“They’re here,” Viktor said as he saw through his vision the two figures entering the maze on the first floor.

  The man in black and the woman in white strode forward. Azran’s expression was as unreadable as ever. He gripped his short spear in his right hand, cautiously scanning the surroundings. Lahmia, on the other hand, practically floated beside her partner. With a playful smile dancing across her lips, she walked as if she were heading to a ball, not storming a dungeon.

  One week. That was it. Seven days to prepare for the inevitable arrival of this charming duo. He had done everything he could. Now, the stage was set, and all that remained was to watch as everything unfolded.

  “I’ll go to the arena, and wait for them there,” Sebekton said, unfazed by the intruders’ arrival.

  “You remember the plan?”

  “Every word, Master,” the Guardian replied. If there was any doubt in his mind, he didn’t show it.

  “It’s going to hurt a lot.”

  Sebekton shrugged. “Pain goes with the job.”

  “Still straightforward as ever, huh?” Viktor chuckled, patting the Crocodilian’s back. “I’ll give you the biggest book I could find when this is over.”

  “Looking forward to it, Master,” Sebekton said with a grin. Then he turned and lumbered out. The door closed behind him, leaving only Viktor and his Dungeon Core remaining.

  “What do you think, Celeste?”

  [About what, Master?]

  “Our situation.”

  [The plan is very solid. While there might be unforeseen factors that could get in the way, I am sure everything will work out in the end.]

  Viktor sighed. “I think it’s too much of a gamble, though.” But there was nothing more he could do. He had to make do with the cards he was dealt.

  He had pulled back all of his goblins and spiders from the first floor. Sending his minions to fight the two adventurers was sending them to a meaningless death, and he couldn’t afford to waste them. And that meant Lahmia and Azran would be able to reach the arena without any trouble, unopposed and unchallenged. Then, the fate of this dungeon would be decided there.

  Viktor’s gaze drifted to the door Sebekton had just passed through. Behind it lay the first and last line of defense. And if it fell...

  [Don’t worry, Master. If Sebekton is defeated, I will teleport you out of the dungeon before they can get here.]

  Why? What was the point? If the intruders were able to reach this room, it meant that he had failed the Dungeon Core. So why should it care about his well-being? Did Celeste expect that, if he survived, he could somehow steal it back from the Reavers later?

  “No,” Viktor said, shaking his head. He looked at the Dungeon Core, giving a wry, weary smile. “We are partners, Celeste. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

  [What about Claire?]

  “What?” Viktor frowned. That was not the name he had expected to hear. Not here, not now, and certainly not from Celeste. “What’s that got to do with her?”

  [She will be devastated if her brother suddenly disappears without a trace.]

  “Why should I care?” he scoffed.

  It was not like they were actually family or anything. He was not Quinn, and Claire was just an annoying woman he was forced to live with due to circumstances.

  “Let’s stay focused,” Viktor said, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ve got bigger problems than such sentimental nonsense.”

  The one who’s going to disappear today will not be me, he thought. I am going to win.

  His vision returned to the first floor, where Lahmia and Azran were moving through the labyrinth. Their progress was remarkably fast, as if they had already known the best route to navigate these convoluted pathways.

  “Left,” said Azran. This guy was truly a man of few words.

  And his direction was correct. Don’t tell me that he already knew the layout.

  “There’s no one here,” Lahmia said. “No monsters in sight. Maybe the dungeon hasn’t summoned any yet? There’s nothing but a simple maze.”

  “It’s anything but simple,” Azran replied. “There’s a network of tunnels in the walls, and hidden passages above the ceiling and below the floor.”

  Viktor blinked. Seriously? He knows that as well?

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Then again, aeromancers had that trick. He remembered a spell, one that summoned the wind to flow in every direction, sweeping across every surface, crawling through every crack and hole, and thus allowed the caster to “feel” the terrain. Perhaps that was how the bald man knew his way around.

  “Interesting,” Lahmia said, giggling. “So the ambushers are hiding inside the tunnels?”

  Azran shook his head. “No, they’re empty.”

  “That’s weird,” Lahmia said, furrowing her brow. “The dungeon created a maze with many secret passages but didn’t summon any monsters to guard it? Why? Has it run out of mana or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Azran replied. “But this dungeon is strange. We should be careful.”

  The duo continued to make their way through the labyrinth under Azran’s guidance. Before long, they reached the staircases leading to the second floor. Going down, they entered an empty room, the old Core Room, and beyond that, lay the maze of the second floor.

  “Another maze?” Lahmia said with a tint of irritation. “This one looks like a pain in the ass, though.”

  Azran, on the other hand, stepped forward without hesitation. “Don’t worry. This one is very simple. There are no tunnels, no traps, and no enemies either.”

  Wait a fucking minute!

  How the hell did he know that there were no tunnels?

  Viktor could buy Azran discovering the tunnels on the first floor. Perhaps there had been a crack somewhere that allowed the mage’s wind to leak through, giving him some sense of the hidden pathways. However, while saying “there is” was easy, claiming “there is not” was nigh impossible. Just because he couldn’t find one didn’t mean the tunnels didn’t exist. After all, no one could prove a negative. There was no way he could make that claim with such certainty. Unless—

  What if everything he had assumed about Azran were wrong from the start?

  What if the bald man were not actually an aeromancer?

  And if that were the case, then what kind of mage could instantly map out the surrounding environment with a glance?

  The answer dawned on Viktor within seconds.

  A Riftwalker.

  Damn it! Of course, it had to be the most troublesome one.

  And more importantly, if he was a Riftwalker instead of an aeromancer, then the way he would wield his spear would be—

  Ugh, this is going to be ugly.

  “Celeste, send Sebekton a message,” he told his Dungeon Core. “We need to warn him about the spear. It doesn’t fly. It teleports.”

  Several seconds of silence passed before Celeste responded.

  [Message sent, Master.]

  “Did he say anything?”

  [Just one word. ‘Understood.’]

  Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from the stoic Guardian.

  Fifteen minutes later, the two Dungeon Reavers had finally reached the arena where Sebekton was waiting.

  “A boss, huh?” Lahmia purred, eyes dancing with amusement as she took in the hulking Crocodilian standing in the center of the room. “I’ve never seen a newborn dungeon that had a boss. This one is strange indeed.”

  “Not only that,” Azran said. “There are hidden rooms behind the walls and above the ceiling. Spiders along the sides, goblins overhead. It’s like the dungeon is preparing for an ambush.”

  Lahmia giggled. “Every single monster in this dungeon is here, as if they’re waiting for us. As if they know we’re coming and decide to throw a welcome party. I can’t wait to meet this strange little Dungeon Core. I’m sure we’ll make a killing if we sell it.”

  “Focus on winning first,” Azran cautioned.

  “Of course,” Lahmia said with a smirk, brushing a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear. “Is there anything else I need to know about this little playground?”

  “In the hidden chamber above,” Azran replied, lifting his gaze to the ceiling, “alongside the goblins, there are also some containers filled with liquid. Water, I guess.”

  Lahmia blinked, and then let out a burst of laughter. “They even know that I’m a pyromancer and have prepared for that. Curious. Curious indeed. But let’s see whether a pitiful puddle can stand up to my flames.”

  With a swift motion, the white-haired woman waved her hands, and a swirling mass of fire erupted in front of her. But she didn’t throw it at Sebekton like a typical fireball. Instead, she held it suspended in the air. Her hands traced the contours of the flame, fingers moving as if she were a sculptor. The flame twisted, contorted, gradually taking form, like clay in the hands of a master artist, until finally morphing into the shape of a fiery bird.

  “Go, my phoenix!” Lahmia commanded.

  The bird of fire spread its wings wide, its flames licking at the air like tongues of hungry beasts, and soared toward Sebekton. The Guardian swung his axe to intercept, but the bird dodged as if it had a mind of its own, veering away to try to get behind him.

  Damn it, Viktor cursed. Both mages were far more troublesome than he expected.

  A barrage of fireballs could be deadly, but it was predictable, and manageable. Sebekton would know what was coming and brace himself for such an assault. A firebird, however, was far more difficult to deal with. It circled him like a predator, always just out of reach, probing for weakness, aiming for blind spots. At least the low ceiling did limit its movement somewhat, but there was still plenty of room for it to maneuver. And it wasn’t like that stupid bird was the only threat here.

  Azran, spear firmly in hand, took aim and launched it at Sebekton like a javelin. The Crocodilian, surprisingly agile for his bulky body, twisted to dodge, and the spear whistled past him.

  But—

  The spear suddenly vanished from sight, then instantly reappeared above Sebekton’s head. Not only had its position changed, but the damn thing had altered course entirely. The projectile now plummeted, descending upon him with lethal precision. He barely evaded it; the tip of the spear grazed his scaly skin before embedding itself in the floor.

  In the blink of an eye, the spear was gone again, before rematerializing in front of Azran, who seized it immediately. It flew once more, but this time, it disappeared the moment it left its master’s hand. The Crocodilian barely had time to track its movement before it reappeared, closing the distance much faster than he could react. The spear found its mark, burying itself deep within his arm. He attempted to pull it out, but it had already returned to Azran’s grip.

  Ugh, so annoying, Viktor thought. But at the very least, the Riftwalkers’ ability was not without restrictions. They couldn’t teleport an object directly into someone’s body, for example. Otherwise, killing would have been too easy. Terrifyingly easy.

  With that, the battle had truly begun. The two adventurers moved like they had rehearsed it, one left, one right, flanking Sebekton from both sides. Azran relentlessly attacked with his teleporting javelin, which blinked in and out of existence like some plaything of a trickster god, while Lahmia’s phoenix darted and dived, keeping the Crocodilian on the back foot. Every now and then, the sorceress also hurled some fireballs at him to increase the pressure.

  This is going to be very messy.

  Viktor sighed. No plans survived the first contact, indeed. Unforeseen factors kept emerging one after another. The game had barely started, and already the board was upside down.

  Nevertheless—

  If this is all they’ve got, then victory will be mine.