Later that afternoon, the quiet of camp life fractured beneath distant shouting.

  Josh glanced up from polishing his shield, sunlight glinting off the fresh shine. "Visitors?"

  Brett shaded his eyes. "That, or we’re in a lot of trouble…”

  A line of figures crested over the hilltop. Ronald approached them, striding with the easy confidence of a man who already knew exactly how the next ten minutes would go. A human warrior was in front of the others, a smile on his face as he saw Ronald. Behind him marched a column of adventurers, some young and nervous, others seasoned and strolling as though arriving at a familiar tavern rather than a monster?infested ruin.

  Beastkin with tufted ears flicking at the breeze. A trio of dwarves arguing about whether the ale in this region qualified as drinkable. Humans in mismatched armour, some polished, others dented. And a few cloaked individuals whose races Josh and Brett couldn’t pin down.

  Ronald raised a hand. "You took your time!"

  A broad?shouldered human in gleaming armour laughed as he came forward. "So you’ve dragged us all the way out here for nothing, old man?"

  "Nothing?" Ronald barked a laugh. "You took so long my lot cleared it all up. Didn’t even leave you a warm?up fight."

  Josh’s party exchanged looks.

  Brett bumped his shoulder lightly. "Hear that? We’re his lot."

  Josh tried not to grin too wide. "Damn right we are."

  Bheldur folded his arms across his chest and jutted out his beard. "We cleared it because we’re efficient. And handsome."

  Perberos flicked his hair with a snort. "One of those is true, for you anyway.”

  Carcan simply smiled without lifting her gaze from her prayers.

  A handful of the newcomers eyed Josh’s group with open curiosity, some clearly sizing them up, others whispering in disbelief that a bunch of fresh trainees had already swept the dungeon.

  One beastkin scout, a feline woman with amber eyes, gave Brett an approving nod. "Not bad for pups."

  Brett blinked. "Pups?"

  She smirked. "You’re young. You’ll grow into something dangerous, maybe."

  "Maybe?" he echoed.

  "Only if you stop staring like you’ve never seen a beastkin before."

  Brett flushed. "Sorry. I just—your tail moved on its own."

  "Of course it moves on its own," she said, amused. "Does yours?"

  Brett spluttered while Josh clapped him on the back.

  Bheldur laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

  Camp life quickly shifted into its usual rhythm as the reinforcements began unpacking. Tents went up in uneven rows. Someone started a cooking fire that immediately produced either the most savoury stew imaginable or something that might kill them all, no one could tell yet. Adventurers swapped stories, weapons, and boasts. A gnome tinkerer wandered between groups offering to "upgrade" their equipment with suspiciously sparking tools.

  Josh felt a warm swell of pride settle in his chest. They’d worked hard. They’d grown. They’d earned their place here. They’d been greeted as peers by other adventurers.

  Ronald’s voice cut through the hum of camp life like a commander’s bell. "Alright! Everyone over here!" he called, waving his arm in a broad arc.

  Those who were close by drifted toward him, while others hurried up the dirt path from the dungeon entrance. The newly arrived adventurers mingled awkwardly with the groups already stationed at the camp, exchanging nods, curious glances, and a few quiet introductions.

  Josh, Brett, Bhel, Perberos, and Carcan found a spot near the front, still a little dusty from their latest run.

  The newcomers stood in clusters, a mix of humans, beastkin, and one slender elf who already looked bored. The man in armour, the one who had joked with Ronald earlier, rested his hand casually on his sword, his easy grin making him seem far too relaxed for someone who had just travelled to a dungeon break.

  Ronald clapped the armoured man on the back before raising his voice again. "Everyone, listen up! These fine folks are from Verentide, city’s just over the ridge and down the eastern road. They’ve come to assist with the dungeon bleed and lend extra manpower until things settle."

  A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. Verentide. Josh filed the name away.

  Ronald continued. "This here is Guildmaster Orlen of Verentide," he said, gesturing broadly to the man in armour. "Don’t let his face fool you, he’s older than me."

  A few chuckles rose around the camp.

  Guildmaster Orlen wiggled his eyebrows. "Only in spirit. And in wisdom. And in—"

  "—terrible jokes," Ronald cut in, earning louder laughter.

  Orlen dipped his head theatrically. "Guilty."

  Ronald stepped forward again, turning his attention to the rest of the camp. "Thank you all for the work you’ve put in so far. As you might’ve guessed from the appearance of my lot, this dungeon’s around level ten. Main monsters are goblins, orcs and a few trolls, traps are light, mana density moderate. It’s ideal for early-rank training. If any of you newer arrivals have questions, ask the seasoned parties here, they’ve been running it nonstop for days. They know its quirks."

  Josh felt Brett puff with pride beside him.

  Orlen raised his hand. "We’ll be joining you on rotation while the bleed settles. And I expect we’ll learn a thing or two from the teams here. Once things are a bit more settled, we’ll call for builders and guards from both cities to set up an outpost here, it’s likely that this will become a joint training resource for both cities, given that it appears to be quite a good low level dungeon for early rank ups. Something both cities have lacked for a long time.”

  Ronald nodded approvingly. "Exactly. So, stick together, share insight, and don’t do anything heroic unless you have a healer, who is ready to complain about it afterward."

  Carcan sighed at that. "We do more than complain."

  "Aye," Bhel whispered. "They also glare."

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Carcan elbowed him, but she was smiling.

  After a few more logistical notes, Ronald and Orlen drifted into conversation with the newly arrived adventurers. The camp gradually dissolved back into it’s normal rhythm.

  As the group walked away, Josh overheard Ronald speaking in a lower voice, not secretive, but the tone of someone planning for the future aloud.

  Over the next few days, the rhythm of dungeon delving settled into something dangerously close to comfortable. No one admitted it out loud, Ronald would’ve appeared out of thin air and smacked them all with a stick but the truth lingered in every easy breath and every confident stride.

  Josh’s shieldwork hit harder, faster, smoother. Brett’s spells formed with crisp precision, the flames curling eagerly around his fingers like loyal pets. Bheldur fought like a landslide with purpose, and Perberos moved through battle with a quiet, lethal grace. Carcan’s barriers shimmered with renewed stability, each one forming exactly where it needed to be.

  The mana in the air, once thick enough to taste, had thinned to a faint hum. Only when a spell flashed or a monster dropped did the old buzz spark again.

  Other adventuring groups finally followed their example, venturing into the dungeon with growing confidence.

  A ranger Feren’s team came back first, triumphant and loudly celebrating. He strode directly toward Josh, pride gleaming in his eyes.

  "Level ten! Took us long enough," he declared, clapping Josh on the shoulder. "You all make this look easy."

  Josh laughed. "Trust me, it wasn’t. We just had a bit of a head start. You’ll catch up."

  Brett added smugly, "Only if you train half as hard as we do."

  "Please don’t listen to him," Josh muttered.

  Further behind, Zolma’s group returned far more quietly. The healer kept her gaze fixed on the dirt as her team mates flanked her protectively.

  "She froze again," one guard whispered to another.

  A monster would have lunged at another of the party, fear spiked and she will have locked up. The same pattern every time. The others had gained levels, but she trembled through each fight.

  Brett watched her with a frown. "…She needs patience. And someone who won’t shout when she panics."

  "Carcan?" Josh asked.

  Carcan, already approaching, gave them a gentle nod. "If she wishes, I will teach her. Healing magic responds poorly to wounded hearts though. Fear must be treated, too."

  Camp life swelled around them, smoke from cooking fires drifting lazily upward, armourers bickering while repairing gear, beastkin hunters comparing scars, dwarves arguing about whose axe was superior. Two cloaked figures, mysterious newcomers from the reinforcements, sat apart, glancing at everyone with sharp, unreadable eyes.

  Brett leaned closer to Josh, whispering, "Okay but what are they? Elf? Ghost? Very fancy bushes?"

  "Stop staring," Josh muttered. "If they hex us, I’m blaming you."

  —-

  The next couple of days fell into rhythm. Eat. Fight. Rest. Repeat.

  The dungeon no longer felt unpredictable. Once?deadly threats became manageable challenges they dispatched with growing expertise.

  Josh’s Guardian talents sharpened; his defensive aura flickered instinctively into being, wrapping allies in faint, shimmering protection. Brett learned to thread fire past Josh’s shield without scorching him, a fact Brett insisted was "historic magical achievement." Josh disagreed.

  Perberos marked enemies with swift precision. A single arrow set glowing trails in his vision, guiding each follow?up shot like fate.

  Bheldur’s axe throws grew terrifying. One rebounded between two goblins, leaving Brett impressed and faintly horrified.

  Carcan’s healing flowed through every battle with quiet devotion. Renewing Light had become the unseen backbone of the team.

  Still, things remained stable.

  Until another goblin warband returned.

  It was larger this time, bolstered by over?leveled goblins and orcs hardened by raiding and survival. They burst from the brush shrieking… only to find over fifty adventurers staring back.

  Josh and his party were deep in the dungeon, but the story spread quickly through camp, retold with dramatic embellishment over dinner.

  "—and then Feren just punched an orc!" someone exclaimed.

  "He absolutely did not," Perberos muttered.

  "He tried," another adventurer added. "Broke his hand, too. But the orc looked impressed before it died."

  Whatever the details, the result was the same: the camp held firm, and the goblin threat continued to fade.

  The morning after this incident, Ronald called for everyone’s attention, his voice carrying across the camp with its usual booming authority. "Alright, listen up! Looks like we can pack it in. Dungeon’s safe again. No more bleed, no more surprise goblin parties. Those of you from Ashenfall can head home, unless you’d rather stay and squeeze out a few extra levels. Same to you from Verentide, you can either head home, stay here and level up, or if you’re high enough level you can head to the kobold dungeon near Ashenfall, or even the undead dungeon if you’re high enough, but I suspect that will only be the few of you who came as escorts..."

  A cheer rose from a few groups scattered around the clearing. Brett pumped a triumphant fist. Bheldur thumped Josh so hard on the back he nearly stumbled forward, while Perberos stretched luxuriously like he’d just woken from a nap.

  Ronald continued, "Flow’s slowed to nothing, so it’s well under control." He cast a final glance at the dungeon portal, now glowing like a still blue pool at dusk. "Odds are this place’ll become a training outpost soon enough. Roads, buildings, the works. Safer to train newcomers here than throwing them at bigger dungeons. And it’ll stop another mana break before it starts."

  With a cheer, everyone broke apart, heading back to their sleeping areas. Josh leaned his forearms against the wooden palisade wall, staring out at the clearing. Adventurers bustled about, packing, chatting, relaxing for the first time in days. The portal shimmered a soft, gentle blue.

  This place would become a training outpost. More baby adventurers. Hopefully no more losses.

  Part relief, part anticipation swirled in his chest.

  Brett wandered up and draped an arm over his shoulders. "Remember, blue means safe, right?"

  "For now," Josh replied.

  Perberos joined them with a small smirk. "You sound disappointed."

  With a shrug, Josh looked at his friend, "Just thinking ahead," before laughing, trying to pull himself out of this rut.

  Carcan stepped up beside them, her calm presence easing the last of his tension. "There will be time for what comes next. But tonight, you all deserve rest."

  "Rest?" Bheldur scoffed. "Bah. I say we find the nearest town and demand a feast in our honour!"

  Brett immediately raised a hand. "Feast? I second this plan so hard. Though the closest real town is Ashenfall…"

  Josh chuckled, shaking his head. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, his shoulders loosened.

  The dungeon was quiet. The sky clear. The portal safe. Whatever came next… they had earned this moment.

  The mood that night was lighter than it had been in a long while. Campfires crackled merrily across the clearing, sending sparks dancing up into the star?streaked sky. People laughed easily, loud and unrestrained. Someone started playing a lute. A pair of beastkin sparred half?heartedly for fun. A dwarven group passed around a battered keg. The tension that had coiled through the camp for days seemed finally, blessedly, gone.

  No one talked about mana density or goblins or strategy. Just victory, relief, and the promise of rest. There was talk of the outpost they were to build, the original carpenters who’d travelled with them from Ashenfall having linked in with other builders who’d made the journey and planning out the area. They planned on improving the wall that was made, but also extending it around where the outpost would be, to help protect from any future attacks from what remains of the goblins who left the dungeon, though they suspected that would be a rare incident. The talk of structures and town lay out quickly bored the party, so they moved back to their camp.

  Josh stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the stars. “So,” he said, glancing at the others gathered around their fire. “We’re sticking together after this, right? Unless one of you is sick of my face already.”

  Bheldur snorted. “Lad, if I haven’t strangled you yet, it’s far too late to start.”

  Brett pointed at him. “See? That’s true friendship.”

  Perberos gave a lazy shrug. “I’d rather run with you lot than start from scratch. We know each other’s rhythm. Makes battles easier.”

  Carcan folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I would also prefer to stay together,” she said softly. “We work well as a unit.”

  Josh felt warmth blooming in his chest, deeper than pride, steadier than excitement. “Then that’s that. We keep going. Together.”

  A quiet ripple of agreement passed around the circle. Exhaustion, satisfaction, and a spark of hope.

  Tomorrow would bring the next steps. But tonight, tonight they rested. And for the first time in a long while, Josh drifted to sleep without worry.