Three days later, Brynhildr and Dagnar entered the dungeon for the second time. And as expected, the spies followed.

  Celeste had confirmed their entry the moment they crossed the threshold. Four of them this time. Other than the three men, now there was a new addition. A woman. Like the others, she wore a hood that concealed her face, but Viktor didn’t need to see it. Judging by that figure, she could only be Yvonne.

  “So the waitress decided to join the party this time, huh?” He chuckled. “Good.”

  How considerate of her, really. If she had stayed outside the dungeon, getting to her would have been tricky. But now, she had kindly stepped into his domain. He couldn’t help but feel grateful to the woman for making the job much easier for him.

  Sorry, Nadja, your precious colleague won’t be coming in to work tomorrow.

  He swept his gaze across the three men who had come with Yvonne. The first stood out by size alone. He was neither as tall as Brynhildr, nor as broad as the hulking Easterner he had seen in the Guild the other day, but standing next to his three comrades, the man looked towering by comparison. A longsword hung low on his hip, and his hand was never too far away from its handle. The second was lean, his movements fluid and silent. Twin curved swords were strapped across his back, positioned for a reverse draw. The third man walked in a slight crouch, and it was he who guided the others. Whenever they reached a branch, he correctly picked the path Brynhildr and Dagnar had chosen. Either an expert tracker, or a mage.

  “Where are they now? What are they doing?” the large man asked in a low voice.

  The hunched man lifted a crooked finger and pointed straight at the stone wall beside him. “Over there,” he said matter-of-factly. “Some goblins were closing in on them, and Brynhildr had drawn her sword. There’s going to be a fight.”

  Viktor raised an eyebrow. Now this was beyond tracking, obviously. Could this guy see through walls or something?

  Also, it turned out that Brynhildr’s real name was... Brynhildr. What was the point of giving Dagnar an alias when she was still using her old name?

  “Should we jump them now?” the lean man whispered, barely holding back his eagerness.

  “Hell no,” the large man barked. “A bunch of goblins is nothing. She’ll cut them to pieces in seconds. We wait for something bigger. Something that can actually threaten her, something that can keep her busy. Then we will make our move.”

  “But... Brynhildr is very risk averse,” said Yvonne. “If things get serious, she won’t stick around to fight. She’ll just retreat instead.”

  “Patience.” The big man growled. “We keep tailing them, keep our distance, and wait. Sooner or later, an opportunity will present itself. And when that moment comes, we strike without hesitation. I trust you lot still remember the plan?”

  “Yes,” the lean man muttered. “When she’s busy fighting the dungeon’s monsters...” He spat on the floor. “We grab the brat and bolt.”

  “And before any of you idiots get ideas, do not even think about fighting her,” said the large man. “Don’t let her appearance fool you. She didn’t earn the name Butcheress for nothing. If you’ve forgotten what happened to Harold’s group, maybe you should go pick up the pieces and ask them yourself.”

  A silence followed. The hooded figures seemed to shrink back, their postures stiffening as if they had just realized they were being too close to the maw of a hungry wolf.

  “Stick to the plan,” the man finished. “Let the dungeon do the heavy work for us. We wait until it throws something at her that can keep her distracted long enough. Then we get the brat, and we get out. Understood?”

  The others nodded. No one argued.

  That’s not a bad plan, actually, Viktor thought. Using the power of the dungeon against someone they couldn’t handle on their own.

  But, of course, there was one little problem.

  The dungeon was his. His stronghold, his labyrinth, his domain. No one could simply stroll into his territory and use it for their own benefit without his permission. These fools thought that they could play here without paying for the privilege? No, he was going to charge them a price that they would find far from pleasing. And regardless of whether they liked it or not, he was going to collect all that was due.

  Also, since their scheme depended entirely on the dungeon’s mercy, that would make him the one who truly controlled how this game would proceed. As long as Brynhildr and Dagnar didn’t encounter anything too dangerous, their pursuers would have no opportunity to strike.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  And that had been his plan from the start anyway. He would keep sending weak monsters to fight the duo, some goblins here, some spiders there, allowing them to progress smoothly into the depths of the maze, and the spies would follow. Right into his hands.

  Viktor watched the pieces move across the gameboard. The warrior woman, her good-for-nothing nephew, and the Lyndorian spies. Their journey was uneventful. Too boring, even. It was because Celeste had been doing her part perfectly, making sure that everything happened exactly as he had envisioned.

  And now, the spies had been far enough away from the entrance. The time had come.

  “There are goblins coming this way, through the hidden tunnels,” said the hunched man.

  “What? Hidden tunnels?”

  The hunched man nodded. “Yes... I only just realized.”

  How curious, Viktor thought. The guy could see through walls, but didn’t notice the secret passages until the goblins started using them?

  After the mage’s warning, his companions immediately drew their weapons, ready for the fight. Well, Viktor didn’t expect his goblins to reach them undetected anyway. The tunnels were not meant to conceal their movements, but only to shield them so that they could close the distance and force a melee.

  As the first goblin emerged from the hidden opening in the wall, the lean man was already moving, flashing his twin blades. Clearly, he had been waiting a long time for a chance to kill something. The hood came off as the man lunged, revealing a feral grin stretched wide on his face.

  Curved swords carved perpendicular arcs through the creature, cleaving from collarbone to hip, parting flesh and splintering bone. For a heartbeat, the goblin dangled in four ragged pieces, entrails spilling in a wet, glistening torrent of green. And then—

  The corpse exploded.

  A ghastly greenish flame bloomed from the butchered remains, followed by a thunderous burst of noxious gas. The man’s victorious smile turned into a gurgling choke as the fumes engulfed him. His skin blistered, eyes swelling shut as he staggered back.

  “Poison!” Yvonne snapped. “Back! Stay back!”

  The warning came too late for the lean man, obviously, but the other two quickly threw themselves backward, boots scraping against stone, barely ahead of the billowing haze.

  Yvonne ripped a vial from her pouch, bit the cork free, and downed half its contents in a single swallow. Her veins lit up, as if there were blue fire beneath her pale skin. Then, despite her own warning, she plunged into the cloud. She hauled the lean man out, jammed the vial between his teeth, forced the liquid down his throat, then splashed the final drops over his eyes, all the while muttering something under her breath.

  Interesting, Viktor thought. What kind of potion is that?

  Meanwhile, a second goblin leapt from the wall, a faint greenish mist trailing from its mouth with every breath. The big man stepped forward to intercept the new threat, and for a second, it looked like he was about to swing his sword, but instead, he spun and launched a kick that connected with the creature’s bloated belly, sending it flying down the corridor.

  “We must get out of here!” the hunched man shrieked.

  Yvonne threw the lean man’s arm over her shoulder, dragging him upright. “Jory! Carry him!”

  The large man grunted, sweeping his wounded companion onto his back like a sack of meat. The lean man’s head lolled, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

  Then, they ran.

  Jory thundered ahead, the limp weight of the lean man slung over his back, his boots pounding against the stone like war drums in a doomed battle. Yvonne followed close, teeth clenched, sweat streaming down her face in rivers. The hunched mage struggled to keep up with his friends, his cloak flapping behind like a ragged banner.

  From the tunnels, more goblins spilled out, their eyes glowing in the dark as they gave chase with savage determination. Yvonne risked a glance over her shoulder, and she gaped at the tide of bloated bodies primed to burst.

  “Erik, do something!” she yelled.

  The mage turned, pointing a trembling finger at the pursuing goblins.

  Then—

  A searing beam lanced from his fingertip. It punched through the lead goblin’s forehead with a sizzling hiss, drilling a thumb-sized hole right above its eyes. The creature’s skull melted inward around the beam, bone and brain matter bubbling into vapor. Smoke curled from the cauterized tunnel left in its head, the edges glowing molten orange before hardening to blackened crust. The goblin crumpled, then detonated. Its body burst apart in a storm of gore and green flame.

  A pyromancer, huh? Viktor mused.

  But not a typical one. This man didn’t toss flames around, setting everything ablaze with reckless abandon. No, he employed heat to attack his enemies, and he used it like a precision tool, concentrating it into a focused ray that could pierce through steel as if it were soft cheese.

  And that explained his ability to see through walls as well. Viktor recalled a spell that allowed the pyromancers to sense heat in their surroundings, to perceive the world not in light, but in warmth. Walls meant little when these mages could just detect the heat emitted from the bodies behind them.

  “Celeste, recall the goblins.”

  [Understood.]

  There was no need to throw more meat into the grinder, not when the purpose had already been fulfilled. Goblins were cheap, but not free, and he didn’t enjoy wasting resources.

  He never expected to wipe out the Lyndorian spies with them anyway. Mutated they might be, but if these intruders had died to mere goblins, he would have been deeply disappointed. No, the goblins weren’t meant to kill, but to rattle the spies, forcing them to retreat.

  He needed to eliminate Brynhildr’s pursuers, but they were following her and her nephew from a distance, just far enough to avoid suspicion, but still too close for his comfort. He did not want to cause a commotion near his primary targets, so he had to separate the two parties first. And now, with the spies running back to the dungeon’s entrance, the real battle was about to begin.

  “What the hell?” Jory shouted, his boots grinding to a halt, his eyes locked on the figure blocking the path.

  “An undead?” Yvonne’s voice cracked, eyes wide.

  “And what’s the deal with all the gold and bandages?” added Erik.

  Well, besides Brynhildr and Dagnar, there were also other adventurers roaming this maze, and Viktor couldn’t afford to let anyone catch wind of what was going on. So he needed to wrap this up quickly, which was why he had decided to play his strongest card right from the start.

  After all, no rule said the Guardian of the second floor couldn’t appear on the first.