The red haired Dungeonborn sat in a chair with a single index finger inside the cluster of red strings. Last time, she had been transparent and seemed to have been stretched out. Her body was a little more solid now, as if she had more of a presence, but I could still see the void through her. Now she was very thin and tall, as if stretched out in a different way.

  Her eyes were closed, and I could have believed she was sleeping if it weren’t for the persistent frown on her face and the fact that she kept twitching. Then again, her outfit did seem to point that way. She wasn’t wearing the armor I had seen her in last, but had changed into a black gown that wasn’t at all appropriate for war.

  I glanced down to see that I was in my normal clothes. That still confused me about this out of body experience, but CC clearly had some measure of elevated control here given that she was able to conjure not only a new outfit, but a chair for her mental avatar to sit in. I reached for my crystalline sword but, just like last time, my hand went through it.

  The Dungeonborn’s body flickered, disappearing for a few seconds at a time before solidifying again. I pursed my lips at the sight. The last time I had done this, her connection had been symbolized by a gray string amongst the red, and I did my best to make it out.

  I looked at her finger since it had been a part of her last time. She flickered again, and I caught a glimpse of it hidden within the red strings she had collected like a shield. If I could actually touch my sword, I could have tried cutting it, or her, to buy me some time.

  Maybe I just wasn’t trying hard enough. This was a mental space, so it could be that I just needed the right mentality.

  Reaching for the hilt, I ignored the pins and needles plaguing my body and focused on the weapon. I imagined how it felt in my hand. The weight. How my fingers wrapped around the crystal hilt. All the subtle ways it was different from my Hilt of Holding and yet was still perfect thanks to Himia’s sculpting.

  My fingers brushed against the crystalline sword for a brief moment, and I opened my eyes again. It was progress, but I didn’t feel comfortable trying again while CC was right there. I filed away what I had done and would practice it later when it was safe.

  Not that I was sure how safe things were right now. There was no change in her behavior. The Dungeonborn sat there, eyes closed and twitching. Was she awake and giving a small amount of attention to the Nexus? That could be why her only one finger was inside the connection points. But was she actually asleep? Did she need to sleep?

  Those would have to be questions for later. Deciding it didn’t matter, I figured the best way to play this was as safe as possible. Hopefully, the path I chose had the least amount of risk.

  Flexing my fingers with my hands fully immersed in the connection points, I waited for her to flicker out of whatever realm this was and started pulling. I was selective, though. All of the greasy strings except the ones that were situated in her finger jerked towards me, and I stopped after only a few seconds.

  CC returned to this realm, none the wiser, and I waited patiently. The connection points started slowly returning back to their normal positions. With a grimace, I exerted my will on them, locking them down. The Dungeonborn twitched, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I did or if it was a normal part of whatever she was doing.

  Once she was gone again, I repeated the process. The strings jerked back, some more enthusiastically than others, while a few were more reluctant. I tried my best to lock them into place after a few more seconds passed, and I managed to do so before CC reappeared.

  But the lock didn’t hold up very well. Some of the more reluctant connections returned to their original locations, albeit slower than normal. I scowled at them, though I already had my suspicions about what was wrong.

  This method was too meek. It was the attitude of someone sneaking around like prey, not the deadly grasp of a predator. I remembered how forceful I had to be when I interacted with the Logan Dome’s Dungeon Nexus. Tyranny personified. There was no way I was going to get there by acting like this.

  Everything would have been so much easier if I could just reach out and grab them, just grab a fistful and call it a day, but my hands would pass right through the strings. Instead, it required this mental process of taking ownership. Of claiming through power.

  My scowl turned into a frown as a thought occurred to me. It might be possible to do with the same method I almost grasped my sword. That was worth trying, at least. I lamented the fact that I hadn’t experimented more when CC wasn’t at risk of finding out, but I knew I had gotten as much out of that experience as I could have for a first time.

  Turning my full attention on the connection points, I immersed myself in what I imagined they would feel like. I used their appearance of red strings as a starting point and ignored the fact that I had no idea what the magic would feel like in my hands. I was banking on my mind being strong enough to do it.

  A hundred red strings. Thin. Soft. Not fragile, but still easily cut by something sharp. As the only person in the world who could both see and destroy them, that last part was especially true. Thus, the decision of what happened to them was my right.

  The Dungeon Master and Himia could see them, sure, and CC could steal them, but only I could make it so that the magic no longer existed without a ritual. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I was under the impression that I didn’t need a sword. I could do it with my hands alone.

  Only I, Badger, Liam Rhodes, could decide the life and death of all of these dungeons and execute them with a thought. Their continued existence relied on my whims.

  If that wasn’t tyranny, then I didn’t know what was.

  I reached out and grasped a handful of strings, pulling them together in my hands. Most struggled and fought against me, but my grip held. Only for a second, however, and they each started returning to their original positions. The moment they did, I spread out my hand to get the most surface area and locked them into place.

  My eyes snapped up to see if CC had noticed my intent, but she hadn’t moved. Just like with the crystalline sword on my belt, I could grab the connection points. This was a big change, especially since I wasn’t sure if the Dungeonborn could do it. Our last meeting ended before she had a chance to do anything about my presence other than express confusion.

  That information would have been handy. A big part of me didn’t like having to learn all this from scratch with so much on the line, though a smaller part enjoyed piecing it all together. I did my best to amplify the latter.

  Taking a moment to compose myself for another try, I waited for the next flicker. Not to hide, but to give myself the best chance to gather as much as I could before the alarm bells could go off. I didn’t have to wait for long.

  The moment CC disappeared, I brought my will to bear. Every string other than the gray one jerked my way. The ones that she had been touching moved quicker than the others, causing me to theorize that those were the easiest ones to manipulate. That made sense. If her mind was elsewhere, then keeping the ones that wanted to be under heel wouldn’t take much effort.

  I did as much as I possibly could in the time I had available. The connection points reacted to my thoughts, coming towards me much faster than they had before. That didn’t mean they were in a hurry, just that they were more receptive to my will. It reinforced the thought that they all needed to come at once and I was right not to try and collect them piecemeal.

  Then again, that was the exact advice Himia had given me, so it would behoove me to follow it.

  CC returned, and a frown appeared on her face. Her finger twitched, moving as if searching for the connection points that had once been inside it. I watched, but didn’t stop, as she turned slightly to the left first. She held that position for a couple of seconds before turning back and opening her eyes.

  They immediately narrowed at me. “You little shit, you punched me!” she accused, pointing at me.

  “Bitch, I don’t even know who you are,” I shot back dryly, throwing her words right back in her face.

  “Yeah, as if that could ever be true,” CC replied, tossing her hair over one shoulder. She leaned back in her chair, seemingly posing in a way that best showed herself off. Her eyes started looking around the space we were in. “Please. It’s practically impossible to forget me.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Right,” I said, turning my attention back to the connection points.

  The red strings were only halfway to me, and I thrust my hand further in an attempt to grab them. They moved away at the same pace that I approached, causing me to grimace. I could put my hand in and they’d be fine, but the moment I needed them to approach faster they moved away?

  The worst part was that I could tell CC wasn’t even participating yet. There was no battle of wills, no force taking them away from me. Despite how crazy she was supposed to be, both from what I heard and had personally seen, she didn’t immediately fly off into a tangent. The Dungeonborn was taking the time to figure out what was going on.

  I tried to take offense to her attitude. Things weren’t moving fast enough, so she could sit on her laurels and figure things out slowly? That she could use me as a set of training wheels?

  But the anger wasn’t there. It was a logical move when I expected an emotional one, and it was one that I could respect. Begrudging, of course, but still.

  “Winleshire,” she said, bringing her gaze back to me. “You’re the reason why I can’t feel my precious spiders anymore. I mean, I had reports that you were going that way, but I didn’t expect you to succeed against my little leggy dudes.”

  My first instinct was anger when she brought up her little pets, and I realized I could use it. If I couldn’t get riled up with her more cautious attitude, then I could at least fall back on an old classic.

  “The Dreamsnatcher Spiders were obviously a very effective monster, but you had way too little support structure in order to really make them pop as dungeon owners,” I complained, venting my frustration to the person who was really in charge. “I mean, honestly. Sure, they could trap people in dreams and send those tumbleweeds to collect them, but those things had close to zero actual offensive talent.”

  CC blinked in surprise at my sudden shift in tone. “Wow, way to be such a Karen. You’ve got to lighten up, little guy.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said with a scowl. The strings were getting closer to me as I let the frustration over not understanding what her words meant enter my soul directly. Plus, at being called a little guy. Either way, I continued. “All I’m saying is, throw some minions in there. I never would have been able to kill them so easily if I had some other things to contend with!”

  “Hey, I just let them do their thing,” she replied, holding her hands up as if to placate me. “What they do is their own business.”

  “You literally just called them your precious spiders!” I argued, slamming my free hand on the cooking pot. It rattled, and she looked down at it before I snapped my fingers to get her attention back. I moved the hand collecting strings out of the way so I could meet her eyes. “If they’re that precious to you, then you need to intervene in some way. I’m not going to sit here and give you pointers, but you really need to get your act together if you’re going to be in charge of a dungeon. You are, quite literally, dungeon management on this continent.”

  Her surprise turned into anger, and she crossed her arms defensively. “You think you’re some kind of expert or something? Huh?”

  “Yeah, I am!”

  “What, some kind of dungeon police or something?” CC shot back. “Killing poor spiders cause they apparently don’t know any better and are poor planners? Pushing your ideals out on people wherever you go?”

  “Yes, you idiot, I’m a fucking dungeon inspector!” I yelled, exasperated.

  “That sounds made up,” she snorted. “Like a Canadian girlfriend, or Bigfoot.”

  “Okay,” I said, holding up a hand. “First off, they’re called Sasquatches, got it? We haven’t used the term Bigfoot in over three hundred years.”

  “Bullshit!” CC argued, jabbing downwards at the cooking pot with her finger. “If there were any Bigfoot around, I’d have found one already!”

  The connection points, which I had been slowly working on drawing together, stopped when she touched the pot. Each one quivered, as if trying to decide where to go. Some stayed with me, others I started losing.

  “Why, so you could mismanage their dungeons, too?” I spat.

  CC’s eyes widened. “Excuse you?” she asked, and I felt her connection to the connection points slip slightly. “I’ll have you know that I barely meddle with the dungeons under my control. A minimum of once a month, and that’s all!”

  “A fucking minimum?” I repeated incredulously. “With all the time you’ve been in charge of this entire continent, you’ve messed with them all at least once a month and they’re still garbage?”

  “Do you know what kind of planning goes into taking care of hundreds of dungeons!? Do you!?” the Dungeonborn shouted, standing up. Her chair disappeared as she leaned over the cooking pot. That act didn’t seem to gain any extra pull.

  “Of course I do!” I yelled back. “I’m a Dungeon Inspector! I inspect dungeons to make sure they’re up to code!”

  “There’s no planning in that!”

  “Like you’d ever know,” I scoffed. “From the looks of it, you’ve been nothing but a bully and a disappointment your whole life! What a regretful daughter.”

  Even though I was angry, I still attempted to wrestle control back. It seemed as though rage worked for me, but not so much for her. Maybe that was why she was so calm before. Or, it was just new and she was enjoying the stimulus of something unexpected happening.

  That thought sunk to the bottom of my stomach, leaving a pit in it. What if she really wasn’t trying? What if this was just so novel that she wanted to see where it went before it got far enough for her to worry?

  While I was distracted, she struck. Her fingers changed, becoming blue-scaled claws. “I am not anyone’s biggest regret, you little cockmongrel!” CC screeched.

  She reached over and slashed at my face. My arm went up to block her attack before it could land, but she passed right through it. I barely had time to react as the Dungeonborn’s claws reached me. Three of them tore through my skin as I instinctively backed away.

  There was no blood, but the pain was very real. I wasn’t sure how she had gone through my arm to attack me, nor did I really find myself caring. My mind raced, thoughts threatening to break away in several directions at the same time. I tried to keep a hold on the strings, figure out how she had done that, and compartmentalize the pain all at once.

  With what could only be described as a growl, I slammed my hand down on the edge of the cooking pot as I got my mental house in order.

  Just the other day I let myself get swallowed by a Dragon because it was the fastest way to end the encounter. Now I’m getting rattled by some dungeon stalking cult leader in a gown that I’d already foiled twice?

  No, I don’t think I was. This was nothing to panic over.

  I reached out and attempted to strike the Dungeonborn just as I had last time. Just like activating a martial art, I let the power inside me flow, harnessing it in the direction I wanted it to go. Into my fist, gathered into a tight bundle of intent, and then released directly into her—

  CC smacked my fist back down onto the cooking pot with her still Human hand. The energy didn’t discharge, and I did my best to hold onto it as best I could. She raised her claws over her head. Her attack was incredibly telegraphed, but that wouldn’t matter if she could go through my defenses like that. So I grabbed the only thing I could.

  It took a lot more effort than I anticipated, but I raised the cooking pot up to use as a shield. The connection points spun with it, going in every which direction as I moved the object that they were, apparently, attached to. I didn’t have time to process that, so I didn’t.

  Sparks flew as CC’s claws went through the side of the metal pot, but her attack was successfully deflected. Not only that, but the maneuver had sent her off-balance. She tilted in the endless void, her transformed hand below me. I saw the opportunity, and I took it as decisively as I could. It was far more instinctual than I would have liked, not that I could have changed that.

  The energy inside of me mingled together, both my own and that of divine origin, and flowed through my avatar in a way that felt distinctly different than before. What had once been a river of power that aimed to get rid of every possible drop was now more like the maximum output from a Crystal of Water Creation. I could direct the flow, but I didn’t have much hope of stemming the tide.

  Pushing all of that energy into the cooking pot, I slammed it on top of CC’s head. It dented from the force as she collapsed not to the ground, since we were still in a featureless void, but a few feet below me. I reached out and grabbed the tangle of red strings. There was a turbulence to them that I didn’t understand, though they reacted well enough to me when I put them back in order.

  Without the Dungeonborn contesting me, I was able to exert more of my influence than I had before. My mental state might have helped some, though that was barely an idle thought. I solidified my control over the Nexus, fully making it mine as I put the cooking pot back down on whatever invisible pedestal it had been sitting on.

  CC flipped in the air and looked up at me, fury in her eyes as her hand started to change. The transformation started at her claws and worked its way up her wrist.

  I didn’t give her the time she needed to finish whatever she was doing. “Once again,” I said, my voice reverberating through the void. “You are not welcome in my dungeons!”

  This time, I was prepared when I dropped back into reality. I tensed as I slammed against Moose’s side. There wasn’t enough force to move the massive healer, but my back would have disagreed if it could. I protected my head before I could fall face-first to the ground.

  A wave of dizziness overcame me as I dropped. Whatever mixture of mortal and divine I had concocted in that short fight took far more out of me than the first time, and I felt my vision go dark. Not before I took note of the cooking pot, though, and the new battered state that it found itself in.

  Huh, I thought to myself. That’s a wei—

  The world went dark as I hit the tile floor.