Behind him, the group hesitated before falling into step. Jessica kept her machete in hand, her movements tense but deliberate. Jack didn’t look back, but he could feel her eyes on him, studying him as much as he’d studied her. She didn’t trust him - not completely - but she was following him anyway. He wondered if that made her brave or desperate. Maybe both.

  He stopped at the dead end, running his fingers along the jagged stone. The texture was rough, unyielding, but he could sense the chamber beyond it, the faint echo of space resonating in his mind. “We’re punching through,” he said, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. “Stay clear.”

  He drew a deep breath, focusing his energy, and threw his fist forward. The impact reverberated through the stone, cracks spiderwebbing outward as chunks of rock fell away. The veins lining the walls pulsed brighter, the dungeon’s displeasure palpable as the barrier crumbled under Jack’s relentless assault.

  As the opening widened, the group edged closer, their unease replaced by a mix of awe and cautious curiosity. Jack didn’t miss the way Jessica’s grip on her machete relaxed slightly, her expression shifting as she watched him work.

  He ignored the faint swell of pride in his chest, shaking the dust from his hands as he stepped aside. Still got it, he thought. “There,” he said, his tone brusque. “That’ll save us some time. Let’s move.”

  Jessica stepped forward, her eyes scanning the newly revealed passage. She glanced at Jack, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw something other than doubt in her expression. Admiration, maybe. He pushed the thought aside. There was no time for that - not here, not now.

  Later, he thought grimly, his mind drifting to the distant memories of the Blue Fairy and Green Goblin, the two beings who’d started him down this path. With the dungeons now invading the world, he needed answers. And when this was over, he’d find them. They owed him that much.

  The group followed, their footsteps hesitant but obedient, the faint scrape of boots against stone the only sound besides the omnipresent hum of the dungeon’s energy. Jack didn’t bother explaining himself. They didn’t need to know why they fell in line so easily, why his presence felt like a steady anchor in the chaos. They’d chalk it up to confidence or experience. But Jack knew better.

  His charisma wasn’t natural - it was a Gift. A literal one, with a capital G. One of the first boons bestowed upon him by the Blue Fairy and the Green Goblin, his so-called benefactors during his unexpected plunge into the Otherworld. The mark of their gifts was etched into his skin, a latticework of tattoos that glowed faintly when he used their power. They were more than ink - they were conduits of the magic they’d poured into him, enhancements that had turned a hapless, unsuspecting young boy into something... more.

  Jack’s fingers brushed absently against one of the tattoos on his forearm, its swirling patterns shifting under his touch like smoke trapped beneath glass. Back then, he hadn’t understood the weight of what they’d given him, or why they’d chosen him. He’d been too innocent, and overwhelmed, to question the cost, too lost in the rush of newfound power and purpose to see the larger picture.

  Looking back, he couldn’t decide if he should thank them or curse them.

  The Green Goblin and the Blue Fairy - two of his earliest “friends,” if you could call them that - had plucked him from the life he’d known and thrown him into the Otherworld without warning or explanation. Mischievous, cryptic, and infuriatingly smug, they’d played their parts well. The Fairy, with her serene smile and eyes that saw far too much. The Goblin, all grinning teeth and mocking laughter, delighting in Jack’s confusion. They’d armed him, shaped him, and set him loose on a world that wasn’t his own.

  And now, with the dungeons invading this world, tearing at the seams of reality itself, he couldn’t help but wonder what they’d known. How much of this had been planned? Had they foreseen the consequences of their meddling? Or were they just as clueless as he’d been, fumbling in the dark for answers?

  Jack’s jaw tightened as the questions churned in his mind, his steps quickening. He was grateful for the Gifts, he supposed. He wouldn’t have survived without them - not in the Otherworld, and certainly not here. But gratitude only went so far. The more he thought about the Goblin’s mocking grin and the Fairy’s enigmatic words, the more he realized just how little he understood their motives.

  What had they wanted from him, really? And why had they chosen him?

  With the dungeons now bleeding into this world, they had some explaining to do.

  The thought simmered, heavy and unyielding, as he reached the end of the corridor. The dead-end loomed before him, its jagged stone edges catching the crimson glow of the dungeon veins. He studied it with narrowed eyes, his fingers flexing at his sides. The energy of the dungeon pulsed faintly through the stone, almost as if it were resisting him, daring him to try.

  Behind him, he could hear the faint shuffling of the group as they lingered a few paces back, whispering among themselves. He ignored them, his focus fixed on the task at hand. Drawing a deep breath, he clenched his fist and felt the faint hum of his tattoos resonate through his body. The power they’d given him surged to the surface, ready to be unleashed.

  The Goblin and the Fairy had their flaws, but they hadn’t left him defenseless. And for now, that was enough.

  But when this was over, he’d find them. He’d make them explain why they’d plucked him from his life, why they’d set him on this path, and why the chaos of the Otherworld was spilling into this one. Because illusory friends or not, the Green Goblin and the Blue Fairy weren’t just figments of his childhood imagination.

  They were real. And they owed him answers.

  “You’re looking at this all wrong,” Jack began as they moved through the narrow, dimly lit corridor. His voice carried the weight of someone who’d seen too much, someone who had come to terms with the impossible and lived to tell about it. “Dungeons aren’t just deathtraps for adventurers or magical vaults stuffed with loot. They’re ecosystems - closed worlds with their own laws, their own energy flows. And they’re far more than what they appear to be.”

  Jessica glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her machete gripped tightly in one hand. She tried to focus on his words, but her mind kept circling back to their benefactor and the tools they’d been given. The Dungeon Locator. The guide to “safe zones.” The enchanted provisions. All of it had seemed so helpful at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Jack’s words had shaken something loose in her, a suspicion she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before now.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Big Red’s deep voice rumbled behind her, cutting into her thoughts. “You mean they’re aware?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” Jack said, stepping forward. The veins of glowing crystal along the walls pulsed faintly, like the rhythm of a heartbeat. His hand brushed the stone absently, as if feeling for its pulse. “Think of a dungeon like a reflection - an imprint of something primal. They’re carved from the very fabric of reality, born from fractures in the world. These fractures create pockets of existence, spaces where the usual rules don’t apply. Sometimes they mimic parts of the real world; sometimes they create something entirely alien.”

  Alien. The word resonated with Jessica, dredging up the image of the Lady from her dreams - the one who had appeared to her before this all began. Her face was indistinct in memory, like a shadow behind a veil, but her presence had been undeniable. The Lady’s voice, soft and commanding, had told her that she had a purpose. That she was worthy to carry her mantle… That she was chosen. Chosen for what? Jessica thought bitterly. To be bait? To walk into a trap?

  Molly tilted her head, her twin knives spinning idly in her hands. “Alien how?”

  Jack’s eyes glinted, a shadow of some distant memory passing over his face. “Depends on the dungeon. Some mirror the worst fears of those who enter. Others are shaped by ancient energies, the echoes of cataclysms long forgotten. But the worst ones - the ones like this - they evolve. They learn.”

  Jessica’s breath hitched, but she quickly forced herself to stay composed. Jack’s words only deepened her unease. If the dungeon was learning, adapting to them… then was it also exploiting the weaknesses in their tools? The Dungeon Locator had led them here, and the one who had hired them said that it would only lead them to low tier “manageable” targets. But nothing about this place felt low-tier. Had her gut finally led them wrong? Was it all just a trap to get them killed?

  “Learn what?” she asked, her voice sharper than she’d intended.

  “Us,” Jack said simply. His tone was matter-of-fact, almost clinical, but it sent a chill down her spine. “Dungeons are aware in a way that defies easy explanation. They’re not sentient like you or me, but they’re not mindless either. They adapt to the intruders who disturb them. Every step you take, every trap you disarm, every enemy you kill… the dungeon is watching. It changes its strategies, adjusts its defenses. It becomes harder to beat with every attempt.”

  Jessica felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck as she thought back to their earlier encounters. The Dungeon Locator had been wrong - or at least, incomplete - about the mobs they’d faced. The creatures were stronger, faster, more coordinated than they had any right to be. What if the Locator wasn’t just malfunctioning? What if it was feeding them bad intel on purpose?

  Rando let out a low whistle, breaking the tension. “So it’s like fighting a boss in a game that gets harder the more times you fail?”

  Jack smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Sort of. Except this boss doesn’t just want you dead - it wants you consumed. Dungeons thrive on the energy of those who enter. That’s why they let you respawn. Every death feeds them, strengthens them. It’s not a second chance - it’s a transaction. One that always favors the house.”

  Jessica frowned, her thoughts spiraling. A transaction. Was that what the Lady had meant when she said there would be a cost? She’d assumed it was metaphorical, but now she wasn’t so sure. Every step they took in this place felt more and more like they were walking into someone else’s game - a game rigged from the start.

  “But if they’re not alive, like you said, how can they want anything?” Jessica asked, her frustration bleeding into her tone. She hated how defensive she sounded, but Jack’s calm certainty grated on her nerves.

  Jack turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Ever seen a virus spread through a population? It doesn’t plan. It doesn’t choose its victims. But it spreads, mutates, and consumes everything in its path, leaving nothing but sickness and decay behind. That’s what dungeons are - a force of nature, relentless and uncaring. But there’s more to it than that.”

  He gestured toward the glowing veins in the walls. “These structures - they’re not just for show. They’re conduits, part of a network that spans worlds. Dungeons are bridges, pathways between dimensions. That’s why they’re so dangerous. They don’t just draw energy from this world - they pull from others, too. And sometimes, when the balance tips, things slip through.”

  Jessica’s fingers tightened around her machete, her knuckles turning white. Things slip through. Her thoughts flashed to the Lady again, her enigmatic warnings, the way she had faded into the shadows as Jessica woke. Had the Lady known this would happen? Had she pushed them toward this dungeon for a reason, or was she part of the trap?

  “Things?” Little John asked, his voice low.

  “Creatures, entities, fragments of other realities,” Jack said. He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Some are just monsters. Others…” His voice trailed off, his expression hardening. “Let’s just say there are worse things than dying in a dungeon. Far worse.”

  Molly crossed her arms, her sharp gaze fixed on Jack. “You’ve seen these… worse things, haven’t you?”

  Jack didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, as if dredging up memories he’d rather forget. “I’ve seen what happens when a dungeon goes rogue. When it outgrows its bounds and starts spilling into the world around it. Entire cities swallowed. People twisted into… things that shouldn’t exist. That’s why I’m here. To make sure this one doesn’t get that far.”

  Jessica stepped closer, her tone sharp. “And what makes this dungeon so special? Why is it here?”

  Jack turned to her, his gaze piercing. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Dungeons don’t just appear randomly. They’re drawn to instability - wars, disasters, places where reality is already fraying. But this one? It’s different. It doesn’t belong here. It’s part of something bigger, something I haven’t figured out yet.” He chose not to mention his suspicions. Of Malakar, or whichever other dark deity was fronting this incursion.

  Jessica’s mind churned, her unease deepening. It doesn’t belong here. Just like the tools they’d been given didn’t belong in her hands. Just like the Lady’s cryptic warnings didn’t belong in her dreams. And now, with every step forward, she felt the threads of their benefactor’s promises unraveling.

  Jack ran a hand through his hair, his frustration briefly breaking through his composure. “All I know is that this dungeon is evolving faster than it should. And if we don’t stop it, it’s going to breach.”

  Jessica’s brow furrowed. “Breach?”

  Jack’s voice hardened. “When a dungeon breaches, it spills into the real world. It stops being a contained ecosystem and becomes a cancer, growing unchecked. Monsters, traps, the very fabric of the dungeon itself - all of it starts bleeding into reality. And once that happens, there’s no going back.”

  Jessica clenched her jaw, pushing her doubts down as far as she could. There wasn’t time to second-guess everything - not yet. They had to keep moving. But after this? She’d find answers. About the Lady. About their benefactor. About what had led them here.

  “Then we stop it,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “We clear this dungeon, seal it off, and make sure it doesn’t breach.”

  Jack nodded, a hint of respect flickering in his eyes. “Good. Because if we fail, this place will devour us. And it won’t stop there.”

  The dungeon had already showed signs of breaching, but it was still in a controllable state. The Arachnae Champion and Overlord were not common mobs, and should not have been able to enter the earthly plane, let alone survived there. The concentration of Prismata was too low, the magic too insignificant to sustain them. Which might explain why he’d even been able to take them on. Not that he doubted his abilities. But he knew that even when he was at his peak, it would have taken more than an enchanted machete and some luck to take them down.

  Something was wrong with the world. And he intended on finding out what it was and putting a stop to it.

  But first, they needed to close this dungeon.