The street bustled with life with the crowded chatters. The duo, one eager and one bloated, navigated through the busy street. Loud chatters rang in their ears, and the smell of freshly baked pastries and meals flooded the road. The clock tower in the distance read half eleven.

  Arlene whistled as she navigated through the flood of people. She was in her elements, and she didn’t have to smile forcibly again. Everyone else was occupied going back home for lunch. No kids would spot her amidst the crowd.

  She glanced back and sighed. Her companion was lagging behind. Just looking at his face made her feel exhausted. He was hunched down, gasping with every stes. She knew he was bloated, but to the point of this tired? No, perhaps he was doing it in protest. Purposely slowing down to avoid registering for a dungeon, just enough they had to postpone to next day.

  Pausing her walk, she stood until he hunched over sluggishly near her. Then, she grabbed onto his hand and pulled him along. No rest for the bloated. She really wanted to go outside and did one thing she always loved. Adventuring.

  They weren’t running. Arlene didn’t just yank him and sprinted in full force. If anything they were walking slowly, yet Wattyson was still hunched, waddled and limped along.

  She frowned. She wanted to get there faster—it would’ve been good for him since he could just sit and rest there. Why didn’t he see it? It was another thing. Her considerate nature didn’t want their current situation to hamper anyone nearby. Bumping into someone, halting someone of their walks or bothering someone were things she didn’t want to do. Pressure built more due to her being the Chosen One. She would’ve been forced to act heroically again.

  With all her strength, she pulled him right by her side. “Can’t you just walk normally?” She asked lightly but somewhat miffed.

  “I feel very bloated. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Wattyson gasped. “And how would you know? Are you Wattyson?”

  “I know you long enough you don’t limp or waddle like that. Usually you mimic a penguin, not a hunched back person.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “So can you walk normally or not?”

  “I just feel blo—“

  “When we arrive, you can just sit while I register.”

  Wattyson immediately straightened up. His pose wasn’t that of a weakling, but full of confidence. “Let us head out.”

  Arlene exhaled out while shaking her head. Massaging her forehead with one hand, she muttered out how done she was. “Alright, come on.” She held on to his hand tightly—gripping with the warmth of a jailer.

  Unbeknownst to her, everyone had noticed her. Though this time, for once, they didn’t wave to her or clamour for the Chosen One’s attention. They saw the exchange, and now the handholding. A silent agreement between everyone to not disturb the two. Parents shushed their kids away from disturbing them. They saw the whole thing as the Chosen One finally found her chosen—not knowing the whole gesture was her keeping him on a leash.

  “Hey,” Wattyson spoke in a rare curiosity, “Why are we going for a dungeon anyway? Wouldn’t something like that be exhausted now from being close to a major city like this?”

  Arlene thought he was joking, or perhaps a new excuse. Recognizing the curious tone, she realized he wasn’t. He’d lived under a rock—rather in the Red Grove. His years of hunting supernatural meant he wasn’t interested in something like dungeon. She faked a cough and put on a deep tone.

  “Dungeons are refreshed regularly. Think of it like seasons.” She pointed her freehand up and looping around making a circle. “Once or thrice a year, surge of mana flows through the entire world. Those reaches into the dungeon cores, and in turn respawn dungeons’ monsters.”

  “So people have been using it like a farm? Harvest monster season?”

  “More or less. People used to just destroy the core—that would take the dungeon down with it. Nowadays, people realized it is more profitable to get dungeon monsters’s materials—used in alchemy, clothing, and blacksmithing. Other stuff too that I’m probably not aware of.”

  Wattyson rested two fingers on his chin. “How are those monsters different from one outside the dungeon?”

  “Well… the main thing differentiates them is one born of flesh and bones while the dungeon’s ones are mana beings. The dungeonsters can go out of course, but they can’t breed or anything like that.”

  “Wouldn’t that be dangerous? Like a monster stampede or something?”

  “Yeah. I see the point of farming them, but I don’t like the facts they are so close to the city. One day is fine then all the sudden the next day, the whole city is under siege from dungeonsters.”

  “Stop calling them dungeonsters.”

  “Why? It makes sense! Monsters from dungeon—dungeonsters!”

  Arlene grinned as she tilted her head sideway—looking smug. Her free hand rested on her hip as she maintained her proud stance. Another win at Wattyson was her thought on the clever naming sense.

  Much to his annoyance still as he tried to slip past her grip, but her hand still tightened around his. As much as he would love to swing his arm wildly on the off chance to be free, hitting other passersby would prove troublesome—something he wasn’t keen on investing energy on.

  “Aralynn.”

  “Arlene.”

  “Arlene. Do you really believe the tale of prophecy will be in that dungeon? It’s close to the city. It’s probably been studied to death at this point.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why do you—“

  “Because I want to do some adventuring! What else am I supposed to do here? We have a few days left at our booking. Besides,” she tilted to face him, her smile widened, “I want to see your reaction in the dungeon! And who knows? There might be a hint to my prophecy in there.”

  He scoffed as he rubbed his chin with a thumb. “You’ll be disappointed then.”

  “It’s fine! I think it’ll be worthwhile. We’ll be travelling together after all.”

  The adventure’s hall was empty saved for a few sitting idly in at their tables, and the staffs. Arlene harboured a guess—they were all out doing quests or lunch. Either way, this worked out. She could just waltz in and took her time registering for a dungeon.

  She pointed to a table then nudged Wattyson to it. As promised she would handle the bureaucratic registration. He would need to sit tight.

  Him sitting down, somewhat slouching after. She let out a palm to him.

  He looked to her palm. Why? What? Unsure of the answer, he defaulted to the safest option—slapped her hand in a lazy high five.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “No! I need your Adventurer’s ID!”

  “Oh right.”

  His ID acquired with a sleight of hand, she strode eagerly to quest board. Her cape fluttered as she walked.

  The quest board only had a few posters clipped on it. She could see there were pieces of corner papers torn all over. It must’ve been from this morning when a lot of adventurers were fighting and pushing for quests, or they had torn them out, leaving the clipped corners on the board still.

  She eyed to another section to the right. The quest paper there weren’t like the rest. It was more worn and dusty. She felt the fragile paper in her touch—brittle, and uneven. The quest described a dungeon east of Toulasi—in the Tu’ei forest.

  The only thing she had seen in that forest was a few misplaced Unobios and the recent fight with Gavituth. Nothing out of the ordinary apart from those, then again… this dungeon perhaps spawned its entrance in a different part of the forest.

  Still… dungeon was usually a festive occasion for adventurer. The perfect chance to earn a lot of money. Yet, why was this quest paper so old? She chalked it up to people just asking the guild receptionists about it rather than the traditional methods.

  Carefully unpinning the paper, she took it with her to the reception hall—to the familiar face, Veia.

  Sliding the paper across the table, Arlene let out an excited greeting. It woke the dozy Veia up. “Hello Veia! I want to register me and Watty on this quest!”

  A small yawn Veia allowed herself. “Greeting, Miss Arlene,” her voice wasn’t fluctuating as if the customer service tone was her default, “This quest?”

  Her eyes squinted as she picked up the paper. The paper was posted roughly two weeks ago, and indeed it was about a dungeon that respawned in Tu’ei forest. She let out a hum, but it betrayed the looks in her eyes. Something about this quest rattled her.

  “Miss Arlene? This quest,” her voice was measured as she flipped the paper around to Arlene, “is problematic. If I tell you the reason, will you still accept it?”

  Such a statement filled Arlene with determination. It was almost like Veia was trying to pull her heroic nature’s string. “Of course!” It worked.

  “Very well,” Veia crouched down then pulled out a large ledger, detailing all the people that had taken the quest prior, “This dungeon in its previous iteration wasn’t complicated as of now. Monsters spawned as usual. Corridors shifted like maze, and traps were deadly but manageable. However, these time adventurers’ casualties are increasing.”

  Arlene’s hand tightened into a fist. “How? Are there stronger monsters?”

  Adjusting her glasses, Veia let out with care. “We do not know for certain. Other adventurers that managed to escape were… hmmm how do I say this.”

  “What?” Arlene noticed the uncertainty in how Veia kept posturing her hands around. The fact she didn’t know how to word the situation was dire.

  “The people that came back are in a state of delirious—frozen in fear as medical staffs called it. Their pupils were shaking. I’ve never seen them so… fluid?”

  Fluid? What? Can eyes… do such a thing?

  She paused trying to recall other important bits. “They won’t respond to any stimuli—no pain, no pleasure, nothing.”

  “Are they still stuck like that?”

  “It seems they are for a week then they return back to normal, but when asked what cause such a thing… they can’t remember.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  Veia nodded jaggedly. “Nothing at all… They don’t recall registering the quest either.”

  “What about the casualties? The dead? How,” Arlene’s voice caught in a choke before slowing down softly, “How were they killed? Are there any info on them?”

  Turning the ledger’s many pages hastily till Veia landed near the end. “Their bodies were mangled and…,” her breathing was rough, “all of them seems to be torn in their torso, split in half. Limbs were thrown everywhere. Some were half gone with bone exposed out. It-It was like—“

  “They were eaten.” Arlene finished Veia’s thought. She tried to think of any dungeonsters that would eat their victim out like that. Dungeonsters were born of pure mana—they had no need to eat or drink. Not just that, the fact bodies were mangled and torn. Something was not right.

  She thought back to what the Master Explorer Uzard and Anire said, about the surge of surplus mana in the north caused creatures to migrate south. It was still a hypothesis at best.

  If the hypothesis was true, it would take years for such a thing to occur. The north had only shown sign of any similarity to it after all. Unless…

  Her gaze dropped to the counter. It had been boiling up since the destruction of the dark citadel. That meant the surge of excess mana had already taken hold in this far south near Toulasi.

  Arlene bit he. She wanted to do what she said. She wanted to do what Wattyson said. To take it slow, but keep one eye open for something like this. She pressed a thumb to her lip, biting her own nail.

  Focus. She told herself. It wasn’t anything to lose her mind over. It was after all a hypothesis not yet proven. A theory to work on was after all a theory in the end. It wasn’t proven. Not yet proven… still what if it wasn’t. If only Anire was here, she could consult her.

  Another idea rose to her pondering. What if it wasn’t any of those, but one of the supernatural? Something she had only known since meeting Wattyson. Perhaps it was best they depart immediately even if he protested.

  “Alright,” she finally spoke in the same measured tone as Veia’s, “I’ll take the quest with Watty.” She slid the two IDs onto the counter for Veia to register them. “Anything you can tell me about the dungeon beside those?”

  Veia took their ID and turned her back to them. Her hands moved with urgency to file the necessary paperwork. She stood straight, but Arlene could see her legs were about to give out. It wasn’t her scared of Arlene.

  Arlene looked to the ledger and flipped the page quietly to not disturb Veia whether she was processing her questions or her works. The pages were rough and there were visible creaks around the edges. Some parts were wets. Some were torn like it was ripped off, only to be taped back together.

  There were marks in some pages pressed down it imprinted into an uneven coarse texture. How many times had this ledger been opened and filled in for this dungeon this year? The ledger page break for this year alone took over seventy percent of the total content. That ledger belonged to Veia Thronbek only as seen at the front with her name written.

  Veia spoke, but it was as if she didn’t speak. Her voice hitched at first then went low like a whisper. “So far, the only monsters spotted in the dungeon are the usual; Skeletons, Imps, Golems, Slimes, Goblins, and so forth. Most of the dungeon corridors are pretty straightforward.”

  Pausing for a breath as she turned around and handed her back the IDs and a small glass panel with glyphs. “There are no traps in that dungeon. Our scouts didn’t see any. Our adventurers didn’t run into any. Most of the… casualties are in the deepest dungeon levels.” Her eyes flicked to the opened ledger. “All of them give a conflicting number… but we’ve deduced it to around level forty-eight out of fifty. That’s… where the scouts saw all the deaths before moving in.”

  Arlene nodded grimly. Her thought already raced with the implication that if this happened in Toulasi, other major cities in Avalevd could be affected. She turned to walk but then jolted by her elbow. She felt a hand clutching to her tightly she could feel it through her armour.

  “I know you’re the Chosen One,” Veia lost her customer service voice and replaced it with a shaky terrified one, “but even you have limit. I’m not saying you’re weak. You beat the Dark Lord for heaven’s sake. I am telling you… that’s something isn’t right in that dungeon. Best be careful.”

  Her hand still gripped tightly, refusing to let go. It was only until Arlene gently tapped once she did. “Don’t worry… I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

  A loud slammed rang and vibrated the table, waking up the asleep robed man. “W-What?” Wattyson lazily yelped out as he sat back straight. He glanced to Arlene’s face—it wasn’t the same cheery one that went to register. “What?” He asked again more monotone.

  “Do you not have any guards up at all in public? Why must you sleep here? What if you get pickpocketed?”

  “I don’t see any books around to keep me occupied, and who’s going to pickpocket someone that look like a sage?”

  That got a scoff out of her. “So you finally admit to being a sage?”

  “No.”

  Taking a seat next to him and handed him back his ID, she tugged at him to face her. “This is serious. Please listen.”

  In her other hand was the glass panel of glyphs—a guild authorized pass to enter a dungeon. “I registered both of us to go into a dungeon as I said earlier. Usually dungeon diving need four people, but since you know I’m the Chosen One, they never brought it up so it’s fine.”

  Taking in deep breath, she placed her hands over his. “I know you’re strong, but I don’t know how you are in a dungeon. I doubt you were in one since you lived under a rock.”

  “In a red forest.”

  “Same thing. Point is… this dungeon had some anomaly that had been… rising casualties. I don’t know what it is in there, nor do I have any mean to find out beside going in. I want you to understand that if you go in there… I want you to focus.”

  She wasn’t afraid because of his capabilities. She had stated herself he was strong. She took a glance studying him this time, and it didn’t give her any calm. It was because of his aloofness. Dungeon was unpredictable. Veia said there wasn’t trap or maze, but ambush happened frequently and easily… and this dungeon was now infamous for whatever lurking deep within.

  The mental images of him getting stabbed or shot at because he was bored or too busy looking at random walls… she couldn’t get it out of her head.

  “Can you promise me that?” Her voice laced with uncertainty. Her gaze remained with a soft yet fiery eyes. “I… I don’t wan—“

  “I’ll be fine. You needn’t worry.”

  “That doesn’t,” such a statement made her giggle nervously, “it doesn’t really soothe me down.”

  “Well… you have to take my word for it.”

  Wattyson got up and stretched his back—bending nearly forty-five degrees back. Due to the guild hall being somewhat emptied, he let out an audible grunt as he stretched. It got Arlene to stand as well.

  She readied herself for the next thing—Wattyson complaining and not wanting to do it today. Because he felt bloated or whatever. She imagined herself in such situations and countered him every times. Now she was ready for the real thing.

  “Alright, let’s go.”

  She stood frozen. “Huh? Really?”

  “Yeah? Or do you… have other plans?”

  “I… No,” a small smile formed despite the dire situation, “Let’s go. I’ll lead the way.”