Rachel sat with her back against the rough stone wall, eyes fixed on the open plaza before them. The flickering light of a distant torch cast long shadows across the cracked flagstones, drawing her gaze toward the massive dungeon entrance that loomed like a silent threat. Grävenmarsh. The name alone carried weight.

They had withdrawn to a quieter edge of the staging ground—just far enough to breathe, but close enough to feel the pull of what lay ahead.

Paul eased down beside her, his armor creaking softly as he rested against the wall. "What's on your mind, love?"

Her head drifted sideways until it settled on his shoulder, her voice soft. "That beach. The one we went to just after we got married. Remember it?"

He gave a short, quiet laugh. "Hard to forget. Sun on the cliffs, wind in your hair, and sand that gets everywhere. Wasn't half bad."

"Wasn't bad at all." Her lips curled faintly into a smile. "Reckon the System hands out beach holidays?"

Paul huffed a dry chuckle. "Not unless it comes with a boss fight and a loot chest."

"Mmm," Rachel murmured, falling quiet again.

Then, quieter still, "Paul… do you think I'm buggering this up?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shifted slightly, angling toward her without dislodging her weight. "Rach," he said gently, "we wouldn't have made it past the first bloody checkpoint without you. You've kept us alive, sane, and moving forward. That's not something just anyone can do."

She didn't reply, but her eyes closed, her breath slowing as his words settled around her.

"Feels like I'm swimming with weights strapped to my ankles," she finally whispered.

Paul reached down and squeezed her hand. "You're doing fine. Better than fine. But if I hear you doubting yourself again, I swear I'll have a serious word with that brilliant brain of yours. Can't have it talking down to the woman I love." He put on a mock scowl she could feel more than see.

That earned a snort. "You're such a goober." She sighed, straightening up. "Love you."

"Right back at you."

Rachel rose, dusting off her trousers and scanning the nearby small group. Their eyes were on her now, quiet and ready. "Alright, team. Let's get this over with. The sooner we're through that dungeon, the sooner we're back at the glade. We've got enough food left to keep us civilized, and I'd rather not start losing limbs to dinner plans."

A ripple of laughter passed through the group as they moved into formation, muscle memory guiding their steps. Nathan took the front, the massive arc of his axe resting comfortably against his back. Diana slid into place beside him, blades gleaming faintly in the low light. Charles and Evelyn moved next, silent but solid. George and Felicity flanked the rear, bows already strung.

Rachel stepped up last, pulling up the interface one more time. The prompt to accept hovered at the center of her vision.

She tapped it.

Light swallowed them whole.

The flash of light lasted only a heartbeat.

Then came the landing—hard and unceremonious. Boots scraped against aged flagstone as they stumbled into a rectangular chamber roughly thirty by forty feet across. The air was cool and dry, tinged faintly with stone dust and something metallic beneath. Pale, bluish-white light bathed the space, emanating from a ring of rune-inscribed stones nestled near the ceiling, casting soft shadows that danced with their every movement.

Rachel's eyes adjusted quickly. "Everyone up," she said, steadying herself. "Form up."

But before she could give further instructions, Nathan spotted the glowing crystal floating in the far corner of the room. It shimmered faintly, pulsing in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. Without hesitation, he jogged over, already pulling open his interface.

"Nathan—wait!" Rachel snapped, but it was too late.

He didn't attack the crystal, at least. Instead, he began tapping through the menu, then grunted in satisfaction as a warm meat pie and a tall tankard of chilled cider appeared in his hands.

Rachel's glare could have scorched the air. "Everyone, please be aware of your surroundings when teleporting into an unknown region," she said, her voice tight as she directed it squarely at Nathan. "I'd rather not have anyone die because their stomach staged a mutiny."

Nathan shrugged, unfazed, and took a bite. "Worth it," he said through a mouthful of crust and gravy.

The rest of the team trickled toward the crystal, expressions shifting from caution to relief. Its presence meant access to food, water, and basic supplies—they wouldn't be forced to ration hard bread and stale cheese any longer.

Rachel raised a hand. "Alright, grab something small if you're hungry. Evelyn and I will handle bulk orders and resupply. We've been hauling junk for days—I'll sell what we've collected and see what we can scrounge up in return."

A round of murmured approval followed as each of them selected a snack or drink. Rachel moved to the interface and began sorting the cluttered inventory they'd accumulated during the week of travel. Beside her, Paul swept his gaze across the chamber.

The room was sealed on three sides, and the only exit was a single hallway on the far end. The corridor stretched beyond the ambient glow, swallowed quickly by shadows.

"Any idea what comes next?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Paul shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'd say we stock up and get ready to move. No sign of a door, trap, or puzzle—so we follow the hall."

She nodded once. "Alright. Let's see what kind of gold this junk brings in."

8 Rusted Bronze Short Swords (Skeletal Warriors) – Sold as antiquities/scrap metal – 48 gold, 8 silver

3 Splintered Bone Wands (Skeletal Casters) – Still faintly magical – 27 gold

2 Cracked Bone Grimoires (Faded Runes) – Pages removed for arcane salvage – 34 gold

5 Curved Obsidian Dagger Hilts (Bone Assassins) – Blades missing, hilts inlaid with silver – 19 gold, 8 silver

6 Shattered Ribcage Plates (Skeletal Knights) – Melted for rare alloys – 21 gold

12 Engraved Arrowheads (Skeletal Archers) – Sold as collectible relics – 18 gold, 3 silver

1 Ancient Standard of House Vauren (Tattered) – Traded to historian collector – 40 gold, 5 silver

4 Hollow Mage Skulls (Traces of Binding Sigils) – Used for necromantic study – 22 gold, 8 silver

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

1 Fragmented Soul Core (Bone Abomination) – Unstable, sold to a dark alchemist – 30 gold

7 Runed Bone Rings (Non-functional) – Fashioned into charms – 9 gold

10 Rot-Resistant Cloak Clasps (Brass, ornate) – Melted and reused – 11 gold, 9 Silver

2 Vials of Bone Dust (Harvested from fallen mages) – Sold to potion maker – 7 gold, 2 Silver

Total Earnings:

276 gold, 43 silver

Rachel turned back to the group, brushing a few errant strands of hair from her face as she pulled up her interface.

"Alright," she said, her voice carrying just enough to gather their attention. "One week's worth of scavenging brought in two hundred seventy-six gold and forty-three silver. Not bad, considering most of it came off crumbling bones."

George stepped forward, already navigating his own interface. "I've got a food bundle listed here you'll want to check. It's got enough rations for a couple of weeks and a good variety—actual meals, not just dried roots and crusts."

Rachel blinked, surprised. No one else had thought that far ahead. The fact that George had not only prepared for the journey but had picked out suitable provisions spoke volumes. She gave him a nod. "How much?"

"Ninety-six gold," he replied, glancing at her. "It'll all fit in your ring—might even leave room for a few extras."

Rachel didn't hesitate. She opened the interface, focused on George's ID, and initiated the gold transfer. A soft chime confirmed the trade.

George's eyebrows shot up. "You're not even going to review the order?"

"Nope," Rachel replied simply. "You thought ahead when the rest of us didn't. I trust your judgment. Go ahead and make the purchase, and let's move on to gear."

George gave a small nod and confirmed the transaction. A series of small, rune-sealed crates appeared beside him and vanished a moment later into Rachel's storage ring.

Rachel then divided the remaining gold evenly among the group. With their personal shares settled, she took her own cut, just over fifty gold, and began browsing the gear listings, intent on improving her loadout.

Weapons, armor enhancements, utility kits—everything was available for a cost. She focused on her defenses first, scanning for better bracers and a reinforced light shield. Paul looked over her shoulder, suggesting a tempered sabre edge upgrade for his own weapon, while Nathan muttered approvingly at a spiked grip enhancement for his axe.

Evelyn and George picked up upgraded bowstrings and weather-treated quivers, while Diana found a pair of obsidian-edged throwing knives that practically vibrated with latent enchantment. Charles, ever the pragmatist, selected heavier vambraces and a small, field-repair kit for his armor.

Felicity, quiet but sharp-eyed, chose a single item—a scout's bandana imbued with night vision. Rachel approved. Everyone was leaning into their roles, becoming sharper versions of themselves.

Once all purchases were finalized and inventories adjusted, Rachel took a last look around the chamber. The crystal's light hummed behind them. Ahead, the hallway waited—narrow, stone-lined, and dark beyond the reach of the ambient glow.

She adjusted her shield and glanced back at the others. "Final checks. Weapons out. Stay tight and quiet until we know what's ahead."

hey moved cautiously, the air growing colder with each step. Stone walls loomed close on either side, broken intermittently by sconces that held long-dead torches. The silence pressed against them, heavy and absolute—no wind, no scurrying vermin, just the muffled tread of boots on old flagstone.

"Does anyone know what we're looking for?" Evelyn asked, her voice low but edged with tension.

"Preferably to kill the monsters before they kill us?" Rachel replied without looking back.

Evelyn let out a soft sigh, recognizing her own setup. "You know what I meant."

"I know," Rachel said, slowing at a corner. "Nothing's changed since we got here. No new prompts, no quest update. I'm guessing we clear whatever's inside until the System tells us otherwise. So we explore, keep each other alive, and see what shakes loose."

A heavy click echoed through the hall.

Nathan's boot had pressed down on a raised tile. He lurched forward, barely catching his balance. Before anyone could shout, Paul lunged, grabbing the back of Nathan's armor and yanking him hard.

A massive axe dropped from the ceiling, cleaving the space where Nathan's head had been a second earlier. It slammed into the floor with a deafening clang, embedded deep in the stone.

"Fuck me," Nathan exhaled, wide-eyed. "That was close."

"If Charles hadn't yanked you back, I wouldn't have been able to again," Diana muttered, inspecting the trap with a frown.

George let out a short snort of laughter at the layered implication.

Rachel rolled her eyes and waved them forward. "Alright, let's keep the charging bull routine to a minimum. Diana—this is where your rogue build earns its keep. Think you can scout ahead?"

Diana grinned and stepped lightly past the rest of the group, her eyes already scanning the floor and walls. "Traps? Yeah, I know a few things. Pitfalls, pressure plates, tripwires, false floors, rotating blades, spring-loaded bolts, contact runes, proximity glyphs—"

"A simple yes would've sufficed," Rachel cut in.

Diana didn't slow. "Had time on my hands. I like the backstory of building DnD characters. Traps have always been fascinating."

Rachel shook her head and gestured down the hall. "Be my guest."

They advanced slowly, Diana sweeping for signs of tampering as she led them into the first chamber. The room was square and smelled of stagnant air. Within moments, she called out a warning—two pressure tiles and a thin tripwire at shin-height. She marked them with chalk, guiding the others past without incident.

The second trap was nastier—a false section of wall that burst outward with a spearhead on a spring. Charles triggered it deliberately using a stone, and it struck the far wall with a vicious thud before retracting slowly.

They reached the next chamber and entered in a defensive formation.

Four goblins skulked inside, huddled near a half-collapsed pillar. Their green skin was pale from the long absence of sunlight, and bone charms hung from their crude leather armor. One turned as the group entered, shrieking and drawing a jagged blade.

Rachel didn't hesitate. "Take them!"

Paul surged forward, shield raised, meeting the first goblin head-on with a crunch of metal and bone. Nathan barreled past him, axe sweeping low and taking the legs out from under a second goblin before finishing it with a heavy downward strike.

Arrows from Evelyn and George arced overhead, pinning a third goblin to the far wall. Diana slid low across the floor and sank her blades into the final goblin's spine before it could even scream.

In less than twenty seconds, the chamber was silent again.

Rachel scanned the corners, eyes narrowed for reinforcements. When none came, she gave a quick nod.

"Well done. Two rooms down. Let's keep moving—we're not clear yet."

They regrouped at the doorway leading deeper in. The blue light flickered softly on their armor and blades as the dungeon held its breath for the next test.

*****

Six hours in. Twenty-five rooms cleared. Two level-ups earned. They finally found a place to rest.

The chamber was modest—bare stone walls, a single source of light from a glowing crystal embedded high in one corner, and for the first time, a sealed door. Not a passage. Not an archway. A real door, framed in worn black stone with a towering, stylized bronze numeral I set dead center. The matching bronze handles gleamed with faint arcane etching.

Nathan stood before it, arms crossed and axe resting against his shoulder. He said nothing, but his presence marked the line none of them had crossed—yet.

Behind him, the others slumped against the walls, catching their breath. Paul sat with his shield across his knees, tightening the leather straps on his vambrace and inspecting a fresh nick in his chestplate. Diana sprawled nearby, blades balanced on her thighs as she oiled them with practiced motions.

Across the room, Evelyn leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed but hands glowing faintly with healing magic as she tended to George's bruised arm. "It's easier to cast in here," she murmured, mostly to herself. "Like the dungeon's dense with mana or something."

Their strength was showing. Every main skill had climbed to level six or higher. Diana now had a working Trap Detection ability that had saved them more than once. Paul had unlocked Shield Charge and was learning to blend defense into momentum. Evelyn's new group healing spell had already proven invaluable in three different ambushes.

Rachel took a sip from her waterskin and surveyed the team. Everyone looked worn, but steady. Focused. Hardened.

"So," she said, voice dry, "I think we can all agree there's a boss behind that door?"

A round of tired nods followed.

"No changes to formation," she continued. "We open the door and step inside together. Take up position just past the threshold and see what happens. No charging in the dark."

Nathan rolled his shoulders. "Sounds like a plan."

One by one, the group rose to their feet, tightening straps, sheathing blades, drawing bows. Rachel moved up beside Nathan, her buckler strapped firm, sabre loose in her grip.

"Open it."

Nathan gripped the bronze handles and pulled. The doors creaked open, thick and slow.

On the other side, the room expanded into a broad circular chamber. In its center sat a mound of bones—old and yellowed, some gnawed, others split down the middle. Atop the pile lay a creature that defied classification. A rat, or what had once been one, swollen to grotesque proportions. Its fur was matted in oily patches, skin torn and raw with festering wounds. Pustules swelled and burst along its flanks, oozing gore that pooled beneath its perch.

It lounged like a king, eyes closed, the slow rise and fall of its sides betraying the creature's breathing.

The smell hit them first—rot and blood, thick enough to taste. Evelyn gagged and doubled over, retching into the corner.

As the last of them stepped across the threshold, the heavy doors slammed shut behind them with a deafening boom.

Rachel didn't flinch. "Figures that bullshit would happen," she muttered under her breath.

The rat stirred.

Its eyes opened—milky white with a red ring at the edges. It rose slowly, joints popping, revealing the massive blade it gripped in one misshapen claw. The sword was jagged, rusted, and easily the length of Nathan from head to toe.

Rachel sighed. "Fucking great."

The beast bared its teeth and stepped down from the bone pile.

Combat had found them. Again.

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