Egbert practically vibrated in excitement as Contempt scuttled from the inside of the chest, zipping up the side of the boulder to be eye level with Thrognar. Come on, little guy! Show me a nice return on my investment! Swirls of black and golden mana trailed through the air around Contempt in a haze before flowing between his horns into a locus of contrasting flickering energy.

  Thrognar took a big step back, raising his hands up like he was warding off an evil spirit. “Nice buggy, no eat Thrognar, Thrognar is friend. throgna…” Thrognar’s words cut off abruptly as he saw Max’s wooden prosthetic sitting inside the chest, front and center. “Oh gods. You eat, Max…” His face settled into determination as he raised his axe defensively.

  HOOOO yeahh! Now this is the kind of slightly stupid drama I'm here for. God, I wish I had some popcorn. What will he do first—zip straight for the orcs' squishy bits? Maybe just hum ominously while running infuriating circles around him?

  Egbert's happy musings were harshly murdered by Contempt. The swirling power emanated from it in weaving threads of power that seemed to stitch together a humanoid figure from pure mana. Bit by bit a spectral figure in a black cloak that flickered with golden-colored shadows was formed. First the body and then the golden skeletal hands that led to a scythe made of obsidian trimmed in filigree. Finally, a human skull with angrily humming loot bugs in place of eyes. It was like watching the birth of an eldritch god in his living room.

  Ummm...pardon…Did it just make a golden grim reaper? That...is just an illusion, right? Egbert was pretty sure it was just an illusion.

  Thrognar barely managed to block the first savage swing of the scythe from the “Illusion.” Contempt hissed in cruel laughter from his perch a stride away, waving his little legs and antenna in a rapturous dance as it commanded its dark powers to end the interloper in its domain.

  Thrognar backed away as two more sweeping slashes missed his throat. He punched forward into the reaper's face; its skull exploded backwards in a mist of gold and shadow before pulling back together like time was rewound. “Thrognar is scared!” Thrognar shouted, scattering the reaper across the floor with a wide axe sweep, only to watch it draw back together again in front of the chest.

  Me too, buddy. That was not written on the description; apparently the system has a real loose definition of “illusions.”

  Thrognar started backing up the stairs, wild swings finally clipping the reaper’s arm off and setting the scythe spinning to lodge into the man grabber for a moment. “Anyone, Thrognar need help! It Not Thrognar’s Time!” Either fate smiled on the green-skinned warrior, or the ungodly noises he was making hastened someone outside's journey, because at this moment Egbert sensed someone briefly on his porch before they moved through his dungeon at a blistering pace.

  Max rushed into the room, sword in hand, quickly taking in the scene of battle below with a “what the fuck?” Look on his face.

  Thrognar looked up from the pit like he had seen an angel. “Step and a half! Come help Thrognar!”

  Max slotted money into the oil dispenser quickly before ambling down towards the battle as the reaper reformed. “Goddammit, Throgar, don’t call me that! It's just a phantom…or something...target the loot bug; it's puppeting that thing!” Max sounded decidedly unsure of himself as he barked orders and stood on his tip toe trying to see if his leg was still in the chest.

  [Copper 2] [Silver 4]

  “No loot bug is just scared too look, he begging for help!” Thrognar gestured at contempt; he had his little legs clasped in sheer ecstasy, still raised high as his whole body swayed side to side, channeling forces he didn’t fully comprehend. Dark hums emanated from him in a language best left forgotten.

  Egbert was growing a bit concerned; the words coming from contempt made his brain itch, and as far as he knew, he didn’t even have one of those anymore. Hmm, probably should keep an eye on him to make sure this doesn’t spiral too far from a very amusing minion into, “Did I just start an apocalypse?”

  Max looked at Thrognar in sheer disbelief. “Dude, no! It's speaking fucking abyssal; kill the bug!” Thrognar did not look convinced. “Agghh, at least keep the gilded fucking reaper busy!”

  Thrognar started exchanging powerful blows with the reaper, wrathful red mana spilling from his eyes again as his rage slowly built back up. Max dashed past the conflict, sliding under a sweeping grab from the reaper, and skidding to a stop next to the chest, his eyes locked onto his prosthetic.

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  “Ha, gotcha!” His hands shot out slightly too slow; contempt pounced, hitting his hand at an ungodly speed with its horns, making a high-pitched frantic hiss the whole time. Max pulled his hand back, eyes following the pissy little creature as it darted away. “I get it! You are pissed I sold your old body! Get over it!” Max snatched his leg out of the chest with his bleeding hand and raced after contempt.

  “Come here, you little fuck. You want the leg so bad I'll give it back to you!” Max yelled after the gold and black blur as it wound towards the reaper currently mid-epic battle with Thrognar. Man, I really wish I had popcorn.

  Contempt wound in and out of the clashing blades trying to lose Max; Max broke physics with mana flashing wildly around him, dashing side to side, finding purchase on nothing as his footwork let him instantly redirect under and past the flailing scythe and axe. He dived forwards, prosthetic raised high. There was a final slightly surprised-sounding hiss from Contempt before the boot of the prosthetic rained down upon it at superhuman speeds with a crunch and the splatter of golden ichor.

  The reaper unraveled before their eyes, and the room fell still for a moment. Max looked around wildly, obviously trying to find a way to flip Egbert off but not really sure how to accomplish it. He settled on putting the leg down gently, raising both hands high, middle fingers raised, and slowly circling just to make damn sure he covered every inch of the room. Oh come on, I don’t deserve that. I told you that the leg wasn’t mine to give. Don't be bitter just because it took you three tries and the help of an actually mighty warrior to beat a bug.

  Thrognar looked at him confused. “Do you not like Mage’s Max?”

  Max choked for a moment. “Uhh yeah...sure, that’s it, buddy.”

  Egbert was tense just waiting for Thrognar to have a moment; he was sure it was coming. And sure enough, Thrognar paused before staring off into space for a moment. “Max, can you help me? I have a notification I can’t read.”

  Max shrugged, going up to the chest and starting to pocket the veritable pile of coins inside. “Sure, buddy, go ahead.”

  Thrognar slowly spelled out “Trial Completed Dungeon Boss slain.” Max froze, obviously debating how to respond to that. Egbert sighed internally before taking control of the pet rock. He didn’t want Max to lie to Thrognar; he felt like that would have some far-reaching disproportionate consequences. Plus, he was oddly sure Throngar did not fall into the “Threat To My Freedom” category.

  “Max, just tell him.” Hissed out ominously throughout the dungeon.

  Thrognar spun around, axe raised high. “The ancestors have come!”

  Max rubbed his brow after finishing pocketing all the coins. “It said you completed your trial, big guy! Congrats.” Thrognar looked extremely confused.

  “Yes, congratulations, mighty warrior.” Ebgert added in a malevolent hiss.

  Thrognar lowered the axe. “Thank you, Max, and thank you, Grandma?” he said unsure towards the voice.

  Max tapped Thrognar’s shoulder to get his attention before looking at him seriously. “Thrognar, this is a dungeon. The dungeon just congratulated you. Now please promise not to tell anyone yet. This is a…”Nice? Dungeon—he isn’t strong enough for everyone to know yet.” Really hurt with how much you struggled there to refer to me as nice, Max.

  Thrognar's brows furrowed together like he had just been told the secret of the universe and was trying to decide how to use it. He climbed out of the pit suddenly, looking around almost frantically. “How do I talk to the dungeon?” he shouted at Max.

  “The hell, man? Just talk. He’s got a creepy-ass rock he talks through in the loot bug room if you wanted to have a chat.” Max said, looking a bit concerned, as he began carefully climbing out of the pit himself, recovered prosthetic in one hand and a full coin purse in the other.

  Thrognar went into the room to talk to Egbert; he seemed oddly nervous. “Mr. Dungeon, Sir, Thank you for da level up. Please feed scrawgly door. I think it might die soon. I, Thrognar, have request!” Egbert chuckled to himself. This ought to be good.

  He decided to really lay it on thick with the whole "I'm a dungeon bow before my inexhaustible might" vibe. The voice of a damned soul oozed from the pet rock, filtering through the room. “Speak, Challenger of the inexhaustible might of the dungeon of greed, He who hath faced and overcome a challenge none before you have.”

  Thrognar looked real confused for a moment, mentally chewing his way through some of the longer words before nodding like he understood. “Thrognar wishes more than anything to become a famous dungeon explorer! Can Thrognar practice here?” Aww, that was surprisingly…touching.

  The voice crept into the room once again. “Of course, young Thrognar! But know this: it will cost you.”

  Thrognar looked a bit afraid. “Like Thrognar’s soul? Thrognar not think you want that is tough meat.”

  What the hell do you think I am, man? No one has even died here yet! “No, young warrior, Coins, many, many coins, must be offered to advance through my challenges; only by the might of both your...might and the power of your coin purse will you survive these halls.” Egbert finishes grandiosely, really drawing that last S out for far longer than needed.

  Thrognar nodded with a big smile. “Be back in a few days. Gotta go kill some goblins for coins!” He rushed out with a thundering spring in his step. Stopping briefly to pick up a stunned remorse and fit him back into his doorframe with a fond pet.

  Max leisurely ambled his way back into the room. “Sooo...he will probably be fine. I wouldn’t worry about him that much; I, however, have another group for you.”

  Egbert shifted his focus back to Max. “Oh, Mr. Step-and-a-Half, please do tell!”

  Max’s eye noticeably twitched at that nickname, but he didn’t rise to the blatant provocation. “Dwarven artificers, greed—just think of all the goodies they might drop.”

  Egbert already was, practically rubbing his nonexistent hands together at the mere thought of all the precious metals they had on them.

  “I’m guessing the caveat is that they aren’t idiots and might realize what I am.” Egbert mused out loud.

  Max shrugged apologetically. “Yeah, it’s risky, but I don’t have any other good groups right now.”

  Greed thought about it briefly. “Screw it, bring them in. Also, I had a quick question mostly because I witnessed something inexplicable the other day: what’s with the ‘Old Magic’ descriptor in the hillbilly fisherman’s classes?”

  Max leaned against one of the few remaining pillars. “Oh, their entire family used to be beholden to a patron, a spirit of nature, streams, and lakes and such. I actually saw a bit of the kind of power their elder wielded years ago when I visited here. They were surprisingly powerful, if weird, mages. From what I understand, the spirit died or moved on, so unless they somehow find a new massively powerful spiritual being to act as their patron, they are probably all shit out of luck. And will just have to make do with the fragments of magic they still wield.”

  Oh...well, isn’t that interesting…

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Max looked towards Egbert's pet rock, realization dawning on his face. “Do NOT do whatever you are thinking about; you only have two damn rooms so far. You are one entrepreneuring second-tier mage finding your core, from death still.”

  “I would never,” Egbert lied.