(Curator POV)

What a fucked up day. Space was collapsing, reality crumpled, and I think some fundamental laws were being broken.

Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. Rewind.

Charging into the room, a spindly black as coal elemental waited for us in a crater. Bound up to resemble a human form, orbited by various vibrantly colored cubes, almost like a protective ring.

Couple more steps in and *Click*.

Metal slabs reinforced the exits, tightening with a hiss. The walls and ceiling flung, not opened but flung away, into the vast expanse hidden behind them.

Course, there would be a set-piece.

Oh! And there goes gravity...

First off, impressive. Secondly, the view was breathtaking. Hazy bands of light stained the blank night, stars that shone with wondrous warmth. This room was like an interactive planetarium complete with anti-grav. It even simulated the star’s rotation, though I don’t recall these constellations ever existing.

Right or wrong, I didn’t have Head pegged as an astrologist. Took him as a chemist primarily. Though he is a science dungeon, should’ve expected him to be versed in all relevant fields. My god that is a lot of fields now that I think about it.

Drifting powerlessly through space, this was where the boggarts flourished! Gallivanting through this flippant atmosphere on their black dog steeds, dodging the elemental’s orbital strikes. Needless to say, the wolves were swiss cheese in a matter of seconds.

The orbital strike storm only increased in frequency as the boss spun faster. And the damn thing didn’t even need to reload. Everything it launched at us came curving right back.

But these guys were seasoned racers, the Grand Prix’s best, and they showed it. Darting through this like any other track, weaving past the vibrant cubes.

When it came time to strike. No amount of boggart warped weaponry could even scratch its surface. Alright, so it’s denser than most.

Physical attacks are out the window, but we’re not shit outta luck yet.

We can kill this thing indirectly. The stars in this exhibit aren’t just fancy imitations. They’re real, albeit not as, burn anything in a galactic mile, like real ones. But if I’m right about dungeon core mentality, I’d wager its surface is about as close to the genuine thing as it’ll get.

Gardener, blacksmith, chef, scientist, and librarian. In their own ways, they have an appreciation for the finer details. Maybe that’s one of the things needed for a dungeon core?

Right! Bets down, let’s do this. Looping round the dense-lemental, we paralyzed it with curses to stop its spin, then chucked it towards the nearest celestial body.

Throttled by a greater force, there was an inconsequential blip as it hit the surface. Only problem, even superheated bright red, drowning in molten lava, the exit didn’t open. It was still in there somewhere, waiting for the curse to end.

And here’s where everything went horribly wrong. Instead of waiting like a normal person, the Grandma shifted boggart, no doubt influenced by the shrew herself, started mixing something up. And before I knew it, she chucked it into the star.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Huh?”

“That! The potion, w-what does it do?!”

“Oh, simple. It’ll solve our heat problem. That is to say, it’ll cause the star to rapidly expend resources to burn hot enough to decimate that hunk of junk.”

Oh great, she went to Whit’s school of explanation. Wait, how the hell does a potion even do that! Argh. Actually, I already know how, and I hate it. Is this what it feels like to be Head?

Puffing up like a damn balloon, heatwaves ruptured from the bloated star, incarcerating all it found.

Nothing was surviving this... On the bright side, since the boss was at ground zero, its life melted in an instant as the star rusted into an ill omen.

With the boss done and liquidated, elevator doors rung open. It went without saying, we bee-lined it for the exit. The ones that didn’t spontaneously combust anyways.

Slamming the third-floor button, watching a radiant orb collapse into a black-hole, I stared into the void. And Paranoia Voice got a hell of a lot louder.

Paranoia Voice, a name I gave to that ringing at the back of my mind, repulsed by human touch. It gained a voice around the time those guys invaded my dungeon. Always going on about how everyone wants me, well my core.

I feel like it’s always been with me, but just what exactly is it? My alter ego? A parasite? It’s always been the one to initiate conversations. Have I actually tried replying to it before? Well, I’ll try next time it comes around.

(Head, control room, floor [Redacted])

Secluded in a dark room Head, the core of Rosarium’s dungeon, surrounded himself in monitors. Focused on breaking that disagreeable dungeon’s final floor.

It should have been an easy task. He’s improved since his fight with Seth. Strategy, tools, formation. Every single aspect he’d developed to perfectly exploit loopholes in the rules. Analysis, to pinpoint the opposing forces’ weaknesses. Soldiers perfectly capable of bypassing floors unhindered.

He despises crass conflicts like this but prepares for the inevitability. Yet, why can’t he crush this green-horn.

*Zwoop* Mechanical doors slide open, letting in the hallway’s glim. “Sir, a black hole has opened up in the second-floor boss room.”

... “Take control, I’ll deal with this mess.” Leaving his assistant, Head teleported to the boss room. There the black hole had pretty swallowed up everything short of space itself. The only saving grace was that all boss rooms were pocket dimensions in of themselves.

Head was a cautious individual, no way would he ever do something as irresponsible as letting a star inhabit actual space on this world.

Bringing up both DP and divine essence in each hand, he got to work. The only thing not focused on the problem were the curses he spewed at the person who caused this mess.

(Curator POV)

“Alice, status?”

“Enemy forces have pressed through the roofed forest and have used the wolf’s key on the castle gates. Compering past and present actions, it is highly likely that they have changed tactics.”

Now that she mentions it, they were moving much more meticulously rather than blitzing it to the end. It’s annoying since they hold the numbers and power advantage, but at least I have more time to work with.

*Ding*. The elevator doors open, revealing that this floor worked similarly to the boss room. Astrology stratum, gotcha. “Grandma. Don’t do anything crazy. Stunned silence does not mean ‘go-ahead’, it means holy god, stop. Alright.”

Cheekily nodding, her puppet led the group for stars unknown. That shrew, she definitely knows her potion worked. Almost collapsed reality, but it did save time.

Getting back to the hard stuff, we’re running outta wiggle room. The Dokkeabis were in bad shape but, Guardian was still going strong. Guess I’ll have to rely entirely on the third floor~

Oh! DP density rose again. Not that I can spare any more forces.

Enemy composition hasn’t changed much, mainly consisting of water and air-based chem-lemental’s, with a dash of silver bomber blobs. Seems like he can’t cheat out any third-floor pests yet. So his reinforcements will have to get down here the normal way.

Flinging open the reinforced doors, our enemies wandered into the castle. Completely disregarding all the effort I put into decorating the set! I’m not sad or anything.

Actually, quite the opposite, I’m busting the biggest shitiest grin ever. Ever so one for the details, I made sure to put in doors even if I didn’t plan the room, basically backdrop doors. *Clack* *Clack* *Click* And for some reason, this new commander had to check every single one before committing. So either extremely OCD or a robot, honestly with Head both are likely.

After lengthy deliberation, they finally funneled into the mudroom. And just floated over everything...

As if I’d let them! Boggarts sprung from the pool, walls, and ceiling lobbing chunks of muck.

Yeah, ghosts aren't the only things in these walls. And all the better! I have a stage crew to work with now. (Brought to you by boggart HR)

As the muck made contact it sunk into the chem-lementals. And they don’t just expel it? Interesting. Weighed down, they sunk beneath the pool, not dead per se, but in this context, they might as well be. Same goes for the gas-based ones, turning into dried mud sculptures. Who knew this army’s greatest weakness would be jumping and mud.

Waves of chem-lementals charged forth only to sink into the murky depths. Huh? *Rumble* Of course, things can’t ever be *Rumble* easy. Bursting from the pool in an honestly awe-inspiring fashion, seriously I would hire this guy if I could, a mud titan formed.

Ehm, burst out, isn’t the right word to put things. It was the mud pool itself! An amalgamation of several chem-lementals bound together, with some unlucky boggarts lodged within.

The formation itself swallowed up the key, manifesting as an ornament on its forehead.

I mean, they did complete the challenge, taking the key... and everything else in the room.

Squeezing through the doorway, that mound of mud slowly crapped itself into the hall.

Perfect. With half their forces outside the room and the other half within, that giant turd effectively split their forces.

Acting quickly, I deployed the newly christened Castle Cleaners to capitalize on the moment. Well, deployed in quotes, they already had them surrounded, in the rooms, in the halls. The furniture cracked to life, dancing porcelain and brooms, thumping hardwood and raging carpets, all boggart shifted.

Throwing the first punch an armed cabinet painted the walls with a water chem-lemental.

Quite a first showing. I was a bit iffy, seeing how they had about a week’s worth of training. But yeah, needless worries. I hope water doesn't stain.

We pushed our advantage hard, it was only a matter of time until, *Creek*. Yeah, that thing gets through. Cracking the frame, the mud titan joined the fray, paving the way for all hell to break loose.

The ensuing mayhem brought the ghosts converging in from where ever the hell else they were fighting.

Forget what I said, this is all hell breaking loose, can’t get much more hellish than vengeful spirits.

The enemy commander was having the hard of it. No one ever expects the ghost inquisition! Half their own guys were swinging at nothing while others shared their attention between the phantoms and killer furniture.

Through the course of battle, a highly decorated spirit stood above the rest. On a hill of mist, he stared down another ghost of similar caliber. Their armors made it clear that they were on opposing sides.

“Glorious knights of the Dutchy, give these scum no quarter.” He raised the banner of his country in lieu of a weapon. Depicting a green cauldron encircled by various cycles of the moon. A vaguely egg-shaped(creature?) rested within the cauldron. While its border donned regal patterns of silver and copper.

The other commander raised his weapon proclaiming his own rallying cry, charged forth with his flag bearer, granting his allies a second wind.

What a proper mess...

Back in Head’s dungeon, the riders were having a field day. Upside down, on walls, they were speedrunning this floor with Grandma leading the charge.

Can’t say I didn’t expect this. Racing through the stars without a care in the world, blissfully ignoring the monstrosities at their heels.

Lesser versions of the dense-lemental and sentient space dust. This floor prioritized navigation over puzzle-solving, so it was a mad dash to find the exit.

It was well and fun until the Grandma shifted boggart abruptly cut out. Tch, they reached her.

In the castle, she was combating the chem-lemental forces while verbally assaulting them.

Grandma put up a fierce fight, flinging potions around, using her cauldron as a catalyst for chaos. But in the end, it was the mud titan swinging its mass around that did her in.

They found their stride after that, reaching the princess tower, obtaining the key from... him. It was supposed to be a fierce ascent, hopping from one ruined rubble to the next. Enemies, dropping on them all the while. But no. Gas chem-lementals and a mud giant surging their way up was all it took, easily.

Ah, fucken’el.

(Head, control room, floor [Redacted])

Head trudged back to his control room. His assistant had done a fine job dealing with that bumbling dungeon’s tricks, reaching the boss room. Although the ordeal left his forces wanting. And the field report made him feel a migraine coming on. Apparitions, warring spirits, this guy really wanted to piss him off.

He intended to put an end to this quickly. Use superior forces and tactics to strike before his opponent could react. Now it’s back to bite him. The second floor wasn’t fully cleared, and now his reinforcements were busy dealing with the trash. At the very least, that mud homunculus, as aberrant it was, provided some comfort.

A blinking light alerted him that enemy forces were nearing the goal. Time or forces, he made his decision. Turning the key, his forces found themselves in a dark room.

A spotlight clicked on, trained on a cocoon of divine essence. Hatching, purple smoke filled the air, dissipating as candles alighted, first around the perimeter than the chandelier.

‘This is one gaudy ballroom’ Head thought to himself, patiently waiting for the fanfare to end.

Expelling the mist, Beast appeared. His fur now a fine sheen of mahogany. Dressed in regal military cloths, head high, back straight, and with a look of scorn, he strutted pompously forward before belting forth a bestial roar.

That was what the script his benefactor had given Beast read. But ‘Wasn’t the princess supposed to be here?’ was the first of many confused thoughts Beast had.