“Where’s the Cyclops?” Joshua muttered as he reached the end of the staircase, his eyes squinting into the gloom. “There should be one here.”

  The chamber that y before them was empty. There was no sign of the hulking, single-eyed monster that usually guarded this part of the dungeon. Viktor had, of course, pulled the creature from the spot. Leaving a lone Cyclops here would have just made it easy prey for the Cabalist.

  Bjorn grunted. “The dungeon’s moved its minion again.”

  “As if it knows I’m about to take control of the beast,” Xahir murmured. “As if it’s actively working against us.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Bjorn said. “The attack just now on the first floor. What else could it be but a deliberate move against us? The dungeon has bared its fangs, clearly.”

  A grin spread across Clint’s face. “If that’s the case, then it’s failed spectacurly. It lost a bunch of its minions and didn’t accomplish a thing.”

  “That’s a probing attack,” Bjorn said. “It’s not meant to defeat us. It’s meant to test us.”

  Was that the reason why the Northman didn’t fight at all? To deny the dungeon any information about himself?

  “Now what?” Joshua asked, pointing toward the gaping mouth of the corridor ahead. “Are we going to enter the maze? We’ve got four gnolls now. We can use them as our screening force.”

  “Wait,” Bjorn said, narrowing his eyes. “How did the Cyclops leave this pce?”

  That gave everyone pause.

  “That’s... a good point.” The aeromancer slowly nodded. “You’re right. The creature’s massive. No chance it could make it through that opening. Not without causing a colpse. There has to be another exit from this room.”

  Yes, there was. Viktor had built a secret tunnel, wide enough for the one-eyed brutes to walk through, connecting this chamber to the arena at the far end of the second floor, completely bypassing the maze. It was meant for retreating wounded Cyclops, as well as bringing in its repcement.

  “Joshua, check the walls,” Bjorn ordered. “Find the secret passage.”

  The mage gave a quick nod, stepping forward. He raised his hands, and the air around him began to hum. A faint breeze stirred, brushing against the surrounding stone walls, probing for any gaps or cracks that could betray the hidden passage’s location.

  “There,” the aeromancer said, pointing at the wall to his left. “That spot.”

  Bjorn turned to Clint, jerking his chin toward the location Joshua had pointed out. With a snort, the rogue approached the wall and knelt down, running his fingers along the cold surface. After a moment, he pressed a stone, and a rumble followed as the wall began to shift. One section slid aside, revealing the secret passageway.

  “Good,” Bjorn said. “Let’s move.”

  The four adventurers entered the tunnel. Two gnolls took the lead, while the other two guarded the rear, ready to intercept any attacks from both directions. Protected by their canine meatshields on either side, the Dungeon Reavers advanced, keeping the same formation as they had on the first floor.

  “Hey, Bjorn,” Joshua said.

  “What?”

  “What exactly is this pce?” the mage asked in a low voice. “Is it... sentient?”

  “No idea. But it’s different from the others. There’s something more to it. It’s alive, in a way. At least our client thinks so.”

  The one who hired them? Was that Clovis? Did the fat Guildmaster from Iskora know something? Well, Viktor did find it odd that he had been willing to fork out two million gold for the Dungeon Core, but he had brushed it off as just a bold business move. Now, however, he wondered if Clovis had caught wind of something important. And it was possible that that mysterious woman—Nephra, if it was even her real name—had something to do with all of this.

  “Has there ever been a dungeon like this before?” Clint asked.

  “If we’re to believe the legend, then yes, there was one,” Bjorn replied. “Thousands of years ago.”

  “What became of it?”

  “It grew. And grew. And grew. Until it rose to the surface and swallowed the nd itself. It sought to make the entire world one endless byrinth. Had it succeeded, there would be no more ‘inside’ or ‘outside.’ Everywhere would be dungeon.”

  Clint whistled. “I guess it failed then, seeing as we’re still standing.”

  “The Eternal Fme descended from Heaven to stop the dungeon’s madness,” Bjorn said. “The battle between them was unlike anything ever seen before. It ripped the earth open. And the result is what we now call the Abyss.”

  Joshua chuckled. “What a silly story. Someone probably saw that chasm and made up the whole tale just to expin it.”

  “Isn’t the Eternal Fme what you Northmen worship?” Clint smirked as well. “Don’t drag your religion into this, Bjorn. You're a warrior, not a priest.”

  The Brefjordian snorted, then remained silent after that.

  Viktor recalled what his master had told him about the Abyss. The story Bjorn shared was just another variation of it, with some differing details. Well, everyone and their grandmother had their own interpretation of that pce’s origin, each one more contradictory than the st, and who could say which one was true? After all, it happened millennia ago, when reality blurred with myth and legend. What he did know for certain, though, was that there was indeed a dungeon beneath the Abyss.

  Once the Dungeon Reavers reached the other end of the tunnel, Joshua and Clint immediately jumped into action, repeating the same process they had used earlier. The secret door gave a reluctant groan as it slid open, revealing the arena beyond. Xahir gestured for his puppets to enter first. The gnolls stepped forward, weapons raised, their eyes narrowing as they gnced left and right, their noses twitching as they sniffed the air, alert to any threat.

  “It looks empty,” the Cabalist reported. “But there is the scent of Cyclopes and goblins behind the walls.”

  “This is where Lahmia died,” Bjorn said. “Yes, they’re set to ambush us.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Is there any choice but to press on?” the Northman said, moving to the front. He had always taken the safest position in the formation, but clearly, he knew when to take the lead to bolster the party’s morale. “Joshua, protect us from the projectiles.”

  “Alright.” The aeromancer waved his hand, and a gust of wind erupted. It swirled around the four adventurers, creating a barrier of air that would blow away any incoming arrows or bolts.

  They entered the arena, joining the gnolls who were waiting for them. And the moment they reached the center—

  At the corners of the room, four concealed doors shuddered open. From each, out lumbered a mountain of muscle and one-eyed malice, swinging a club the size of a small tree like it was nothing but a walking stick.

  “Shit!” Clint cursed, eyes widening at the sight of the monsters charging from every direction.

  Xahir, on the other hand, showed no sign of worry. A smile twisted his lips as he signaled for his thralls to throw themselves at the Cyclopes.

  And they died almost instantly.

  The first gnoll’s skull was fttened by a casual swat, brains spraying across the ground. The second one was stomped, its ribs crushed under a Cyclops’ foot, innards bursting out between the brute’s monstrous toes. Another Cyclops seized the third gnoll by its ankles, whirling it overhead like a fil, then hurled it at the fourth. The two puppets collided, merging into a bloody pulp as they crashed into the wall.

  But they had served their purpose: to buy time. With the few seconds the gnolls had bought with their lives, the Cabalist completed his incantation. Two Cyclopes froze, then turned in unison. Letting out a roar, they charged at their former friends.

  “Let them fight,” Xahir said, allowing himself a satisfied smile.

  The old bastard was undeniably a master when it came to bending minds, Viktor had to give him that. The way he effortlessly commanded multiple thralls at the same time was truly impressive. Even with the one-eyed brutes bearing down on him, he remained completely unfazed, sending his current batch of meatshields to their deaths without any hesitation, and by the time their corpses hit the ground, he had already seized their repcements. Clearly, the Cabalist’s magic far surpassed Lucian’s in effectiveness.

  However, in this specific situation, it would be his downfall.

  “Do it, now!” Viktor ordered his Dungeon Core.

  [Understood.]

  Behind the stone walls of the arena, a small contingent of goblins waited, their crossbows, handcrafted by the gremlins, ready. These weren’t just any goblins, but the finest sharpshooters his dungeon could muster—well, finest sharpshooters by goblin standards, of course. Their skills still left much to be desired, but that was fine. Their targets were huge anyway, while the distance wasn’t all that significant. Under Celeste’s command, they raised their weapons and loosed their bolts through the arrow slits. Not at the adventurers, but instead—

  The four brutes howled, cwing at their faces. Their clubs swung wild, obliterating the stone pilrs, spraying shrapnel everywhere.

  Xahir’s smirk disappeared. The one-eyed monsters now no longer followed orders. Anyone’s orders. They were consumed by pure, unrelenting rage and began to indiscriminately smash anything within range, friends or foes alike, destroying everything in their path. The room had transformed into a meat grinder, with him being the meat.

  The old man stumbled as a stray rock struck his leg. As he tried to rise, a club came crashing down.

  “No—stop—!”

  His body folded like parchment, splintered ribs tearing through his cloak. His skull colpsed inward, eyeballs popping free, rolling across the bloodstained ground.

  One down, three more to go.

  Viktor would have preferred to have Joshua killed first, as without him, the party would have a harder time traversing the water realm. But it couldn’t be helped. The problem with making the Cyclopes attack everything at random was that he had no say in which target they would choose.

  “Fuck!” the aeromancer cursed. He vaulted to dodge the strikes, while summoning a gust of wind to lift Clint off the ground as well. However, the ceiling was low, so even as they soared upward, the Cyclopes and their colossal clubs still remained a deadly threat.

  Interestingly, Joshua didn’t try to help Bjorn. Despite the chaos around him, the Northman stood firm at the center of the arena. As a club swung toward him, massive and lethal, air shrieking with the force of its strike, the warrior was unmoved, shield raised. And—

  The blow was stopped dead.

  A thunderous sound shook the arena, the force of the impact sending a shockwave reverberating through the air. Yet, the Northman didn’t budge even a single step.

  That’s definitely a Reliquary, Viktor thought. The sheer power of the Cyclops’ strike should have been enough to shatter any normal shield, and even if the shield itself hadn’t been broken, the blow would have still crushed the hand behind it, and flung Bjorn away like a sack of meat.

  The warrior’s sword sang from its sheath. Light surged, and a bde of pure radiance erupted from the steel. He lunged forward, his bde of light passing through the Cyclops’ neck. The head tumbled to the ground, and the towering body crumpled like a felled oak.

  What?

  The Northman didn’t waste even a second. He immediately moved to the next target. The nearest Cyclops swung its club, but Bjorn’s radiant bde sliced cleanly through both the weapon and the brute’s body. The severed half of the club thudded to the ground, while entrails gushed out as the creature’s upper body toppled sideways.

  What the hell is that weapon?

  With two of the brutes sin, the pressure on Joshua and Clint eased. The archer, still hovering in the air, drew and released an arrow. It curved, striking a Cyclops’ gaping maw and exploding out the back of its skull. Then it looped, drilling ear to ear, a geyser of blood and brain matter spraying outward. Finally, it spiraled upward through an eye socket, sealing it shut. The creature swayed, then fell.

  Meanwhile, Bjorn leaped at the st remaining foe, his sword a bzing arc of silver. The light cleaved the Cyclops vertically, splitting cranium, thorax, pelvis. The two halves peeled apart, colpsing in opposite directions.

  No melee combat then, Viktor decided. From now on, he needed to have his minions keep their distance and wear the Northman down with ranged attacks.