“Please, my love?” Milly pestered. “We could go there together? It won’t take long, I promise! We’d just need—”

  “Enough!” Frederick shouted, massaging his temples as he grew tired of her pleas. “I am not letting you — the mother of my child — endanger yourself to go on this…” He struggled to think of a word, another indicator that he’s had enough on his plate for today. “I can’t even think straight! And nor can you!” With a throbbing headache, Frederick poured himself another cup of chamomile tea, hoping to lessen the emerging pain that arose from this entire ordeal.

  “Fred…” She placed her arms around him, embracing him from behind. He could feel her tears pooling in the fabric of the shirt he wears, the shirt now sticking to his back as she continued to speak, “I just want to see him one more time... Is that so much to ask?”

  Placing the teacup back down on the table, he then rests his hands on the arms wrapped around him, caressing the top of her hands.

  Frederick may not be the brightest man, but even he knows how cruel it is to keep a daughter from seeing her father, even if that very same father had been dead for nearly two decades.

  But to brave a dungeon? With its monsters, traps, and whatever else the Dungeon Core might throw at them?

  To risk their lives for something that they can't even say for certain whether it's true? That this whole nightmare could be entirely fabricated by the Dungeon itself to entice them to throw their lives away?

  He’d be sending her off to her own death should he allow it.

  No. He refuses to let her be so foolish.

  “For the last time, Milly,” he replied, “My answer remains the same. I won’t be swayed on this matter.”

  The arms that were wrapped around him suddenly drop, his wife collapsing to the ground suddenly as she sobs, now clutching at his pant leg.

  “I just want to see Papa…” She finally eked out between haunting sobs, still trying to catch her breath. “Please, please, oh, please…” Milly pulls harder on his pant leg, the damned thing sagging a bit.

  Frederick tries to keep calm and not cry from the sheer pain and agony he must be inflicting on his beloved.

  He knows that what he is doing is right, but the aftertaste of being correct can be far too bitter.

  As she listened to the man made of bones, Angel sniffed the book.

  It smells just like her dearest old friend!

  She’s looked around the entire forest, but it seems it is not their forest. She could not find where her dearest friend was.

  But that’s okay! He’s a very smart friend. She’s sure that he’ll come to get her soon!

  She turns her focus back to the man made of bones.

  “... I remember this one time when I think I hugged someone? A woman, perhaps?” He waves his hand under his chin as if combing through a long beard. “She smelled of... autumn? Something like that, yes.” He turns to face her from where he sat beside her. “Do you know of anyone like that? Smells like this?”

  With a simple gesture of his hand, the once-green trees began to shed their leaves, the leaves turning brown and orange as they fell from the air as a slight chill breezed through the place they were in. The sharp smell of the rotting leaves now exemplified.

  She barks once. No, I did not meet someone like this, I don’t think.

  He smiles at her. “I see. Not one for conversation, are we?” he said, turning his head towards the forest in front of them, “That’s alright, Angel.” He lifts a brown leaf off of the grass, dry and crinkly, and twists it around in between his fingertips. “Sometimes in life, all we need is someone to hear us out. I guess you’re that someone for me, huh?” He playfully nudges her with his elbow.

  Angel doesn’t mind the man of bones, but his elbow is rather pointy. It does not make for a good nudging; instead, it is more for poking. However, it would not be nice to get irritated at such a gesture, especially one made lightheartedly and without ill intent.

  She’ll let him off the hook this time.

  ... But a true Huntress shan’t let such a slight go without at least a bit of admonishment.

  With a blinding speed that she hasn’t gotten to experience in a long time, Angel leapt at the arm of the man of bones, pulling his entire arm out of its shoulder socket and running away with the limb towards the forest, its digits still twitching as it tried to grasp for her.

  “Hey! Come back here!” The man of bones stood up from where he sat, chasing her into the forest.

  She’s much too fast for him to catch up.

  There were just so many bodies.

  They littered the field, left half-eaten by animals. Vultures circled high from above, no doubt being the major player when it came to the state of the corpses.

  Trying his hardest to keep himself from vomiting, Lyle treads around the bodies of the fallen.

  A single hand shoots out from under a large body, grabbing onto his ankles.

  “Please save me..." The dwarven man begged, his sunken eyes wide. His thick muscled arms were gored and infested with worms. “My mother can’t be left alone, she’s sick... Her memory isn’t as good as it was..." The man began to pull himself out of the pile of bodies on top of himself, ignoring the fact that his entire ribcage had caved in from the sheer weight of the pile, his own guts decayed and exposed to the elements.

  The gruesome figure practically clawed at Lyle’s feet, using it as leverage to pull himself out.

  Seeing the man in this abysmal condition reminded Lyle of the countless other soldiers that were with him when he had been conscripted into the war.

  The very same friends he’d made in that hellhole — his brothers and sisters-in-arms — who all died in the first few moments of braving No Man’s Land.

  He wished he could’ve done something for at least one of them.

  He looks down at the Dwarven man, focusing on every feature on his terrible remains.

  But this? Seeing the sheer amount of devastation war brings?

  It seems that his priorities have changed.

  “I’m sorry, friend,” he began, pulling himself free of the dwarf’s clutches, “But I need to see my family... I cannot stay to help.”

  “I’ll do anything!” the dwarf screamed, tugging harder on his leg, “Anything you want! Just please, save me!”

  The dwarven man releases his clutches on Lyle as he runs to the other side of the battlefield, ignoring the countless other souls begging to be freed of this hellish torment and the wailing howl of the dwarven man.

  The forest was just a few paces away now.

  He can escape. The battlefield’s dead silent, save for those damned souls. There’s no commander left alive to order him around.

  He can finally get back home to his wife and young daughter.

  He runs even faster.

  “Hey! Come back here, Angel!”

  Lyle immediately looked towards where the voice was coming from, nearly soiling himself as a dog and a skeleton in a robe came bounding through the forest. The dog had something moving in its mouth as it stood still, clearly teasing the skeleton as they got nearer before bolting away as soon as they closed the distance and got within a few paces of them.

  Now that he got a good look...

  It’s that skeleton from before! The one that I woke up next to!

  Wanting some answers, Lyle brought his hands to his mouth to shout, looking to garner their attention.

  “Hey, you!”

  The skeleton and dog stopped in their tracks, searching through the forest for his voice. He waved his hands in the air to help them see him better.

  The dog, upon seeing this, began to prance towards him, the skeleton in tow.

  “Hello there!” The skeleton said, its face remaining still as it spoke. The skeleton waved back as it neared, with Lyle realising that it only had one arm. “Oh, you’re Lylan, correct?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  That took him by surprise.

  With his trusty sword by his side, Lyle responded, “How do you know me, monster?”

  The skeleton took a step too close for his liking. Lyle swings his sword in a vertical arc at the stranger, purposefully avoiding him, and pointed his sword at where the skeleton’s neck would’ve been. “Do not take a step closer, I know how to use a sword!”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that, soldier.” The skeleton said, its hands held in a peaceful gesture, the dog beside him looking between them as they speak, the skeleton’s arm held in its mouth. “I do not seek to quarrel with you.”

  “How do you know my name?!”

  “That is a simple answer; one you will realise with time, I hope.”

  The skeleton flicks its fingers on one of its hands.

  Lyle’s body felt light all of a sudden. Like he could topple over by even the gentlest of winds.

  The man before him turns into ash, the horrid miasma of the battlefield gently drifting his remains back to the Graveyard where he returns.

  He supposes that he should’ve done this earlier as soon as the intruders had left his dungeon, but he was too preoccupied with a certain young pup.

  He looked back down at the Huntress beside him, looking curiously at him, her head tilted to the side.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to return just yet, no?” he asked with knees bent, his other arm reaching down for the Huntress to pass his other arm back to him.

  She barks without widening her mouth, his arm still in her mouth.

  “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He stood back up to his full height, turning his head to face the 9th level Dungeon.

  Taking a step past the boundary and looking out into the battlefield, he could see the hundreds upon thousands of bodies encompassing the grassy plain. Some of the bodies are still alive, perpetually reaching for the skies, begging for someone or something to save them.

  He can never truly understand why the dungeon formed this way. Grimm certainly wouldn’t have made this place have such a ghastly floor had he the ability to, that’s for sure.

  One of the hands reaches for his robe and tugs at it. An elven man. A Mage, by the looks of his tattered apparel.

  Grimm inspects him thoroughly.

  Tears run down the exposed face of the elven mage. Their eyes, clouded in a milky-white haze, look up in the direction of where Grimm is but not directly looking into his eyes.

  “Please!” the man pleaded, turning his head left and right, perhaps trying to gauge where Grimm was standing, “End my suffering...”

  Grimm stares at the grub-infested hand holding onto his bony leg, bending down to take off the appendage and holding the mage’s hand in his.

  The sharp pain returns once again, racking Grimm with pain. The Huntress barks from beside him as he fell, Grimm with his arms held out below him, hoping to somehow lessen his fall.

  Unfortunately, he only had one arm.

  The right side of his skull lands with a heavy thud against the dusty dirt, with his body following suit.

  Grimm lies right beside the elven mage, the mage still begging and reaching here and there on his body, totally unaware of what had happened right beside him or of the dissipated spell that was cast on him.

  Something pushes into his side.

  Angel, having dropped his arm, returns it to him. Her ears were drooped, her wagging tail still, and her posture a tad bit low.

  She looked sorry, somehow.

  Grimm stays there for a moment as he looked at the blinded elven man, still doubled over from the pain that lingers in his mind.

  What a cruel dungeon...

  The Dungeon Core peers through the eyes of the vultures that circle above where her Guardian currently stands, the skeleton reattaching its arm back onto itself.

  Most of the time, it wonders what goes through its Guardian’s head.

  The chime of the System echoes through itself, a tone that grows more annoyingly repetitive as time passes.

  However, it brings good news, it seems.

  Feeling excited at the prospect of its first additional room, the Dungeon Core looks at its Dungeon Floors once again.

  2nd Floor: The Flourishing Forest [Pacifist]

  3rd Floor: The Candlelight Vigil [Pacifist]

  4th Floor: The Mausoleum [Pacifist*]

  5th Floor: The Putrid Cesspit [Pacifist*]

  6th Floor: The Crumbling Catacombs of Forgotten Gods [Pacifist*]

  7th Floor: The Library of the Discarded [Pacifist]

  8th Floor: The Forgotten Shrine [Pacifist*]

  9th Floor: The Battlefield [Pacifist]

  10th Floor: The Graveyard [Pacifist]

  *These floors will only be Pacifistic to any Entity that is considered a Loved One by one of the Souls on the 10th Floor, The Graveyard. Any other Entities are exempt from this and will be targeted by the monsters they come across.

  {Dungeon Info}

  This Dungeon has been selected by the System to be a Narrative Dungeon.

  Will start with a predetermined layout of 10 floors. Additional rooms, areas, encounters, treasures, bosses, and monsters can be added to the floors, but no more floors can be added.

  Only monsters and Bosses with the Elements of Memory, Nature, Divine, Life, Undeath, and Death are allowed to be summoned freely.

  Any other monsters with Elements other than the aforementioned ones can be requested by the Dungeon Core, as long as the System deems it to be cohesive and/or necessary to the Narrative.

  Any unapproved divergence from the Narrative can put the Dungeon Core at risk, leading to its destruction.

  It looks forward to the room's completion.