Cois was something of an old hand at being both underestimated and overvalued. Most of his generation, the first floor and around, had all changed drastically, except Fera and Merry the mouse.

  They had decided to change their environments rather than themselves too much, Fera being the most expensive bar of concoctions this side of Brother, while Merry…

  Cois didn’t exactly know much about the enigmatic mouse.

  So, in a fit of whimsy that would make mother proud, he went to visit the little chaos agent in the store room. He recalled the early days when the walls were dirt, the lighting was poor, and it was just them.

  He, Fran(other of his name), Billy, Numb, Hob, and Gob.

  Then came the spiders, then came the mushrooms in force, and then came everything else.

  “Things are too darn noisy here,” he grumbled as he entered the store room, finding it still. Cois frowned, not finding any hint of the mouse in the shelves filled with utterly random items that decorated the place.

  What use would a toenail of Jeb the Troll from the third floor be worth to anyone? Trolls and open flames only resulted in either troll soup or dead trolls. Trying to turn it into a weapon would be hilarious but sad, and anyone who’d want to eat the nail would be banned from the dungeon, Cois would see to it.

  He looked over Luna’s bath water bottles, past ample examples of Mushy’s pots, between bent syringes of that guardgoyle, Doctor, and honestly couldn’t find the mouse, so he decided to push through the back, his green hands pushing on the stone, which gave way after a slight resistance.

  Cois swore that sometimes Maestro kept the passage entrance ajar on purpose in hopes of having a new audience. He stepped inward,s and the air instantly warmed with a cloying mix of moisture, wet earth, and something that smelled like the smoke Cois made when his fire spells failed.

  A sort of heady smoke that smelled almost sweet.

  Cois stomped further down the passage and began to pick up a soft mixture of piano, bass, and a slow, inviting saxophone. Together, the instruments made Cois feel like he was walking into a smoky, hidden bar that you could only find by way of word and only get access to by the word of someone important.

  As he neared Maestro’s throne of power, the edges of the dungeon space frayed to Cois’ senses. He could never understand why the musically inclined mushroom enjoyed living basically over a pit of torn reality where the first floor opened up to the ‘between’.

  Cois guessed if someone fell, they might end up on another floor… or in the secret garden. He would need to ask Numb to jump in and test it. The idiot would do it with a smile and be strong enough to survive the fall easily.

  Cois had yet to meet an agent of physics that could crack Numb’s skull.

  He paused as he fully took in Maestro’s lair, a mix of ancient temple structures that belonged to a deity that demanded blood and sweat and long hanging tendrils that Maestro was connected to.

  Cois always wanted to know if Maestro was truly the massive vine growths on the ceiling or the avatar they hooked into that spoke. Both? Neither?

  Knowing Maestro, he was likely the sound in the very air rather than anything physical.

  Cois began the arduous climb after walking across the long floating road between and grunted as he climbed the stairs, passing snoozing mini-Maestro mushrooms that looked harmless in their sleep, maws closed and voices quiet.

  One of them rolled onto their side and began to snore with harp music of all things.

  At the top, he froze at the sight of Lord Mushy, Maestro, Merry, Jack the Kobold, and Fera playing cards, sitting on the temple’s pinnacle like they were all having a slumber party. Cois stared and they all stared back.

  “Illegal backroom gambling?” Cois asked, eyebrows raised at the gathering.

  “Not illegal, it’s just not known by Delta,” Maestro corrected with a smile and a curl of a long tendril-linger finger over a card.

  “Besides, if anything, we only lose,” Jack added with a frantic nod and some of his cards were backwards, exposing he had a pair at least.

  “The rat always wins,” Fera grunted, her longer nails drumming the ground as she eyed her potential hands. Cois looked at the tiny mouse who had size appropriate cards, somehow.

  “He’s a mouse, not a rat. Technically, Merry is the king of mice and rats due to recent events,” Lord Mushy said kindly and had constructed a small house out of his cards.

  Cois looked at Merry, and the being of chaos looked back, his cards ever shifting, ever unpredictable, face down on both sides, unseen by destiny, fate, and all their tools.

  “What are you even playing?!” Cois demanded, his voice carrying the sharp edge of someone feeling entirely out of the loop.

  “Delta,” they all said in perfect unison, like a well-rehearsed chorus.

  “Whoever makes the other players give up in frustration wins,” Maestro explained with a purr and a grin, his voice dripping with delight. The way he spoke made it sound like a game born from pure chaos. He sat back, arms crossed, watching Cois’s reaction like a cat waiting for its prey to squirm.

  Cois blinked. He had never heard of such a stupid game in his life. The rules, or lack thereof, sounded infuriating.

  “I want in,” he declared, more out of horror than genuine interest.

  The cards were quickly reshuffled with an almost theatrical flourish. A fresh hand was dealt, and Cois picked up his cards. He stared at them, expression unreadable.

  Two pigs, an IOU, and an inkblot card that, to his surprise and vague pleasure, appeared to depict Cois blowing up the world. He smirked to himself, already plotting how to turn the absurdity to his advantage.

  “So, what brings you this way?” Mushy asked kindly, putting down a card that depicted a chaotic potluck. He explained that everyone now had to donate a card to the discard pile.

  Cois grunted and tossed one of his pigs into the pile without hesitation. “Was thinking,” he admitted, bracing himself for the ridicule or teasing he expected. To his surprise, the others didn’t laugh. Instead, they glanced at him with curiosity, as if waiting for him to elaborate.

  Fera, the female goblin, didn’t press him. Instead, she flicked out her tongue to moisten her fangs and slapped down a card with a sly grin. The card declared that everyone now had to play with one eye closed.

  “Seriously?” Cois muttered, narrowing his eyes. The others complied immediately, either closing one eye or covering it with a hand like it was second nature. He begrudgingly did the same, the ridiculousness of the game settling over him like a heavy cloak.

  Cois was going to crush them.

  “I was… thinking about my evolution,” he finally admitted, his tone unusually subdued. The air around the table seemed to shift, an almost imperceptible change that Cois couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was like he suddenly had their full attention, not the distracted half-focus they’d been giving the game. The intensity was unnerving, though none of them said anything right away.

  Most monsters here were unique in some way, roaming bosses, secret encounters, or creatures with the potential to become event bosses under the right circumstances. Cois, however, was just… a monster. No special designation, no grand title. Just Cois. He hated thinking about it too much, but lately, the idea of breaking out of that mold had been gnawing at the back of his mind.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You’ve been a pyromancer for a while,” Fera commented neutrally, her tone light but tinged with curiosity. Her sharp claws toyed with the edge of her cards, but she didn’t play right away. Instead, her gaze locked onto Cois, as if daring him to say more. He stayed silent, uncertain of how much he wanted to reveal.

  Merry, meanwhile, slammed down a card with exaggerated flair. “Swap hands with the player to your left,” Mushy translated for the ever-silent mouse. The announcement earned groans all around as hands shifted grudgingly. Cois passed his IOU card to Merry and received yet another pig in return. Typical.

  Merry glanced at the card he’d received and let out a startled squawk of surprise. The entire table erupted in laughter, Fera’s sharp-toothed grin breaking through her usually neutral expression. Even Mushy gave a quiet chuckle.

  They all looked at Cois like he’d pulled off some brilliant, unexpected move. He smirked despite himself, a small flicker of pride rising in his chest. Maybe this ridiculous game wasn’t so bad after all.

  “What made you choose the forms you have now?” Cois asked, his eyes flicking between Maestro and Mushy. The mushroom siblings couldn’t have been more different if they tried. Lord Mushy had the air of an old-world noble, his fibered mustache curling grandly beneath his nose, a slightly tilted cap adding a regal flair, and a monocle perched on one eye like he was a scholar preparing for debate.

  Maestro, in stark contrast, was unsettling to look at. His wiry frame twisted unnaturally, each movement more like a slither than a step, and his grin, too wide, too sharp, felt carved from a Halloween nightmare. The pair embodied light and shadow, noble and sinister.

  “This just felt natural. More of ‘me’,” Mushy admitted, setting his cards down as he leaned back, thoughtful. “It’s like discovering new parts of yourself when you find the correct path,” he explained, his fibered mustache twitching slightly as if in emphasis. His monocle caught the dim light, reflecting a glint of quiet pride.

  Maestro, meanwhile, made a card dance between his spindly fingers with unsettling ease. “I was a little brat to Delta,” he said with a sharp grin that didn’t reach his glowing eye, “but then she showed me her music, her passions… she shared a treasure I needed to protect and show off to the world.”

  His voice turned almost wistful as the eye in his skull shifted erratically, like a ghostly ember caught in a breeze. “I found music,” he said, his grin softening for a rare moment of sincerity. “And in that music? I found myself.”

  Cois watched them both, feeling a quiet awe.

  Fera snorted, crossing her arms as she leaned back, her sharp eyes narrowing at Cois like she was daring him to challenge her. “I don’t need to evolve,” she said firmly. “I’m tied to my bar. When it improves, I improve. Simple as that.” Her tone carried a hint of pride, her words a clear declaration of self-assurance.

  “I’m always going to be me, but I’ll be better every time I get a new drink, a new customer…” She let the words linger in the air, her fanged grin sharp and confident. “I don’t need to physically change to become better.”

  There was a brief pause as her gaze fixed on Cois, the unspoken warning crystal clear. If he even thought about sharing this softer side of her, she would make sure he regretted it. The glint in her eyes promised a very specific and pointed kind of goblin vengeance.

  Cois quickly nodded, more to himself than to her, resolving to keep his thoughts private. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

  Everyone turned their attention to Merry, who stared back at them with a look that seemed too profound for the small mouse to hold. It was the kind of expression that made you wonder if he was contemplating the universe, or just wondering when the game would end.

  Then, with a single motion, Merry shrugged, offering no explanation or insight. That was all the mouse had to say on the matter.

  “This is a big deal for you lot,” Jack said, his lizard-like face twisting with visible curiosity. His long tail swished behind him as he leaned forward, studying each of them. Cois blinked, momentarily thrown off. He sometimes forgot Jack wasn’t one of them, a monster born of Delta’s influence.

  The bomber fit in so well with the dungeon’s chaos that it was easy to mistake him as part of its natural ecosystem. His wild antics, paired with his unhinged energy, felt strangely organic, as though he belonged here more than anywhere else.

  “Evolution is the great unknown,” Mushy began, his tone carrying the weight of a lesson he’d repeated many times before. “No two beings evolve the same way, even if it’s the same path trodden a dozen times over. Look at Cois and his brothers. They all started as simple goblins, and now you couldn’t find three beings more different.” He paused for effect, gesturing vaguely with his stubby hands. “A soul-snatching assassin, a heroic fighter, and Cois.”

  The words hung in the air for a moment, and Cois tried not to flinch at the lack of impressive titles granted to him. He clenched his fists subtly, reminding himself that he was still working on it. Titles didn’t just appear out of nowhere; they were earned, and his would come, eventually.

  “Do Contracts evolve?” Jack asked, his voice cutting through the chatter. Silence followed, heavy and uncertain, as if no one wanted to be the first to admit they didn’t know, or worse, that the answer might not be what Jack hoped for.

  “I think you level up,” Fera said thoughtfully, breaking the pause. “A leftover from being outside.” She shrugged as if the mechanics didn’t bother her much, then placed a Delta Surprise card onto the table. The room grew still as a frothy drink materialized before them, shimmering faintly with magic.

  “Players must drink the nearest liquid possible,” Fera announced with a mischievous grin. The assortment of glasses and mugs on the table made it clear she had planned ahead, her stash conveniently sourced from the bar.

  Cois grabbed his drink hesitantly, the liquid inside releasing a sharp, spicy aroma with a tart undertone. It was almost as if the drink itself resented being enjoyed. Yet as Cois took a sip, his eyes lit up, and a slow grin spread across his face. He loved it, the challenge, the complexity, the way it seemed to reflect his own stubborn determination.

  “This is just lemon juice!” Jack howled, his face twisting in exaggerated disgust as he gulped it down in one go. His dramatic expression earned a few chuckles, but he wasn’t about to lose over something as trivial as sourness.

  Cois, ignoring the commotion, opened his Dungeon window. Every monster had one, though they rarely shared what it revealed. A shimmering orange panel of text hovered before him, faintly glowing with the dungeon’s signature magic.

  Cois the Pyromancer: Level 1

  Abilities: Fire. Rune language. Tactics.

  It wasn’t much, and Cois couldn’t help the small frown tugging at his face. His abilities were basic at best, hardly impressive. He scrolled down to the section below, where a far larger block of text caught his attention.

  Evolution possible:

  Grand Pyromancer

  A goblin who is part elemental, capable of absorbing most fire-based attacks while wielding absolute control over the element. A fearsome force, though the risk of losing goblin identity looms.

  Chief Goblin

  A powerful caster goblin who empowers others with sharp orders and strategic cunning. Resembling a hobgoblin in size, the Chief boasts regeneration and physical might to match their magical prowess. A simple idea for a simple future.

  The Bombastic Diplomat

  Able to leave the dungeon on a supply of mana, this evolution grants the unique ability to act as the dungeon’s representative. Skilled at negotiations and evading detection by scans and senses, the Diplomat is a rare and versatile path.

  Runecaster

  Blessed with the knowledge of the Sibling’s coded language that governs dungeons and their monsters, the Runecaster wields infinite potential—provided they can master the cryptic runes. This evolution offers unparalleled growth but requires immense effort to overcome its challenges.

  Cois stared at the options, his mind buzzing with possibilities. Each path carried its own allure, from raw elemental power to strategic leadership, freedom beyond the dungeon, or the boundless mysteries of runes. It wasn’t an easy choice, and his chest tightened as he realized that whatever he picked could define the rest of his existence.

  The most infuriating part was his own uncertainty. Cois felt like if someone offered him a million choices, he wouldn’t care, so long as he knew what he wanted. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? What did he want?

  Cois wanted to be… respected. That much was clear. But the fields before him all promised respect, each in its own flavor. Did he want to be feared, admired, or relied upon? The possibilities pulled at him in different directions, leaving him stuck in place. If Cois allowed himself to be perfectly honest, what he wanted most was to be important to the Dungeon.

  Billy seemed content being a spooky tale whispered by those who escaped. Numb, on the other hand, couldn’t hold a negative thought in his head even if you paid the idiot. They both seemed to have found their places, their roles. But Cois?

  Cois was burdened with forethought. It gnawed at him constantly, filling his head with questions and doubts. While others lived in the moment, Cois was always looking ahead, trying to predict outcomes, and worrying about making the wrong move. It was exhausting, but he couldn’t turn it off. And that was what made him different.

  “Cois, just play a card,” Fera said, cutting through his thoughts. Cois blinked, startled, and realised the game had come full circle back to him. The table was waiting. He glanced down at his hand, where only one card remained. Somehow, he had been handed back his own card.

  “Me,” he said simply, flipping over the grinning, smug goblin card. The moment the words left his mouth, several other cards on the table burst into flames. Some shimmered as their text shifted, runes twisting and rewriting themselves mid-air. The glow of the transformations lit up the room, casting a chaotic energy across the group.

  Cois’s grin widened, sudden and fierce. “Me,” he repeated, this time with a laugh that broke free like a spark catching fire.

  What else did the world need? Cois was enough, enough for four words, and almost enough for a fifth.

  “I hate that card,” Maestro muttered, slumping back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.

  Cois loved it. The smug grin on the card’s face reflected everything he felt. It was chaotic, unpredictable, and unapologetically him.

  Merry folded a second later.