"Yes," Reed nodded, his voice echoing slightly against the smooth marble walls of the grotto. "A Dungeon Lord Sandwich. But nobody takes a bite. We are just marinating. Understood?"

Luma wobbled, considering this. Her internal structure rippled with bioluminescent thought bubbles. The idea of covering him seemed to appeal to her gluttony, even if she couldn't physically digest him. It was a loophole in the "No Eating the Boss" rule.

"I can cover you?" Luma asked breathlessly, her form trembling with anticipation. "Completely? Every inch?"

"Completely," Reed confirmed, lying back down and burying his face in the towel. "Like a heavy, wet blanket. Don't leave any gaps."

"Yay!" Luma cheered, clapping her hands together. It made a wet splat sound that echoed uncomfortably loud in the quiet spa.

She didn't hesitate. She dissolved.

It wasn't a slow melt. Luma simply let go of the concept of "humanoid." She surged forward, losing her shape entirely and becoming a thick, viscous wave of cooling blue slime. She flowed over the edge of the table and washed over Reed's back, covering him from the nape of his neck down to his ankles in seconds.

It was a shock to the system.

Reed gasped into the towel. The sensation was overwhelming.

Below him, Terra's hands were like furnaces, radiating intense, geological heat that loosened his joints and turned his bones to jelly. Above him, Luma was cool, tingling, and incredibly heavy. She pressed into every pore, every bruise, every scrape. She filled the spaces between his ribs where the ache was deepest.

"Oh wow," Reed breathed, his voice vibrating against the stone slab.

It worked. The contrast was incredible. It was thermal shock therapy on a magical scale. The magma heat pushed the blood flow, forcing his circulation into overdrive, while the slime coolant numbed the sharp, stinging pain of the torn muscles. It created a pumping action in his mana channels, flushing out the stagnation and the residue of the Void magic he had burned in the arena.

Luma began to hum.

It wasn't a vocal sound. It was a physical vibration that resonated through her liquid body and transferred directly into Reed's spine. It was a wet, gurgling sound of pure contentment.

She wasn't eating his flesh. She was eating the stress.

She was absorbing the chaotic, bruised mana left over from the Arena fight. Reed could feel the dark energy being siphoned right out of his skin. It felt like tiny, cool suction cups pulling the fatigue away, dragging it into Luma's mass where it was broken down and digested.

"It tastes like lightning," Luma murmured, her voice vibrating directly against his shoulder blades. "Spicy. Static. I feel... full."

"GOOD?" Terra asked from below.

She pressed her thumbs gently into his shoulders. For a Magma Golem, "gently" meant with the force of a hydraulic press, but Reed was so numb he barely felt it. He just felt the knots in his trapezius muscles disintegrating under the pressure.

"Perfect," Reed groaned, his mind turning to mush. "Don't stop. Nobody move. If the world ends right now, I don't care."

For twenty minutes, the world outside ceased to exist.

There were no taxes. There was no Inquisition. There was no army of skeletons trying to learn how to deal cards without rattling. There was only the Elemental Sandwich.

Reed floated in a state of sensory overload. He watched his Health Bar tick back up to 100% in his mind's eye, the red bar filling with a satisfying ding. The Void Hunger that usually gnawed at the back of his mind, the constant, low-level static of the eldritch horror bonded to his soul, went quiet. It was soothed by the contact with his monsters. They were feeding on the excess energy, balancing the equation.

[HP RESTORED.]

[Status Effects Cleared: Bruised Ribs, Dislocated Shoulder, Void Fatigue.]

[Staff Status: LUMA (Satiated).]

[Staff Status: TERRA (Calm).]

Slowly, reluctantly, the sandwich began to disassemble.

Luma pulled back first. She slid off him with a wet shhh-luck sound, reforming into her humanoid shape on the edge of the obsidian table.

She looked different now. Denser. Her translucent blue color was deeper, richer, like the ocean at midnight. She glowed with a healthy internal light, and her form held its shape without the usual wobbling. She looked solid.

"I'm stuffed!" Luma burped.

A small bubble of violet smoke escaped her lips and floated up to the ceiling, popping with a cheerful chime sound. She giggled, looking embarrassed, and patted her stomach.

"Thanks for the meal, Reed! You have very tasty anxiety! It was zesty!"

Terra stepped back, wiping her massive hands on her fire-proof towel. The stone of her skin had cooled slightly. It was no longer glowing cherry-red but settled into a comfortable, warm grey, like cooling lava rock.

"TINY BOSS IS FIXED," Terra announced proudly, crossing her arms. "NO LONGER SQUISHY. NOW FIRM. LIKE GOOD ROCK."

Reed sat up. He slid his legs off the table and stretched, twisting his torso. His spine cracked in three places, a satisfying release of pressure that made him groan with relief. He rolled his shoulder. The pop was gone. The pain was gone.

He felt incredible. He felt dangerous.

"You two," Reed said, hopping off the table and smoothing down his ruined silk shirt, "are miracle workers. If we sell this package to the Whales, we can charge them a thousand gold a session."

"I will charge them hugs!" Luma declared, bouncing in place.

"I WILL CHARGE THEM ROCKS," Terra added helpfully.

"We'll stick to gold," Reed corrected, buttoning his collar. "But the sentiment is appreciated. Terra, keep the stones hot. Luma, try not to eat the guests, even if they smell like expensive cologne."

He walked over to the edge of the infinity pool, checking his reflection in the dark water. The dark circles under his eyes were gone. His amethyst eyes were burning with renewed power, the violet light sharp and focused. The Shadow Rot in his staff was stabilized. The machine was oiled and ready to run.

"Okay," Reed said, turning back to the room. The steam curled around his legs. "Staff is prepped. Casino is built. Arena is lethal. Spa is... wet. We are ready for war!"

WEE-WOO. WEE-WOO.

A magically amplified screeching noise echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the water and shattering the zen atmosphere. It sounded like a siren made of screeching eagles.

"SHINY ALERT! SHINY ALERT!"

Something plummeted down the central elevator shaft. It wasn't the elevator.

Riva dived into the room, spiraling out of control. She tried to bank left, missed the landing platform, and crashed into the central pool with a massive, catastrophic splash that soaked Reed from the waist down.

The Harpy surfaced a second later, spitting out bioluminescent water. Her feathers were plastered to her head, making her look like a drowned rat, but her eyes were wide with panic.

"BOSS!" Riva screamed, flapping her wet wings and splashing water everywhere. "THE BRIDGE! THE MIST! METAL BOXES!"

Reed's eyes narrowed. The calm of the spa evaporated instantly.

"Slow down, Riva," Reed commanded, stepping to the edge of the pool and offering her a hand. "Who is it?"

"THE WHALES!" Riva screeched, ignoring the hand and clawing her way onto the stone deck, leaving wet footprints everywhere. "Fancy carriages! Big ones! With gold wheels! And horses with feathers on their heads! They are crossing the bridge! They are here!"

Reed froze. He checked his internal clock.

[TIME REMAINING: 00:00:00.]

"They're early," Reed cursed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Rich people are never early. They're fashionably late. Unless they're desperate to lose their money."

He looked at his staff. Luma was glowing and solid. Terra was stoic and warm. Riva was wet and vibrating.

It was time.

"Game time, ladies," Reed announced, his voice dropping into his command register. It echoed through the grotto, cutting through the humidity. "Luma, get the towels ready. Make sure the water is glowing. Terra, heat up the stones. If anyone causes trouble in the Spa, you have permission to sit on them."

"ROGER," Terra saluted, cracking her knuckles. The sound was like a gunshot.

"Riva, get dry," Reed ordered. "Then get to the lobby and look decorative. Do not steal anything from the guests until they are inside the building. I mean it. If you steal a monocle before they sign the waiver, I'm putting you in the cage."

"Riva promises nothing!" the bird chirped, shaking herself off like a wet dog and spraying water all over Reed's shoes.

Reed grabbed his velvet coat from the bench. He threw it over his shoulders, the heavy fabric settling like armor.

"I need to get to the Lobby," Reed muttered, his eyes glowing a fierce violet. "It's time to open the doors."

He turned and sprinted for the elevator, his mind already racing through the opening speeches, the odds calculations, and the thousand things that could go wrong in the next hour.

[QUEST COMPLETE: THE SPA DAY.]

[Reward: Luma & Terra Stabilized. HP Fully Restored.]

[Next Quest: THE GRAND OPENING.]

Floor 3 – The Iron Works

Far below the laughter and the panic, the dungeon was quiet.

Floor 3 lay empty, a vast industrial cathedral of dormant machinery and cooling magma channels. The "Grease Pit" where Reed and Grika had wrestled was still warm, but the goblin was gone, busy upstairs with her slot machines.

The only sound was the low, rhythmic thrum of the conveyor belts on standby and the distant buzz of Grika's workshop.

But in the deepest part of the floor, towards the back wall where the excavation for Floor 4 had stalled, the silence was heavy.

The wall was solid obsidian, reinforced with ancient binding runes that pre-dated Reed's arrival. It was the seal to the "The Garden," the sector of the dungeon that the System had labeled [FATAL HAZARD].

A slight vibration ran through the floor. It wasn't the machinery.

Thump.

It sounded like a heartbeat. A slow, heavy pulse coming from the other side of the rock.

A tiny crack formed in the obsidian. It was hairline, barely visible in the gloom.

Thump.

The crack widened. A wisp of violet mist, darker and colder than anything Reed could summon, seeped out. It curled into the air, tasting the heat and the iron of the factory floor.

The vibration grew stronger, a low rumble that shook the dust from the ceiling. The rock groaned, the stress fractures spreading like a spiderweb across the surface of the seal.

Something down there had woken up. And it was hungry.

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