Patrick.

  "You didn't have to go that far, Arthur…" Elinore mumbled as she eyed the dripping and bloodied fist of the taller boy, of which, scraps of torn skin could be seen in its joints. "They were only words… It's not like he tried to harm any of us…"

  Smirking with condescension, the blue-eyed boy only cracked his neck with an evil twist of his lips as though in finality to a job well done.

  "I love you, Ellie," He began, though his tone was anything but warm, "love you like a full-blooded sister, and as such, I let you get away with these little comments of yours, but you must remember that you are not of noble birth my dear.

  Half of my father is not enough to give you the right of the noblesse. Do not presume to understand nor question how lord Delmonte and I must challenge such besmirchment of our honor by a mere commoner, even if he has been a companion to us as children.

  This will serve as an important reminder to young Connor that while his presence may be tolerated amongst us due to his family's—assets, it is not an infallible position of power nor one where his actions are free from reprisal."

  The young woman merely looked sick at the state of the balled-up boy below her and shirked away when Whiskers attempted to pce a comforting hand on her shoulder. Instead, turning to Patrick with a distant gaze that hid her thoughts behind a clouded mask. "How much longer before we reach the st boss room?" She asked without inflection.

  Patrick only offered her a disinterested shrug and made to lean back against the wall behind him. "Honestly, It's probably already gearing to pop out around the next corner…" He began, pulling a small pipe from his coat and igniting it with a spark from his finger.

  "We are approaching the sixth hour down 'ere, and I've never known a first-timer group nudging the average to be pushed much further through these tunnels. Given we've cleared out the majority of the pce save the big bads, You'll all probably do quite well once you begin crushing those orbs.

  Might even earn yourself a few good skills for your tenacity. Though, were I a betting man, the boy yer lordship decided to—impart a lesson upon would be lucky to get a single level at all without you lot.

  I won't be sharing how I personally think ye all stack up with each other, but it doesn't take an expert to figure out just how clumsy that one is," He stated, affecting his comment with a zy downward finger, "and unless you pn on splitting those experience orbs of yours equally, he might never manage the courage to actually attempt coming here again.

  Traumatic injuries can be quite—devastating to the psyche…" Patrick finished, his words trailing as he pulled from the stem of his pipe, a raised eyebrow aiding his opinion as he noted how the youth seemed to hang onto consciousness with a but a hope amidst a prayer.

  "Won't come back?" Questioned Arthur, interest piqued and armor clinking as he crossed his arms. "I thought everyone got at least iron while down, no matter how bad they were; experience isn't always tied to orbs… not that I care if this one gets anything, mind you, but…"

  "Ah, but levels are levels and do be more about the experience of killing things than otherwise. Skills might be a tad different in that regard, requiring an adequate dispy of competency, but, as I'm sure you know, your compatriot likely won't be considered for such a thing given his poor showing…

  Beyond that, ranks are easy enough to understand, they are a man-made invention. Iron typically means you're in the same league as starless monsters, but you've unlocked your potential. Bronze means that you've proven yourself better than the average lowlife on the street, but neither is outright intrinsically linked to one level or css.

  It's a means to measure competency rather than raw potential, which is why they're regarded so highly in the first pce. Any moron can manage a fast powerup, but afterward, they're usually fucked unless they really know what they're doing.

  I only mention it because unless you give that d some of those orbs, he won't be gaining any pity experience from the system. Not, with how lousy he was in here...

  And, when he works up the courage, if he ever does, to report on his first delving experience, well... the guild might ask him to go in again, this time with a proper proctor to establish if he's even worth the lowest rank..."

  "You know we'll be in trouble for this, right Arthur?" Whiskers chimed in while scratching at the stubble of his chin. The boy, having doubtless managed to regain his head after the fog of anger had cleared, and was now looking at the situation they were in with an objective eye.

  "It's not like our parents didn't tell us to look out for him. And, even if he is a commoner right now, his family has already received acceptance from the emperor to enter the peerage once they've donated enough of their wealth to the crown. The whole point of Connor training with us all these months, dead god, of being with us all these years was more of a political ploy on our father's parts than a charity…"

  "They're nothing but impure upstarts!" Arthur roared, rounding on the other boy's logic with a ferocious anger that defied any observably valid reason for the outburst.

  "Our fathers only let Philip Doccit's brat of a son near us to pcate the man's incessant badgering to be allowed to mingle with his betters! Do you actually think King Justinian would allow the common rabble to taint our bloodlines and create—abominations?"

  The words were out of the handsome youth's mouth before he could realize his mistake. Nevertheless, he turned to his half-sister with momentarily wide eyes just as a fshing bde caught his attention, Arthur proving himself quick enough to safely swerve from harm's way with a stumbling backward step.

  Whiskers had drawn his long knife with deadly purpose and positioned himself between the horrified young girl and her elder half-brother with a fming gre that could have melted ice.

  "Say such a thing again while I am near, and we will see just how long your tongue remains where it belongs. Connor is one thing, but I'll not have you bully Ellie just because you've more muscle than brain. Not to mention that I myself am a half commoner, even if my family title says otherwise. And, were I my father's first son, I would not need to put up with your foolish antics any more than Connor's own."

  A short series of things happened in the following moments that brought the thin veils that held everything together crashing down with force enough to shatter the ground.

  While the two juvenile lordlings postured before each other, Delmonte defending the woman he obviously cared for and Arthur, apologetic for his actions by expression but too stubborn to back down before a man he considered his lesser, a sudden wail of desperation and despondent misery broke the rising tension that had bloomed all around them.

  The four individuals still on their feet, the young lordlings fighting amidst themselves and Patrick enjoying a few pleasant puffs of some fine Chaka, if he said so himself, all paused in their actions to listen as distant cries for aid filled their ears.

  "What, by all the god's names, was that?" Whiskers asked aloud, his voice—tentative as it was uncertain, each of them listening to the crying sobs of what sounded like a woman…

  "Is there—someone else here with us?" Arthur followed, his own voice inquisitive as his gaze fell upon Patrick.

  The rogue was honestly quite hesitant to answer, undeniably having heard a woman's voice and swearing that he could still hear her soft sobs, but… that wasn't—normal…

  While true, there had been some rumor running about the old mill regarding the dungeon's supposed acting up as of te and that the guild had reported a moderately higher-than-average disappearance rate in delvers. Which, of course, was why his opportunity had even arisen, to begin with.

  However, not in the nearly seven months since the guild started offering guides, more as a way to make money than fix the problem that was earning themselves a rather nice addition to the coffers, had the rogue actually encountered something beyond the expected.

  His first instinct, of course, was to—leave. Cut this little expedition short and make off with what he could carry. And he could carry. Patrick had a magic bag just for this very situation!

  However, he did just so happen to run in some higher-css circles of his own. Ones that were privy to the greater ongoings of the guild, and not until this very moment had he managed an inkling that things were actually changing…

  He knew this tired bitch of a cavernous dungeon like the wrinkles on the back of his hand… he'd been plundering her damp depths since he was but a boy! And she'd made him a man through the trials of blood and steel, molding him as might an expensive prostitute as they guided their young customer through their very first night with a woman.

  Yet the only thing that arrived to his mind while considering all this was how much gold there stood to be gained for such—rare information…

  This was only the first floor of a dungeon, after all; thus, the risk was inconsequential to himself, strictly based on their own rules. The others? Well, they weren't that important...

  The problem was, if this was as big as he thought it might be, he would need to ensure he was the—only one who survived to tell the tale, but… that didn't mean they couldn't still be useful…

  "This…" He began, returning to his aloof air of confidence. "Is one of those moments you might all look back upon and see as the beginning of your young careers!" He grinned at the others as they stared perplexed as could be, making him preen inwardly with all the satisfaction of an old cat.

  "How do you mean—sir?" Whiskers asked, trying to wrap his head around what was going on.

  "That down there." Patrick enthused. "Be one of two things. Either it's a new wing of the dungeon that's yet to be seen, something that hasn't happened since it was first tamed by the imperium itself. Or there's a ss out there who's been trapped in her own personal nightmare for god only knows how long… Either way, we'll be rich or heroes by the end of it, mark my words."

  All of them, Ellinore specifically, looked utterly horrified by his expnation, the girl going so far as to reach to her lips to hide a gasp while her brother and friend each shared a look with one another, their resolve firming before his very eyes.

  "How would someone even…"

  "Get stuck in a dungeon?" Patrick asked, his pipe glowing red, "It's rare that it happens, but not that uncommon. You hear about this sort of thing every few years or so once you're around them long enough… Chances are, we are in a pre-existing shard the dungeon repoputed itself in, one that got a little janky because it was never closed to begin with.

  It is a sort of fail-safe to ensure people don't try and abuse things they have no right to mess with. Also means we might be in for a little fight if they never managed the boss…"

  "Well, clearly, we're not turning around!" Arthur stated, gripping at the pommel of his bde.

  "Agreed." The other boy nodded. However, his gnce did fall to their still whimpering associate. "Though… what do we do about him?"

  All present peered at their wounded—comrade, who was yet shaking as a blubbering mess. Snot ran down his ruddy cheeks, coalescing with the mixture of blood and saliva that pooled around his swelling cheek.

  Though he wasn't about to mention it aloud, Patrick fancied that he smelled piss about the boy as well. No shame in it! Such things happened to the best of the best, but it did little in that moment for his presumed dignity.

  "Leave him." The rogue shrugged, indifferent to his fate but not letting the ruse slip. "Doubt he'll die here, the ways been cleared after all, though he wont thank you no matter what happens at this point."

  He offered the group a purposeful look, not saying another word before casually gncing away as though something intensely interesting was happening to the wall beside them.

  The youths all like as not gave each other silent looks, entire conversations shared between them in the sudden—heavy silence that was absent the only observer.

  "I… dare say we have rger issues at hand." Arthur tried, nervously clearing his throat as he did so. I vote we let dear Connor have himself a much-needed rest while we do our civic duty."

  The other two stared at their leader with difficult expressions. Though, after a few moments, one, then the other, nodded their agreement. A decision made, Patrick pulled the bdes at his belt and activated his skill, linking an ethereal chain between his fingers and the knives as the others around him were startled, surprised by his actions.

  He offered them a small wink as he tucked his pipe away after ashing it. "These are what they call—extenuating circumstances, I'd venture. Likely the sort that calls for a deft and salted hand in the art of a good old-fashioned scrum."

  "Aye, assuming you're right about this…"

  Patrick nodded at the golden d before raising a finger to his lips as he gestured with his other hand that they should carry on, in silence.

  Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect himself; however, if there was indeed a prisoner, even if there wasn't a new section of the old caverns, the guild would still pay a rge bounty for a reward.

  The organization always liked to know what was going on in its chained golden goose, and, though traumatizing for the victim, the information such an individual might possess was priceless in their eyes.

  Slowly, he crept along to the winding tunnel, the clink of his charges sounding like thunder to his wily ears, but that didn't matter. What they did do was keep their mouths shut while he tried to figure out what exactly he was dealing with.

  The primitive hallway slowly transformed from the pitch darkness it had been absent of their torchlight to a brilliantly lit antechamber filled with more light than the boulevard's evenings.

  An impressive room by the dungeon standards manifesting in the form of rge carved bricks and castle-like walls, the gaping archway leading to what y just beyond making his mouth salivate with greed.

  It was—unlike anything Patrick had ever seen… Its walls rounded and tall, its roof so high as to be little else than an inky expanse too thick to see into.

  At the rear of the massive arena, he could spy the slightest hint of an enormous gate while, at its center, a prize that prickled at his very soul waited in the form of a chest bejeweled in so many gemstones that it alone likely equated to everything he could earn from the youths themselves.

  Patrick felt his eyes bulge at the sheer—strangeness of it all… Yet, avarice or otherwise, his body refused to take another step further as the subtle glint of steel rested just above him and within a concerning slot carved in the archway bricks.

  Every instinct in his mind screamed danger, with even his skill giving him that telling nudge that fuckery was afoot and waiting for them…

  "What's the problem? Why aren't we moving?" Arthur whispered, clearly sensing something himself but… cking the experience to single it out.

  When Patrick still didn't reply, and the d tapped him on his shoulder, he had to fight back an urge to snap at the boy as though he were one of his soldiers back in the army…

  "Quite a boy…" He instead ground out, "Allow an old scout to listen to his gut…"

  "But there's a woman in need of help!"

  "And do ya see a woman?" He hissed, rounding on the buffoon whose expression immediately darkened…

  It had been the wrong move, to be certain, as Patrick could practically see the moment the boy rebelled from his tenuous leadership.

  "You've been nothing short of useless this whole day!" He spat, standing to his full height as he gred at Patrick with open contempt. "We've crushed everything that so much as dared stand in our path! Without so much as a wound between us! We are better than the fools you so often seem to mix us with inside your mind!"

  Then, rolling his shoulders, the boy ughed as though mocking the very idea of his own mortality, "I see an arena from where a simple dungeon has decided to py a simple trick.

  This is the first floor, trivial! Hah! Should we be so afraid of monsters that boys and girls with half our talent best with routine regurity? Incompetent as you are a chartan!" Arthur procimed, looking down his nose at the crouching thief before brushing by him with impetuous disdain.

  Slowly, and against the caution he had urged, the others followed into the sandy coliseum behind their golden leader, Whiskers sparing but a modicum of uncertainty as he eyed Patrick in his passing with Ellinore simply ignoring him, striding forth into the fray with burning determination.

  Patrick—well, he felt stuck…

  On the one hand, if the kids died to something he didn't think he could best on his own, his payout was good as gone… on the other, he'd rarely gone against his better judgment of a situation and not been burned for it…

  It wasn't necessarily a rule of thumb, more a pattern that could have its misses, but rgely, was a fairly reliable gauge of any given situation…

  Magic was funny like that…

  For several moments, he agonized over his options, licking his lips as the seconds passed as though they were hours… In the end, he entered the same as the others… His mind fixated on the single reality that was every dungeon's known weakness.

  The rules that governed it.

  The very worst he'd have to deal with was a higher leveled tier one monster of an unknown persuasion and, of course, whatever deadly traps the old gal had decided to wake up swinging with.

  He'd dealt with worse… and with far less at his disposal… Thankfully, he had three eager meat shields to help him with the trials to come.

  As soon as his feet touched the sand, Patrick heard the telltale rattle of a chained portcullis colpsing into pce. His prior suspicions on the matter, if nothing else, ratified that this was indeed meant to be a death trap.

  It allowed him to set certain expectations for himself, those that would prepare him for what next arrived... nothing good to be certain, but that kind of knowledge was useful in of itself...

  Their group formed into an impromptu diamond as Patrick brought up the rear and Arthur forged ahead.

  Patrick's eyes drifted all about the room, gaze narrowing upon the barest hint of glinting silvery threads that hung about the highest reaches of the dark ceiling…

  It—looked by all appearances like spider silk… And oddly enormous spans of webbing were connecting all the massive pilrs as though they were bridges between them…

  Each one is so fine that it was only his system skills afforded him by his old profession that allowed for any chance at spotting them, to begin with…

  "Might be a giant spider about; be on your guard!" He called, unwilling to keep such pertinent information to himself when he had no idea what was coming.

  "A giant spider?" Arthur ughed, shaking his head at the presumed absurdity, "Yet another tidbit of your limitless wisdom? When there's not even so much as a cobweb?"

  "They're above us…" He replied, his tone uncaring for if he was believed or otherwise. "Doubt you'll see them, but take the warning for what it is; death by a spider is rarely among the more pleasant ways to have one's life end."

  When the golden-haired youth merely scoffed at his warning, approaching the chest at the center of the room, his entire body seemed to abruptly freeze in pce, form halfway in the midst of taking what should have been an unbanced step but—floating in the air as though held by an invisible force.

  "Oh—come on! What in the world… I'm, nrrgh, stuck!" He grunted, seeming to struggle for a half moment as Patrick's eyes widened with understanding. His hands fshed, leaving a momentary blur as his daggers shot out at a faint sparkle that hummed!

  All the while, the boy thrashed and growled, struggling to so much as do more than get himself more stuck than he already was, wrists seemingly glued to the air itself before he was all but immobile. Then he screamed as he was suddenly yanked into the air!

  Patrick's daggers just managed to slice through the chorded web that caused the boys' hollering upward momentum to shift towards a pendulous swing!

  His erratic movement smmed him into yet another invisible barrier, though this time, he nded on something that seemed to bounce him back and forth with an estane flex.

  "Arthur!" Whiskers bellowed, completely caught ft-footed as he just stared at the bizarre situation while his friend hung upside down upon a bed of air!"

  "What is happening?" The boy screamed, frustrated as he was confused, his arms straining against his imperceptible bindings like a butterfly trapped in a web…