The retreat from the common room was quiet and deliberate. Josh made the excuse first, rubbing at his shoulder and muttering something about needing sleep before his body decided otherwise. The others followed quickly, grateful for it. They wove through the thinning crowd, nodding to a few lingering adventurers, and climbed the stairs away from the noise and smoke and laughter.

  The inn’s upper floor was calmer. Warm lamplight spilled across worn wooden floors, the air scented with soap, old wood, and whatever herbs the staff burned to keep the place from smelling like sweat and steel. Somewhere behind a door, someone laughed. Somewhere else, someone snored already.

  Perberos paused in the corridor, eyes flicking between the doors.

  “I am not sharing a room with him again,” he said flatly.

  Bhel looked offended. “Oi.”

  “You snore like a dying boar,” Perberos continued. “If I wake up one more time thinking the dungeon followed us home, someone is going to get stabbed.”

  Josh barked a laugh. “That sounds like a you problem.”

  Perberos turned hopefully to Brett. “We could switch.”

  Brett shook his head immediately. “Absolutely not. I value my life.”

  “Josh?”

  “Nope,” Josh said, already pushing his door open. “If you murder him in his sleep, that’s between you and the gods.”

  Bhel grinned. “Sleep tight, ranger.”

  Perberos exhaled slowly through his nose. “I hate all of you.”

  They parted with tired chuckles and muttered goodnights, doors closing one by one until the corridor room back into silence.

  Josh eased himself down onto his bed with a careful grunt. Everything still ached. Some of it ached in ways that promised to linger.

  Brett didn’t sit.

  He stood there, staring at the floor, fingers clenched around his staff.

  “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

  Josh blinked. “You already—”

  “I mean it,” Brett rushed on, words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t think. I knew it would be strong, but I didn’t realise how strong, and when you didn’t move fast enough and the glaive was stuck and Carcan was shouting and I just— I just threw everything into it and I didn’t stop to think what would happen if you couldn’t get out of the way.”

  He finally looked up, eyes bright and frantic. “I nearly killed you.”

  Josh sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a second before pushing himself upright again.

  “Brett.”

  “I should’ve used something smaller,” Brett continued, voice tight. “Or waited half a second longer. Or shouted louder. Or—”

  “Brett.”

  The mage swallowed, still going. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

  “Brett,” Josh said firmly.

  That finally stopped him.

  Josh met his eyes, expression tired but steady. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

  Brett shook his head. “Josh—”

  “No,” Josh cut in. “Listen. That thing had me pinned. If you hadn’t fired, it would’ve finished me. You saw it. You made the call. That’s what we’re there for.” He tapped his own chest, right over his heart. “And I’m still breathing.”

  Brett’s shoulders sagged, the tension draining out of him in a rush. He scrubbed at his face with one hand. “I just… the spell felt different. The mana was rough. Angry. I didn’t realise how much it would amplify. I should have used something with less, you know, boom.”

  Josh nodded. “Dungeon mana,” he said. “We’ve learned it doesn’t play fair.”

  A silence settled between them, heavy but no longer sharp.

  Finally, Brett let out a shaky laugh. “You’re supposed to be yelling at me.”

  Josh snorted. “I’m too tired.”

  Brett moved at last, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, head bowed. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  “Me too,” Josh said softly.

  They sat there for a while longer, the quiet broken only by the creak of the building and the muffled sounds of the inn below. Eventually, Brett stretched out on his bed, still half-dressed, staff propped within arm’s reach.

  “Next time,” he muttered, “I’m inventing a spell called Josh-Proof Fireball.”

  Josh chuckled as he lay back. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  The lamps dimmed. The room settled. And for the first time since the dungeon, sleep came without claws or fire waiting for them.

  Morning came quickly.

  Josh woke to the familiar haze of half-consciousness, the kind where the world felt distant and muffled. For a moment, he lay still, listening. No shouting. No clatter of steel. No Brett muttering arcane syllables in his sleep. Just the soft crackle of embers from the hearth and the quiet breathing of the inn.

  He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, glancing across the room. Brett was still out cold, sprawled on his bed with his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. At least one of them was getting decent rest.

  Josh pulled on his boots and slipped out into the common room.

  The space was mostly empty at this hour, bathed in the warm orange glow of the hearth. A single figure sat near the fire, back straight, hands wrapped around a steaming cup.

  Carcan.

  She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her gaze was fixed on the flames, expression calm, thoughtful, almost distant. Without her robe and staff, she looked younger somehow, though no less composed. Josh found himself pausing, just for a moment, watching the way the firelight caught in her hair and reflected in her eyes.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  He cleared his throat and stepped fully into the room.

  Carcan looked up, surprise flickering across her face before easing into a small smile. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Josh replied. He hesitated, then nodded toward her cup. “You’re up early.”

  “Old habit,” she said lightly. “Mother always had us up early to help in the clinic.”

  Josh moved closer, pulling out a chair opposite her. He sat, then took a breath. “I wanted to say thank you. Again. For yesterday.”

  Carcan laughed, waving a hand as if brushing the words aside. “You already did.”

  “Still,” Josh said. “If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. You quite literally saved my life.”

  She snorted softly into her tea. “It’s my job, Josh. You were where you needed to be, holding the line. I was where I needed to be, keeping you alive. That’s how parties work.”

  “Doesn’t make me any less grateful.”

  She studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “You fought well. Don’t cheapen that by acting like you were helpless.”

  Josh smiled faintly. “Noted.”

  The quiet stretched comfortably between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

  Footsteps sounded from the hallway, heavy and unhurried.

  Bhel emerged next, beard slightly rumpled, stretching his arms high above his head as he let out a long, satisfied groan. “Ahh. Now that was a proper sleep.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t wake up half the inn?”

  Bhel grinned. “If I did, they were too polite to complain.”

  He wandered over, snagged a mug from a nearby table, and poured himself a drink, settling into a chair with a contented sigh.

  Some time later, Brett and Perberos joined them together.

  Josh blinked in surprise as Perberos walked in looking… well-rested. His usual tension seemed dulled, movements loose rather than coiled.

  “You slept?” Josh asked.

  Perberos nodded solemnly. “All night.”

  Bhel snorted. “Must have been exhausted.”

  “Or,” Brett said, stifling a yawn, “Bhel didn’t snore.”

  Bhel’s eyes widened. “Blasphemy.”

  Despite himself, Josh laughed.

  Once everyone had gathered, the conversation naturally turned toward the day ahead. Plans were laid out without much argument.

  First stop was to sell off the loot they’d pulled from the dungeon, keep what was useful, and get coin in hand. Carcan mentioned commissioning a new robe using the strange material she’d claimed from the dungeon chest, and the others agreed it was worth finding a skilled tailor or enchanter who could handle it properly.

  Anything else they didn’t need would be sold. Supplies restocked. Repairs made.

  The party quickly gathered their belongings, and made their way out of the door. The town was already awake by the time they stepped out into the street.

  Merchants shouted prices from open stalls, carts rattled over uneven stone, and the smell of fresh bread mixed with smoke from early forges. After the quiet tension of the dungeon, the noise felt almost comforting.

  Their first stop was the blacksmith.

  The forge sat near the eastern edge of town, its doors wide open to let out heat and smoke. Inside, the smith eyed their haul with professional interest as Josh and Bhel laid it out on a heavy wooden table. Bent sword blades, cracked spearheads, dented shields, chunks of loose ore pried from the warren walls. None of it was pretty, but all of it had value.

  The blacksmith picked up a goblin blade, turned it over once, then snorted. “Crude work. Still, iron’s iron.”

  He weighed the scrap, tested the ore with a practiced tap of his hammer, and nodded. Coin changed hands soon after, the clink of metal sounding far sweeter than it had any right to.

  Carcan lingered only long enough to ensure none of the usable materials were mistakenly sold before excusing herself. She returned not long after with directions to a tailor she had already vetted.

  The shop was tucked between a leatherworker and a dye merchant, bolts of cloth hanging in rich colours behind the window. Carcan laid out the material she’d recovered from the dungeon chest, its surface catching the light in a way that made the tailor’s eyes widen.

  “This,” the woman said carefully, “is not something you waste.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Carcan replied.

  Measurements were taken, designs discussed in low voices. Reinforced seams. Spell-thread lining. Enough flexibility for combat without sacrificing protection. While she handled that, the rest of the party split briefly to make the most of the morning. They stopped by an alchemist’s stall to sell monster glands and partially intact venom sacs. A tanner gladly bought kobold hides that were too damaged to be useful as armour but perfect for leatherworking. Brett lingered far too long at an enchanter’s kiosk, asking questions about mana crystals until Josh physically dragged him away before any coin could be spent.

  By the time they regrouped, purses were heavier and packs noticeably lighter.

  Their final stop was the guild hall.

  The building was as busy as ever, adventurers coming and going in ones and twos. At the counter, Josh placed a bundled sack down and loosened the tie. Several kobold scales spilled out, dull brown and green, thicker and tougher than goblin hide.

  The guild representative raised an eyebrow.

  “Warren run,” Josh said. “First few floors.”

  The man nodded, counting them with quick fingers. “Not as common as goblin ears I’m sure you’re used to, but they’re more useful. You’ve got a fair number here.” He handed over their payment, then glanced up. “You check the board while you were down there? Pick up any posted requests?”

  Josh shook his head. “Not yet.”

  The rep tapped the board behind him. “Might be worth your time. There are a few jobs tied directly to the warren.”

  He turned one of the notices around.

  “First is a materials request. The guild wants raw iron and copper ore from the first floor. The veins there are stable enough, but we don’t have enough miners willing to deal with the creatures.”

  Brett frowned slightly. “We’d need proper mining tools for that. Picks, chisels, bags to carry the weight. Maybe a way to mark the veins too.”

  Josh exchanged looks with the others.

  It wasn’t glamorous work. No grand monsters or legendary rewards. Just preparation, control, and steady progress.

  But it was exactly the kind of work that built a reputation.

  Josh nodded slowly. “We’ll take a proper look.”

  The morning rush had begun to thin by the time they finally settled.

  They claimed a long table near the back of the inn’s common room, plates of breakfast arriving in steady succession. Thick bread still warm from the oven, eggs fried in bubbling fat, strips of salted meat, and mugs of something dark and bitter that passed for coffee. After days of travel rations and dungeon air, it felt almost indulgent.

  For a few minutes, there was little conversation. Just the scrape of cutlery, the low murmur of other patrons, and the simple relief of eating without watching the shadows.

  Eventually, Josh tipped his coin pouch out onto the table.

  The gold, silver and copper spread farther than he’d expected.

  Bhel let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think scrap iron would pay like that.”

  “Or kobold scales,” Brett added, pushing a small stack into a neater pile. “They’re not exactly rare.”

  “Rare enough,” Carcan said mildly, sipping her tea. “And we brought back a lot.”

  They counted it properly then, dividing coins into tidy rows. When they finished, Josh leaned back slightly, blinking.

  “That’s… better than I thought.”

  Brett checked the numbers again, just to be sure. “Even with the robe commission.”

  Carcan nodded. “Which the tailor discounted, given the material.” She paused, then added, “And the promise of future work.”

  Josh grinned. “So we’re covered.”

  “At least another week of room and board,” Brett confirmed. “Easy.”

  Bhel chuckled. “Meaning from here on out…”

  “…it’s profit,” Josh finished.

  The word settled comfortably between them.

  Once the plates were cleared and the last crumbs swept away, the conversation shifted naturally to what came next.

  “The board had a few options,” Josh said. “Ore runs, kobold nests, retrieval work.”

  Carcan rested her elbows on the table. “All useful, but none urgent.”

  Brett nodded slowly. “If we’re thinking long term, there’s something else we should do first.”

  Josh looked at him. “Which is?”

  “Run the first floor a few more times,” Brett said. “Cleanly. No panic, no surprises. We know the layout now. We know the boss.”

  Bhel’s grin spread wide. “Aye. Practice.”

  “More than that,” Brett continued. “Refine it. See where we waste mana, where positioning breaks down, how fast we can end it if everything goes right.”

  Carcan considered for a moment, then inclined her head. “Repetition builds consistency. Consistency keeps people alive.”

  Josh exhaled, tension he hadn’t realised he was carrying easing from his shoulders. “Alright. First floor runs. Boss included.”

  “Couple times, at least,” Bhel said. “Until it feels boring.”

  Josh snorted. “If it ever does.”

  They rose from the table soon after, plans set, bellies full, and coin safely stowed away.