Some time later, Alisanne stopped next to a street lamp and rubbed her arms to warm them. It was much colder than she’d been expecting, but she didn’t feel like unpacking all her bags to get to where she’d stored her coat. Instead, she decided that the best way to get warm would be to find a place to stay for the night, so with renewed determination Alisanne quickened her pace and set off again. As she walked she did her best to avoid the shadows: they seemed to be growing by the second and reminded her of snakes. The ambient buzzing in the air was more annoying now, but it was far from the only thing that bothered her as she crossed street after street. Up above her head, the twin moons looked strange; their crescent bodies twisted like sinister smiles, and in the poor light of the city’s lamps even the streets themselves seemed to quiver and throb like they were alive.

  Alisanne sped up again, her heart pounding in her chest and her mouth growing dryer with every step. How long had she been walking? It didn’t feel like it’d been that long – couldn’t be that long – but her throat burned and Alisanne started fantasizing about the relief that would come from drinking a nice tall glass of water with extra ice.

  It was almost so bad that she stopped in front of a tall fountain filled with bubbling black liquid and contemplated taking a sip, only to be put off by the strong medicinal smell and the lethargic elkin sleeping near the fountain’s base. Curling her fingers into a fist, Alisanne continued on.

  A cloaked shape burst out the alley to her right and Alisanne leapt back. Her hands fell to her sides where her clubs normally rested, but they were packed away in her bags and she swore at how many things she needed had ended up out of reach. That’d have to change moving forward, but for now she’d just have to make do with her fists if it came down to it.

  Thankfully, it didn’t. The cloaked figure, with his wide smile, was none other than Bentley, and Alisanne was relieved to have finally found someone she recognized.

  “You look stressed out,” the other adventurer said, leaning back and rolling his shoulders. “First time here in Old Narluc?”

  Alisanne nodded. “I take it you’ve been here before?”

  “More than a few times.”

  “I don’t think I ever want to come back,” Alisanne said, shivering. “This place is just too creepy.”

  “It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” Bentley said as he fell into step beside her. “The whispering gets a little old but you can ignore it with practice. I’ve definitely been to a lot of worse cities. Some of the places out past Lavadancer’s Lake, like the villages where the ogres live make Old Narluc look like a nursery.”

  “There’s no way you’ve been out past Lavadancer’s Lake,” Alisanne said, smiling. “Unless you’re going to try and claim that you’ve killed a boiling seawyrm?”

  “Killed? Gawain’s beard, no, of course not. I might be a [Wandering Knifesman] without peer, but I’ve never fought anything anywhere near that big. However…” he paused, and leaned forward as if wary that someone might overhear what he said next. “Boiling seawyrms are easily bribed.”

  The thought of a boiling seawyrm – monsters that were easily two or three hundred feet long with scales that boiled if exposed to the air, hence the name – being easily bribed was hilarious. Alisanne laughed, and felt the shadows creeping into her mind recede like she’d just lit a torch.

  “Oh, are they? And pray tell, how is that?”

  Bentley flashed his eyebrows and smiled again. “Okay, well maybe I wasn’t entirely telling the truth.”

  “They can’t be bribed?”

  “They can, Miss Henret, it’s just that it’s actually a rather complicated process that requires a great deal of knowledge.”

  He held up his hands and started counting his fingers. “You see, bribing them requires a traveler to know alchemy, gastronomy, astrology, illusions, accounting, musical theory, classic poetry, and of course board games.”

  “Board games?”

  “Board games. The seawyrms are avid board game enthusiasts.”

  “I find that hard to believe, Mister Macrob.”

  “Were I in your position I’m sure I’d feel the same. Would you like to hear more about them?”

  Alisanne thought for a moment. The quality of the story aside, it’d be nice to have someone to talk to while navigating this uncomfortable city. “If you can lead me to the adventurer’s guild at the same time, sure.”

  Bentley bowed once again. “Of course, it would be my pleasure. We’re actually pretty close to the guild branch. It’s only a few streets from here. Right this way, Miss Henret.”

  They walked side by side, Bentley’s – almost assuredly exaggerated – story helping Alisanne keep her thoughts straight until they came to a small dome-shaped building with a crowd of adventurers outside.

  Bentley gently created a path for her to follow to the door, nudging and joking with the other adventurers to get them to move and gesturing for Alisanne to follow.

  Thankfully, while the guild hall smelled different than the one back in Oar’s Crest that was virtually the only difference. The furniture was the same, the job board was in the same spot, and the grumbled conversations she heard as she walked up to the counter sounded like the type she’d hear back home.

  Alisanne sighed, relaxing at the sensation of warm familiarity, and turned to Bentley.

  “Thank you for leading me here,” she said. “I enjoyed your stories.”

  “As I enjoyed telling them,” Bentley said, inclining his head ever so slightly. “I have more wandering to do tonight, but in the event I don’t see you again before your run here I’d like to wish you the best of luck.”

  “Same to you,” Alisanne said, privately surprised at the thought that not seeing the [Wandering Knifesman] again soon would be something of a disappointment. She pushed those thoughts aside and got into line.

  The [Clerk], an elkin with brown hair and normal eyes, took her paperwork that marked her as a participant in the Dungeons of the Future circuit, gave her a time to meet the [Dungeon Master] and complete her run the next day – a nice bit of luck, Alisanne thought – and directed her to an inn nearby that had plenty of affordable rooms. When she asked about food options, he snorted and handed over a single sheet of paper. It was a list of available deals like the ones she’d seen back home, but unlike the bevy of options [Dungeon Master] Vales had arranged there were only two restaurants listed.

  “I’m afraid that we’re not big on that sort of thing here,” the [Clerk] said, seeing Alisanne’s disappointed expression. “But should neither of these be to your liking you should know that the inn also serves food. Most out of town guests enjoy it quite a bit.”

  “I see,” Alisanne said, folding up the piece of paper and tucking it into her pocket. She thanked him, then remembered the contents of Vera’s package and hurried to dig it out of her bag.

  Sure enough, there were sixteen little boxes in the bag, and Alisanne set four of them down on the counter.

  “What’s this?” asked the [Clerk], his eyes growing wide.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Alisanne admitted. “My sponsor asked me to distribute these to each branch of the guild along the circuit’s route.”

  “Understood,” the elkin said with a smile. “Yours is hardly the first. Allow me to take them on behalf of the guild.”

  He did so with a little bow, and Alisanne thanked him. Feeling relieved that things had been so easy, Alisanne headed back out into the evening and made her way to the inn.

  The [Clerk] had been right; the smell coming from the inn’s kitchen had been good enough for her to gamble on the ‘house stew’. She was glad that she did.

  She’d been given a large bowl patterned like a turtle shell and filled to the brim with a rich yellow-brown stew filled with roasted root vegetables, lentils, and pieces of beef. Or at least she was pretty sure it was beef; she didn’t much feel like asking.

  There’d also been some crusty white bread that tasted of herbs and cheese, and it paired perfectly with the stew. There were also strange translucent sprouts of some kind, though Alisanne hadn’t liked the way they’d felt when she’d first picked one up and had decided to leave them where they lay.

  Two bowls of deliciousness later, she’d headed to her room, a handful of bronze fleurs poorer but her stomach nice and full.

  Her room was small and sparsely decorated. There was no bed, just a thick brown rug on the floor, and the only other bits of “furniture” were a mirror and a knee-high table with a pitcher of water and an empty basin atop it.

  She was up on the inn’s third floor, with a window that looked out over a garden. The beds were arranged in a complicated square pattern, with a multitude of intersecting lines made of stakes. Plenty of little green shoots poked out here and there, but there was not a single flower in sight. Given the types of things she’d seen so far in Old Narluc, Alisanne decided that was probably a good thing.

  Someone in a nearby room was plucking away at a stringed instrument – perhaps a lute? A guitar? – and the music was bright and cheerful. Almost determinedly so, Alisanne thought. She appreciated that, and sat down on her rug for a few minutes just to listen, taking heart at the way the tune seemed to chase away the city’s whispering.

  She yawned, and stretched out onto her back. The rug was thick and inviting, perfectly conforming to her body, and Alisanne put her arms behind her head. The urge to sleep grew stronger. Her eyes grew heavy, and more than once she felt herself snapping back to consciousness. For the first time since leaving home, she felt calm and content, but with those things came a stark reminder of her body’s exhaustion. Carting around all her luggage and the constant stress swings had taken more out of her than she’d thought, and the warm notes of the other traveler’s songs offered to lead her to pleasant respite.

  No. She shook her head and forced herself back up to her feet, ignoring the protests from her legs as she did so. While it was a good thing that she’d been able to get her run scheduled so quickly, it also meant that she didn’t have as much time to practice [Twirling Block] as she’d originally wanted.

  Digging out her clubs, Alisanne positioned herself in front of the mirror and extended her right hand. Being able to see herself while she practiced would be a huge help…so long as she didn’t accidentally send her club flying and accidentally break the mirror.

  Much like she had during her previous practice sessions, Alisanne jerked her wrist to the right while invoking the skill, and once again tried to ‘pop’ or ‘flick’ the club with her fingers to get it to complete the spin. A few times she thought she was making progress, but even without the mirror she could have seen that the weapon didn’t remain straight while it moved.

  After more than a dozen failed attempts, Alisanne swore and stamped her foot. She flinched a second later, remembering that there was another guest in the room under her own and that it was late.

  Muttering a useless apology, Alisanne practiced twirling her club a few times. She watched its tip weave back and forth about three-quarters of the way through the spin and tried to adjust her hand and fingers to keep that from happening. She made a bit of progress, but couldn’t quite get that last little bit to click.

  Alisanne frowned. Why was such a simple skill so frustrating to learn? While it’d be unreasonable to expect to have the skill perfected by now surely it wasn’t too much to ask for at least a flicker of activation, was it?

  What was she missing? The proper dexterity? Or even Dexterity – that oft-whispered about stat rumored to have once been in consideration for membership among the big three? Was it that she was trying to learn something she was incompatible with?’

  She twirled her finger through her ponytail. Maybe, actually.

  Classes were rather individualized; other than so-called ‘Core Skills’ – which nobody could agree on more than half the time – it was generally true that two people with the same class at the same level would have different skills and stats when compared to each other. That was because that skills and “paths” through classes were affected by, like, a million different things. Personality, physical and emotional needs, weapon choice, et cetera. They changed depending on how the classholder saw themselves, and how they were seen by the world around them.

  However, with that said, it wasn’t like classes were perfectly sculptable either. There were rules and logic to the way a classholder progressed and evolved their skills. Some skills would come naturally with levels and experience, others could be attained through hard work and dedication. Others still might never be learned, because the classholder simply was not compatible with it. In such cases, no amount of effort would change that. One couldn’t wring blood out of a stone, after all.

  Alisanne stared at her reflection. Was she simply incompatible with [Twirling Block]? Alisanne couldn’t believe it. It was such a basic skill, and she needed what it offered!

  “I’ll just have to keep practicing,” Alisanne said, shaking her head and stretching her arm out once again. “I’ve got to get it soon.”

  And so the night wore on, with Alisanne trying what felt like a thousand subtle variations of her wrist and finger position and movements, until she finally had a flicker of insight.

  Swat and pop. Like you’re telling a story and want to scare the person listening. Swat and pop.

  The words crystallized in her mind, and Alisanne did her best to put them into practice.

  When her hand reached the perpendicular point, she popped her hand open as explosively as she could. Her fingers made a loud swishing sound as they rubbed against the rough skin of her palm, and she was rewarded for her efforts with the faintest flickering glow of green that she’d ever seen. It coated her club like someone had spilled a bucket of paint on it for a heartbeat or two, and then vanished into the gloom of the night.

  Alisanne repeated the motion, invoking the skill again, and this time the green lingered for a few complete seconds before disappearing.

  She grinned, resisting the urge to jump up and down for joy. Person in the room below.

  But progress! Now she was getting somewhere! Filled with fresh determination, Alisanne pressed on, repeating the motions over and over again until her exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her.

  A little voice in the back of her mind warned her that she still needed to rest before her dungeon run the next morning. It’d do no good to learn the skill only to be so tired that she failed to finish the dungeon’s first or second room.

  Just three more tries, she promised herself. And then I’ll go to sleep.

  Her room was quiet – the musician had long since stopped playing – and the whisper in the air had taken on a lower, calmer buzz.

  Alisanne brought her arm up once more, focused on recapturing the feeling she’d experienced twice now, which was mostly concentrated in the sound of her fingers scraping against her palm. That was her anchor, and she successfully sought it twice more before a notification popped into the air before her eyes.

  [Congratulations! You can now use Twirling Block!]

  She reveled in her accomplishment for a moment before dismissing the notification. There were few feelings that compared to the complete and utter satisfaction of being recognized by the System as capable of using a new skill.

  Taking a deep breath, she held out her right hand again and said, “[Twirling Block].”

  The skill activated, and while she still had to move her hand her body knew exactly what to do. The motion was smooth and consistent now, and Alisanne relished the ease with which her club spun. It shone like an emerald, and Alisanne managed a second consecutive glowing spin before she lost track of the timing and the skill ended.

  Still more work to be done, but at the very least she’d be able to protect herself a bit more in the dungeon.

  Then, feeling an exhaustion all the way to her bones unlike anything she’d felt before, Alisanne shuffled over to her bed-rug and flopped down, falling asleep almost instantly.

  Peculiar dreams in which she had to bluff a boiling seawyrm into forfeiting a game of cards aside, Alisanne slept well and felt rested the next morning. She went down to the kitchen, got herself a hearty porridge for breakfast and directions to the dungeon, and returned to her room to clean herself, change into her sponsored outfit, and make sure that she had all her belongings.

  Thanking the [Innkeeper] for the comfortable stay, she left a few minutes later.

  Not for the first time Alisanne thought her jacket might be magical; she stood up straighter, walked more confidently, and didn’t shy away from any eye contact on the street. It even gave her the confidence to – awkwardly, admittedly – hand out a few of Vera’s flyers

  She found herself growing more nervous as she walked. What sort of dungeon was…? Actually, now that she thought about it she didn’t know what the dungeon was called. Everything turned to whispers whenever anyone tried to say its name.

  Regardless, what sort of challenges would she face? She’d hadn’t seen any guides for sale in the adventurer’s guild, and hadn’t been able to watch any other runs happening. She was effectively blind, which was more than a little scary.

  “Just have to do my best,” Alisanne told herself.

  and she pointedly ignored the elkin [Merchants] who heckled her as she passed.

  “Bit of powdered bravery, miss? Take a sniff and all your fears will flee! Promised to work! Only one silver fleur per dose!”

  “Faith-boosting mushrooms for sale! Two mysteries per cluster! Take them before you go into the dungeon!”

  “Temporary weapon enhancements! Eight silver apiece! Lasts for an hour!”

  Not all the elkins were selling dungeon-related products. Several were offering counseling service, or private instruction in “deeper mysteries”, and a couple were even offering “data driven, actionable insights that will bring great wealth and happiness.”

  Alisanne passed all of them without feeling even the barest hint of temptation, but she did stop and purchase a trio of harmless-looking clay figurines from an elkin [Potter] to give to her family as souvenirs when she got home. Her little brother would love it; probably so much that he’d shatter it into pieces.

  Her shopping done, Alisanne followed the last of her directions until she found herself standing in front of a great cave that looked more than a little like a gaping maw.

  A handful of other adventurers were waiting outside, their expressions surly and their eyes a touch too manic for comfort.

  Hoping to get some information about the challenge ahead, Alisanne asked them all in turn if they knew anything about what lay inside but they all shook their heads.

  ‘[Dungeon Master] is real secretive,” a kitrekin wearing spiked gloves said. “Nobody’s come back since going inside.”

  “What do you mean?!” Alisanne asked, suddenly afraid. Nobody had come back? How did the guild sanction such a place?

  “There’s another exit somewhere else in the city,” the kitrekin explained, giving Alisanne a look that made it clear what he thought of her. “It takes you to another carriage station and then you can leave. Apparently the locals don’t much care for all the adventurers tromping around the city. Unseeking souls affect their mysteries or something.”

  He spat on the ground. “‘S far as I’m concerned they can keep them. This city isn’t right.”

  “I’m with you on that one,” Alisanne said, setting down her bags.

  “Here here,” said a salamander adventurer lingering nearby. She was some sort of sword-bearer, though the bevy of rings near her claws made Alisanne think she was some sort of [Spellblade].

  “How will I know when it’s my turn to enter the dungeon?” Alisanne asked.

  The kitrekin shrugged. “The [Dungeon Master] will come out and invite you in. Real spooky elkin type, you can’t miss him.”

  Judging by the way the kitrekin returned his attention to his gloves, Alisanne surmised that their conversation was over, which was fine by her. She offered him one of Vera’s flyers for good measure, but wasn’t offended when he shook his head and pushed her hand away.

  This was uncomfortable. Alisanne wasn’t used to such a somber mood outside dungeons: Crestheart always had a, well, party of sorts waiting outside chattering and swapping information about what was happening inside. It felt weird not having that atmosphere around here.

  She looked into the cave. It was impossible to see what lay beyond the entrance, but a fell air emanated from it. The [Fighter] shivered, and decided to chase away the chill with some light exercise.She took out her clubs and slowly started going through her forms.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time the [Dungeon Master] emerged to invite Alisanne to start her dungeon run. He was a tall, dark elkin, and his features were mostly obscured by the hood of his robe. His voice carried the hint of something slithering, and there was some errant resonance in his every other word.

  “Alisanne Henret, my name is Orij Everdark and you are invited to challenge my dungeon. Come with me.”

  Nodding, Alisanne tucked her clubs into her belt and picked up her luggage before following the mountain of an elkin. Her heart was pounding – the anticipation of what was to come dominant in that moment – she tried to steel herself so that she wouldn’t freeze up when her run started. This was always the worst part, she thought, fighting back a tiny anxiety-induced yawn. Once things got going there was too much to focus on to panic, but until things actually started there was nothing to do but ruminate on all the bad things she might end up facing.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  The [Dungeon Master] stopped and pointed to a small cart next to the wall.

  “You can put your belongings in that,” Orij boomed. “They will be taken to your next destination and I give you my personal assurance that nobody will upset them while you are in hshshshshshsh.”

  Alisanne blinked. She was sure that he’d just said the dungeon’s name but she hadn’t been able to keep hold of the sounds that made up the words.

  The [Dungeon Master] led her to a large room with an octagonal rug in the center and knelt down in the center.

  “These are my administration chambers,” Orij said. “It is where I organize my thoughts, seek the truths of this world, and handle the daily affairs of my dungeon. Please sit, Miss Henret. There are a few matters we must discuss before your run.”

  Alisanne did as directed, and Orij produced a cup and a large pitcher out of nowhere. He took a small tea bag from a box next to the pitcher and poured hot water over the top, mumbling to himself as he did so.

  A few minutes later, he removed the bag and handed the cup to Alisanne. It was filled with steaming blue-purple tea that smelled bitter. Unusual spices mixed with ginger and something else. Peach, maybe?

  “What’s this for?” Alisanne asked hesitantly, taking the cup and staring at it apprehensively.

  Orij laughed, a low and scratchy sound that reminded her of the noise a broom makes when sweeping a floor. “Fear not, adventurer. ‘Tis simply a concoction that will help expand your mind to properly accommodate the offerings of hshshshshsh. I assure you, the adventurer’s guild has checked my recipes and assures you that it is completely safe.”

  He tapped the box, and sure enough when Alisanne looked at it she saw the familiar official seal of guaranteed quality that she recognized from some of the guild’s other offerings. She took a sip of the tea. It was surprisingly bitter, especially accounting for how sweet it smelled. Wondering if this was the first challenge of the dungeon, Alisanne forced herself to finish the cup.

  By the time she was done, the lights in the room were a little brighter and tiny wisps of fog flittered from one corner to another.

  “How long does this last?”

  “No more than a few hours,” Orij said.

  “Is it going to affect my ability to complete the dungeon?”

  “Not at all. There will be a moment as the concoction reaches its full strength where you feel overwhelmed but it will pass quickly enough. You have my word that you won’t experience anything beyond a greater awareness of the possibilities in the rooms beyond. Now, how many points of Faith do you have?”

  Alisanne thought for a moment. “Fourteen.”

  “An auspicious number,” Orij said, nodding to himself and stroking his chin. “Suitable for one who seeks the mysteries of balance and duality the way your choice of weapons leads me to suspect that you do.”

  He looked at her, his milky eyes betraying nothing of his inner thoughts, and Alisanne swallowed hard. It seemed that the [Dungeon Master] was waiting for her to say something.

  “Um…thanks?” she said tentatively.

  The elkin nodded and brought his hands together. “You should feel the effects very soon.”

  He lowered his head like he was praying, and when he spoke next the elkin’s words were a string of harsh, discordant syllables that sent shivers down Alisanne’s spine. The only words she recognized were “[Measurable Madness].”

  Purple fog – a haze, in fact – filled the room and Alisanne’s brain. The room pulsed twice, and when it stopped again it didn’t seem the same as it’d been a moment ago. Alisanne’s stomach felt funny – like it was an [Acrobat] in the middle of an exciting show – and she started shivering.

  “Excuse me,” she said, flopping onto her back. Time froze for a moment, and the ceiling looked so close that Alisanne felt as if she could kiss it if she really tried.

  “It will pass in a moment. Just be patient.”

  Time stretched and twisted so that each second seemed to last for an eternity, but Orij was right; eventually Alisanne felt completely normal once again.

  She sat back up and saw the elkin smiling at her, a vaguely sinister expression, given his eyes and general demeanor.

  “And now we can discuss things more clearly,” he said. “According to your application you’ve never competed in a dungeon outside of Oar’s Crest, so please allow me to explain how your run through the Ribs of Knowledge will go.”

  Alisanne blinked. Ribs of Knowledge? What was that? The dungeon’s name?

  “I see that you’ve pierced the first veil, Miss Henret. Indeed, this dungeon was once the ribcage of a great beast. Narluc, a dragon unlike any other. Rather than the coarse gold, gems, and precious artifacts that turned so many of her kind – and our own – into slavering fools, Narluc coveted knowledge. Over her long life she built a hoard of mysteries. A hoard of the deepest truths known to this world, represented in books and tablets. Knowledge born from obvious geniuses, from obvious madmen, and from those for whom the difference between the two was as a whisper in a roaring crowd. Many of those secrets have been harvested over the years, but more remain in the depths of the dungeon, waiting for the right person to discover them. Power and wisdom beyond your understanding, beyond your comprehension. This is what is available to you for the duration of your run.”

  That was actually pretty cool. Alisanne knew that Crestheart wasn’t exactly the greatest dungeon of all time in terms of rewards, but some coupons for local businesses were definitely a far cry from access to ancient knowledge. Was she going to find the manual for some sort of amazing skill, or even a Unique class?

  “Of course, such mysteries are not easy to obtain,” Orij said, dampening her enthusiasm. “And you’ll find that the ribs themselves resist your efforts to plumb their depths. It will gnaw at you, make you question who you are and who you wish to be. That’s where your Faith comes into play. Your Faith is not just a shield, not just a sword, but also a currency that you must manage as you descend.”

  “Could you, uh, explain that a little better? I’m not sure my brain is working properly right now,” Alisanne said.

  “This is a Race dungeon, where in addition to the minions and minibosses you are used to, there’s another foe you must contend with. That foe is time. I have used the skill [Measureable Madness] on you, which means that you will eventually be afflicted with the Mad status effect should you stay in the dungeon long enough. The time until that happens can be measured in tokens of Sanity. More tokens, more time.”

  “And how do I get these tokens?”

  “Before you enter the ribs I will give you three for each point of Faith that you have. You can gain more by defeating the monsters inside, solving puzzles and returning treasures that you obtain to preset shrines on each floor. Beware, though, for what can be gained can be lost. Being hit by monsters, failing challenges, and making bad deals will cost you your tokens and end your run faster. Should you make it to my [Dungeon Champion], you will likely spend the remainder of your balance in your bout. My suggestion is that you try to get your balance to three hundred or so before you get to Lwayne, as that is the threshold that offers you the best chance of success.”

  He fixed her with another look. “Any questions?”

  Alisanne shook her head, and Orij helped her back to her feet. She was unsteady for a moment, but regained her balance within a few steps and readied her clubs.

  “The entrance to the ribs is there,” Orij said, pointing to a tall door Alisanne was positive hadn’t existed when she’d first entered the room. “Best of luck to you, Miss Henret.”

  Alisanne thanked him and went into the ribs.

  As soon as the door shut, Alisanne realized that she should have asked how long it would take for each of her tokens to disappear. Without that knowledge, the stress of a clock whose duration she didn’t know nagged away at her, propelling her to walk faster than she otherwise would have down the long staircase lit by spooky purple torches.

  Morbid curiosity propelled her to bring her hand close to the flickering flames. They were ice cold, and she hurriedly brought her hand back.

  No monsters assailed her on her way down, which was probably a good thing, and the staircase opened up into a wide room. Instinct from running Crestheart so often urged her to dive onto the floor for an impending skeleton mage attack, but nothing of the sort happened as she stepped forward with her clubs raised.

  Alisanne waited there for some time, her breath quickening with her heartbeat as she waited for something – anything – to happen. Why was this room so empty and quiet? That wasn’t right!

  Panic started setting in. What was going on? Why wasn’t anything happening? Why was – Alisanne slapped herself in the cheek and shook her head hard. She knew this fear; it was too irrational to be real.

  “[Aura of Fear], huh? It’s definitely more potent than Crestheart’s, but it won’t stop me,” she grumbled, forcing herself to breathe normally as she walked forward. [Auras] were annoying, but she could handle them so long as she knew what to expect. They were only really threats if you weren’t expecting them, and given that it would be strange for a dungeon to use one [Aura], Alisanne did her best to expect others. She watched her steps for any signs of Dizziness or Disorientation, and checked in on how she was feeling to be mindful of Weakness or Sluggishness. So far she felt totally normal, but that could change at any time.

  There were two doors ahead of her, each with a number next to them. The one on the left had a zero above its handle, the one on the right a two.

  “Knowledge is not free, choose your path wisely,” said a sign above the doors. “Convenience comes at the price of resilience.”

  Alisanne looked at them for a moment. She wasn’t eager to spend some of her precious sanity tokens so early, but the writing above the doors had her considering it. Was two tokens worth an easier path forward? Did it depend on how much easier it became?

  Ultimately, she wanted to give herself the best chance of winning her run that she could, so with a heavy sigh she took out two coins and put them into the slot above the door’s handle. The sound of coins sliding down a ramp – like the one she associated with cheap vending machines – was followed by the sound of a lock unclicking, and the door slid open.

  Alisanne stepped through and into the next room, where she got her first taste of the dungeon’s monsters.

  Two large bony rats with emerald eyes chittered toward her, their mouths filled with razor sharp teeth. Alisanne sidestepped their first attack, activated [Kinetic Tempo] and went to work. The rats were soft, and each of them dropped a single sanity coin when she finished defeating them.

  Alisanne breathed a sigh of relief: with a single fight she’d already paid back the cost of going through the door, but before she moved on she wanted to see if time had ticked away any of her other coins.

  It took her some time to count, and she was frowning by the time she’d finished. She should have had forty-two coins since the rats and the door hand canceled each other out, but she only had forty one. A check of her pockets didn’t turn up the one that was missing, which left Alisanne no choice but to assume that she’d already lost one to time.

  She’d have to pick up her pace.

  This room had three doors, though none of them had any sort of sanity coin cost. Alisanne took the rightmost one at random – vaguely thinking about the best way to get through a maze being to put your right hand on the wall and keep it there – and started walking.

  It led to a hallway filled with bookshelves, dusty old things with languages on the spines that Alisanne didn’t recognize. She looked at them as she hurried by, but didn’t stop.

  Books she couldn’t read were of no value to her, and she wanted to find the next challenge to recoup some sanity coins as quickly as possible.

  The hallway of books became another room filled with books that was guarded by a half-melted candle-man – a bipedal wax monster bearing a cutlass or some other type of sword – that shouted at her as it fought. She defeated it, but not without trading three hits, and found to her chagrin that in addition to the cuts on her arm and shoulder the two coins the monster dropped were outweighed by the fact that she’d lost three more.

  Okay, so combat was definitely riskier than she’d been expecting. She’d have to pick smarter fights from here on out to avoid losing her run instantly to some low tier minions.

  Ugh. With each passing second Alisanne could feel her stress level rising. While some of it might have been from an [Aura], it was more likely that she was just out of her depth and uncomfortable with having to face a dungeon with a time constraint.

  “Come on, calm down,” she told herself as she jogged to the next room, which was blocked by a fog gate. “You can do this, Alisanne.”

  The pep talk helped her relax a little bit, which was good because waiting in the next room was a towering robed figure. A mini boss. Alisanne would have bet everything on that. It was at least eight feet tall, and had a wooden mask with four eyes instead of a regular face. Its joints were weird and bent twice, above and below where its elbow should have been.

  On first look, Alisanne thought that it carried no weapon, but that wasn’t really saying much and she kept her distance. Producing a weapon was the least of the tricks a dungeon mini boss could produce, and she didn’t want to be taken by surprise.

  It turned to look at her, and the first of its eyes lit as if a candle had been lit behind it.

  “Welcome to the first arena,” it said in a low and rasping voice. “You may call me the reaper, and unless you give me thirty of your sanity coins here and now we will do battle.”

  “Fat chance of that happening,” Alisanne said, raising her clubs. “I’d be almost completely out if I did that.”

  “Have it your way,” the creature said, raising its double jointed arms and lunging toward her in a classic zombie run.

  Alisanne held her ground; zombie runs were easy to deal with if you knew how to duck and sidestep, and she did just that when the reaper drew near. As soon as its hands went over her head Alisanne leapt into action, moving to the reaper’s side and striking it hard with both of her clubs. The creature stumbled and Alisanne activated [Kinetic Tempo] once more, striking several more times and dancing away from the mini boss’ clumsy counterattacks.

  This fight was too easy, she thought. The monster was slow and its attacks were so telegraphed that even a level one [Fighter] would have had no trouble dodging them.

  Sure enough, the reaper collapsed after another few blows, but instead of disappearing the way Alisanne expected it turned to her once again.

  “We shall meet again, adventurer.”

  It disappeared, leaving behind a box containing a huge pile of sanity coins. Given that she hadn’t taken any hits, that was a very nice bolster to her stash.

  Pocketing the coins, Alisanne moved to the next room, where there was a large and ornate chest waiting for her.

  She tapped it carefully – always expect a mimic, went old guild logic – and when it didn’t move she saw that it had a number above it much like the door earlier. This time though, instead of two it wanted ten.

  Though she was nervous about the cost, Alisanne decided that taking a risk on engaging with the deals presented to her was probably worth it. She counted out ten sanity coins as quickly as she could, fed them to the chest and popped the top open.

  [Adventurousness +1!]

  Great, Alisanne thought, brushing the notification aside and peering into the chest. What was waiting for her inside?

  It was a potion. Just a simple glass bottle filled with an orange liquid that shimmered in the torchlight of the room. That…probably wasn’t worth ten sanity coins, but Alisanne picked it up and opened it all the same.

  The smell of tangerines filled her nose, which was more than a little odd, and after a silent prayer that she wasn’t about to poison herself Alisanne drank the contents.

  Another notification appeared before her eyes.

  [Congratulations, you have quaffed a potion of protection!]

  [The Sanity Drain-Touch of enemy minions will be disabled for the next ten rooms!]

  Sanity drain-touch had to be the name for the effect that took her sanity coins when she got hit by an enemy monster. That was…potentially quite valuable, though once again there was a tradeoff built into the design. If she got hit more than ten times in the next ten rooms, she’d come out ahead in terms of sanity coin loss, but would have to contend with the physical injuries which were sure to be substantial. Conversely, if she protected herself well, she’d have wasted the payment to open the chest.

  Ugh. She was starting to feel stressed again.

  When she finally reached the end of the first floor, Alisanne had well over a hundred sanity coins in her possession. The rooms following the potion chest had been filled with enemies, and she’d put her temporary immunity to losing sanity coins from getting hit to great use.

  Unfortunately, that meant she was quite injured, with cuts running down her arms and a pain in her side that was absolutely going to bruise like none other come the next day. She was tired, increasingly paranoid, and had yet to find any sort of mysteries that she was interested in.

  All of the books she’d found had been for decidedly yucky things – necromancy, flesh-smithing, eyeball-magicks, et cetera – which, in addition to being unpalatable, had also cost an absurd amount of sanity coins. Many of them cost four digits, which she supposed only those with super Faith-focused classes would ever have the opportunity to buy.

  She, however, happily paid a floating eyeball monster with a bow tie fifteen of her precious coins for a minor healing potion, which soothed her wounds and made her more willing to continue her run.

  If the ribs were anything like Crestheart, the second floor would be a step up from the first in terms of difficulty, but Alisanne didn’t think it’d be too much to handle.

  She looked at the rest of the eyeball monster’s offerings and was tempted by a medallion that apparently “could be traded” to a denizen of the next floor as a bribe, but without any way to know how valuable said bribe was Alisanne decided that the fifty sanity coin cost was far too steep for her to pay.

  On the other hand, she did buy another minor healing potion, carefully tucking it into her pocket and hoping that it wouldn’t break before she needed it.

  Ignoring the whispering in the air that had gotten substantially louder, Alisanne headed deeper into the dungeon.

  The first thing Alisanne noticed about the dungeon’s second floor was that it was dry. Like, the kind of dry where it hurt to breathe, and she kicked up a cloud of dust with her every step. Beyond that, it was hot, and the [Fighter] was sweating profusely by the time she reached the second room.

  “Should have bought water from that shopkeep,” Alisanne panted, hiding behind a statue of an elkin carrying an oversized staff while a floating painting of the same elkin spat globs of fire at her. One landed near her left foot and sizzled, and Alisanne stamped it out before it could spread to the discolored scrub grass all around. A spark or something must have landed on her ankle, because a sharp pain shot up her leg, but Alisanne ignored it.

  Her statue wasn’t the only one in the room, but the distance to the others was too far for her to reach easily. The fireballs were quick, and Alisanne knew from firsthand experience that they hurt if they hit.

  She briefly considered trying [Twirling Block], but then remembered that it only worked against non-magical projectiles. In other words, it would be useless against fireballs. Similarly, she might be able to hit it with [Club Toss], but doubted that would defeat the painting and didn’t want to risk having to go into the next room with only a single club.

  Alisanne put her hand out and barely pulled it back in time to dodge the next attack. She swore. This stupid painting! It was watching her way closer than it had any right to.

  There had to be a way to get through here. Time was ticking away; she couldn’t afford to be stuck here forever. This was not where she’d imagined herself losing her run.

  A plink in the back of her skull alerted her to the fact that another one of her sanity coins had just disappeared. If there was one good thing about this room, it was that she’d been here long enough to discover that little nugget of information. Unfortunately, she still didn’t have much of an idea for how she’d get past. Maybe she should just make a run for it, see how many fireballs she could dodge and deal with getting hit by the rest. That had to be better than just waiting here to lose all of her sanity coins, right?

  This was what it meant to be an adventurer; sometimes you just had to make crappy decisions and run with – or in this case, for – it.

  Taking a deep breath, Alisanne hopped out and immediately took a fireball to the chest. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t stop moving, and managed to duck under the next half dozen that came her way. Her luck ran out and she got hit two more times before she reached the next statue, but from there it was a clear path to the door.

  Alisann ran again, and managed to escape without taking another hit, which was great because she’d lost far too many coins in that stupid room.

  Oh well. Spilled milk and all that. Tightening her hands around her clubs, Alisanne pushed on, and entered a large circular room with a fountain bubbling happily inside.

  “Deposit treasures here for additional coins,” the placard near the statue said. Alas, Alisanne had no treasures to deposit other than her health potion, but there was no way she was going to give that up with her other wounds aching and her burns…burning.

  Her ankle pulsed again, more painfully this time, but Alisanne ignored it once again. She tested her weight and it didn’t protest too much, so it wasn’t really worth worrying about.

  She did put the empty bottle in the fountain, just to be polite, and was rewarded for her efforts with a single sanity coin. That was a nice touch.

  Another rack of books caught her eye, but while she could read some of their spines they were all about various kinds of shadow arts, which were absolutely useless to her.

  Although…Alisanne paused. Becoming a [Shadow Fighter] or something else in that vein might be interesting. Kind of an [Assassin]-slash-[Brawler] combo, maybe.

  She picked up the thinnest book on the rack and looked at the price. Ufta. Two hundred and fifty sanity coins. Her mental count was a little fuzzy, but she would have been surprised if she’d even been close to having half that many.

  [Dungeon Master] Orij had told her to try and have three hundred before meeting the [Dungeon Champion]. That was starting to look impossible, though Alisanne forced herself to take some solace in the fact that there was still plenty of second floor left.

  Maybe she’d find a windfall of sanity coins again.

  The next few rooms were standard fare, and Alisanne managed to bolster her reserves by fourteen coins. She spent seven on another treasure chest, but this one only contained a small piece of jewelry that didn’t seem to do anything special. It was small, but was pretty enough that she’d probably keep it until she got home. She doubted she’d wear it often, but jewelry was something that was nice to have.

  Room after room, hall after hall, Alisanne pushed on. Her steps were growing heavy; there were so many different paths that she could take at any given time that she’d entirely lost her sense of direction. Her sense of time had gone with it, and the only things she could focus on was the constant cadence of losing her sanity coins to the dungeon’s internal timer. It felt like it was going faster than it had been earlier. Did the time requirement to stay in the dungeon increase with time?

  Was this an [Aura]? Or was she just getting tired? Most of her runs through Crestheart would have ended by now, she thought, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Up ahead was another fog gate, and Alisanne had to force herself to go through it. The excitement that she’d felt going into the first one was gone now, replaced only by a sinking sensation of dread that she didn’t want to fight another mini boss.

  And of course, the reaper was waiting for her, this time with a scythe in its hands. Alisanne barely had time to raise her arms and activate [Steady Legs] before it attacked, the second of its four eyes now glowing like the first.

  Something was definitely affecting her now, Alisanne thought as she sluggishly dodged a strike and felt something slice across her shoulders. Her body wouldn’t cooperate the way she wanted it to, and she barely managed to beat the reaper back when it came in for what would have been a final attack.

  The plink of her sanity coins being stolen became almost-continuous. Her vision swam, and all the strength left Alisanne’s legs. Falling to her knees, she raised her clubs and tried to swing at the dark, pulsing blob in front of her, but her weapons found only air.

  A voice overhead cut through her troubled thoughts. “That was your last coin, Miss Henret. Your run is over.”

  The reaper froze in place, and Alisanne’s senses snapped back to normal. The miniboss floated backwards and lowered its weapon. Its eyes dimmed, and it seemed no more than a wire puppet in a robe.

  All the fatigue she’d been feeling vanished, replaced by rage and frustration. Yes, she was tired, but Alisanne knew now – knew! – that had enough energy yet to get back up and beat the everloving crap out of the monster in front of her. She could have continued!

  [Congratulations, you are now a Level 16 Fighter!]

  [Might +1]

  [Bravery +1]

  Looking up at the ceiling, Alisanne dismissed the notification and asked, “What got me? Why did I suddenly start feeling so weak?”

  “Check your ankle,” Orij boomed. “One must be mindful of the way little things build up when seeking mysteries, lest they become too big to overcome.”

  Alisanne did as he said, cursing loudly at the sight of a small fat orange caterpillar thing with three heads that was attached to her ankle like a leech. It was turning grayer and grayer by the second, and turned into ash when she flicked it and floated away.

  “The heck is that?” she demanded.

  “A sanity sucker. They’re minions that increase the passive rate of your sanity coin loss. This one got onto you when you stomped on the fireball in the room with the painting. Your efforts were commendable, but you have much to learn about yourself if you want to find success here in the future.”

  Alisanne snorted and swore again.

  “Fat freaking chance I’m ever coming back here,” she said. “Now how the heck do I get out of here?”

  In answer, a door opened up in the wall, and sunlight streamed into the room. Picking herself up off the ground, Alisanne left the Ribs of Knowledge.

  Her thoughts were bitter as she walked.

  Two dungeons into the circuit and two straight losses.

  Maybe this adventuring thing wasn’t for her, after all.

  No, that wasn’t true, she told herself as she grabbed her bags and headed for the carriage that would take her to the next city. This was just another fluke, and she’d practice extra hard before her next challenge.

  She’d turn this around.

  She’d finish the circuit with a winning record.

  [Determination +1!]

  Alisanne's Character Sheet:

  Primary Class: Fighter (Self), Level 16 (+1)

  Secondary Class: Scrimping Saver (Self), Level 11

  Might: 19 (+1)

  Wit: 9

  Faith: 14

  Determination: 14 (+1)

  Ambition: 7

  Greed: 5

  Focus: 8

  Idealism: 8

  Bravery: 8 (+2)

  Adventurousness: 6 (+1)

  Alright! It's done!

  In total, this section of the story comes in around 11500 words. Which is uh, a lot more than I usually write for DABB in a week, so yeah. It's good to put down some volume again though!

  I do apologize (again) for falling further behind. We're basically a week behind curve now, but I'm going to do my best to finish the next part faster. I learned a lot about Alisanne/this project while working on this part, and hope I can put those lessons into practice. I'll keep plugging away until this interstitial is done, and if it ends up taking an extra week or two beyond my project such is life. Thanks in advance for your understanding and patience!

  For those of you who followed my saga of crappiness from last week, I'm pleased to report that the snow has mostly melted, we're all feeling better and perhaps most importantly the septic company was able to come out and fix the issue, so we are all good here...

  ...Or at least, we were all good until I ran my dishwasher that night...and it broke. Threw out a million error codes and made it clear that despite only being 2.5 years old it'd had enough. I don't entirely blame it; we put it through a lot of work with small kiddos in the house, but it definitely leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Especially since we didn't buy the warranty. Lesson learned.

  Anyways, we get to handwash dishes for the next week or so until our new dishwasher can get delivered, but honestly I don't find that to be too big of a deal. Being able to take showers more than makes up for it.

  Now, my thoughts on the chapter!

  There was more I wanted to do, especially with exploring the town and some of the mysteries in the dungeon, but the wordcount was getting a little unruly to me as it was and I wanted to move on. While I don't think Alisanne will go much deeper in an edited version of her run, I think there's some more I can do with the sanity coin mechanic. 'Twas fun imagining a different kind of dungeon, and frankly I think Vee's gotta step up his game a bit when we get back to him and the main plot. There are some (hopefully) cool things coming in the next few parts.

  As always, ratings/reviews/follows/favorites are appreciated!

  I also have a, please check that out too if you're so inclined! I'm dropping pieces of these interstitial chapters more frequently there (as they get written)

  Thanks for reading!

  (Also, if you saw this chapter last night when I accidentally released it early, my bad. I picked the wrong date on the scheduler.)

  Oh, and also also, a Happy Valentine's Day!

  Fun little author fact: back when I was a college freshman, I went on a Valentine's Day date with my dorm crush to get bubble tea. We sat next to a gigantic (and somewhat unsettling, if I'm being honest) picture of Johnny Depp sipping our extremely sweet mixture of tapioca and flavored ice (I got melon), and while I probably talked too much, she barely said a word.

  That ended up not mattering much, because we officially started dating a week later...and then got married several years after that.

  Personally I credit the bubble tea. At least a little bit.