Chapter 32

  Corwin’s grip tightened on his sword.

  “Ethan?” he echoed warily. “What kind of construct has a name?”

  The figure—Ethan, apparently—didn’t move. Didn’t approach. Just stood there with that unnervingly calm posture, one hand still resting against the wall like it had all the time in the world.

  “I know you’re confused,” it said. The voice was strange. Almost… layered. Not just mechanical, but not fully human either. Like it was remembering how to speak while it did it. “But I promise, I’m not here to fight.”

  “Right,” Lena muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing. “Because talking metal men are totally normal down here.”

  Corwin didn’t look away. “Explain. Fast.”

  There was a pause. Then, softly, the figure said, “I’m not like the others. I built this place. Designed it. Every trap, every construct, every illusion—you’ve seen my work. You survived it.”

  “You’re saying… you run the dungeon,” Lena said. Flat. Disbelieving.

  “No,” Ethan replied. “I am the dungeon.”

  Corwin felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

  That wasn’t just impossible—it was wrong. Dungeons didn’t talk. Cores didn’t move. You didn’t meet the system. You survived it, or you didn’t. That was how this worked.

  Except now?

  Now it was looking at them.

  “Bullshit,” Lena said, stepping forward a half-step. “Dungeon cores don’t talk. They don’t make bodies. And they sure as hell don’t name themselves.”

  “I didn’t. Not at first,” Ethan said, voice quiet. “But I remember who I used to be.”

  Corwin’s eyes flicked across the figure—scanning for mana signatures, movement cues, a flicker of hostility. He saw none. But that didn’t make him feel better. It made it worse.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Not a fight,” Ethan said. “Not a trap. I want to talk. You’ve made it deeper than almost anyone else. You’ve seen the signs—don’t pretend you haven’t. The patterns. The tools. The gear. This dungeon is different. I’m different.”

  Lena’s jaw clenched. “You expect us to just believe you?”

  “No,” Ethan said. “But I think you’re smart enough not to run.”

  Another silence. Tense. Heavy.

  Corwin exhaled slowly. His instincts were screaming, but something in the figure’s voice rang… not true, exactly. But intentional. Measured. Like it knew exactly how dangerous this conversation was, and it was still trying.

  He didn’t lower his sword, but he didn’t raise it either.

  “Then talk,” he said. “Start from the beginning.”

  Lena's eyes never left Ethan’s strange, still figure. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “We’re not comfortable talking without the rest of our party.”

  Corwin caught the shift in her tone immediately. It wasn’t just a request—it was a lever, a way out. A subtle warning wrapped in an excuse.

  Ethan inclined his head slightly. “Understandable.”

  Lena blinked. “What?”

  “I can bring them here.”

  Before she could protest, the air behind Ethan shimmered. Not with the slow, arcane weight of a mage’s spell—but cleanly, surgically. A tear in space twisted open into a glowing ring of pale blue light, forming a portal so smooth it almost hummed with stability.

  Corwin’s grip tightened on his sword again. “That’s not normal.”

  “No,” Ethan said. “But neither am I.”

  The portal flickered once—and Derric stepped through. His daggers were sheathed, but his body moved like he expected to draw them any second. Renna followed, her staff crackling faintly with stored mana, eyes sharp as they scanned the unfamiliar room.

  “What the hell is going on?” Derric asked, frowning. “One second we’re in the staging chamber and—”

  “It’s fine,” Corwin cut in quickly, voice low. “He brought you here. Said he wanted to talk.”

  “Who’s he?” Renna asked, her eyes landing on Ethan. “The shiny statue?”

  “I’m not a statue,” Ethan replied. “And I’m not your enemy.”

  Renna arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

  “I didn’t bring Osric,” Ethan added a beat later. “He’s still recovering. I wouldn’t risk him.”

  Renna’s frown deepened. “How do you know about that?”

  “I watch,” Ethan said simply. “I know what happens in my domain.”

  Corwin’s stance didn’t relax, and Lena didn’t look reassured either. Slowly, they began edging back toward the portal.

  “You’ve said a lot of weird things,” Corwin said, voice even. “And you haven’t attacked us. Yet. But this—whatever this is—we didn’t agree to anything. We didn’t come here to parley with the dungeon itself.”

  Ethan didn’t move to stop them. “You’re free to leave. I’m not a prison.”

  They hesitated—just a second—but Corwin nodded toward the portal and took a single step back.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “You said you’re different,” Lena said, gaze still locked on him. “So prove it. Let us go.”

  “I will,” Ethan replied. “But before you step through—consider this.”

  They paused.

  “I know your class structures,” Ethan said. “I’ve seen the mana signatures. The builds. The techniques you rely on. They’re solid, but limited. If you continue on your current path, you’ll hit a ceiling. Maybe not today. Maybe not even at Mortal Tier Ten. But when it comes time to evolve your class—at Saint-tier—you’ll regret the stagnation.”

  Derric frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t rewrite your class,” Ethan continued. “But I can push it forward. Reinforce the foundations. Reshape the options you’ll have when the time comes to ascend.”

  “You can mess with our future evolutions?” Renna asked. Not scoffing—genuinely curious, now. “That’s not just rare, that’s impossible.”

  “Not for me,” Ethan said. “I’ve already begun. With the constructs. With the energy flows in this place. You’ve seen it. You know it’s different.”

  The group stood in silence for a beat. Suspicion warred with interest across their faces. But Corwin took another step back toward the portal.

  “We’ll think about it,” he said. “But we’re not deciding anything here.”

  Ethan simply nodded. “Then go. My offer stands. You can walk away.”

  The portal rippled quietly behind them, waiting.

  But none of them moved.

  Corwin shifted his stance again, eyes flicking to the portal, then back to Ethan. “You’re seriously just going to let us leave? No strings? No mark? No invisible contract magic or something?”

  “I said I wanted to talk,” Ethan said. “Not trap you. I’ve had enough of being seen as a monster.”

  Renna’s expression softened—barely. “And the class thing. If it’s real…”

  “It is real,” Ethan said. “And it’s not just power. It’s freedom. When the time comes, you won’t be forced into the system’s rigid archetypes. You’ll have a choice. Your evolution options will be broader, deeper—tailored to who you are, not what the system assumes you should become.”

  Lena’s mouth tightened. “That sounds too good to be true.”

  “Maybe,” Ethan said quietly. “But if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

  Derric crossed his arms, glancing at the others. “So what—you help us, and then what? We owe you? We have to work for you?”

  Renna narrowed her eyes. “That kind of change doesn’t come without a cost.”

  Ethan nodded. “You’re right. I want something in return.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “I need information,” Ethan continued. “On the outside world. On factions, movements, Guild politics. The Church. I don’t have eyes beyond these walls, and I can’t trust what few records I’ve scavenged. You’ve seen how strange this dungeon is—I’m not following the script the world expects. That puts me at risk.”

  Corwin frowned. “You want spies?”

  “I want context,” Ethan said. “People I can trust to give me accurate information. Not lies, not manipulation—just truth. I’ll pay for it. With power.”

  Derric raised a brow. “You really think you can help us change our classes?”

  “I can’t rewrite them,” Ethan said. “But I can empower them—thread in options the system wouldn’t normally offer. And when the time comes for your evolution? You’ll have more than just the standard three. You’ll have a choice.”

  Corwin looked at his team. At Lena’s silent frown. At Renna, now watching Ethan like she was trying to memorize his every movement. At Derric, thoughtful in a dangerous way.

  “…That’s a high-stakes offer,” Corwin said slowly.

  “So don’t answer yet,” Ethan replied. “Take time. Think it through. But understand—I’m not the only force out there rewriting the rules. You’re already caught in it whether you want to be or not.”

  The group fell quiet.

  This time, no one asked to leave.

  Because for the first time, none of them were quite sure they wanted to.

  Corwin glanced at the others again, eyes lingering a moment on each face. They didn’t speak—didn’t need to. The unspoken agreement passed between them with a kind of practiced ease only earned through years of fighting side by side.

  He turned back to Ethan, blade finally lowering.

  “Deal,” he said. “But we want a proper contract. Something system-bound. We’re not taking chances with vague promises.”

  Ethan didn’t react immediately. Then his head tilted slightly, the light from the room reflecting off the smooth metal of his features.

  “I expected that,” he said simply. “I’ve already been working on a binding framework. Dungeon-based contracts aren’t typical, but… I’m not a typical dungeon.”

  He extended a hand, and a thin panel of glowing glyphs hovered above his palm—arcane script interwoven with raw system code. Lena stepped forward, cautious, but clearly trying to read it.

  Renna beat her to it, squinting at the structure with open curiosity. “This is… you’re using dungeon authority to mimic a system contract? That’s—” Her brow furrowed deeper. “Wait. This is actually stable. How?”

  Ethan didn’t smile, but his voice carried just the edge of amusement. “Trial and error. You’d be amazed what you can build with enough time and paranoia.”

  Corwin approached slowly, reading over the glowing lines. It wasn’t long, but it was detailed. Mutual exchange. Ethan provided class-enhancement tokens—technically fragments of system-bound blueprint permissions—tied directly to each of their class trees. In exchange, they would provide him with regular information updates, Guild rumors, Church movements, and long-term political trends.

  Non-betrayal clauses. No forced loyalty. Just truth. And secrecy.

  “Nothing here forces us to fight for you,” Corwin said slowly. “Or die for you.”

  “No,” Ethan confirmed. “That’s not what I want. I need perspective, not pawns.”

  Derric gave a low whistle. “Almost seems fair.”

  “Almost,” Lena muttered.

  But she didn’t argue further.

  Renna tapped the contract’s arcane glyph, and it shifted—splitting into separate threads, each marked with their names.

  “The tokens?” she asked.

  Ethan held out his other hand. Four shimmering coins materialized—flat, gear-shaped discs that glowed with faint blue circuitry across their surface. Each pulsed softly with mana tied to their unique class paths. Personalized.

  He stepped forward slowly and placed one in each of their hands.

  The moment they touched the discs, the contract thread flared, and the system pinged softly in each of their minds.

  [Contract Proposal Detected: System-Paralleled Binding. Accept?]

  Corwin stared at the floating prompt, jaw tight. He hated this—deals made in dungeons, contracts that couldn’t be explained by the Guild—but everything about this situation had already thrown the rulebook out the window. If this thing really was what it said it was… if it could really do what it claimed…

  He accepted.

  Lena followed, lips pressed thin. Then Renna, with one last scrutinizing glance at the contract glyphs. Derric accepted without hesitation.

  The glyphs flared one final time before dissolving into silver threads that stitched themselves into the air and vanished.

  “Done,” Corwin said. “We hold up our end, you hold up yours.”

  Ethan nodded. “You’ll receive access to enhanced progression paths—nothing instant, nothing unearned. But when the time comes for your class to evolve… the choices will be different. More powerful. Tailored.”

  He paused, then added, “You’ll still have to earn it. I can’t rewrite the system. But I can… influence it. Guide it. And I will.”

  Renna turned the token over in her fingers, watching the way the glowing lines shifted like veins under glass. “This is… honestly terrifying. But impressive.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ethan said dryly.

  Lena crossed her arms. “So now what? You’ve got your deal. We’ve got our promise. Is that it?”

  “For now,” Ethan said. “I won’t keep you. But if you come back… I’ll have more to offer. Information. Gear. Maybe more.”

  Derric gave a short nod. “We’ll think about it.”

  Corwin sheathed his sword. “Then we’re leaving. Osric’s waiting.”

  Ethan stepped aside, letting them pass unchallenged as the portal opened behind him once again—calm, smooth, and unthreatening.

  And one by one, the adventurers stepped through.

  The deal was struck.

  And the game had changed.