? Two chambers in, and Grim was starting to feel a little more confident. Despite the fact that both he and his weapons were a level higher than the dungeon, his advantage wasn’t nearly as large as he could have hoped. Dungeon levels worked differently from delver levels. But he was familiar with the monster types in these dungeons. Goblins were the most common monster type around Beastwick, and he knew their weaknesses well. Even the Greater Goblin he found roaming a hallway on its own proved no real threat once he severed the tendons of its knees and ankles. It was a little awkward to get to its neck to kill it properly, but he managed.

  ? Now, he faced three different exits from the first chamber, and he couldn’t decide which one to take. Logically, either path would be the same, varying only in its end destination. But he’d killed more than a dozen goblins thus far, and even one Greater. Those missing monsters would be noticed if a patrolling pack came through. Which meant that he had to move quickly, if he didn’t want some alarm to be tripped.

  ? Deciding to hope that speed could solve the problem for him, he entered the tunnel furthest to the left. It turned out to be a dead-end, though. A handcart with some ore and abandoned tools. Doubling back, he took the middle path, which started to slant downward after perhaps fifty meters. That made him pause. Was this a sign that he was getting to the second floor? That didn’t seem right, somehow. Even in a level two dungeon, he’d expect four or five chambers per floor, and he’d barely two, if he could even count the entryway as a chamber.

  ? “Probably still an exit to the next floor,” he decided, and returned to the second chamber. He had to be methodical about how he progressed through the dungeon, even if it meant that he was slow.

  ? So, he took the right-hand path. It curved sharply away from the others and led to a massive chamber with an underground pond. There were bushes everywhere, and even a few short trees, which caught his interest. Frowning, he crept over to the bushes and ducked low, using them as cover to move deeper into the cavern. Underground grottos weren’t that uncommon in dungeons, but typically indicated a rare monster type. Such rare monsters were more than he could handle. He’d just see what it was, and then move on past it. At least they weren’t likely to roam.

  ? He spotted the rare monster almost at once, as it was nearly twenty feet long and covered in bright orange scales. Some kind of serpent, he thought, with spikes along its back. Its flesh was pristine save for two jagged scars along its back. Almost as if something had been removed. That thought made him freeze, a scary thought occurring to him. What if it was a dragon that had lost its wings? There was no chance, a reasonable part of his mind said, calming his nerves. Dragons only appeared in dungeons that were level five or higher. He couldn’t remember hearing of even a single example where a dragon appeared near his level.

  ? The beast was napping on the far edge of the pond, its sides rising and falling in deep breaths. The reason for the rampant plant growth–and its choice in nap location–became clear as Grim looked up. A pale orange crystal grew out of the ceiling of the cavern, emitting as much light as a late afternoon sun. He wagered that it would have given off a lot of heat as well, but with the general temperature of underground dungeons, it was already sweltering, and the crystal likely wouldn’t have made a difference.

  ? He crept around the orange lizard with great care, making sure to take the long route and to stick to the shadows where he could. He felt comfortable enough until he was outside the range of a single Shadow Dash to the entrance. Half a dozen meters further, and he started to wonder just how large the cavern was. It barely stretched fifteen feet above him, but it seemed to only get larger the further into it he went.

  ? Maybe a hundred and ten meters away from the entrance tunnel, his foot found hard stone, and he glanced down. Some sort of smaller cavern, carved out of the larger one. He almost immediately cursed his bad luck and his lack of attention. He’d been so focused on the scaled monster that he hadn’t noticed the pack of goblins using this smaller cave for shelter. He drew his knives at once to silence them, but they didn’t make a noise. Rather, they cringed further into the cave, their eyes wide with fear.

  ? He opened his mouth to speak, but just then, a roar loud enough to shake the roof of the cavern above him rang out. He knew without looking and threw himself forward at once. The serpent reached the edge of the cave within two seconds, and its gnashing jaws clamped down on the empty air where he’d stood a moment longer. He caught sight of four-inch-long fangs flashing in the dim light of the space, and shivered. Those jaws could snap him in half with complete ease.

  ? “At least you’re not really a dragon,” he said, clutching his chest. In his mind, that serpent’s attack confirmed that this dungeon at least had a hostility rating of Predatory. “No fire to deal with.”

  ? And at that exact point, as if the dungeon were mocking his naivety, the dragon paced back several steps, opened its mouth, and flooded the inside of the cave with fire. His vision was consumed by bright yellow and orange flames, and he instinctively threw himself further back, his arms covering his face as if that could do a thing. But he felt no heat from the fires. When the blinding light finally faded enough for him to see, he noticed that one of the goblins had gotten to their feet and held their hands outstretched. A magical barrier blocked the flames completely, saving the five of them from being roasted.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  ? “Get down! It screeched in Tennido, looking at him over its shoulder. “Mak! Mak!”

  ? He had no trouble obeying its command to stay down, though he didn’t know the meaning of that last repeated word. He retreated further into the small cave as the dragon unleashed another blast of fire. The old goblin blocked it just as easily as he had the first time, after which the beast backed off, letting out a snort of anger that its prey had escaped it. Both Grim and the elder goblin kept their eyes locked on the cave entrance as the monster stomped away, its large body slithering through the undergrowth and then splashing into the water. He let out a quiet sigh.

  ? “Thank you,” he said quietly, sheathing his knives. These goblins, at least, weren’t hostile. Each one of them had serious burns, and two of the five were lying as if dead on the cave floor, though he could see their chests rising and falling.

  ? The elder goblin spat on the ground and stomped over to one of the two lying on the ground. “Evil serpent, human. Stay safe here.”

  ? Grim took a step back in surprise. The goblin knew the common tongue? He swept over the creature with his senses, but couldn’t feel any special power radiating off of it. So it wasn’t an emissary, he thought with a frown. That meant its sapience was mimicry. Which could only have one explanation. Sometimes in a dungeon, delvers could face a unique situation that varied from the traditional delving experience. A quest.

  ? And… He could tell what this quest would be about. Either outright kill the dragon, or find some way to get it out of the cavern it owned, so that they could escape to freedom. He had half a mind to ignore the goblins and continue on deeper into the dungeon. His only hesitation was the potential reward… Quests were said to offer substantial loot, vast amounts of essence, or even rare items. He allowed himself the momentary fantasy of getting another exquisite piece of gear–maybe even another boon.

  ? “Delver, you must help us,” the elder goblin said. He finally allowed himself to sink to the stone floor of the smaller cave, his cloudy eyes finding Grim and locking onto his face. “The invader beast has cut us off from the rest of our troupe. I fear we cannot last longer.”

  ? Just as he’d expected. He let out a quiet sigh as the goblin pack stared at him expectantly, his eyes flicking between the giant orange serpent and the tunnel from which he’d entered. He bet he could get there in two Shadow Dashes and just leave this room behind. That other passageway had sloped down, which meant it went to the next floor. He *could* just ignore the quest and continue on. As soon as he had the thought, he felt pain lance through his mind, as if a hidden enemy had just stabbed him in the eye. Gasping at the surprise pain, he put a hand to his face and staggered back.

  ? *We’ve always had a connection to the dungeons.* Unbidden, Granden’s words came back to him. Was that supposed to mean that he couldn’t ignore the quest? To the pits with that, he cursed internally. He wasn’t going to throw his life away for a pack of goblins in a level two dungeon. The monsters weren’t truly sentient and thus wouldn’t remember him. He doubted they even knew who he was now. They were just acting out a script that the dungeon–the truly sentient entity–had designed. No. He wasn’t going to do the quest.

  ? He mentally prepared himself to Shadow Dash across the large chamber. His first use of the skill would only cover a little over half the distance, which would put him in the open where the wingless dragon would easily pick him out. So three dashes then, sticking to the walls and the deep shadows. He crouched low and activated the skill. Or at least, he tried to. The instant he tried to follow through on the plan, that pain flashed through his head again, strong enough to stagger him and break his focus.

  ? “Fuck!” he gasped, equal parts pain and fury. “Fine! I’ll do the damned quest! You want your only ancestor to die in a dungeon under the city he barely escaped from? Be my fucking guest!”

  ? He kicked a nearby rock in his anger, then turned to see the goblin elder watching him with a reverent expression. “Oh, you’ll help us, delver? I promise, we will make it well worth your time! Oh, thank the Progenitors for your arrival!”

  ? It was all he could do to hold back the curse he wanted to spit out. Overly aggressive actions or behavior could turn the goblins hostile, even if they were quest-givers. “Yes, I suppose I don’t have a choice. I’ll do my best to kill it. How many times can you block its fire?”

  ? The goblin elder blinked slowly at him, appearing not to understand. “As many times as is necessary, Delver. We possess no weapons, but I can create my barrier hundreds of times a day.”

  ? That declaration made Grim pause. “Err… Wait. Really?”

  ? The goblin merely nodded, but Grim felt a smile spreading across his face. It wasn’t in the spirit of the quest, but he didn’t care. The very essence of delving was in warping your surroundings and situation to your benefit. And there was no way he wouldn’t take advantage of an infinitely repeatable barrier and a ranged weapon. He actually let out a laugh then, realizing that he was excited about the quest now. Unslinging the bow, he gestured the goblin elder forward. “Put up a barrier each time it looks like it will breathe fire. We’re snaking this.”

  > “snaking” refers to a delver finding a tactic that circumvents the greatest part of a dungeon’s challenge, be it a fight or a puzzle. Sometimes dungeons can be tricked or gamed to a delver’s advantage, and the smart answer is not to take it seriously!