Erak washed the spearhead in the ((SAFE_ROOM)) pond. His fingers carefully moved along the edge so he didn’t cut himself. He could barely see as the blood spread out into the pond, branching out like the branches of a tree before vanishing into whatever enchantment the Dungeon had placed on the water. He forced himself to think about whether the impurities were being absorbed or transformed into water, and not… whatever had happened. He didn’t know how many times he had drilled it into ((APPRENTICE READERS)). The same result didn’t necessarily mean the same causation.

  A pitfall trap was something that most Dungeons made at some point, it was easy enough to avoid, and more likely to be used as a deterrent than an actual threat. Adventurers and ((DELVERS)) learned how to avoid them. ((READERS)) had to learn how to identify them.

  How a trap was constructed was usually the first sign of the personality of a Dungeon. Were there spikes? Was it plainly constructed or in theme with the area around it? Were there any hints about the location of the trap in the general area? Was it powered magically or did it need to be reset manually?

  It was rare that a Dungeon didn’t have any traps. He could only think of one off the top of his head, and Exchange wasn’t exactly a normal Dungeon. Stunted Dungeons tended to rely more on traps than average, they didn’t cost anything to maintain, unlike monsters. Stunted Dungeons also tended to be shattered within a few months of their discovery, even if the ((READER’S)) guild tried to shelter them.

  Stunted Dungeons who survived their first encounter tended to go into shock. Most Dungeons panic after their ((SANCTUM)) gets invaded for the first time, on one occasion, he and Allucio had been forced to camp outside a Dungeon for a week and ward off anyone trying to enter because the Dungeon hadn’t reset himself.

  His hostess had responded to her near death remarkably well. A little too well, if Erak was being honest with himself. The Dungeon hadn’t reacted to him entering her ((SANCTUM)) with panic. Her aura had felt calm, maybe a little embarrassed. She reset without problems and then began to question him about her circumstances. Calm, professional almost. Was the Dungeon older than he had assumed? Was there a secret entrance to the lower floors? Was the ((SANCTUM)) even her real ((SANCTUM))? Erak shook his head. What he had previously accepted as minor anomalies due to her location, now seemed… suspicious. It was a ridiculous thought, Dungeons were notoriously straightforward.

  A Dungeon didn’t pretend to be another type of Dungeon. Was she forging a new alignment then? He dismissed the thought. While Dungeon’s were more flexible in their ‘alignments’ there hadn’t been a forging since Exchange, nearly four hundred years ago now, and Monolith, one of the eldest Dungeons, had only managed his seven hundred years ago.

  Erak sighed loudly, clutching the spearhead a little too tightly. More likely, he had just jumped to conclusions and overlooked a simple answer. He watched the cloudy water turn clear again in the dim light. With a tug on his ((MANA)), he caused the low torches to flare back up again. A blue glow bathed the black sand. He had come out here because of this Dungeon, and he had barely done anything more than a rudimentary pass of the rooms.

  The first step was identifying the Dungeon. He rubbed his eyes before drawing a Dungeon alignment grid in the sand.

  Sanctuary Catacomb Labyrinth Bastion

  Hearth Monolith Trove Exchange

  Mundane Ravine Chamber Fortification

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  Cabin Coliseum

  Barrow

  He instantly crossed out the Labyrinth column. The Dungeon was trapless and bossless. He crossed out Mundane and Cabin next. Despite having the healing ability, she was more combative than either of those would allow. Barrow was the next most obvious choice, she had driven away Erann, not tried to draw him in further. He crossed out Monolith, only because he was sure she wasn’t a ((HIVE MIND)) and therefore didn’t meet the prerequisite of only having one monster. Ravine was another one that could go easily, the Dungeon wasn’t open-air. Exchange was also easily removed from the list, she had shown no interest in economic matters.

  That only left, Sanctuary, Hearth, Catacomb, Bastion, and Fortification.

  If the Dungeon had merely disabled the Spiderkin instead of killing her, then Erak would’ve said she was a Sanctuary. She was possibly a Hearth, betting on the healing ants, but other than some minor decoration she showed no interest in the nearly frivolous theming Hearth’s almost always reveled in. Catacomb… well, she certainly acted like a Catacomb during the attack, but not before it. A Catacomb would’ve killed both he and Erann on sight when they tumbled into her Domain. She had also sent some of her monsters on an expedition, which, although not unheard of, was something a Catacomb wouldn’t do.

  Bastion was tricky. He was hesitant to claim that she was one, but the pure lack of fortifications around her ((SANCTUM)) meant that it was the only choice left. And, as the ‘original’ alignment for Dungeons, it did tend to be the most common of the base four. The Dungeon had to be a Bastion. It was the only option. Still.

  Still.

  Bastions didn’t heal. Bastions didn’t send out expeditions. Bastions weren’t subterranean.

  “Goodness eternal,” Erak muttered aloud, rubbing his temples.

  His hostess was a Bastion who had picked up some odd behaviors from being isolated. That was what made sense. That was the only option. Bastions didn’t keep crippled monsters, that was Sanctuary behavior. Neither Bastions nor Sanctuarys responded well to being attacked the first time, that was Catacomb behavior.

  Another group of reddish ants ran by—more than the usual three, but he didn’t count them. Perhaps it was an expedition?

  Could she have a mixed alignment? Luna Elves only had three possible alignments, but Erak knew that Allucio was marked as Chaotic Good. The problem was, as far as Erak knew, Dungeons didn’t mix alignments. Dungeon alignments were… odd. More an indicator of personality than morality. Perhaps because Dungeons were held to different moral standards.

  He didn’t know of any Dungeons with mixed alignments, but who was to say there wasn’t one? He sure as the Inferno wasn’t. Thirty years as a ((READER)) and he still managed to struggle with the easiest part of Dungeon Identification.

  He heard the skittering of ants behind him and nearly managed to ignore it until one of them dropped a heap of bloodstained clothing into his lap. Erak froze. The red ant, the large one, chittered at him and sped off. There was the sound of shuffling, and something wet being dragged through the sand.

  He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from slowly turning around.

  A train of- maybe twenty? red ants were marching in perfect sync, feathers, chunks of fur and a trail of blood followed them, something that the larger ant seemed frustrated. A pair of ants dragged the Wolfkin’s headless and limbless torso toward the exit. They probably could’ve lifted it, given more ants, but it appeared the others were just as busy.

  The ant in the front of the pack held his arm awkwardly in its mandibles, it kept shifting it, causing the wrist to flap around limply. The ant was followed by the ones holding his legs, which had been snapped into manageable sections around the knee. The next ant held the head. Carrying it by the back of the spear Erak had driven into the wolf’s eye. The stick was heavier on one end and swung around like some kind of deranged flag.

  The head’s revolution changed, and suddenly it was pointing directly at Erak. The intact eye stared at him in glassed-over fear.

  The elf wrenched his gaze away, shoving the clothes off his lap, not caring that it fell directly into the pond. Then he stood up. The blood from the shirt seemed to be pulled away from it as the water turned murky, then clear. The ants paused their macabre parade, and the large ant clicked its mandibles in Erak’s direction. One of the healer ants chirped from the corner of the room, and the group set off once more.

  Erak became aware that his hands were shaking. He gripped the spearhead tighter, refusing to turn around until he heard the shuffling of far too many small feet on sand fade away. Then he slowly looked back at the path caused by the torso being dragged through the sand. He felt the dungeon’s eye turn to him, and his breathing became ragged.

  Dungeons had no reason to desecrate corpses. Dungeons could absorb a dead creature the moment its soul left its body. Why weren’t things adding up? What was he missing? Why did he feel so… enraged when the Dungeon was attacked?

  He opened and closed his free hand listlessly. What, in the name of the Eternal Goodness, was going on?

  NEW SIDE QUEST:

  Discover the secrets of the Dungeon you have taken up residence in.

  Erak flinched as, for only the second time in his existence, the ((SYSTEM)) interacted with him directly.