Viktor watched as the four adventurers made their way through the maze on the first floor of his dungeon.

  Taking the lead was the one in the tunic, a man in his forties, streaks of gray creeping into his dark hair. He didn’t carry anything but a pair of bulging satchels hanging from his belt, which clinked softly with every step. Viktor wondered what was inside those bags. Probably some metal pieces, but what exactly?

  Close behind, the hooded figure shuffled along. His features could be made out more clearly now, an old man with deep wrinkles. Yet, despite his age, he had no trouble keeping up with the group.

  Then came the man with the braided beard, whom Viktor had assumed to be Bjorn. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his armored form wrapped in a heavy cloak. Beneath the fabric, Viktor caught a glimpse of a sword at his side and the outline of a shield.

  And finally, there was Clint. His eyes were sharp, darting back and forth, constantly searching for any threats lurking in the shadows. The bow was gripped tightly in his left hand, while his right hand hovered near the quiver on his waist, ready to nock an arrow and shoot at a moment’s notice.

  So the rogue’s at the rear, huh? Well, it made sense. Rogues needed to protect the party from unseen dangers, so they were typically either the first or the st in the formation. Bjorn’s pcement was puzzling, though. Why was the frontline fighter not in either the first or second position?

  “Hey Joshua, why do you think Azran followed us here?” Clint yelled from the back.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” replied the man in the front. “He wants to steal the Dungeon Core from us. He expects us to suffer casualties in the dungeon, so he waits outside to ambush us after we get out.”

  Clint chuckled. “If that’s really what he thinks, then he’s a fool. Bjorn’ll chop his bald head off if he tries anything funny. Right, Bjorn?”

  The tall man walking before him snorted. “You talk too much.”

  “Yes, I do. I love talking,” Clint replied. “Besides, what else can I do here but talk?” He spat on the ground. “We’ve been on guard this whole time for nothing. Doesn't look like there are any monsters nearby.”

  “And don’t you find it strange?”

  “What’s strange about it? It happens sometimes. Maybe the monsters on the first floor have been sin by the other adventurers, and their repcements haven’t been summoned yet.”

  “Or it could be the dungeon pying its tricks.”

  The Dungeon Reavers’ unchallenged progress so far was, of course, no accident. Viktor had told Celeste to pull back all of his minions. After all, sending the goblins and spiders to approach this party and die pointlessly would just be a waste of resources. He would not commit his forces until he had gathered enough information about these intruders.

  “Tricks?” Clint asked. “Since when can dungeons py tricks?”

  “This one can,” Bjorn said, his voice almost a growl. “You forgot what I told you back at the inn?”

  The rogue grinned. “Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I’ll not repeat myself. Xahir, educate the fool.”

  “Bjorn is right,” said the hooded old man. “There are many things very unusual about this dungeon. First of all, it grows too fast. The dungeon is estimated to have come into existence less than nine weeks ago, yet it already has Cyclopes. And when Azran and Lahmia invaded six weeks ago, it already had a boss—”

  “Yes, that’s fast,” Clint interrupted. “But some dungeons grow fast, others slow. It’s not like that’s never happened before.”

  “There are many other peculiarities as well,” Xahir said. “Like the way that Crocodilian moved around. Azran fought him at the end of the second floor. The party that discovered the dungeon found him under the staircase leading to the first. Then a different party got sughtered when they ran into him on the third. Dungeons do shuffle their minions from time to time, yes, but this drastic change, this constant shifting of monsters, all within such a short period of time, is not normal.”

  Well, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that this dungeon was indeed an oddity. That couldn’t be helped. It was the inevitable downside of trying to do everything as optimally as possible.

  “There’s more,” Xahir continued. “Like the tunnel network on this floor that allows the goblins and spiders to maneuver around the adventurers, the weird byrinth with narrow corridors, and of course, the fire trap that was used to kill Lahmia. If it were just one of those things, we might dismiss it as an anomaly. But all of them together? It’s just strange. Very, very strange.”

  Clint scratched his head. “Well, if you put it that way...”

  “And stly, it’s this mission itself. Someone’s paid us a hefty sum to steal the Core of a dungeon that’s already gone public. How is that anything but strange?”

  “You’re right. Hey, Bjorn, who is our client anyway?”

  “You don’t need to know,” the warrior said with a grunt. “Just do your job, and take the money. Do not ask questions.”

  After that, they moved on in silence. Clint did try to talk again, but Bjorn quickly made him shut up, and the rogue had no choice but to fall back into line. He muttered something under his breath, sulking in the rear of the party like a kid who had been denied his favorite toy.

  Looks like I won’t learn anything new just by listening to their conversation, Viktor thought. So he asked Celeste, “Is everything ready?”

  [Yes, Master, everyone is in position.]

  “Good. Let the attack commence.”

  With a single command, the silence in the maze shattered. Goblins snarled as they brandished their weapons, while the spiders skittered across the stone floor. Alongside them, a recently summoned pack of gnolls let out a war howl, preparing to charge. All these minions, who had been keeping their distance from the intruders, were now going to attack them from all directions. Viktor didn’t expect them to win, of course. These Dungeon Reavers were not opponents that could be overwhelmed by mere numbers. But such a sudden, rge-scale assault would certainly force the adventurers to show their cards. They would have to reveal to him their abilities, their strengths, and maybe even their weaknesses.

  “Incoming!” yelled Joshua, the man at the front of the group.

  “Finally,” Clint said with a grin, an arrow already nocked in his hand.

  The ambush struck when the party arrived at an intersection, leaving them open to attacks from all sides. But the adventurers were unfazed. Joshua, Xahir, and Clint quickly took up their positions, while Bjorn stood his ground, anchoring himself in the center of the formation.

  Joshua opened his bags and spilled the contents onto the floor. Rusty nails, broken bdes, scrap metal, all types of junk cttered as they hit the ground. Then, he raised his hands, and winds surged from his palms. A fierce gale howled, lifting the metal debris into a whirling storm.

  Well, that’s one way an aeromancer could fight, Viktor thought.

  With a snap of his fingers, the whirlwind dancing around the mage changed direction, and the metal barrage swept through the advancing minions in one corridor. Blood misted the air. The leading goblin exploded, spraying red offal all over his friends, who fared no better against this storm of shrapnel. Another goblin colpsed, several nails buried in its throat. A spider’s abdomen burst like a melon, green ichor gushing over the floor. A gnoll raised its shield to protect its face, a moment too te. Shards of iron sheared off the creature’s jaw, scattering its teeth like broken dice across the spreading pool of blood.

  Xahir stepped forward, meeting the attackers in the adjacent corridor. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he was just bored, and with a twitch of his fingers, four gnolls froze mid-charge, drool dripping from their fangs. Then they turned, weapons rising.

  Yes, definitely a Cabalist of the Lidless Eye.

  The mage’s will had crushed theirs, and the hyena-faced warriors struck. Not at the intruders, but at their own allies. A gnoll’s axe split the chest of one of its kin, opening up the entire ribcage. Another grabbed a goblin by the ankle and smashed its skull against the wall. One gnoll, not yet mind-controlled, hesitated as it was forced to confront its former friends. A fil crashed into its face, skull cratered like shattered porcein. Xahir yawned while all the carnage happened.

  Clint’s bowstring sang. A charging goblin slumped over as the arrow went straight through its forehead. Blood, brain, and shards of its skull erupted like a geyser. But the projectile didn’t stop there. It streaked like a silver fsh, piercing a gnoll’s eye, then curved, slicing through a spider’s leg. It arced wildly, carving a path from throat to groin to chest, painting the walls in sptters of gore. By the time the arrow lost its momentum, the archer had already nocked another.

  “That’s enough,” Viktor commanded. “Pull them back.”

  He unleashed his creatures in order to test the intruders, to push them to reveal their abilities. And he had seen enough. There was no point in continuing this mindless sughter. It would achieve nothing but unnecessarily deplete his resources.

  [Understood, Master.]

  After Celeste’s response, the minions began to retreat. Spiders scurried back into the shadows, while surviving goblins and gnolls grabbed those too wounded to move and dragged them away.

  “Should we chase after them?” Clint asked, kicking a nearby corpse.

  “No,” replied Bjorn, who remained unmoved throughout the battle. “Help Joshua retrieve his ammunition, then we’ll move on.”

  “Ew...”

  The rogue frowned in disgust as he gazed at the gruesome aftermath of the battle. Bloody viscera spttered everywhere. Bodies of goblins, gnolls, and spiders sprawled across the corridors, their entrails spilling into the crimson pools around them. Joshua’s metal debris now y scattered among those broken bodies, mingled with flesh and bone. Collecting them would be a truly nasty chore.

  “Any small, sharp, and hard fragments will do,” the wind mage said. “Splintered bones, shattered skulls, anything that can tear through flesh.”

  “Shut up!” Clint yelled. But he didn’t dare to disobey Bjorn’s order, so with a grimace, he began the repulsive task.

  Xahir smirked, leaning against a section of wall miraculously spared from the bloodstain. He gestured with his hand, ordering his thralls to assist the two adventurers.

  The assault had resulted in significant casualties, but it was far from pointless, as Viktor had acquired some valuable information about the enemy in the process. His assumption about the mages in the party had been proven correct. Joshua, the man in the tunic, was indeed an aeromancer, while Xahir, the hooded old man, was a Cabalist. He had also more or less figured out how Clint’s bow, the Requiry, worked. On the other hand, Bjorn remained a mystery, as the man didn’t fight at all, leaving all the dirty work to his underlings.

  All in all, this was an acceptable trade. This was only the first floor. He would continue to observe, study, and adapt as the Reavers ventured deeper into his dungeon. And eventually, they would fall, just like the ones who came before them.