"Ah, the unknown! The last refuge of fools—and the first step of legends."
— An Excited Scholar
The drive took no more than ten minutes—ten minutes of silence, ten minutes of anticipation.
I stepped out of the car and surveyed what appeared to be a temporary encampment. Tents were scattered across the clearing, some threaded with wires running into humming devices. Men and women in white coats bearing unfamiliar insignia moved briskly between stations, shouting codes and technical jargon at one another. Their expressions were tight and strained.
Whatever was happening here, it was not going well.
Off to one side, a group I assumed to be dungeon explorers stood gathered. Their gear varied—enchanted fabrics reinforced with armour plating that shimmered faintly with residual energy. They spoke in low voices, their tension barely contained.
Miranda handed the car keys to a woman, who promptly drove the vehicle away, likely to create more space. Without a word, I followed Miranda deeper into the camp, listening to the chaotic chorus of voices around us.
She approached a rather pudgy woman who was scanning something on a tablet.
"Miranda Jean-Colin and Alezander Von Holms, at your service," she said. "What seems to be the problem?"
Personally, I felt the introduction could have used a certain… flair.
"As you know, this is a multi-gate dungeon," the woman began, not looking up at first. "We initially mapped eight gates. However, based on this morning's readings—and after nearly losing one of our personnel—we've discovered approximately eight additional gates."
"Really? That is good, but I don't see the cause of this panic," Miranda replied.
"It would be—if that were all," the woman said, finally meeting her gaze. "All the previously mapped gates have… transformed. They are now stone doors, each accompanied by a wooden tablet. We do not understand their purpose. Given the sudden shift, there is a possibility this raid may need to be postponed or even cancelled."
Miranda massaged her temple with a heavy sigh. "The God of Games?"
"The God of Games," the woman confirmed, as if Miranda should have known.
While Miranda remained engaged, I took my leave and approached the gathered explorers. Curiosity demanded it.
Up close, the details became clearer. Scratched armour. Reinforced gauntlets. Weapons humming faintly with stored arcane energy. These were not amateurs.
Most ignored me. A few glanced my way, then dismissed me just as quickly.
Until one did not.
A young woman met my gaze—striking, with an inquisitive look in her eyes. When she noticed me staring, she waved. Then, with some insistence, she tried to coax the man beside her to do the same. He failed miserably, his face flushing a deep shade of red.
How… endearing.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind—of love, or rather, my lack of experience with it. My only encounter had been rather unfortunate. A one-sided affair. Persistent. Unsettling.
As if summoned by that memory, a faint sound brushed against my ear.
A soft, seductive laugh.
My body tensed—just for a moment.
Calmly, I glanced around. Nothing. No one out of place.
…A trick of memory, perhaps.
I dismissed it, though not entirely.
Returning to my earlier purpose, I sought out Miranda, only to find she had relocated. A nearby staff member silently pointed me toward a tent.
Inside, I found Miranda seated across from the same woman, both enjoying tea. A nameplate rested on the table: "Susana."
"So, Alez," Miranda began, setting her cup aside, "as you've likely gathered, we have a complication. Given the changes observed externally, we cannot predict what lies within. The dungeon may have increased in difficulty."
She leaned forward slightly.
"We have two choices: withdraw… or proceed. Though, knowing you, I suspect the answer is already decided."
"Indeed," I replied smoothly. "After all, I did not come all this way to retreat at the threshold. I seek an adventure—one worthy of remembrance."
Miranda laughed, far louder than necessary, and drained her tea in a single gulp.
"You heard him, Susana! We're not leaving until we've tasted the blood of adventure!"
Susana sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. She clasped her hands and murmured a brief prayer. We remained silent until she finished.
"I have prayed for your safe return," she said. "May the God of Insight guide you."
"Appreciated," Miranda replied, flexing her arm with a grin. "But I have the God of Might on my side."
There was an audible strain from her sleeve.
Susana stared at her blankly.
"…Meathead."
Miranda coughed lightly and stood.
"Come. Regardless of what the others decide, we can at least gather valuable data." Continued Susana.
As we exited, she reached into a nearby container and tossed a small object toward me. I caught it with ease.
A crystal. Red. Smooth. Oval.
"Keep that on you at all times," she said. "If you die, it shatters and pulls you out of the dungeon. Lose it…" she shrugged, "and you'd best start praying."
I examined it briefly. There was no visible means of attachment.
Noticing our confusion, a nearby scientist stepped forward and explained the process. A small infusion of residue allowed the crystal to anchor itself to the body.
Simple enough.
We proceeded toward the forest, following a clearly marked path lined with cones and strips of yellow tape. The deeper we went, the quieter it became—until even the sounds of the camp faded.
Eventually, we arrived.
A series of stone doors stood embedded among the trees, unnatural and imposing. We passed several before stopping at one that seemed almost fused to the trunk of a massive tree.
"This is yours," Susana said. "It holds the highest readings. Best of luck."
She left without another word.
I stepped forward and immediately felt it.
Not residue.
Divinity.
It poured from the door like a suffocating tide, thick and oppressive. Even Miranda's presence beside me vanished beneath its weight.
I moved instinctively toward it.
"Hold," Miranda said, stepping ahead of me.
She examined the door, then the wooden tablet beside it. Strange symbols were carved into its surface—unfamiliar, unreadable.
She pushed against the door.
It did not move.
As she strained, I noticed the tablet begin to glow faintly.
"Miranda," I said, pointing.
She turned, placing her hand against it—
—and winced.
"What happened?" I asked.
She did not answer immediately, merely flexing her hand as though testing something unseen.
"Good news," she said at last. "I know how we may enter."
"And the bad?"
"We cannot go in alone."
She turned to face me, her composure intact, though the restrained excitement beneath it was unmistakable.
"This dungeon has established a mental link—a 'party' system, if I am correct. I have been assigned the role of Tank."
She paused, eyes unfocused for a brief moment, as though skimming through an invisible manual.
"It would seem we require at least one damage dealer and one support before entry is permitted."
I inclined my head, thinking.
"Very well," I said, turning away. "Then I shall go and acquire what we lack."
Behind me, Miranda remained still, her gaze fixed on the shallow cut across her palm.
A wooden tablet… drawing blood through enchanted leather.
Curious.
Very curious.