---

“Night cycle purchased! Each island now has its own unique time of day!”

“Sea bottom purchased! Large trenches will be formed as bottomless holes!”

“Ebb and Flow tides purchased! Occasional paths between the islands will be open depending on the time of day rather than each island’s challenge.”

Delta hummed merrily as she purchased a couple more islands, filling the vast ocean with more landmasses and interesting shapes. There was a moon-shaped island, a star, a sword… and one island that looked like a doughnut with a bite taken out of it.

As well as an island that looked like a splatter of jam.

The fun thing about the fourth floor was the stairs from the third spiraled down into the middle of the floor, so there was no real ‘end’ to the level. Delta was coming up with a grand idea of what she wanted this floor to do.

Floor one was a simple path with some choices. The second was all about open-ended exploration. The third was an invasion-style tour. So, she wanted the fourth to be closer to a treasure hunt, but didn’t want it to feel too similar to the second floor, which is where most of her thoughts now laid.

Pondering this, she tapped her chin and tried to recall what made water levels good… and what made water levels bad in her experience. She had flashes of a blue temple… water needing to be drained… filled… platforms that rose…she twitched for a moment before sealing those sinister memories away under ‘traumatic childhood moments.’

Oh, hey… she was getting pieces of her childhood back.

Back on track, she reckoned the bad things were narrow spaces, filling and draining puzzles, inability to use your cool powers in the water, air gauges… and stuff like that. Also the occasional unkillable sea monster.

The good was the exploration, the feeling of a lot to discover, and the experience of a new sort of world.

It took her a moment to notice she was ocean-walking again, a new habit for her since she made the fourth floor. Something about being in the water was soothing… as long as Delta knew exactly what was in the water with her.

Tales of sea serpents or massive lake monsters always gave her the shivers. She did not like unseen threats… but oddly, the dark didn’t bother her in the same way.

What lurked below could remain below in her opinion.

At that thought, she paused to blink down at the lapping water.

“What lurks below?” she repeated as an idea occurred to her in a burst of inspiration.

If she found being under water soothing, why not others?

She quickly brought up her menus and began to swipe through different purchases and upgrades until she found what she wanted.

“Subterranean tunnels that connect the islands to a single point below. These tunnels can be made out of

Cheap rock with no view. Cheapest option. A coral like structure that sometimes allows a view. Medium price. A perfectly crafted tube of glass-like material that can easily resist deep sea pressure. Grants full view and is most memorable. Expensive.

Once purchased, a new ‘room’ will be constructed under the sea, which all the tunnels will connect to. This room is invisible unless up close.”

If Nu wanted to fill the ocean with big scary monsters, Delta wanted a magic underwater palace. She could imagine it now, the tunnel bending low enough for the glittering building to be seen within some sort of air bubble and the majestic glowing corals and-

She took a deep breath to cool her rabid excitement. Getting too worked up now would stifle her creativity later. It was good to have a plan, but she would rather be ‘doing’ than ‘planning’ for too long.

She still needed the islands up top to be organized before her idea could come to fruition. No islands… no sea tunnels… no magic underground palace of wonder.

A sudden notification appeared before her.

Fera the Barkeep has been defeated. Respawn in 3 hours.

What?

She reread it a few times, each time in even more disbelief. Delta couldn’t believe what she was reading. Fera was… a rock, an unmovable fact of the Dungeon. Nothing yet had even come close to harming her. She quickly zoomed to the first floor to find the tavern in black ash and smoldering smoke. A group of wary Fairplay scrubs peered in, explosives on hand that bore Cois’ symbol.

They had simply leaned in and bombed her, using all her alcohol and mixtures as fuel that caused an almighty explosion of sorts that destroyed everything within.

“Cowards!” Delta flailed, trying to kick them in anger, but they ignored her as most people did, walking through her and the ashes of one of the happy places Delta had made to welcome people.

She rushed over to look, but the only thing remaining of Fera was a cast-iron ladle she dropped as a loot. The Fairplay people ignored it once one of their mages deemed it ‘a chef’s enchantment of sorts.’

They didn’t even respect Fera in death.

Delta swallowed hard once but did her best to cool her anger. It felt a little like shoving a cork in a volcano, but she managed it with a deep exhale. Slow breaths that she used to center herself.

This… this was going to keep happening until the point she was trying to make got across.

She turned to see them doing something odd before Fran’s boss room, putting on identical arm bands of sorts. A lot of things happened all at once, and Delta winced as all the people gave off a flash of mana that expanded before rapidly contracting. The process was akin to a flashbang to Delta’s eyes, and she needed to spend a minute blinking stars away as she took a moment to regain her composure.

By the time she was good to go, the fight had already begun with Fran at one of his weakest states Delta had seen in a long time. She was utterly confused because the men were not weak at all! There radiated a lot of that pale mana!

It took only a few seconds to narrow in on the cause.

It was those armbands, they seemed to drain or suppress the body’s mana, causing the people to nearly succumb to mana poisoning before the fight started, and then they snapped the things off once the fight was off.

Fran didn’t have an overtime strength adjuster, just one that added power if new people joined the fight from the stands!

Delta ran forward in time to see Bacon upended with strikes. The group was entirely made up of second rank officers using more Seed-Weapons. An ax, a sword, a lance… all of them crooked in wrongness and mutilation.

They were easily outpacing Fran now with barely any teamwork, and Delta closed her eyes. She was tempted to let him go Captain Fran, his supermode, to exact revenge, but… she wanted to keep that in reserve for when they brought in some real monsters.

Not these cheaters.

Fran flicked his eyes to her and seemed to send approval. He did not want to waste his true form on unworthy wretches such as these either.

“Glory… to Mother!” Fran gave a last hurrah as he shot forward while glowing a mix of orange, blue, and a little green. The attack landed, and with skill, Fran managed to badly wound one of the scrubs, to their shock.

Fran stumbled back as the man fell backwards, shock on his face as he passed out from the shock of the blow.

“May you heal quickly so your filthy cheater blood doesn’t fall on mother,” Fran grunted before he was brought down by quick strikes. Delta closed her eyes and made sure Fran made it to the infirmary on the third floor. A little pen had even been set aside for Bacon.

The men looked down over the helmet and bacon themed shield dropped as loot, mocking their appearance as ‘savage.’ They didn’t take them.

Honestly, Delta was confident they didn’t deserve any treasure.

They were cheering in comradery as the men entered through the exit boss door to the next floor. The stairs are waiting for the ‘victors’ to move on in their soft glowing curved steps that seemed to rise with hot air from the jungle below.

Delta wiped her eyes with her fingers before setting her expression into one of grim satisfaction.

The first floor? It had nothing on the sheer viciousness of the second when the difficulty modes were active.

For one… there were a lot more Pygmies loose at once.

And for the first time? Delta wasn’t going to make them play nice.

There was also an added feature of the higher difficulties of the Jungle… the more the rank of danger increased… the darker the jungle grew.

Right now, the second floor was awash in the setting sun of dusk, the long shadows hiding slithering snakes, watching frogs, and little demons.

Delta was sure she could nudge it to be a little darker.

All the better to see horrible people in white uniforms.

Like walking target practice for her innocent little… fanatical… flock.

“Welcome to the Jungle,” Delta said softly as she watched the boss doors close behind Fairplay.

And to add a little spice to things?

Delta was going to tell Wyin what they had just done to Sir Fran.

---

The rock was old… Moss covered some of the lines of words, and cracks appeared on the sides occasionally from odd blows, but despite that, the rock felt almost holy in its appearance. Like a relic of some older times. Argus could only stare at it in silent thought.

“Young Master Gentle, taking the lay of the land?” came a soft spoken man that made Argus wince internally. He knew that voice.

“Ser Caline, I didn’t know you were in town… but I guess the portal was being set up,” he said before turning with a terse bow. The man’s alabaster skin looked off in Durence’s sunny disposition, but that just showed how far up in the ranks the man was.

“Also… I’m just Petty-Scout. Who raised me has no bearing on my role today,” Argus murmured. Caline shook his head as if Argus’ words were foolish, but not unexpected.

“Except it will… Every promotion, every squad, every mission will be cast out with the words ‘that is Ripdoy’s boy,’” Caline commented as he came to see what Argus had been looking at.

The stone monument that seemed to be the centerpiece of the town, a massive boulder with dozens of comments carved in honor of the town’s namesake. It looked to have been put here before any building had ever been erected.

“Durence…” Argus muttered, the name sounding familiar, but he couldn’t put it to words. It was the name of the town, but it was also something else…

“Saint Durence,” Caline said calmly as if simply repeating a well-known fact as he read the comments, amused at some and saddened at others.

At Argus’ blank stare, Caline sighed with a hand to his chin.

“You must be more learned of the world, young master. You don’t need to be an expert hand at politics, far too many kingdoms to be bothered with such a thing, but it would behoove you to know about the names that shook history in this land at least,” he said in a way that made Argus feel like an infant.

“Durence is important, then?” Argus reasoned aloud. The man did have a town named after him, to be fair.

“The man who-would-be king who discarded the throne and left it to his brother, including the bride he would wed… yes, one would think that. Durence Verluan was an interesting man, if only for the lack of better words to describe him with,” Caline said simply. Argus blinked again, trying to process that.

“Why would… someone just give up being a king to die here in the middle of nowhere?” Argus asked with some incredulity.

Caline’s calm expression tightened ever so slightly. Given his stoicism, this was something akin to a lip curling in disgust.

“He went, like all Verluan royalty, to gain the crown of the Dungeon. He returned addled… stories say he accused his father of malicious magic… cruel intentions. He said that he could not settle for ‘merely lending his power to one kingdom, but all the world.’ Then he set off with no treasure, no guards, and no right to return. He died as he deserved. Without a body to bury, and under a rock in a hovel,” Caline concluded with ease.

“You think the Dungeon made him mad?” Argus said slowly.

“Dungeons will do anything to secure their win. Making the king-to-be go insane with promises of glory or such would not be below it. Still, the man tried to contact the current king despite his crime of abandoning the kingdom. He dared plead for an army of all things. I heard it ended poorly on all sides. Fairplay was not involved, as the royal family do not… see a need for our talents yet,” Caline told Argus with a wave of a hand and turned, nearly bumping into the odd elder from Miss Mila’s home.

His name was… Haldi?

“Yes?” Caline asked casually as if he had no desire to converse with the gap-toothed cheese-covered old man.

“His name was Durence. Not Saint Durence. Not King-to-Be. And definitely not ‘Durence Verluan,’” the elder said quietly, taking a step for each name he said aloud.

“And you would know him personally?” Caline asked as if this was a joke.

“Aye, I should. We ran away together that night. The Wizard and the Prince. Oh, we inspired many maidens’ fantasies with that caper, but trust me when I say that I loved that man as dear as any brother. So. I will say this once out of politeness since Durence was always a peace-maker,” Haldi said and squared up to Caline.

“Keep his name out of your mouth, boy,” Haldi said simply.

“Hard to do so when the town shares his name. But I do not take orders from you. Unless you wish to set up some council to have me banished, I think our talk here is concluded,” Caline decided and walked past Haldi.

Haldi turned his chin ever so slightly.

“You know, some people would say I’m cheesy on the eyes, but for you, I think a little reminder of what town you are in is needed,” Haldi concluded to himself. He threw his hand out, and Argus felt an intense pungent mana rise up all around from the ground… the buildings… the air…the cheese nearby?

“A fool I do see, hear my words and bend the knee. For every time you mention Durence, a curse to you from me. So… let it brie.” the Wizard said, and Argus took a step back as the curse smashed into Caline, utterly obliterating the anti-magic protection weaved into his fourth-ranked uniform.

“You can curse… in cheese?” Argus squeaked out in some terror. Haldi licked his lips.

“Cheese fits into any magic. It’s one of the primordial elements really,” he said casually.

What? No, it wasn’t!

Caline stumbled and turned, fire in his usually cold eyes.

“How dare you! If you think I will be cowed into not saying Dure-” he began and stopped abruptly. Haldi smiled with an expectant look. A block of cheese forced its way out of Caline’s mouth as if being eaten in reverse. Caline’s eyes bulged as the block landed on the ground.

“At least now, when you open your mouth, someone might benefit,” Haldi said gruffly.

Caline snarled and opened his mouth to argue.

“Also, it’s not always your mouth,” Haldi threw in as he casually patted the monument rock with affection.

“Is… it permanent?” Argus asked, if only because Caline was one of his father’s men.

“Eh it’ll fade… in a year? Maybe two? I didn’t put much power into it, honestly,” Haldi assured him with that wide-gapped smile.

“That’s a long time, I thought magic was hard?” Argus admitted as Caline fled down the streets, the children around him trying to get him to say the name of the town. He saw Deo’s friend, Grim, leading the pack with a wicked orange tongue.

“Oh, if looks curd kill!” the boy laughed before freezing and looking furious with himself.

“To be honest, a lot of you upper Fairplay folk are so bland that the simplest of magics could land if it’s cast by anything but a Dungeon,” Haldi explained as he watched the scene as if he had the urge to join in poking at Caline.

Argus looked down to avoid meeting Haldi’s eyes.

“The cleanse after a Dungeon dive can be intense, but it greatly strengthens people’s resistance to mana poisoning and helps them resist contracts more,” he mumbled. He had… been avoiding his first cleanse for several reasons.

“What’s wrong with having a bit of Dungeon in you? Good for the immune system, I say! You lot are going to get knocked down by a common cold at this rate,” Haldi snorted.

Argus bit his lip, pondering on what to share… these people had been so open and simple with him.

“Dungeon mana affects something called a ‘Core’ that we all have inside ourselves. It exchanges our mana for theirs and alters our cores. So, Core Armaments forged at a higher rank are tainted and simply turn on the wielder if they use a Core Armament against a Dungeon that’s exchanged mana with them,” he said softly in case anyone was listening.

“And you need these because?” Haldi asked doubtfully as he crossed his arms.

“They’re universal tools. Once shaped, they become anathema to Dungeons. It doesn’t matter if it’s made of metal, slime, fire, or something else. The Core Armament cuts through them as mana. It crumbles defenses and stops regenerative effects of boss monsters,” Argus explained, feeling good now that he was giving something back to the townspeople.

“I’m not an archmage or even a merchant, but those sound far too good to be true,” Haldi commented as he led Argus back to his home.

“They aren’t perfect. You need a high level of cleanse, and it’s only done by those who truly don’t want anything else. Cleansing your core rubs off some piece of yourself for that power. A little warmth or personality. It also hurts a lot to form… to rip a piece of yourself apart to forge the Core Armament. I’ve been avoiding it, and I don’t want one,” Argus said quickly.

Haldi continued to look doubtful.

“Your man there looked a wee bit more than a ‘little’ cold,” he commented.

“Caline is different,” Argus said with a tight voice.

“He embraced the forging twice.”

---

The Seed-Weapon flashed as a dozen blow darts rained down on the group. The blade cut five… ten… then twenty darts in a single cleave, but the other thirty landed all across his back and caused the leader of the party to collapse in a heap on top of his comrades.

Delta stopped a built-in timer she had found in the system.

“4 minutes and 52 seconds,” she read aloud.

They had lasted not even five minutes on the second floor.

A second or two passed in silence as the army of Pygmies awaited instruction.

“Take them to be tossed outside. Mushy can do the lifting,” she instructed, but then, as they began to move, she remembered what they did to Fran.

“Also, check their pockets, then take their clothes,” she added with little sympathy.

“Pale Threads!” a Pygmy cried, holding up one of the knocked out Scrubs’ brown hair.

“Threads!” they all cried. They turned to Delta as one and seemed to give her a begging look.

She smiled.

“Oh… alright, take their ‘threads’ too,” she said. Delta was such an enabler. It was really a problem.