As the Corpse Hunter left Damian’s shop he focused on his Death Sense. The tertiary ability was always active and on its own could detect any dead bodies within the city. With additional effort Aiden could extend his perception to the Dungeon above Plinth.

There weren’t any corpses within the first twenty floors that he could detect. If he wanted to he could extend his reach to the thirtieth floor but that would put some strain on his soul. The Corpse Hunter didn’t like going into the Dungeon with any amount of preexisting fatigue so he satisfied himself with the knowledge that the most heavily traveled levels were free of bodies. With that in mind and the fact that most of the town was still at Elder Councilman Donovan's speech he elected not to bring his cart.

What he needed to find for Damian could easily fit in his backpack and Aiden lavished the thought of climbing the marble stairs without the burden of his corpse cart. It would be like walking on air compared to hauling the heavy wooden wagon up the beautifully crafted steps.

There were a couple of nearby shops that sold potions and equipment that even the Corpse Hunter considered worth looking at. Unfortunately their doors were all locked. Evidently they'd closed up shop for the morning to hear the council's speech and watch the award ceremony.

Aiden walked back to his home, passing through the locked gate which he unlocked and secured once on the opposite side. There hadn't been any 'break out attempts' since he was a teenager. That of course had been partially his fault and he made damned sure not to repeat the incident by leaving the gate unsecured.

Inside the shack the man in gray went to the den and grabbed his usual assortment of Dungeon crawling gear. He inspected the backpack and replaced a few of the potions and scrolls that he'd used up in the past. Then he pulled on a metal sconce designed to hold torches that hung on a nearby wall.

The attached wall descended into the ground revealing a small walk-in closet. Aiden had been in his early twenties before he discovered this room while reading through some of the previous Corpse Hunter's notes. Lining the closet's walls from top to bottom were shelves.

Each shelf held a magical item whose value ranged from rare to legendary. Only a few had been placed here by Aiden but they all had come from the Dungeon. It had taken the dedicated efforts of several generations worth of Corpse Hunters to accumulate such an awe inspiring collection of relics.

Their combined value could easily fund the construction of a private villa and an entourage of servants. More than once the man in gray fantasized about trading them in and buying a chunk of countryside on the far opposite end of the city. Somewhere far enough away from Plinth that he'd never have to see another Column Dweller for as long as he lived.

Of course he couldn't do that. Neither the Council of Plinth nor the Ascension Academy would allow for a Corpse Hunter to retire in peace. A new Corpse Hunter Fate could only spawn if the previous Fate Holder was dead or exiled. Just like what had happened with Reginald and whomever had come before him.

Aiden looked over the literal treasure trove intently. Nestled between a whip made of purple spiky hide and a glowing circlet was a pair of rusty looking gauntlets. The man in gray took the gauntlets and placed them in the bag.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to this," he said to the bird on his shoulder.

The vulture nodded.

When the Corpse Hunter and Vagrant stepped out of the closet the wall closed behind them. It wasn't entirely clear how the secret door worked. Aiden assumed it was some sort of counter weight contraption connected to a pressure sensor built into the wall and floor of the closet.

He would have to tear apart the floor boards and door frame to be certain. Though that was more effort than the answer was worth.

Aiden stepped out of the den and opened a door across the hall from it. This library, much like the treasure room, was the culmination of all of the Corpse Hunters that had come before him. It was where a large chunk of his knowledge of the Dungeon had come from.

After twenty minutes of scanning the dozen or so double sided bookshelves the man in gray made his selection. He placed the journals into his bag alongside the gauntlets. Then he walked out of the house and into the garage.

In a cupboard over one of the metal basins full of holy water was a stack of candles. Some were infused with holy oil and others were simple household candle sticks. The Corpse Hunter grabbed one of ordinary variety and walked out to the graveyard behind his home.

He followed the western wall before he came to a small grave. Dried wax covered the front of the tombstone but the engraved letters were still legible.

"Anthony Beldane," the grave read.

Aiden pulled out his silver knife and scraped the wax away. Then he pulled out the candle and placed it upon the tombstone. He lit the wick and waited for some of the wax to melt.

Once a small pool of melted wax had gathered he poured it onto the tombstone and then placed the candle back on top. The wax on the bottom would harden and keep the wind from knocking the candle over. After that Aiden spent a quiet moment at the foot of the grave before walking off towards the gate.

This was something he tried to do at least once a week. Though his varying workload and levels of sobriety sometimes made that a difficult habit to keep. Better to forget on occasion than to forget altogether the man in gray often told himself.

***

Walking up the long staircase was in fact much easier without the cart. The Corpse Hunter stood before the marble door and read the script just as he did every time he entered the Dungeon.

"Standing before you is a body ready to be tested. A mind ready to be challenged. A soul ready to be measured."

The door opened and the man in gray stepped inside. It felt strange being in the Dungeon for a personal matter rather than a professional one. Aiden genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d Ascended without his sole intent being to hunt corpses.

It was weird. Like hanging around your place of employment while you were off the clock. The Corpse Hunter looked to the vulture on his shoulder who gave him a similar look of mild discomfort.

Aiden shrugged causing the bird to bob up and down. “Maybe someone on one of the floors above us will have the courtesy to die and we can call this a business venture as well as a personal one.”

Vagrant squawked back in agreement.

The man in gray chuckled. If there were more people in Plinth that shared his bird's dry sense of humor he might have more friends. Aiden purged the thought from his mind as soon as it emerged. He was in the Dungeon now and he needed to focus lest he become its next victim.

Clearing the first eight floors had been little more than a warm up for the Corpse Hunter. There wasn’t any real need to waste his consumable items when his short sword and buckler were more than enough. Though he did opt to use his short bow on the sixth floor for convenience sake.

Dust Bunnies weren’t a real threat, at least not to the man in gray. Their teeth couldn’t bite through wool or leather and their paw attacks were hardly attacks at all. When they died however, they turned into a puff of literal dust which bothered Aiden’s sinuses.

Rather than going through a series of annoying coughing and sneezing fits he just shot the dirty little bastards with his bow from a distance. It was easy enough that even a child could do it without fearing much for their own life. And judging by the small dust covered footprints that the Corpse Hunter had found near the exit door, that was precisely what had happened not long ago.

Two floors up the Corpse Hunter was set upon by a group of small shrubs. The monsters only came up to his knees and while numerous they were as weak as they were fragile. Aiden punted the first creature in the chest and it broke apart like a pinata, scattering leaves and branches over its companions.

Vagrant swooped down on a plant monster, grabbed it with his talons, and flew it up towards the sky. Its body fell to the ground and broke across a nearby rock as the man in gray cut another one in half with his sword. When the creatures died their bodies oozed with a sticky yellow sap.

By the time the Corpse Hunter had cleaved his way through them his blade was coated in the natural adhesive. Vagrant's talons were just as messy. It took more time for the duo to clean themselves up than it had taken to slay the monsters.

When his blade was no longer in danger of gumming up its sheath Aiden put it away. Then he pulled out two empty vials from his pack and filled them with the plant creature's blood-like sap. It wasn't on Damian's enchantment shopping list nor was it particularly valuable.

But a basic adhesive was a handy thing to have on standby for someone with a creative mind. Out of all the things that the Corpse Hunter could have with him in the Dungeon he favored having options more than anything else. Better to have half a dozen solutions to a variety of problems than a single solution to a very niche problem.

On the eighth floor the Corpse Hunter caught up to the young band of Ascenders. There were four of them in total ranging in age from ten to twelve. Two boys and two girls.

They stood over a group of dead plant-like creatures that they had just slain. Each of the children was covered in small cuts and scrapes along with the thick yellow sap. They hadn’t noticed the man in gray who quietly walked up behind them until he spoke.

“Not bad."

The four young Ascenders immediately turned to face the man in gray. One of the kids closest to him stumbled backwards over a plant monster corpse. He let out a light groan as he landed flat on his back.

"Corpse Hunter," two of the still standing children said in unison.

"Where's your guide?" the Corpse Hunter asked calmly.

The oldest child brandished a two handed sword that was roughly the size of Aiden's own short sword.

"We don't need a guide…we're Ascenders," the boy said.

His voice, much like the sword, trembled noticeably. Though the twelve year old had a brave face on, his fear at being confronted by the Corpse Hunter was undeniable. Aiden got the impression the kid would rather get himself killed than risk being called a coward.

Some parents had a tendency to raise their children that way. Teaching them that the only way to achieve glory in life was by Ascending the Dungeon's floors. And with the Column's laws permitting anyone old enough to be gifted a Fate to enter the Dungeon there wasn't anything that anyone could do about it.

There were no child protective services. No morally righteous groups more interested in the wellbeing of children than the advancement of the city itself.

Not all parents were like that of course. But there were enough to cause the Council of Plinth to dedicate a section of the cemetery solely to Ascenders that had died in the Dungeon before their sixteenth birthday.

Rows of small graves lined the western side of the graveyard that the Corpse Hunter tended. A testament to the naivety of the young and the carelessness of the old.

Aiden had often wondered if that was how Anthony Beldane had died. Had his parents pressured him into becoming an Ascender? Did he die cursing his mother and father or angry at himself for failing them?

That was a question he'd never had the opportunity to ask. One of the many unanswered questions he yearned to know.

"You don't need a guide?" the Corpse Hunter said, quoting the young Ascender that brandished the sword. "What's your name?"

"Clarence," the boy replied.

"And your surname?"

"Nelson, why do you want to know?"

"It's always easier to get these questions out of the way early. That way I don't have to ask your Corpse when I'm tending to it."

All four of the kid's eyes grew wide with concern.

"Our..c-corpses?" asked the boy on the ground who had remained where he'd fallen.

"Yes, your corpses. You already told me you're up here without a guide. Sure the first eight floors might not have seemed hard but the Dungeon tends to scale unpredictably.

"One moment you're cutting up plant monsters like lettuce, the next you're being torn apart by Will-o-wisps. It happens more often than you think."

"He's just trying to scare us," one of the girls said. Her words were confident and her voice trembled less than Clarence's but she too was clearly trying to hide her concern.

"Believe what you want," the man in gray said with a shrug. "I'm not here to change your minds, just to tend tour bodies when you meet your inevitable demise. Level nine is up next in case you've lost count.

"Wasn't that long ago a boy about your age was torn to shreds by a pack of wild dogs on the ninth floor. Granted he was alone, I'm sure the four of you could make it eleven or twelve before something rips your organs out."

The children exchanged glances briefly before they began talking over one another.

"I have to be back home in time for dinner," said the fallen boy as he hopped to his feet.

"We should probably sell the monster parts we gathered before they start to smell," one of the girls said.

"Eight floors already is like a speed run, if we go too fast we might make the other kids back at the Academy jealous," said the boy with the two handed sword.

They quickly walked towards a large rock with a marble doorway embedded into its side. The door read, "Pull to ascend. Push to leave." The children pushed the door open and passed through it.

The fourth child, a young girl about eleven years old with short black hair, had stayed behind. She watched her companions leave before turning to stare at the Corpse Hunter. The girl hadn't said a word since he'd arrived and now she looked him dead in the eyes.

The Corpse Hunter stared back until the child eventually turned and headed towards the exit. She placed her hand on the doorknob and looked back at the man in gray. Then she pulled the door open and walked through.