The morning of the tournament arrived not with a bang, but with a deep, tense silence. The usual cheerful bustle of my dungeon was gone. The "Closed for Private Event" sign was still up, and the only occupants were my own small, nervous dungeon family.
We were all gathered in the main lobby, waiting. The silence was heavy and expectant, broken only by the rhythmic shing-shing-shing of Gilda methodically sharpening her axe. Pip was nervously adjusting Clank's "GO TEAM NAP!" banner, which was still slightly crooked. Zazu sat on a cushion, his eyes closed in meditation, but I could feel the anxious flutter in his mind. Kaelen stood like a statue in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the entrance, a silent, coiled spring of readiness.
FaeLina, like a blur of contained panic, zipped back and forth without a word.
'This is the most stressful morning of my entire existence,' I thought, my core humming with a low, anxious thrum. 'I haven't been this tense since I had to deploy a critical patch for my last game right before a holiday weekend. I just want this to be over so I can sleep for a month.'
And then right on schedule, a strange thrumming started, a vibration that ran through every stone of my being. The air in front of the entrance began to shimmer like heat haze, and a single point of impossibly bright, golden light was born in the middle of it. The point didn't just expand; it bloomed like a metallic flower, its petals peeling back to form a huge, shimmering gateway.
My first sensation was the sound—a roar so immense and overwhelming it felt like a physical blow against my core. Then came the light, a harsh, unfamiliar sunlight that washed out the gentle, purple glow of my own magic. And with it came the smell of dust, sweat, and roasted nuts.
My quiet, dark sanctuary had just had its front door kicked in by the loudest party in the world.
A formal, magically amplified voice, the same one from Zazu's dream-training, echoed through the portal.
"AND NOW, CONNECTING TO OUR FIRST SURPRISE CONTENDER... THE MYSTERIOUS, NEWLY-CERTIFIED SANCTUARY FROM THE SOUTHERN KINGDOM... GIVE A WARM WELCOME TO THE COMFY CORNER!"
FaeLina let out a psychic squeak. 'We're first?! Why are we first?! I wasn't prepared to be first!'
(The Royal Arena - Capital City)
In the grand tournament arena, the massive Scry-Screens flickered to life, showing the cheering crowd a view through the newly opened portal. They saw a strange, cavelike room that looked more like a pleasant tavern than a dangerous dungeon.
The commentator's voice boomed. "A fascinating first look, folks! But The Comfy Corner isn't the only dungeon competing in our opening ceremony today! From the 'Blackrock mountains', I present to you the undisputed victors of last year's tournament, the 'Obsidian Forge'!"
The screens briefly showed a fiery, industrial dungeon filled with rivers of lava and giant, grinding gears. The crowd roared.
"And their fiercest rivals, the pride of the ancient 'Silverwood Forest' the beautiful and deadly 'Sylvanheart Maze' ! "
The screens showed a glimpse of a labyrinth of giant, moving trees and glowing, poisonous flowers. The crowd cheered again.
"And finally," the commentator's voice dropped, "representing the dark hearts of our kingdom... the infamous, the terrifying... the 'Blood Pit', led by the enigmatic Lord Vorlag!"
The crowd let out a mixture of fearful boos and excited cheers as the screen showed a dark, jagged pit dripping with what looked suspiciously like blood.
The Scry-Screens then panned across the various VIP boxes, showing the powerful figures watching the ceremony. In the Royal Box, King Caspian leaned forward, an amused smile on his face, while High Adjudicator Thistlewick sat beside him, looking like he had just swallowed a sour lemon.
A few boxes over, Duke Valerius watched with a proud, nervous expression. In the gallery reserved for the kingdom's powerful factions, the elven Lord from the Silverwood Forest raised an elegant eyebrow, the bearded Thane from the Blackrock Mountain dwarves let out a hearty laugh, a sharp-suited representative from the Gnomish Tinkerers' Guild furiously sketched notes, and a formidable-looking lion-man from the Beastkin Clans watched with a thoughtful, predatory grin.
(The Comfy Corner)
'The Blood Pit,' I thought, and a cold feeling washed over me. 'Of course they're here.'
"The champion party from The Comfy Corner will now present themselves before the Royal Box!" the commentator announced.
Gilda took a deep breath. "Well, no turning back now."
She strode forward, her axe on her back, she is giving the perfect picture of a proud warrior.
Zazu took his place on her right, his expression calm and focused, while Pip nervously shuffled into position on her left, trying not to look at the more than fifty thousand people staring at him.
Clank, holding his little banner, ticked nervously but bravely behind Pip. And at the very front, marching with more dignity than any of them, was Sir Crumplebuns, his Spoonblade held high.
The weirdest adventuring party in history stepped through the portal into the roaring noise and blinding light of the arena. They came to a halt on the sand, looking up at the Royal Box where King Caspian the Benevolent sat, watching them with a look of intense curiosity.
The commentator seemed confused. "An... unusual party from The Comfy Corner, folks. An Iron Gryphons warrior, an elf, a rogue, a clockwork... pillow?... and a giant plushy knight. A very eclectic support team for their chosen champion!"
He consulted his notes. "And now, it's time to kick off this grand tournament with the first event of our Opening Ceremony! To start this week-long festival of dungeon-delving, we have invited four of the most talked-about dungeons to compete in a special exhibition match: 'The Gauntlet of Swiftness'! While dozens more dungeons will be competing in the coming days, these four will give us our first thrilling taste of the action!"
The crowd roared with excitement.
"The Comfy Corner," the commentator declared, "as the newest challenger, you are up first!"
A cold feeling, like ice water flooding my very essence, spread through my core. At the same time, FaeLina's psychic voice shattered into a single, high-pitched wail of pure terror in my mind.
We were first.
And we had been assigned the one event we were philosophically, magically, and fundamentally designed to fail.