They gathered before the massive stone door, runes throbbing red.

  “Alright,” Bert said, hefting his cleaver. “Strategy: I charge in, smash whatever’s inside, and you two do your thing.”

  Harlada groaned. “Your ‘thing’ is dying. My ‘thing’ is cleaning up after you.”

  Leo scribbled furiously, eyes gleaming. “Statistically, pre-planning increases survival probability by twenty-six percent. We must synchronize our—”

  “FOR GODS’ SAKE, LOOK THROUGH THE PEEPHOLE!”

  The voice was so loud, so furious, they all jumped.

  They blinked, then slowly looked at the center of the door. Sure enough, a small, round peephole glowed faintly — obvious now, as if it had been there all along.

  “…Was that there the whole time?” Harlada asked, incredulous.

  Leo pushed his glasses higher, sputtering. “Impossible. I would have noticed—”

  “You never notice,” Other Bert snapped from the shadows. “That’s why you’re still Bronze.”

  Bert leaned down, squinting through. His jaw dropped. “Oh. Oh wow. You can actually see the miniboss before you fight it.”

  Harlada shoved him aside and peered in herself. “That… would have been useful in literally every dungeon we’ve died in.”

  Leo paled. “…Does that mean…?”

  They all turned to Bert slowly.

  He shrugged. “Peepholes are only on miniboss and boss doors. Everybody knows that.”

  The three of them just stared at him.

  “…You knew?” Harlada hissed.

  Bert scratched the back of his neck. “I thought you knew too.”

  Silence.

  Finally, Harlada buried her face in her hands. “We are so incompetent.”

  Leo’s notebook drooped in his grip. “Statistically, our incompetence is lethal.”

  Bert grinned sheepishly. “…But at least now we get to watch first.”

  The crystal pulsed smugly overhead:

  Achievement Unlocked: Tutorial Students. Reward: None.

  ***

  The three crowded awkwardly around the glowing peephole, elbows jabbing as they fought for space.

  “Move over, you’re blocking the angle,” Harlada hissed.

  “You’re blocking my notes,” Leo snapped, quill scratching furiously.

  Bert shoved both of them aside with his shoulder. “I’m the tank. I get first look.”

  He pressed his face to the hole. His jaw dropped. “Oh… oh wow.”

  “What?” Harlada demanded, trying to pry him off. “What do you see?”

  Bert grinned. “Big. Ugly. Perfect for smashing.”

  Harlada rolled her eyes and yanked the goggles from him, peering through. Her breath caught. “That’s not just ugly. That’s… that’s a walking nightmare.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses nervously. “Statistically, all minibosses are nightmares. Please be specific.”

  She stepped aside, pale, and Leo leaned in. His quill slipped from his fingers as he saw.

  The chamber beyond was vast and dim, sand pouring constantly from cracks in the ceiling. In the middle coiled an enormous serpent, its scales glistening like molten glass. Fangs longer than Bert’s cleaver gleamed in the darkness, dripping with venom that hissed when it hit the floor. Every breath it took shook the chamber, a low rumble like thunder.

  Leo’s voice cracked. “That’s… not snakes. That’s the snake.”

  From the shadows came Other Bert’s voice, calm but dripping with mockery. “Congratulations. You’ve just met the Miniboss: the Glassfang Serpent. Hope you enjoyed the preview. You’ll still die.”

  The crystal pulsed smugly overhead:

  Encounter Previewed: Glassfang Serpent. Attempts Pending.

  Bert cracked his knuckles, grinning like a maniac. “Finally. Something worth smashing.”

  Harlada sighed, sparks flicking nervously from her fingers. “Or something worth running away from.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses with trembling hands. “Statistically, running is not an option.”

  They all stood staring at the door, the serpent’s hiss echoing faintly through the peephole.

  ***

  The three crowded around the glowing peephole, elbows jabbing as they fought for space.

  “Move over, you’re blocking the angle,” Harlada hissed.

  “You’re blocking my notes,” Leo snapped, quill scratching furiously.

  Bert shoved them both aside with his shoulder. “I’m the tank. I get first look.”

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  He pressed his face to the hole. His jaw dropped. “Oh… oh wow.”

  “What?” Harlada demanded, trying to pry him off. “What do you see?”

  Bert blinked, then squinted harder. “It’s… uh. Tall. Snake tail. Staff. Glasses?”

  They both froze.

  Harlada shoved him aside and looked for herself. Her breath caught. “No way.”

  Leo snatched the goggles, pressed his eye to the hole — and went pale.

  Inside, the chamber glowed with eerie green light. Coiled in the middle stood a naga, half serpent, half human. Its upper body was lean, robed in tattered cloth, spectacles perched on the bridge of its scaled nose. It clutched a runed staff and muttered to itself while scribbling furious notes on a floating slab of stone.

  Then it looked up. Its yellow eyes gleamed behind cracked lenses. Its forked tongue flicked out between words.

  “…Statistically, you’ve already lost.”

  Leo stumbled back from the peephole, white as chalk. “It’s… it’s me. That thing is a snake-shaped me!”

  Bert burst out laughing. “Dungeon finally got it right!”

  Harlada smirked. “So the miniboss is a nerd with scales. Honestly, fitting.”

  From the dunes came Other Bert’s voice, calm but sharp. “The Naga Warden. Stronger than you. Smarter than you. And yes, he is mocking you.”

  The crystal pulsed smugly overhead:

  Encounter Previewed: The Naga Warden. Attempts Pending.

  Leo clutched his notebook to his chest, trembling. “This isn’t a miniboss. It’s a personal attack.”

  ***

  They huddled in front of the peephole, the green glow of the Naga Warden spilling faintly through the crack.

  Bert swung his cleaver lazily. “Alright, strategy: I charge in, cut him in half, done.”

  Harlada folded her arms. “He’s got magic, idiot. He’ll roast you before you even blink.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses, voice trembling but determined. “Incorrect. He’s me. Which means he’s rational, predictable, and statistically beatable if we exploit his weaknesses. We must plan carefully.”

  From the shadows came Other Bert’s voice, dry as dust. “Or you could just open the bestiary.”

  All three turned toward the voice.

  “Oh. Of course,” Harlada said quickly. “Yes, yes, the bestiary.”

  Leo nodded furiously. “Naturally. Reference material. Very important.”

  Bert grinned, slapping his cleaver against his palm. “I was just about to say that.”

  Silence.

  Then Other Bert’s voice cracked, thick with disbelief. “…You never opened the bestiary, did you?”

  The three of them froze, eyes darting.

  Leo coughed into his notes. “Statistically irrelevant detail.”

  Harlada muttered, “We were… busy dying.”

  Bert shrugged. “Books are heavy.”

  From the darkness came a sound they hadn’t heard from Other Bert before — not anger, not mockery. It was closer to despair.

  “You’ve been in here four cycles,” he whispered, “and you didn’t even check the basic manual.”

  The crystal pulsed overhead, smug as ever:

  Achievement Unlocked: Tutorial Dropouts. Reward: None.

  Bert raised his cleaver with a grin. “So… no book. Back to smashing?”

  Harlada groaned. “We are so dead.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses, staring through the peephole at his serpentine reflection. “Statistically, yes.”

  ***

  With visible reluctance, Leo cracked open the dusty interface of the bestiary. Pages of glowing script unfurled in the air, humming faintly.

  Harlada leaned in, squinting. “Well? What does it say?”

  Leo adjusted his glasses, reading aloud.

  Entry: Naga Warden.

  Habitat: Desert Sub-levels.

  Behavior: Hunts by sound and movement.

  Weaknesses: Piercing attacks. Cold damage.

  Advisory: Do not speak. Do not move. Do not fail.

  The words hung heavy in the silence.

  “…So it’s blind?” Harlada asked.

  “Not blind,” Leo corrected, finger tracing the glowing script. “But reliant on sound and motion. Statistically, silence reduces detection probability by eighty-nine percent.”

  Bert frowned. “Translation?”

  “Shut up. Don’t stomp. Don’t breathe too loud. And pierce or freeze it.”

  Bert looked down at the sword he’d taken from Leo back in Level 3. “This isn’t piercing.”

  “Correct,” Leo muttered, rubbing his temples.

  Then Bert’s eyes lit up. He reached over and plucked Leo’s quill straight from his fingers.

  “This’ll pierce.”

  Leo spluttered. “That is my writing instrument!”

  “Now it’s a stabbing instrument.” Bert twirled it proudly like a tiny spear.

  Harlada flexed her fingers, frost forming in faint crackles across her palms. “Cold damage I can do. Learned that back in the penguin dungeon. Frost’s not my specialty, but it’ll stick.”

  Leo blinked. “…That actually helps.”

  “Statistically surprising,” Bert added with a grin.

  For once, they didn’t argue further.

  From the shadows, Other Bert’s voice cracked with disbelief. “You’re going in with a quill, a stolen sword, and penguin-magic frost. This is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard.”

  The three of them nodded solemnly, as if this were genius strategy.

  Other Bert groaned. “You actually read the manual. You actually made a plan. A terrible plan… but a plan.”

  The crystal pulsed overhead, text flickering like it was stifling laughter:

  Strategic Planning Detected. Achievement Unlocked: Literacy.

  Bert grinned, brandishing the quill like a dagger. “Alright then. Let’s stab a snake-man.”

  Harlada exhaled a plume of frost, her eyes glinting. “And freeze him solid.”

  Leo sighed, empty hands twitching. “Statistically… survivability has increased. Marginally.”

  The door’s runes flared red, waiting.