The town of Marshalldale had seen its fair share of adventurers pass through—greenhorns looking for their first contract, battle-worn veterans chasing a challenge—but never anything like this.

  A crowd gathered early, spilling into the streets, eyes locked on the caravan making its way through the market square. Banners embroidered with the crest of the Obsidian Blades fluttered in the wind, carried by a few eager retainers. Merchants called out half-heartedly, their usual sales pitches drowned beneath the excited murmurs of the onlookers.

  Then came the adventurers themselves.

  At the front of the procession, mounted on a chestnut warhorse with polished steel barding, Leon Darrow raised a hand to acknowledge the crowd. His golden-blond hair shone almost as brightly as the polished breastplate across his chest, the intricate engravings telling stories of past victories. His smile was easy, confident, the kind that made people believe in legends. The cheers grew louder as he passed, and he returned the admiration with nods and waves, like a noble indulging his subjects.

  Beside him, Elias the White strode on foot, his robes crisp and unnaturally clean, the faint shimmer of magical wards tracing along the fabric. His staff, carved from dark elm and capped with a crystal humming with restrained power, clicked against the cobblestones with every step. He barely glanced at the crowd, instead speaking in low tones with the woman at his side, Mira Leafborn—a druid of the Wildvale Circle.

  Mira, for all the fanfare surrounding her companions, seemed perfectly at home in the middle of nature or a bustling town square. Her green-and-brown cloak fluttered behind her, and the small vine-wrapped staff she carried pulsed with soft energy, responding to the life surrounding her. A few children gasped when a butterfly landed briefly on her shoulder, as if even nature itself was drawn to her presence.

  Trailing slightly behind, Lucian Vex kept to the edges of the group, his dark hood pulled low despite the bright afternoon sun. The rogue looked the part—lean, quick-eyed, his fingers rarely still as he toyed with a coin, flipping it through his knuckles in a practiced rhythm. He wasn’t oblivious to the admiration they received—he was just used to it.

  And last, walking with a bow slung over his back and a perpetual smirk tugging at his lips, was Garrick Storme. His leathers were a mix of practical and rugged, though clearly tailored with some vanity in mind. Unlike Lucian, he relished the attention, winking at a group of onlookers and flexing his fingers dramatically as if preparing for a legendary shot.

  “Gods, we really are celebrities, huh?” Garrick mused as they approached the dungeon’s entrance.

  Leon chuckled. “You only just realized that?”

  Lucian flicked his coin into the air, catching it deftly. “He means again . I’m guessing we’re still a big deal in the north, yeah?”

  Mira rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Humility suits no one here, does it?”

  Leon adjusted the straps of his gauntlet, flashing another easy grin. “No, but neither does false modesty. We earned our reputations.”

  Elias exhaled sharply. “Then let’s see if this dungeon earns ours.”

  The adventurers arrived at the base of Golem’s Gambit, standing before the towering entrance. Unlike the foreboding ruins, cursed crypts, or monster-infested labyrinths they were used to, this place had an entirely different air about it.

  The walls were smooth, polished stone, carved with intricate reliefs of racing figures, golems, and twisting tracks. Enchanted lanterns cast a soft glow along the edges, illuminating the grand gateway where two statues of iron golems stood in watchful silence.

  Lucian let out a low whistle. “Well, this is… different.”

  Mira ran a hand along the carvings, tilting her head. “It’s almost playful. Not the usual death trap aesthetic.”

  Leon stepped forward, taking in the design. “The craftsmanship is immaculate. Someone put a lot of care into building this.”

  A voice called out from the entrance—a lesser dungeon golem acting as a guide. “Welcome, competitors! You may proceed inside and make use of the lounge and preparation chambers before the event begins.”

  Elias raised an eyebrow. “A dungeon with a waiting room?”

  Leon chuckled. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

  The group stepped inside, and for the first time, they were genuinely taken aback.

  The entrance hall was a marvel. Instead of the cold, ominous interior they expected, they found themselves in a spacious lounge—stone walls lined with banners, shelves stacked with miniature trophies from previous runs, and a seating area filled with plush chairs and tables.

  A large, crystal panel near the far wall displayed a shimmering list of names, detailing records for previous runners—fastest times, best performances, most spectacular crashes.

  And then there was the game room.

  Elias blinked. “Are those… dart boards?”

  Mira let out a short laugh. “Pool, too. And what is that game?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "That is bowling, milady," the golem guide informed her.

  Lucian was already walking toward a corner, where a shuffleboard game was set up. He picked up a set of pucks and weighed them experimentally. “A dungeon that lets you gamble away your loot before you even enter. I like it.”

  Garrick strolled past the buffet table, plucking a small fruit tart from one of the silver trays. “This place is insane. Why haven’t we seen anything like this before?”

  Leon grinned as he examined a wall of past champions—magical displays of adventurers who had competed in previous races. “Because most dungeons aren’t built for entertainment.” He turned toward his team. “But this one is. And that means we’re playing by different rules.”

  Elias crossed his arms. “Still, a dungeon is a dungeon. We should be cautious.”

  Lucian smirked, tossing a knife into the dartboard and hitting the bullseye. “Relax, Elias. This isn’t a real dungeon.”

  After a short reprieve in the lounge, the team was escorted to the preparation chamber for the second-floor race. The transition from the lounge to the next chamber was abrupt. One moment, the adventurers were still absorbing the sheer absurdity of a dungeon with a gameroom, and the next, they found themselves in a much smaller, enclosed space, barely large enough to fit a dozen people comfortably. The walls were made of the same smooth stone as the rest of the dungeon, though this room lacked any of the decorative carvings or banners from before.

  At the far end of the room sat a single kart, its sleek frame gleaming under the dim glow of crystal lanterns embedded in the walls. Unlike the elaborate constructs they had seen before, this was a lean, compact racing machine, its four sturdy wheels lined with what looked like arcane stabilizers. Runes flickered along its surface, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the magical energy inside it.

  Opposite the kart, on the other side of the room, a portal frame stood inactive, its archway carved from blackened stone, completely inert.

  Then, with a faint chime, a floating crystal screen flickered to life on the wall beside the kart, its shimmering surface displaying golden letters that formed out of thin air.

  The adventurers stared at it.

  Leon folded his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “I’m starting to think this dungeon was built by a lunatic.”

  Garrick let out a low whistle as he approached the kart, dragging a hand over its smooth exterior. “Correction. A brilliant lunatic.”

  Lucian tapped the floating crystal screen with one finger, watching as the glowing text reformed to accommodate his touch. “Well, that’s new.”

  The screen flickered, and a smooth, mechanical voice filled the room.

  "Welcome, competitors. Before proceeding to the racecourse, you are required to undergo a brief tutorial on the operation of Gambit-Class Racing Karts."

  Mira raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what I expected, but this… wasn’t it.”

  The screen continued displaying information as the voice explained.

  "All competitors will utilize the provided karts to navigate the raceway. Each kart is equipped with the following features:

  - Acceleration and Braking Controls – Foot pedal-based operation.

  - Directional Steering – Handled by the front-wheel mechanism.

  - Drift Assist – Activated by auxiliary stabilizers for sharp turns.

  Garrick was already climbing into the kart’s cockpit, gripping the steering wheel with an eager grin. He slammed the accelerator with a grin almost as big as his face.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” he said, testing the pedals.

  Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is an insult to every traditional dungeon I’ve ever studied.”

  Lucian leaned against the wall, smirking. “And yet here you are.”

  Mira crossed her arms. “So, we just… drive these? On a dungeon track? What does that even mean?”

  The floating text flickered again.

  "Caution: The racecourse will include various obstacles, environmental hazards, and strategic opportunities. Failure to adapt could result in injury or death."

  Leon rubbed his chin. “At least it warned us it wants us dead.”

  Mira exhaled. “That’s an improvement.”

  Lucian nudged the kart’s side with his boot. “Still doesn’t mean we can be lax.”

  Garrick, still seated in the cockpit, gave him a cocky grin. “I bet you drive like a coward.”

  Elias rolled his eyes. “Are we done here?”

  The screen pulsed, then faded out. At the same time, the portal at the opposite end of the room flared to life, its swirling blue light casting eerie shadows against the walls.

  Leon adjusted his gauntlets, stepping forward. “Looks like we are now.”

  Mira glanced at the kart one last time before turning toward the portal. “This is either going to be the most fun we’ve had in a dungeon… or the stupidest.”

  Lucian smirked as he flipped a dagger between his fingers. “Either way, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Without another word, they stepped through the portal—straight into Golem’s Gambit’s starting line.