(Head, Castle Ballroom)

Head was having a horrible time.

His forces were being eviscerated. By as one would expect, a rampaging Beast as eloquent on his feet as his fangs and claws were feral?

Perhaps that’s how it started out. But now, in a second phase unbeknownst to its creator.

Well, physically. Conceptually this was what Curator had in mind when they frankensteined Beast together. The princess was supposed to inform people of Beast’s rose and accompany them into the fight to make it easier. But alas, in Heads rush, they completely ignored the huntsman turned princess triggering hard-mode.

Beast was now a twenty-foot (6 meters) tall rose creature whose thorny roots throttled the entire room, running up the grand pillars, hanging from the now mottled chandler.

Embedded within the lush rose petals was Beast’s torso. Moving and swiping away for all that’s worth when compared to a plant the size of a house.

Stats, skills, weaknesses, strengths, information. All so stupidly outrageous that it even made Head question his analysis eye. ‘No way this is a third-floor boss.’ He thought to himself. ‘There has to be some trick or gimmick.’

Calmly analyzing the situation, he came to a simple conclusion. ‘This fool clearly had a field day experimenting with divine essence despite Seth’s clear warning’.

It earned Curator a few brownie points.

Begrudging respect aside, Head still had this cheat to deal with, and he had just the thing in mind.

----------

Explosions shook the ballroom, cracking the sprawling stained murals. Bringing the pillars crashing down, taking many of Beast’s vines with them.

The battle had taken its toll on the young scientist’s forces, rendering him bereft of tricks.

This was his final card, and he hated that.

It was out of his hands now. Head lamented his fallen plans. Everything was supposed to go down in a neat, orderly fashion.

It was simple deducing that person’s penchant for ascetics from their frivolous discussions. From there, it was a simple affair, hang some bait, watch him bite, then remove that pest from his haven.

Head didn’t believe himself an aggressive person, opinionated yes, but this ailment just ate at him day in day out. The Null was his only reprieve. Now someone threatens it he would protect it any way he can, even if he has to resort to underhanded tricks!

Head calmed himself he still had assets. The mud giant performed admirably, despite being cut down a size or two. And there was still an adequate amount of troops left to work with. That was it, but it was something.

The pillars crumbled, quashing Beast’s control over the room. Unsurprisingly enough, the room didn't collapse on top of them. ‘Because fantasy!’ Head rationalized.

Only the rose and some vestiges survived. Following up, Head ordered the mud vanguard to pile on the base of Beast’s rose, grasping at its thorns.

Conglomerated into one, their combined strength managed to hunch the beastly flower over.

Lining up a juicy punch, the mud golem augmented its fists with compressed water elementals.

*Crunch*

Crashing against Beast’s true body, the bloom snapped back like a tensioned catapult.

Almost down, the flora-wolf hybrid steeled himself just centimeters from the floor, wrapping its broken vestiges around the titan’s ankle. He *fwip* reeled back in for a roundhouse sweep, bringing the titan toppling over with its stalk.

Truly a slog of giants amidst a crumbling ruin.

(Curator POV)

Sailing through the sea of stars, we reached the edge of where light dare tread. I’ll give Head some props, this was no ordinary boss room. This was a boss area.

From the void where no stars lived came a being of refuse, a conglomeration of cosmic dust, sifting towards us, unknown. Only making itself apparent as a sound, striking several riders down at once.

Its slashing edges refracting distant lights, only visible as they burnt cleanly through opponents.

Thus began our battle with this enigmatic specter.

----

With casualties mounting, it became readily apparent that I couldn’t even provide support. The pace was simply dizzying, this was a battle of speed and improvisation. A sound, a flash, then nothing, motes of sparks veiled each frenetic clash disappearing as quickly they came.

I’m totally useless here, and maybe it’s because I’m at the end of everything faced with the endless dark, but it has me thinking of Paranoia Voice again. Always one to hit me with unpleasant thoughts whenever a situation happens.

I wonder how many have died by now. Like I said, these were all mainstay racers down at the circuit. I never gave them names... Maybe that’s a bit presumptuous. I never learned their names, they had titles, fans, and rivalries, even a burgeoning society.

Bosses can reconstitute all they want but normal guys like them? They are forever lost.

What about Alice? What happens if she kicks the bucket? What if Lyra didn’t stop that bandit from cutting Alice down?

A cold chill permeates my mind, Alice dead?

Neigh to the Indulgent king/ A child, he squanders/ Toying with fancies he naught understands.

Paranoia voice. I thought I heard you earlier. Indulgent...

No- no! I’ve just been doing my job. (?)

I am a dungeon. But I also want to consolidate and spread stories.

But? Why do I need to add a but? Those two things aren't mutually exclusive.

What is a dungeon?

A being(?). No, a thing (Me?) that cowers in a hole, desperately awaiting people. Longing for companionship, it pushes, scared of the unknown.

Stuck, it distracts itself with meaningless quests and goals. I ran away from the real questions, what is a dungeon?

Whit, he never did say what a dungeon was, only his purpose for bringing me here. ‘To bring change to the world.’ A liar, in refrain. That was it. Digging and protecting myself were things I added. Something that naturally comes with the situation I’m in, not one set out by Whit.

What is a dungeon?

Something that brings change to the world. And?

Protects itself- Challenges people who seek my depths... Get them to grow stronger while I grow deeper. A loop of continuous change.

What is a dungeon?

A tool Whit uses to push the world along. Because? Because it’s currently stagnant.

Huh... tool isn’t right. If that was all he wanted, then I wouldn't have free will.

Dead end in logic. I don’t have enough information to make a full conclusion. But enough to understand Whit's actions.

Why do you exist?

More?

Who are you?

Curator, a childish flounderer, a name Alice gave me when I had none. I like stories of characters challenging odds greater than themselves, characters who are larger than life. Archiving their stories, sharing them. Watching as faces light up whenever the heroes succeed, watching them grimace when the heroes fail. It’s a joy just watching people enjoy the tales you helped keep.

And? That’s who I am, all I am. Like Whit said it’s at the essence of wha-

That is not all that makes you.

I guess the people closest to me might grant more insight.

Alice, who is she to you, who are you to them. She’s patient, curious. Always listens so intently whenever I tell her a tale, a doll she knows not. Wrong. She’s a person. She’s like me, someone Whit threw into this world without a name or face!

An agent of the trickster.

No. She seems just as lost as I am sometimes when it comes to Whit’s antics. And as for her having a personality, it doesn’t make sense if you think of her as just a reference bank. A guide she referred to herself as... What is Whit truly capable of?

Looking at it objectively. He can summon me into the void, meld, and change with the void and message dungeons through text boxes. Besides the messaging thing, all his powers seem to reside in the void. ‘So we’re basically jacking various god’s powers.’ I did say that, didn’t I? What is Whit, if not a god?

Yes, and the childish one grows.

Now the question stands... w-o –e, You?...

“Curator.” “Curator!”

What? That always dead-pan Alice, yelling? No way, but here we are. Alice slouched over my core. Her hands red, desperate to wake me up. Even if there were no tears, she looked like she was on the verge.

“There, there I’m back now.” I console her examining the situation. Alone she fought a battle, keeping it from the brink of failure. In a situation like this, I don’t blame her for breaking down.

Wait, when were there so many bosses?

----------

The scales tipped as more refuse materialized from the void. The boss split into multiple forms needing to be killed simultaneously or risk the fight restarting. Lesser stardust chem-lementals flooded in regularly to throw a wrench into plans.

I see why Alice was at her wit’s end now, this was a balancing act meant for parties. Patting her reassuringly on the head, I joined the fray. Working together, we coordinated the troops. Flight proved invaluable here since the enemy held free range of movement, actively avoiding danger.

Her command was efficient, straightforward but lacked tact. It made it easier to cover for her mistakes since they were obvious.

She acted to preserve those under her charge resulting in slower clears. It makes sense. I call them creatures and monsters at times and actors others, but to Alice, these are her people, her kin. They’re all living beings, living their lives...

From the dokkaebi to the fae to the smallest bird. They’re as much living beings as anything else on this world.

As the enemies ground down to zero, the final boss clones rumbled and dissipated. The light from thier edges joined the others spreading into the void, lighting a path to the end.

Sprinting along, we saw a core. Different from mine and every other I’ve seen, dull lifeless.

Touching it, everything went white, and I was back sitting at the table. Before I realized, a sharp impact hit my core, and everything went dark.