The night before the raid on the Whisper Rift, Renn Blackwood found himself unable to sleep.
It wasn't unusual. Insomnia had been his constant companion for the last two years, fueled by a consistent diet of existential anxiety and the sound of swamp creatures trying to eat his tent.
But tonight was different.
Tonight the anxiety came with a specific purpose: tomorrow, he was entering a Dungeon.
A real Dungeon. With dozens of Lords who likely surpassed him in level, experience, and general capacity to not die stupidly.
"You're thinking too loud." Valeria's voice broke the silence from her position near the dying campfire. She was in human form, sitting cross-legged, sharpening one of her crystal daggers with methodical movements. "I can hear your thoughts from here. They sound like an off-beat drum."
"I can't help it," Renn admitted, sitting on the log that served as his multipurpose furniture. "Tomorrow I'm going to a place where people die regularly. And my contribution to the team is 'try not to get trampled'."
"Technically, your contribution is keeping me happy so I don't let you get trampled," Valeria corrected. "It's an important distinction."
"Very comforting."
A flash of golden light illuminated the camp.
Renn blinked, and where moments before an orange cat had been curled up on his favorite pillow, now stood Lysandra in her humanoid form, standing with that impossible grace that made gravity look like a suggestion rather than a law.
Her copper hair fell in waves to her waist, moving with a life of its own under the firelight.
And her figure...
No. Don't think about that. Look at her face. Just her face.
"Renn," Lysandra said, "your anxiety is palpable. And frankly, annoying. It's hard to rest when your panic is polluting the atmosphere."
"My panic is polluting... the atmosphere?"
"Everything affects the atmosphere if you're sensitive enough." Lysandra walked over and sat on the log next to him. "But that isn't the point. The point is that your fear stems from ignorance."
"I am very aware of my ignorance. It's like ninety percent of my personality."
"Then," Lysandra ignored his self-deprecation with the expert disdain of someone used to dealing with dramatic people, "let's get educated. Tell me, Renn Blackwood, what did you learn in your academy about Dungeons? Or as you called them before... 'dimensional rifts'."
Renn blinked, surprised by the direct question.
"I... not much, honestly. The academy had a policy of 'theory isn't the same as practice'. Basically, they told us Dungeons were dangerous, that they appear randomly, and that if we ever saw one, we should report it to our alliance immediately."
"That is," Lysandra said in a flat tone, "possibly the most inadequate education I have heard in three centuries."
"Three hundred..." Renn paused. "Wait, how old are you?"
"Old enough to know that sending young Lords to face dimensional anomalies without proper knowledge is criminal negligence." Lysandra crossed her legs, and her feline ears twitched with barely contained irritation. "Very well. Lesson one: What exactly are Dungeons?"
"Places with monsters and treasure," Renn answered, feeling like he was back in an exam he hadn't studied for.
"Technically correct, which is the worst kind of correct because it explains nothing." Lysandra extended a hand, and golden energy materialized above her palm, forming what looked like a three-dimensional map of the cosmos. "Dungeons are fragments of foreign realities that have partially merged with the Infinite World."
Renn watched the floating map with growing fascination. He could see multiple spheres—dimensions? worlds?—connected by glowing lines.
"Fragments of realities?" he repeated.
"Yes. The multiverse is vast, Renn. Infinite, in fact, as the name of this world suggests. There are millions of dimensions, each with its own physical laws, inhabitants, and ecosystems." Lysandra touched one of the spheres on her map, and it lit up. "Occasionally, due to catastrophes, wars between cosmic entities, or simply statistical bad luck on a universal scale, pieces of these dimensions... break off."
"Break off?"
"Imagine a rotten fruit on a tree," Valeria interrupted from her spot, not stopping her sharpening. "Eventually, it falls. Except in this case, the 'fruit' is a reality fragment containing everything that was in that space: land, structures, creatures, and occasionally entire civilizations."
"And these fragments," Lysandra continued, making a gesture with her hand that caused one of the small spheres to detach and float toward a larger one, "are attracted to dimensions with high mana density. Like the Infinite World."
"So... Dungeons are basically pieces of other worlds that crashed here?"
"A brutal simplification, but essentially correct." Lysandra closed her hand, and the map disappeared. "When a dimensional fragment merges with the Infinite World, it creates what you call a DUNGEON. It is a space that is technically here, but still follows the rules of its home dimension. That is why they can have strange gravity, toxic air, or creatures that shouldn't be able to exist according to local laws."
Renn processed this slowly.
"Okay. So every Dungeon is literally a piece of another universe."
"Yes."
"Which means the creatures inside aren't 'generated monsters'. They are real inhabitants of that place."
"Correct." Lysandra looked at him with something that might have been approval. "Many Lords forget that. They treat Dungeons as if they were video games. But every creature you encounter is, in its own context, a living being with an ecosystem, purpose, and in some cases, family."
"That's..." Renn felt uncomfortable. "That makes killing them sound a lot worse."
"Survival is rarely morally clean," Valeria commented pragmatically. "But Your Highness is right. Understanding that you are invading someone's home, even if unintentionally, changes the perspective."
"So," Renn continued, trying to organize his thoughts, "if these fragments contain civilizations... why do we attack them? Couldn't we, you know, try diplomacy?"
Lysandra smiled. It was small, but genuine.
"That is a smart question. And the answer is: yes, technically you could. Some Dungeons contain races intelligent enough to negotiate. Goblins with tribal structures, dark elves with political hierarchies, and even some species more technologically advanced than humans."
"Then why don't we?"
"For the same reason your world would respond to an alien invasion with military force instead of welcome baskets," Lysandra said simply. "Fear. Self-preservation. And the pragmatic fact that many of these dimensional fragments are inherently unstable."
"Unstable how?"
"Dungeons aren't clean grafts," Valeria explained. "They're more like rejected organ transplants. The Infinite World tries to 'digest' them, so to speak. Integrate the foreign matter into its own reality. But the process is violent."
Lysandra nodded, taking over.
"As a Dungeon merges further with this world, its nature changes. The creatures inside become more aggressive because they are being altered by dimensional pressure. Resources multiply in unnatural ways because physics is broken. And eventually..."
"Eventually," Valeria finished, her tone darkening, "the Dungeon 'hatches'. The boundaries between the dimensional space and local reality collapse. Everything contained inside spills out."
"A 'Dungeon Break'," Renn murmured, remembering hearing the term before. "That's bad."
"'Bad' is an understatement," Lysandra said dryly. "Imagine fifty thousand furious goblins, distorted by unstable energy, invading a human city without warning. Or an ancient dragon, magnified to the size of a mountain, emerging in the center of your territory."
"Okay, yeah. That is... significantly worse than 'bad'."
"It's potential extinction," Valeria said with the frankness of someone who had seen horrible things. "That is why alliances prioritize clearing Dungeons. It isn't greed, though the resources are welcome. It is preventive self-defense."
Renn rubbed his face, feeling the weight of this new understanding.
"So, basically, every Dungeon is a time bomb waiting to explode."
"More or less," Lysandra confirmed. "Though some are more stable than others. A Rank F Dungeon might take years to become dangerous. A Rank S one could collapse in weeks."
"And the Whisper Rift? The one we're attacking tomorrow?"
"Rank E," Lysandra said, her ears twitching thoughtfully. "Relatively young. The notification mentioned 'unstable', which suggests it is experiencing fluctuations. That could mean unpredictable changes in difficulty, geography, or inhabitant behavior."
"Great. Unpredictable. Exactly what I want to hear before my first Dungeon."
"That is why there is a supervisor," Valeria pointed out. "His job isn't to lead the raid. His job is to ensure that if something goes catastrophically wrong, there is someone present with enough power to evacuate the survivors."
"Survivors? Not everyone?"
"The math of survival in Dungeons is brutal," Lysandra said without emotion. "In a typical Rank E raid with fifty participants, you would expect between zero and five deaths. Fewer if the group is competent and conditions are favorable. More if complications arise."
"Zero to five," Renn repeated, feeling nauseous. "Out of fifty people."
"That is why high-level supervisors accompany low-level raids," Valeria explained. "They significantly reduce mortality rates. Without him, you would easily expect ten or fifteen casualties. With him, probably none. Unless someone does something spectacularly stupid."
"Noted. Do not do anything spectacularly stupid."
"Good plan," Lysandra said with ironic approval. "Though given your history, perhaps we should define 'spectacularly stupid' with more precision."
"Hey..."
"Tomorrow, when you enter that Dungeon, you won't be hopeless. You will be with Lily, who is competent. You will be with Valeria, who is practically immortal at least at this raid level. And you will be with me."
Renn blinked.
"With you? I thought you were staying in cat form sleeping in my backpack."
"Change of plans." Lysandra stretched, a movement that was extremely feline despite her human form, causing the ears on her head to twitch with satisfaction. "I have decided to accompany you in humanoid form. I need to stretch my legs. Literally. Being in feline form all the time is like wearing tight shoes. Technically functional, but eventually irritating."
"Are... are you sure?" Renn asked, trying not to sound as excited as he felt. "I don't want to pressure you if you prefer..."
"Renn," Lysandra interrupted him, raising a hand, "I am not doing this for you. I am doing this because it suits me. Humanoid form allows me to interact more directly with the environment. I can speak, which saves Valeria from having to translate constantly. And frankly, I am curious about the Whisper Rift."
"Curious?"
"I am a celestial entity," Lysandra said, as if it were obvious. "I have spent centuries studying dimensional phenomena. Seeing a fragment of foreign reality up close is... academically interesting."
"She's excited," Valeria translated with a barely contained smile. "Your Highness rarely admits positive emotions directly, but when she uses words like 'academically interesting', it means 'I can't wait' and 'I can't wait to see you in action'; I've never seen her study anything."
"That is an exaggeration," Lysandra protested, her cheeks taking on the slightest tint of a blush.
"Is it?"
"...Maybe I am slightly interested in Renn's progress."
"Very interested."
"Valeria."
"Your Highness was practically vibrating with excitement this afternoon when we were discussing the details."
"I was... calibrating my dimensional resonance. It is different."
Renn watched this exchange with fascination. Seeing Lysandra—haughty, cold, always composed—being gently teased by Valeria was... adorable.
"In any case," Lysandra said, recovering her dignity with visible effort, "my presence in humanoid form will be advantageous. I can provide real-time analysis of dimensional conditions. Warn of instabilities before they manifest. And if the situation becomes dangerous..."
"Your Highness can eliminate threats with an efficiency similar to mine," Valeria finished. "Though her style is more... destructive."
"My style is precise," Lysandra corrected.
"Your Highness once destroyed an entire castle because a Lord called her 'kitty'."
"It was an ugly castle. And he deserved the lesson."
Renn couldn't help but laugh. It was so surreal—sitting in a rotten swamp, talking to a celestial princess and an ancient assassin about destroying castles—that his brain had reached some kind of maximum capacity for absurdity and simply accepted everything.
"Okay," he said finally, feeling something akin to calm. "So tomorrow we go together. The three of us. To invade the home of some foreign civilization to loot their resources before their reality collapses and kills us all."
"When you put it like that, it sounds morally questionable," Valeria observed.
"Morality is complicated when it comes to dimensional survival," Lysandra said philosophically. "But yes, that is the essence."
"And do I have anything to do besides not dying?"
"Observe," Lysandra said simply. "Every Dungeon is different. Each one will teach you something about combat, tactics, resource management, or simply about how the multiverse works. Your level is low now, Renn, but it won't stay that way if you are smart about how you learn."
"And if I'm not smart about how I learn?"
"Then you will die stupidly, and I will have to find another Substitute Lord," Lysandra said in a flat tone. "Which would be annoying because I have grown accustomed to your scratches behind the ears."
"That's... is that your way of saying you care about me?"
"It is my way of saying you are convenient and satisfying. Don't ruin it by dying."
"How touching."
"I try." Lysandra stood up, stretching again with that completely graceful motion. "Now, you should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be physically demanding. Valeria and I will keep watch."
"Both of you?"
"Your Highness doesn't sleep in humanoid form anyway," Valeria explained. "She generally meditates or studies ambient mana patterns."
"Which sounds just as relaxing as sleeping," Renn murmured, but he got up obediently. "Okay. I'm going to try not to have nightmares about collapsing dimensions."
"If you have nightmares," Lysandra said as Renn walked toward his tent, "just remember: reality is statistically scarier than anything your subconscious can generate. So, technically, nightmares are rest."
"Thanks. That really helps."
"You're welcome."
Renn entered his tent, wrapped himself in his sleeping bag, and closed his eyes.
Surprisingly, despite everything—the anxiety, the dimensional education, the knowledge that tomorrow he would literally invade another reality—he managed to sleep.
And when he did, he dreamed of Lily smiling, of Valeria making sarcastic comments, and of Lysandra in cat form purring in his lap.
It wasn't a nightmare.
It was almost... hope.
Outside, by the dying fire, Lysandra watched the tent where Renn slept with a thoughtful expression.
"Question, Your Highness," Valeria said softly, finally sheathing her dagger. "Why did you really decide to join us in battle? I know it isn't just to 'stretch your legs'."
Lysandra was silent for a long moment.
"Because," she said finally, her voice softer than usual, "Dungeons are dangerous. And even though Renn has his mask, even though you are with him, even though Miss Thornwhisper is competent... I want to be there. In my most powerful form. Just in case."
"Just in case," Valeria repeated, a small smile curving her lips. "Your Highness, you are being protective."
"I am being pragmatic. He is my Substitute Lord. Protecting my investment is logical."
"Of course. Investment. That is why you practiced battle dialogues in front of the mirror. And asked me if your dress looked 'intimidating but accessible'."
"Valeria."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Shut up."
"As you command, Your Highness."
But Valeria kept smiling, and Lysandra didn't contradict the accusations because they both knew the truth:
The haughty celestial princess who had spent centuries alone, who had rejected hundreds of Lords as unworthy, who had claimed her choice of Renn was purely transactional...
She had started to care.
And that, Valeria thought as she watched the stars above the swamp, was much more interesting than any Dungeon.