Egbert Was staring at the coral maze of fungus from above, slightly stumped about what he should do with it. He had a priceless damned resource at the end of it, and he couldn’t just charge for it because that “wasn’t in the spirit of adversity a dungeon is supposed to foster.”

  Bahhhh, arbitrary restrictions just designed to keep me from achieving my full potential… I would one hundred percent just grow and sell endless resources, though… I think I would keep the betting too… That was fun.

  Egbert grumbled to himself and decided to see what was happening at the tavern; he didn’t have a massive amount of free coins anyway. It seemed to be a pretty slow afternoon. Max was trying to scrub some bloodstains out of the floor from where a patron had nearly brained themselves when a mix of liquor and gravity had cast them brutally to the ground.

  I know I'll just ask Max; he's a business-savvy fellow.

  “Hey! Max got a second!?” Egbert hissed from his creepy pet rock on the bar. Max jumped so hard he slammed his head on the bottom of the bar and then teetered the fuck over one of his own barstools, landing in a sad, angry heap that ended with his prosthetic popping off from the weird angled fall.

  “I fucking hate your greed,” Max groused before sitting up with a longsuffering sigh, rubbing the back of his head in pain.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘why yes, my benevolent landlord, I have all the time in the world for the omnipotent being that my business resides within.’” Egbert really laid it on thick with the sweet tone.

  Max didn’t even try to feign subservience. “What do you want, other than to give me a heart attack?”

  “Your business-savvy opinion.”

  Max straightened his shirt a bit. “Well, alright, what’s the question?”

  “What do the people yearn for max what do their hearts call out for when they are deep into there cups. What would make their lives incomparably better.”

  Max looked at the rock in amusement. “I mean, mostly there are exes; there’s quite a bit of ‘Oh gods, why? She was the best thing that ever happened to me.’” But I doubt that was the answer you were looking for.”

  “It…was not,” Egbert admitted grumpily.

  “Yeah, your real question—and correct me if I’m totally off base here. The real question should have been. Dear Valued Innkeeper, How might I filch more coins from the poor downtrodden souls who are here to earn their fortunes? What are their weaknesses, and what do they crave enough for me to exploit? Sounds about right.” Max said with a smug grin.

  “That all really wasn’t necessary if you read between the lines on the first question, but yes…that about sums it up.”

  A patron at a nearby table sipped his beer and tore a hunk of bread off while watching the exchange in utter fascination.

  “Oh, eat your breakfast!” Egbert hissed at him. The man stared into his tankard, suddenly fascinated with the color of ale. “And you just answer the damned question!”

  Max laughed. “Alright, alright. So betting has gone over pretty damn well, but events like the fucking loot bug war just aren’t sustainable, at least not yet. Fantastic, maybe once or twice a month for a good chunk of change, but we need something that your everyday patron can bet on like that guy… I know you’re still listening; you haven’t touched your damn bread again. Nod if you agree!” The same patron sheepishly nodded and then pretended to take a drink of his ale.

  “Alright, consider my interest piqued.”

  “Okay, so what you have been doing, but make it smaller scale! Like, "Oh shit, someone's fighting Bully or Bubba…" Have it pop on the scrying screen; people can bet on who’s going to win. Maybe have a little trap or two in each of their normal hangouts that folks can throw some coins in if they really feel like being dicks.”

  “So your suggestion is to further monetize the fights against the more notable members of the dungeon via bets and additional traps. It certainly has some merit to it. I will need to finally cave and get a respawner for the monsters if I do this. Right now only the loot bugs respawn… Hmm, yes, I can definitely work with this. Thank you for the advice, Max!”

  “Wait before you run off to God knows where. Just a heads-up, we have a pretty large group coming in today.” Max added hastily.

  Egbert’s eyes “narrowed.” “Is it going to be another clusterfuck like with the artificers?”

  “Stop bringing that up. I said sorry, and no, the knight academy is basically having a field trip here to let the students see what a real dungeon is like. They probably should have chosen another dungeon for that ‘real world’ experience, but they’re all loaded, so I figured you would be fine with it.”

  “Wait, what the hell do Randy and his squad count as? They have been some of our regulars since week one.” Egbert was a bit confused.

  “Ahh yeah, so maybe don’t mention that. I got the distinct impression students were not allowed to do that kind of thing unaccompanied.”

  Egbert sighed. “Whatever, as long as they pay, I’m going to go buy a spawner and design a bounty system for my own monsters.”

  “What?...” Max said to the now unoccupied rock. “Oh goddammit, he did it again. He literally never says goodbye; he just leaves you talking to the fucking air.” The patron choked a bit on their ale trying to stifle laughter. “Oh shut up, Ted, you’re drinking alone in a bar at ten in the morning; you have no room to judge!”

  “Fair.” Ted nodded and went back to breakfast.

  ***

  Egbert stared at the system store; he had the spawner options open, and he checked his gold real quick.

  [Copper 3] [Silver 5] [Gold 23] [Platinum 1]

  He had gotten a fair trickle since he expanded into the fungal maze; he was calling it the fungal maze now because he kept confusing himself with different names for the baffling topography bordering his new mana font. So fungal maize it was!

  Alright… sigh… the cheap option or the one I actually should get… No, screw it, I'm getting the cheap one. I only have a few monsters that need the VIP treatment for now anyway.

  [Small Respawner] (3 Gold)

  Hey, if you want to stop buying new monsters every time an adventurer gets a good stab slice or fireball, this is for you. While it has limited capacity compared to some of the bigger and better models, this lets you bind a few of your monsters' mortal souls to this plane of existence functionally forever! Rebuilding their bodies and stuffing the soul back inside after a short period of time. Never say goodbye to your friends again! Might, A big maybe here; it only happens in like 1/100 cases. Cause a slow and gradual descent into madness as the monster in question is forced to die over and over without ever having the sweet escape of oblivion as an option.

  [Supports 5 Monsters]

  [Respawn Time: 1 day]

  Going to ignore that blatant warning and...Bwoop.

  [Copper 3] [Silver 5] [Gold 20] [Platinum 1]

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Egbert purchased the small respawner; it popped into existence in front of him. Currently he was in the mimic village, so technically it lightly plopped onto Remorse, who opened an eye angrily and narrowed it at the foreign object.

  If you eat that, I will end you.

  Remorse huffed slightly and went back to his endless hungry vigil.

  Egbert looked at the respawner; it was a metal cube the size of a wine cask. Its notable feature was its utter lack of features; it was smooth metal, unnaturally perfect in every facet imaginable. Egbert gave it a mental poke to see if that would activate it.

  [ Small Respawner ] (0/5)

  Huh, so do I just like… Egbert focused on Remorse, and a disconcerting ethereal shape was ripped from Remorse and sucked into the cube abruptly along with a sound like a screaming soul.

  [Small Respawner] (1/5)

  Remorse

  That was disconcerting… Anyway, let's go add the other important monsters.

  A few minutes of zooming around the dungeon and another handful of souls being stuffed into the cube later, and Egbert finally had an insurance plan for when his more important monsters inevitably got themselves murdered for being assholes.

  [ Small Respawner ] (5/5)

  Remorse

  Boo

  Bully

  Key Mimic #1

  Treasure Chest Mimic #1

  Egbert looked at the list for a few moments. He was realizing he really needed to start adding more actual monsters to his dungeon. So far he had been coasting on the bizarre, ever-evolving loophole that was the fact that the loot bugs were considered a damned loot item by the system and not a normal monster, so they all respawned for free. He knew at this rate the system was going to probably yoink that away, especially as their kill counts climbed. Mostly due to contempt being the prissiest thing to ever walk the face of this continent.

  Egbert groused to himself for a few moments. Technically the ‘Puppy’ didn’t respawn, but he was really hesitant to add that to the respawner. For obvious reasons, mostly being if something managed to actually kill the damned thing, he might want it to just stay that way. But with the still looming reprisal from those mages that Ebert was still certain would happen, he might still need the monsters' help.

  Hell, worst case, if he could manage to get the ‘puppy’ or remorse hit by a stray fireball while Thrognar was in eyesight, his favorite barbarian would probably ‘solve’ the mage problem for him. That man's love of the mimic and eldritch horror masquerading as a puppy was baffling on a fundamental level.

  Egbert started poking around in the mostly ignored mushroom garden towards the back of the room; the damned myconids had turned it into a hissing pile of acid and regret. He was spending a few coppers here and there just to clean the mess up when a fairly large party stepped onto the porch.

  Oh, I hope that’s the knights. They always spend a good chunk, and my coffers are feeling a bit lonely at the moment.

  Egbert zoomed to his porch, and sure enough, there was a small collection of fresh-faced knights decked out in a menagerie of armor types. All falling behind a grizzled, heavily scarred bear of a man with short hair like a passel of murder-y ducklings.

  Egbert looked around; sure enough, out of the eight knight initiates here, he was well acquainted with four of them. Ben, Carter, Joe, and Randy all held the rear of the formation, looking a bit nervous.

  Ben was reading the new small sign out front that was inspired by his antics. “No magic missile wands allowed? What the fuck, greed...” He grumbled under his breath angrily. Carter was trying not to laugh out loud at his dismay because the teacher had just turned around dramatically to address his initiates.

  Suck it, Ben. Use the wand again, I dare you! The rules are clear and plainly posted… You can, but I'll happily be confiscating half a damn gold every time you shoot that thing. One silver per magic missile, Ben—is it worth it? Is it!?

  Joe elbowed Carter to get him to stop his snickering at Ben’s expense. “Hey, shut up. Killgore is going to do his monologue thing.”

  The severe Knight Captain Killgore puffed out his chest and threw his cape back unnecessarily, stomping an armored boot hard enough on the porch to crack stone. Everyone’s attention snapped to the instructor.

  Rude! And unnecessarily now I have to fix that!

  Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he began in a grave, overtly serious tone, “Dungeons are places of great opportunity and a way to test what kind of man you really are against the forces of evil. Back in my day I had plumbed the depths of not one but three dungeons. Now none of you have ever experienced the horrors that are held within a dungeon, SO I expect you to hang off of every word of advice I offer to you if you wish to survive this place!” He paused for dramatic effect.

  Carter and Randy were guiltily looking anywhere but at Killgore. Joe coughed lightly. Ben was angrily staring at the sign still and muttered too quietly for anyone but Greed to hear, “That’s some bullshit.”

  “Now I didn’t think you welps were ready for the place, but I have been overruled! And since the commander had the foresight to at least put an accomplished veteran like myself between you pants-wetters and almost certain death, I will do my utmost to enlighten you on the best ways to conquer a dungeon.”

  My god, you like the sound of your own voice far too much; please just go inside.

  “This place holds endless horrors! Don’t let its beguiling theme of money fool you! I know rumors are swirling that it just hands out gold and that barely anyone has died inside, but know this! Nothing in this world is ever truly free!” Killgore continued passionately.

  Alright, that bit's actually true, but please stop. Go into the dungeon.

  His students were all solidly starting to zone out from the conversation; the ones at the front that started his speech with rapt attention had gazes that were drifting around. Most are looking at the front door coin slot curiously.

  Kilgore continued for a painful amount of time. Every time Egbert thought, "Oh good, here we go," he would start up again; it was maddening. After about half an hour of circular speeches that always ended in "follow my lead, noobies," Egbert had had enough.

  He zoomed into the loot bug room and started prodding a few of them to go bother the people at the front door. Of course they didn’t listen to him; all he managed to do was stir them up in a swarming, hissing tizzy like a bunch of golden piranhas with anger problems.

  Well, dammit...

  Egbert sulked back to the front to listen to the next leg of the endless speeches, seriously considering asking Boo to pop over and speed up the brain melting everyone was experiencing.

  ***

  Tammy – Tine Outskirts

  Tammy sat on her family home porch, rocking back and forth gently in the ancient bone rocking chair. She looked out over the family property with a fond smile. She had so many good memories here. Well, at least before Ma and Pa had died in the border skirmishes.

  The tepid black pond that made them want to settle here in the first place sat just a few strides away from the porch itself. Cattails stuck out from the brackish water around its edge, barely clinging to life. It teemed with tadpoles with a few too many eyes and an extra tail or three.

  The marshy ground around the pond was home to a fantastical array of small crawfish teleporting from puddle to puddle, hunting small many-eyed frogs who would leap impossibly high straight up to escape the hungry pincers. Eight clawed crabs with blackened shells ambled along like marauding conquerors, eating anything they could get their pincers on.

  Tammy looked up from her happy relaxation as the rest of the family walked towards the shack. Hank, Edith, and Jeb all basically rushed the last few dozen strides through the marsh in their excitement to talk to her.

  Hank went first. “What did our great patron say?”

  Tammy cleared her throat and took a sip of some bitter bog tea to wet her palate; she had a feeling she was going to be doing a lot of talking over the next few hours. “Well, to start, we have chosen a name for this age, Patrick, after Patrick the conqueror of the northern streams from legend.”

  The other mumbled different praises to Patrick and then looked back to her to continue.

  “Ahh, yeah, okay, so he does have a task for us… “Well, quite a few of them actually, but there is one really big one.” Tammy nervously asserted.

  Jeb waved his arms. “Nothing is too big for the new Patron. He made me a wizard, Tammy! A wizard!” He waved his hand in the general direction of the pond, and a net of slimy dripping shadows shot out and diced a poor frog that happened to jump straight up at the wrong time, showering a happy crab in frog chunks.

  Jeb looked at his hands in fearful reverence. “Such power…”

  Hank rubbed his hands across his face in disbelief, looked hard at Jeb for a moment, and then shook his head like whatever he was about to say just wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned back towards Tammy. “Granddaughter, don’t leave us in suspense; just tell us what Patrick the Mighty, the new Teet father of the deep waters, wants.”

  Tammy cringed a little. “Well actually… He doesn’t love all that terminology... pond, pond scum, Brackish lord, Moist conqueror. Basically he doesn’t love all the water-themed names…”

  Hank looked aghast. “Why not!”

  Tammy shrugged. “But back to ya question grandpa. The pond…erghmm, Patrick wants us to snatch up Greed’s core and bring it to him.”

  There was a stunned silence followed by an outburst from Jeb: “Down with the dungeon! Dungeon souls for the Deepfather! Cores for the core throne!”

  Edith turned towards him. “Jeb, please stop. This is serious.”

  “I was being serious…”

  Hank sighed and refocused. “That’s…a mighty big task…and a dangerous one…” Greed, I mean, he isn’t my favorite dungeon I have ever met, but he sure ain’t the worst either. Did the Teet…ahh, Patrick, did Patrick say why he wanted Greed’s core?”

  “No, he didn’t, but I didn’t dare ask either, Patrick...is a lot to behold.”

  Hank looked contemplative for a moment, then looked to his wife. “Do you know where his Core is, smookums?”

  “I can find out, but…we will have to be smart about it if he catches onto us…” She left the rest unsaid.

  “Yeah, between that wannabe god with all the illusions and the general hate of humanity and the spider…”

  Edith nodded. “Careful planning will be needed. Now, what about those other tasks, Tammy? The core might take a bit.”

  Tammy looked genuinely relieved to have switched to another topic. “Alright, well first, he wants a few cute pet things that people couldn’t help but drop their guards around…”