“You know, I never actually thought that when my parents ranted about things being harder in their day, they were telling the truth. This dungeon is a fucking nightmare,” Venna said, watching back the earlier fight against the two burning hulks on a slab of illusion glass. That fight alone would've turned half the people she'd known in first year to paste. She did appreciate, though, how it had multiple solutions. You could be very good at stealth and dodge round, or kill them. He'd not found it, but there was a mechanical lever to seal them in the pit, which would reward the perceptive. Then there was his way—fear and violence.

  “What's the rating for this dungeon using a modern system?” she asked Aldo, whose gaze was locked on the long, drawn-out conversation Oz was having with the fairies, wishing Noxarcer would permit them to hear what was actually going on.

  “F-1, but that's not accounting for running it solo. If you account for that, it's an E-4. And that assumes someone with all their skills filled out,” he muttered absent-mindedly.

  “Well, that’s fucked.” Venna skipped back to the fight in the horde room. Aldo said this room was the one that statistically killed the most entrants. Oz’s handling had been masterful, and his dog was a perfect match for him.

  “What?” Aldo shifted his attention as the fairies puffed out of existence. She could see him resist the urge to try and summon them. Noxarcer was being exceptionally prickly today—better not piss it off.

  “I was saying this is fucked! This is well above the level of power that anyone who had just unlocked their class would be able to handle.”

  “Yep! It's a meat grinder. You know, every few years we get some clever dick who thinks this is the way in for their kid. The last pass was twenty-five years ago. We’ve had thirteen try since then and not one has passed. There’s a reason we've got exams and the practicals. We don't let people train their kids like we used to—for good reason.” The Archanchellor nodded cheerfully. He tried to hide the curiosity boiling across his face. He was a protector of the fairies just like she was, so they knew he'd have questions for them when the run was done.

  Venna sighed. It’d been a trying day full of ups and downs. Nothing went right. Even when the kid woke up and had his memories, was at least mostly himself, she’d relaxed. He’d also sounded exactly like Urstal, just with a lot less swearing.

  She’d been excited to find a solution, to see him start the—rough way—down a path that had brought her such happiness. Only to moments later find that this was all likely to be pointless, as he wasn't a delver. She’d not even considered it a possibility. His physique was something else, and she'd found well-worn training equipment in his gym, the remains of traps in the halls, and the man strapped with a wicked runed knife that she was certain he’d scribed himself. All the hallmarks of a delver.

  She'd been worried when he’d torn the door off its hinges and charged. Yet, in that fight alone, she saw such potential—and so much to worry about. The core of it was his instincts. This was someone who had long been used to seeing violence as the answer to their problems.

  Most people, even military people, just didn't have that. Violence was something they used, but it was special—a tool that you had to bring out when needed. For most it remained stashed away in a glass case labelled ‘break in case of emergency’.

  Even as it delighted the delver side to see him destroy his enemies, she knew it wasn't a healthy thing to see in a kid. She could feel the shame growing. She'd really dropped the ball. She could've checked in. She'd made a promise to not interfere, but she could've at least checked in with Urstal.

  That way she’d have seen the signs, but she’d been too busy, and relied on some idiot who she only knew because a former colleague as being reliable. She had a lot to make up for, that was for certain.

  She didn’t even know what to think of the kid’s absolute confidence in not taking the essence. She’d tear apart that town to get to the bottom of that. Assuming he was right, someone had poisoned her ward—a classless kid.

  “He’s done with the room. I don’t know why he spoke to the fairies for so long, or why they were so upset. Now he’s got the key and has hacked open the monsters. Why do you think he’s doing that?”

  “You mean apart from stopping the dog from eating the crystals?” Venna smiled. She’d totally not nearly cried at seeing just how excited he was to get a dog. Not at all. It was just sweat—from her eyeballs.

  “He’s collecting them. Do you think he knows he can make poisons from them? There’s also ways to use them for casting, but he doesn’t seem to have any spells?” Aldo watched carefully, trying to puzzle it out.

  Venna chuckled. It was good to see her old friend stumped for once.

  “You’re thinking like he’s one of your regular students. He’s not got any meaningful understanding of dungeoneering. You and I know that it’s bad design to require a delver to hack apart a corpse. It’s not obvious, it’s not fun, it eats up time, and you’d only do it for resources, not for something essential.” She smiled.

  “I’d bet gold that he thinks those are important. I mean, your mural makes a big deal about them.”

  “It’s mostly just to gauge numbers. If he knew his magic symbols, he’d have got what the fairies just told him, and would know the magic inside is harmful to the boss.” Aldo used another illusion glass to pull up the mural. She could see him making notes.

  “He’s very thorough for someone who’s so direct,” Venna noted. His fights had been brutal and shockingly efficient. They weren’t the safest way to fight, but tactics like the door and fire showed a mind that really understood threat. He controlled the battlefield. While his abilities—apart from the summon, which was an Aether Sent blessing as far as she was concerned—weren’t anything to write home about, they were reliable.

  “He’s doing very well given the situation. It’s fascinating watching his approach. This is not following any manuals. From what little I can sense, his soul has almost stabilised for now. I still don’t want him to respawn, but I’d say it’s less of a danger than it was,” Aldo explained, and Venna let out a sigh of relief.

  “How bad is the bleed?”

  “It’s not good, but he’s not muttering about embracing the void or worshipping some unpronounceable being with not enough consonants in its name, so it’s not as bad as it could be.”

  “You think it will change him?”

  “It’ll try, but he has phenomenal willpower. If he becomes a different person, it’ll be on his own terms. I’m mostly worried about what he said earlier. About the cravat.”

  “I’m so glad I don’t have to wear that anymore, but why is a cravat an issue?”

  “It’s what he said about the word! You give out classes as well—you should know this.” Aldo groaned as she shrugged. “Argh, look, the Nether washes most things away. Only their most intense obsessions or those few incredibly emotionally stirring memories tend to have any influence.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Like how I became obsessed with wielding hammers and meeting dominating women.”

  “I suspect that second part is all on you. How is your wife, by the way?”

  “Probably not going to be pleased that I’m volunteering her help for your cause. That just means she’ll scowl at me more.” Venna grinned.

  “Back to our earlier point, yes, in general you’re right. It gives you a few nudges. It should not be spoon-feeding him vocabulary or insights about fashion. This implies something different is happening.”

  “You think it’s anything to worry about?”

  “I would, if Noxarcer was not radiating so much smugness at me I’m in danger of getting a tan. It seems certain things are going to work out. I’d give him good chances, especially if he can avoid a respawn. But while I’m good with souls, the Academy has been doing this since the dawn of our civilisation. If you can’t trust me, trust it.” Her friend was quite humble about his skills. There were perhaps those with better specific knowledge about elements of the soul, but the soul as a whole? Aldo Brackham, every time.

  The pair relaxed and passed the flask of whisky between them as Oz slowed down, taking a minute or two to carve out one crystal and chase his dog around before tackling it to get the last one out of his summon’s mouth. That done, he went and fetched the key the fairies had told him about. Then he stood still, did some breathing exercises to recentre himself, and left the destroyed room behind.

  “Where’s he heading next?” Venna asked quietly.

  “Looks like he’s going for the alchemy room. That’s the one that was locked. It’s got the last of the big jackals and two of the small ones. The last two small ones are in with the boss. The room has a reward if he can earn it. More importantly, it has a secret way into the boss room that saves you going down the trapped corridor.”

  “Reckon he’ll have any problems? What’s the room’s gimmick?”

  “Oh, it’s about poisons and avoiding some attacks. The small ones throw bottles of poison at you.”

  “He’s half dwarf, half troll. He’ll be fine.”

  “I’m more worried about the dog. Oh, he’s looking through the keyhole. He must have some kind of sight enhancement. And I think he’s spotted their workstations. That’s good. Looks like he’s getting out both throwing axes—wait, now where’s he going?” Even without Aldo’s commentary, Venna found the kid enthralling.

  She watched as he walked back and grabbed the door he’d already used to control an entrance once, and repurposed it again. This time he lay it sideways so it came up to his mid-thigh, buried both axes in the top of it so they’d be easy to grab, and then crouched behind it—clearly remembering the fire trap from the horde room.

  The kid spoke to his dog, which waited behind him, and then, as gently as his huge fingers permitted, unlocked the door. He let the door begin to open an inch before smacking it the rest of the way. When no tongue of flame lashed out, and before the beasts could hide, he hit the room with whatever his fear technique was—even the big one flinched.

  That was when he began hurling axes.

  The first one carved through the air, thudding into the small jackal that was still tangled up in its chair. It went down like a sack of rocks.

  His hand dipped down to grab the second axe, and it went spinning out as a silver blur. This one only clipped the other small jackal, not enough to kill it, but just enough to knock it—interrupting its throw and sending it stumbling onto its bubbling workstation. She winced as it went up in ball of green steam, and flames.

  It’s desperate but short lived thrashing reminded her just why she refused to work around poisons. Anything properly dangerous was just as threatening to you as your enemies.

  The threat was far from over. The big one had shaken off the worst of the fear and charged. Venna leant over the illusion glass, the now familiar urge to protect rising up. This was his first time against an enemy that could feasibly take him down, where it wasn’t blinded and burnt. She had faith, though—the kid was a natural.

  She expected him to dodge back, let the dog help and distract. But no—he crouched back down. What was he doing? Was the dog going to use him as a springboard?

  No. They were waiting for something.

  The big jackal howled, its claws glowing with magic to empower its attack. An overhead swipe was ready to come down over his barricade. She could hear Aldo’s teeth grinding in worry, and then she saw it. The kid was grinning behind the door.

  In a fluid motion, he rose up, dragging the door with him like it was nothing, taking the blow up high before the downward sweep could build up momentum. Stance wide, he took the blow with barely a shudder.

  The beast had a whole two feet on him, and magic in its swing—but despite that, Oz barely moved back. She let out a whistle of approval. But that wasn’t the end of his counter attack.

  Lifting up his improvised shield meant the doggy door was now open. The twin-headed summon charged between his legs, launching itself at the jackal’s most vulnerable parts. Venna considered herself inured against most violence. She’d killed and been slain in such a multitude of ways over the years that it all became noise. Still, there was something uniquely grisly about two heads pulling tender flesh in different directions.

  She pretended not to notice Aldo quietly crossing his legs.

  The kid was not one to sit at the back and let his summon do the work. He moved in for the kill, dropping the door and whipping the chain that’d been wrapped round his arm into the monster. He cracked the length of steel like a whip.

  The creature flinched away before two more strikes followed up, disorientating the enemy, leaving it torn between protecting itself from the dog or the punishment of the chain.It failed to handle either. Teeth dug into its thigh, and then the chain crashed into its skull—and it toppled, dead.

  It was brutal. It was effective. And it was entirely not the standard way to delve. Yet it worked.

  Venna had royally screwed this up. From letting an old friend wither into madness, to letting the kid she’d sworn to protect all those years ago get his soul mangled, she’d failed a lot. But there was a silver lining. One thing she wouldn’t regret, as she saw him standing with a smile on his face over his conquest, was introducing this kid to delving. He might hate her for it, but she had to hope he could sense he was utterly killing it right now.

  “Well damn, this might all work out after all. Oh, and he just hit a threshold. A bit slow, but that's what having a summon will get you.”

  “It doesn’t look like he’s invested any essence so far?”

  “His soul was in turmoil. I doubt he could. I think that should be sorted when he passes a threshold. His soul is already doing a lot better than before. The flow of fresh essence from his foes has likely done a lot to help him stabilise.”

  “Wait, are you telling me he has actually punched his way out of soul damage?”

  “Let’s not tell him that. I feel like it would send the wrong message.” Aldo muttered.

  “Ha, fair enough. What do options do you reckon the threshold will offer him?”

  “Another signature skill. He’s got good passives, from the look of things, and his summon. I’m guessing something high impact, or a long cooldown AOE.” Aldo nodded. As a Keeper, you got a sense of the way the classes in your dungeon worked. What skills they got were part what your dungeon needed, part the path they worked towards, with a dash of randomness and a pinch of luck thrown in.

  He moved into the room and started to examine it. Venna noted he was carefully checking for threats, giving the poisoned work tables a wide berth. It showed good instincts. Eventually, he got to a set of lockers at the back of the room. One stood out in particular—it had a heavy lock with a dial on it. A ‘clue’ hung above it.

  “What’s the puzzle?” she asked.

  “Oh, I doubt he’s getting this one—it’s a language lock,” Aldo muttered, fingers twitching as the illusion glass zoomed in on the locker. “Extra gear if he cracks it. Nothing vital.”

  Venna hummed in acknowledgment. Classic dungeon design—rewarding breadth as much as brawn. She’d never liked language puzzles herself; she understood their purpose, but they always felt like a little clunky to her.

  “Always with the bloody languages,” she muttered. “Still, fair’s fair. There’s no trick here—just a test of range. You bring a broad set of skills, you get more tools.”

  It was how dungeons worked—at least the good ones. Every challenge had to have a solution, every lock a key. Enough hidden paths to reward the thorough. Enough leeway for creativity. It wasn’t about punishing mistakes. It was about watching how you recovered from them.

  This wasn’t going to be the boy’s strength. She hadn’t pegged him for the scholarly type. Runes, sure—that was probably Urstal’s influence. But this?

  Then Aldo stiffened. “Wait. He’s in.”

  Venna blinked. “What?”

  “He opened it. Under a minute.” Aldo glanced up, frowning. “Where’s did that folder with his results go? Did he even study any other languages?”