neither raising their voices nor coloring with emotion. Instead, the two might have been engaging in polite discourse over the weather but for the words themselves and the buried emotions accompanying them. "At least I have style," Lord Didane said. "I take initiative. Perhaps you are just pretending to disfavor this engagement? Afraid you will die alone unless you are foisted off on someone?"

"At least I can find company without paying for the privilege. If I had to bully or bribe anyone to associate with me, I would be truly miserable."

No matter how impressively unconcerned they both appeared from the outside, I could feel the internal flinches as their verbal barbs landed. Sometimes they reacted even when they were the ones attacking.

Regardless, I wanted none of it. Those dreary days of repetitive drills felt like sweet memories at the moment. I could only pray they forgot I existed again.

Thankfully, that did seem to be the case. After what felt like the longest day, the prison guards marking time at last inched their way along the clock face to my release. Neither lunch nor afternoon break had improved the mood, but maybe it would reset overnight.

I was still shaken later in Duni. I knew adventurers were never to enter a dungeon distracted, but thankfully I wasn't a real adventurer. Thinking positively, perhaps this was a useful wake-up call regarding the volatility of nobles and precariousness of my position. I absolutely could not afford to lose to them, but how could I be sure they wouldn't make me regret it if I won?

I was also disturbed by the confirmation they met after hours. My mind leapt to the conclusion they must be utilizing some exclusive advantage, placing them in the same room... or they were simply monitoring each other's progress. As though I were the lesser competitor.

Thinking of the consequences if I lost, I felt newfound sympathy for Keith Kilwin. No, I would not lose. Finishing the circle, I straightened. "Ready," I said and watched Blake disappear to rile the stragglers. Since we'd already weathered one second-floor swarm, I wasn't worried, and my mind once again returned to the horrible contest.

Duni sent. Instead of a genuine query, it came across as concern. Distracted as I was, I didn't immediately register what this meant beyond that it was awake. And then I froze.

It wasn't just that Duni had expressed concern on my behalf, which was shocking enough. Not just that it had reached out to communicate with me over our distance. But that it had sensed my turmoil at all! By all appearances, I was simply chalking circles and then readying as three rats barreled into view. I'd given no visible indicators of my distress, yet Duni had known anyway, which could only mean one thing.

Duni was Empathic too. The implications...

In the shock of realization, I fumbled a spell for the first time since childhood. Mana Dome flared up and failed to form, snapping me from my reverie; I hurriedly corrected, bringing the spell solidly up... and coming face to toothy face with the giant rat I'd just trapped inside with me.

I screamed and fell over backwards. Teeth flashed where I'd been, its fur brushed over the lower half of my robe... and even as Mana Dome collapsed, something spectacular occurred. I was reminded of the old myths when deities walked the worlds as what felt like a wrathful storm descended, the air charged with its immense presence blaring negation. Duni, I realized, even before the rat skittered backwards, then turned tail and fled.

That sense of vastness vanished, but I felt filled up, a strangely familiar feeling straight from a Book. As Hannah stepped into view staring down at me, I cast Mana Dome for the third time in under a minute, the first ever that relied not on the runic framework underneath us but on what settled into a new Skill, so I was unsurprised by its subsequent notification. My breaths sounded overly loud; my heart was beating double-time in my ribs. I heard as from a long way off: "What just happened?"

I shook my head and tried to answer. "I... it..." How to explain? No, perhaps the simplest to start, and greatest: "Duni saved me." Ignoring the stares, I reached out, wanting to thank it, and was met with... nothing. Maybe it was sleeping again? Tired out?

Just then Bessie burst from the stairwell, followed by Tom. "What is it? What happened?"

"You're not supposed to be here," I said.

"We heard you scream! I thought you might be dying or something!"

"Oh, sorry..."

"You were right," Blake said. "She almost died."

I shivered in remembrance and braced for recriminations. But instead of continuing to demand explanations, Bessie's face turned grim, and she marched us back up the stairs, and then to my surprise and King Rat's, towards the exit. That was right, adventuring debriefings never took place inside danger zones, including dungeons. Did that mean they were finally treating this as a serious run?

My mind was still spinning, spinning. I had nearly died. But instead I'd gained [Mana Dome]. It was a gambler's luck, reward for my risk. Perhaps Lord Didane chased this rush but did not dare that final step. Madness. Could it ever be worth it?

No, I did not want to think of the rat's teeth that only just missed. Fortunately, my mind was eager to return to my discovery, the clue for which had been right in front of me all along. I had gained [Advanced Empathy] most probably from forming an emotional connection with Duni, but how? I'd empathized with its loss of freedom... but why would it respond in kind?

Because it had felt my feelings. Because it was Empathic itself. Perhaps our fumbling attempts to communicate had been assisted all along by our mutual Empathy. And when I'd asked to attack me, my conflicted feelings had of course confused and annoyed it.

I had hoped to learn dungeon lore from Duni, but I had not imagined I'd stumble across such a potentially impactful revelation so soon. No wonder dungeons could take advantage of distracted adventurers. No wonder they strengthened faster with stronger minions, since presumably they shared the training advantages of [Advanced Empathy]. No wonder Planar Dungeons could be so different, moldable as they were by their nearest influencers. And considering all dungeons primarily had monsters and adventurers for role models, was it any wonder how they usually turned out?

Thankfully, though I was so distracted I could barely walk straight, I was led out of Duni without issue. Stumbling outside, breathing in the fresh, mana-thin air, I shook myself and said: "I cannot believe it."

"Can't believe what?"

I had completely forgotten the existence of the Gold-Ranked guards. As I blanched, my tongue twisting into a knot, Bessie said: "She's making huge strides with Mana Dome!"

Oh, that was right. I said, "I just gained the Skill."

Thankfully, they didn't notice Bessie's eyes bulge, cheering and clapping me on the back. "Atta girl!" "You show those nobles!" "Congratulations!"

My lips formed a tremulous smile. I was still terrified by what had almost happened, my nearest brush with death. But they were right: this was a triumph, a huge success. And I wasn't referring simply to our contest.

No, I had the feeling I'd just won something much more significant.