<On it, boss!>
In Marko’s feast room, gilded tables appeared, as well as an ornate marble fountain that wouldn’t be pouring water, but some kind of edible wonder. The satyr wouldn’t say what it would be, but he had a plan. Always a plan. He loved surprises, did Marko. Everything in the dungeon would be Endogenous Apothos Manifestations. Since the raiders were fighting for their freedom, they didn’t need lures. That freed Logan and his friends to get creative.
Once Marko finished with the rudimentary dishes for his feast table outside the inner sanctum, he got to work painting the hallways of the labyrinth’s first floor. He summoned a pair of paintbrushes from thin air and began dancing through the halls, singing, and laughing while ghostly music bled from the air itself, giving them their own haunting montage music to work to. Marko was a whirlwind of paint and artistry. It looked exhausting, but Marko never tired thanks to his racial skill, Unrelenting Debauchery—as long as he was singing, drinking, partying, or dancing he suffered no negative exhaustion effects.
The dude was literally a party animal.
Treacle summoned his Ugknot Calflings for his own minion room, but spent most of his time and energy on a trap room designed to split the party. Inga loved the idea of splitting up the raiders, and since they had four guardian cores, it wasn’t a bad plan.
Logan felt the minotaur’s excitement pounding like adrenaline through his veins. The former gnome was excited to break out his new Internal Alchemy abilities, which basically made him like Iron Man, only Treacle’s gadgets would emerge from his own flesh. He could snap a flamethrower out of his right forearm with minimal gore or summon a screaming buzz saw at will.
However, the minotaur was even more thrilled to be working on his musical puzzle room at the center of the first floor’s maze. Treacle and Marko had spent hours designing it while Logan was down for the count. The satyr had no trouble dividing his attention between sculpting statues, sloshing mystical paint on murderous canvas, and helping out his bull-headed buddy.
Marko was born to multitask.
Inga focused on the entryway, which would set the tone for the entire dungeon. Usually the entryway was a ruse meant to ease dungeoneers in—to give them a false sense of security. Knowing that, they planned to subvert expectations. There was no need to lure these raiders in, so it was wasted effort anyway.
Instead, their entrance would be a death trap in every sense of the word and would feature a huge heavy metal surprise amidst the mushrooms and insects. That was also where Logan put his second digestive pit covered by a Mucal Film. Secret passageways embedded in the walls would give Treacle access, so he could drag bodies there easily. More Apothos for Logan and the others to use. And thanks to Digestion, they would have instant access to a huge reservoir as soon as the bodies hit the acid. Marko also sent some of his energy there, to craft the entryway plaque and to animate several small, weird statues that reminded Logan of the Jigsaw puppet from the Saw movies.
Logan would grow Gem-Studded Puffballs on the puppets, turning them into creepy grenades. They were going to pull out all the stops for their Final Exam.
With five minutes to spare, the first level was done. Marko then resumed work on his feast room, tweaking this and adding that, while Logan, Inga, and Treacle stood in the inner sanctum. Their starter centipedes were long gone, and the digestive pit moat was a couple feet wider and a foot deeper. Statues covered in fungal growths filled the sanctum, all standing motionless.
Even to Logan, the place looked terrifying.
<Marko!> Logan sent. <Focus here for a second.>
<I wanted one more variety of canape. You know, I was going to go with stuffed, deep-fried mushrooms, but that’s just... oh, you know, overkill. I went with fried peppers with spicy saffron breading. Spicy and delicious and perfect for dipping in the fountain.>
Logan couldn’t believe Marko’s plan for his food fountain. But he had to get the satyr’s attention. <We don’t have much time, and Inga has to get ready for her ambush in the entryway. Real quick, though, we need a contingency plan. It’s likely at least one of their Azure Branch cultivators will make it to the sanctum. If that happens?>
<If that happens, we’ll die.> Somehow, Treacle managed to send them a despairing sigh.
Logan disagreed. <Nope. Not after making it this far. We’ve done some excellent work, and I know the second level isn’t finished just yet, but all in all, I think we have this. Remember, any kill gets dumped into a digestive pit, either on the first level or the second. I’ll need the energy.> His core was burning like a V8 engine gulping down nitroglycerine. He was running his core into the red, and the spikes in energy left him dizzy.
<I’ll deal with the bodies,> Treacle agreed.
<I... I won’t be.> Inga’s fear came through her thoughts. If all went to plan, she’d go down early, and she’d go down hard. It would be for the best, though. After that, they had some diabolical traps, most of which relied heavily on Marko’s Dark Muse magic.
<Don’t worry,> Logan sent. <Once we eat the last raider, we’ll fix your guardian form. We’re going to win this. But while we were working, I had an idea. A nasty surprise in case everything falls apart and one of the raiders manages to get into the inner sanctum. This is what I’m thinking...>
When he told them his plan, Marko burst out laughing, Inga went silent, and Treacle grumbled.
<How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?> the minotaur asked, oddly quoting a movie there was no way he could’ve seen.
Logan didn’t answer because it was too late. With seconds to spare, Inga moved her guardian form into place while Logan and Marko worked on the surprise to end all surprises.
Logan prayed they wouldn’t have to use this last ruse, but in his heart of hearts, he knew there was no way they would get lucky enough to kill all the raiders without at least a few hiccups.
They had six raiders to kill: four C-Class Iron Trunks and two B-Class Azure Branch cultivators. Hopefully, Inga would be able to level the playing field early, but at least one of those Azure Branches would get to the inner sanctum. Logan could feel it. If everything went according to plan, however, they wouldn’t be leaving alive.
Chapter Thirty-Five
YULLIS ROCKHEART FALTERED the moment he stepped into the SandScream. Nothing was as he expected it to be. He squinted his stolen feline eyes, ears laid back against his head in agitation. Absently he adjusted the leather jerkin armor hanging over the truly awful red pants and studied the entryway. He’d anticipated a desert lord dungeon, a pyramid tomb of scarabs and a mummy or three. Standard stuff for someone unused to working with dusty earth and shifting dunes.
There was none of that, however.
There was sand, to be sure, spilling onto the floor and narrowing the wide corridor, but neither sarcophagi nor scarabs. Instead, at the front of the hallway was an arch where grisly piles of dead giant centipedes rotted into mere husks. They created a slop of fungal growth on the floor, but that wasn’t all. Little puppet creatures stood in the stinking filth, covered in jeweled mushrooms—those would be the fungaloid’s Gem-Studded Puffballs. Garish paint had been splashed at the top of the arch, splashes of color, along with more mushrooms. The words were clear, however inane the script: