As the day went on, the team swept through the dungeon's upper level, moving chamber by chamber, corridor by corridor, until the stone halls were clear of any movement that didn't belong to them.
The first monsters they encountered after the ghouls were Hollow Rats.
They were unsettling, even by dungeon standards. Nearly the size of grown men, they skittered along the stone floor in twitchy, erratic motions. Their fur was patchy, revealing pale, almost translucent skin underneath. Their eyes were completely missing, but their sense of awareness was unnerving. Their jaws opened wider than they should have, revealing long, dagger-like bone ridges where teeth should have been. It looked like someone had carved the tips of daggers into the inside of their mouths.
Despite their horrific appearance, they weren't much of a threat. They moved fast, yes, but they weren't organized. When one leapt at Amukelo, he simply rolled under its jump and skewered it through the ribcage. Bao was the one who kept most of them back, though—her arrows knocked them out mid-run, while Bral sliced into them with clean swings.
"They're not even smart," Idin commented after the fifth or sixth one. "They rely on chaos more than anything."
"And I thought rats were supposed to be clever," Bao muttered, pulling an arrow from one's skull.
Then came something more disturbing.
In a side chamber that looked like it once served as a storage area—rows of broken crates, rusted chains, and smashed barrels—they ran into the Skinveil Thralls.
At first, it looked like the room had just been draped in tattered, fleshy cloth. But when they got closer, the sheets started to crawl. The creatures that slithered beneath them were small—about the size of toddlers—but malformed. Skeletal, thin, almost fragile, but they scurried on far too many legs, like oversized insects. The stretched skin they wore hung loosely from their hunched bodies, masking them until the last second.
When one lunged at Pao, Amukelo cut it midair before it could reach her. She cast a mana burst that threw another against the wall. Idin crushed one under his shield with a sickening crunch. The monsters shrieked as they died—high-pitched and gurgling, like a child choking on its own breath.
"They... wear skin," Bral said, his face twisted in disgust.
Pao had a hand over her mouth. "What are these things?"
"They look like children," Bao murmured. "Dead ones."
"Don't say that," Amukelo said under his breath. "Just... keep moving."
But the worst were the Maggot Jesters.
They found them deeper in the dungeon, near what seemed like a broken ritual hall. These ones didn't attack immediately. They lurked. Pale, bloated, and grotesque, their round bodies resembled decaying balloons stuffed with rot and stitched together by bone splinters. Their limbs were uneven, and some dragged along the ground. They wore what could only be described as grotesque jester costumes—except instead of cloth, they were made from rotting hide, fungus, and colorful mold.
They laughed. Not their own laughter—but theirs. Bral's laugh. Pao's laugh. Even Amukelo's. It echoed off the stone, distorted and off-rhythm, and it made all of them stop cold.
"Is that... me?" Pao whispered.
"That's not funny," Bral muttered, raising his sword.
When one crept forward, it mimicked Bral's earlier words in a distorted mockery: "What benefit will crying about it bring?"
The voice was close. Too close. Then Bral set it on fire.
The Maggot Jester screamed, its body curling inward before it popped like a blister. Steam and stink filled the air.
They all stepped back, grimacing.
"They're afraid of fire," Bral said, breathing heavily. "They panic the second they feel the heat."
"Good to know," Idin muttered.
Amukelo stabbed the next one before it could get close, and Pao cast a controlled wave of heat down the corridor, forcing the rest to flee or burn. By the time they were done, there were no more sounds. Just the crackle of fire and the distant hum of the dungeon walls.
They cleared the rest of the floor without much issue. A few more Hollow Rats, a couple wandering Thralls, and some other nameless creepers. But none like the Jesters.
When night began to fall, they left the dungeon and made camp a short way off from the entrance, at a small clearing nestled between a few jagged outcrops. It was quiet. The only sound was the occasional snap of twigs underfoot and the chirping of distant insects.
They set up their tents. Amukelo started the fire, while Bral cooked the rations they'd packed. Bao took watch nearby, and Pao lay against a smooth stone with her eyes half-closed, playing with a small spell light between her fingers.
The smell of food mixed with the cooling air.
As they sat around the fire, Amukelo finally broke the silence.
"What's going on with all these weird creatures?" he asked, brow furrowed. "They're not strong, sure... but they don't feel normal. Not like wolves or goblins or even golems. Some of them are just... wrong."
Everyone looked toward him.
"They don't feel alive," he added. "They feel... made."
Idin nodded. "That's because dungeons are weird places. No one really knows what they are. Or why they're here."
He stirred the fire with a stick as he talked.
"There's a few theories. Some people believe they came after the Ancient War. Instead of killing beasts, people would trap them in places like this. Use rune diagrams, spells, relics. Keep them sealed away. Over time, the magic wears off, and the entrances resurface."
"That makes sense," Pao said quietly. "Mana depletion is a real thing."
Idin nodded. "Yeah. But not everyone agrees. Some think the dungeons just... appear. Randomly. Like the world spits them out when it gets too quiet."
Idin smirked faintly. "The 'less educated' ones say it's divine punishment. That the monsters were made by evil gods, but placed in dungeons by good gods to protect us. A test. To keep us growing. To weed out the weak."
Bao rolled her eyes. "That's borderline blasphemy. Everyone knows there's only one true God."
"Sure," Idin said. "But people believe what they want. Doesn't matter if it's true. They're scared, and scared people make up answers."
Bral leaned forward, prodding the flames. "Still doesn't explain why the monsters are so weird. What were those skin things? Or those jester things?"
Pao shook her head. "There's so much we don't know about this world. Maybe they're the result of the magic that was used to seal them. Maybe they mutated. Maybe something else lives deeper, and these are just... runoff."
They all went quiet for a while.
Amukelo stared into the fire. The orange light danced in his eyes, but his thoughts were far from camp. The deeper they went into this world—this life—the more he realized how little he understood. How much darkness still existed just out of reach.
The fire crackled softly in the middle of their camp as the scent of soup drifted through the clearing, warm and gentle.
Pao stood near the pot, carefully pouring the steaming soup into wooden bowls and handing them out with a small smile.
"Well," she said as she handed the last bowl to Idin, "all these creatures are weird and all, but we're strong. And if the place was cleared of any major threats already, then we should be fine."
Bral took a sip, blew on his soup dramatically, and leaned back. "Yeah... most of the fights today felt more like checking boxes than anything else." He shifted his posture, putting one leg over the other lazily. "But I guess it's better this way. I prefer this over being in a dungeon where every corner feels like the last."
Bao, still chewing on a piece of dried meat she'd tossed into her soup, nodded. "Completely agree. Actually, compared to our more intense quests, this is kind of chill." She paused, looking into the dark trees nearby. "Reminds me of when we used to travel through the wilderness, remember?"
Amukelo raised an eyebrow, mid-spoonful. "You're nostalgic for wilderness?"
Bao shrugged. "It was tough because we were weak, but... I don't know. Something about it felt pure."
Bral sighed dramatically, cradling his bowl like it was a cherished treasure. "Ah yes, the wilderness days. I remember them fondly. A simpler time, when our Amukelo would grunt more than speak."
Amukelo's face instantly flattened. "I never was like that."
The others chuckled. Bral wiped a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. "He's changed. He used to snarl at squirrels and fight trees for dominance."
"I never did that either," Amukelo said, even flatter this time.
"Yes, yes," Bral waved it off like he was brushing away a fly. "Don't take it too seriously. You're civilized now. It's a good thing. You even use forks sometimes."
Bao leaned toward Pao and whispered loud enough for all to hear, "That's a lie, he still eats meat with his hands when no one's looking."
"I do not," Amukelo muttered, though the tiny smirk at the corner of his lips betrayed him.
They ate slowly, letting the food warm their insides after the long day. The silence returned for a bit—not awkward, just calm. Pao leaned on Bao's shoulder, half-asleep.
Then, Idin, who had been idly flipping something between his fingers for the past few minutes, caught Amukelo's attention. It glinted in the firelight—a small ring.
Amukelo leaned forward slightly. "Oh... is that the ring you made for your sister?"
Idin looked up, then smiled faintly. "Nah. It's the one she made for me."
He turned the ring between his fingers a few more times before curling his fist around it gently.
"I always keep it with me. Having it reminds me that no matter what happens out here, I have to survive. I need to see that little girl again."
Amukelo blinked. "Little girl? How old is she?"
Idin laughed softly. "She's not that much younger than me. Maybe your age. But to me, she'll always be my little sister."
Amukelo tilted his head, genuinely curious now. "Why are you so close to her? I had siblings too, but... we were never that close. You talk about her like she's the most important person in the world."
Idin stared into the fire for a moment, then let out a slow breath.
"When we were kids, our parents were... busy. They're nobles, so you know how it goes—politics, meetings, expectations. And as the firstborn son, all the pressure fell on me." His fingers tightened slightly around the ring. "I had to train, study, impress. No room for mistakes. But it never seemed like enough."
He smiled softly now. "But she… she'd always watch me train. Even when I failed. Even when I messed up so bad I didn't want to be seen. She'd run up to me and tell me I did great. Not out of pity—she really meant it. She thought I was amazing."
His voice lowered, thick with emotion. "I remember one time I completely blew a sword form during a mock duel. Got humiliated. My father didn't even look at me afterward. But she ran over and said, 'For me, you'll always be a winner.'"
He chuckled, wiping at his eye as if it were nothing. "How could I not want to see her again? Every day I think about the stories I want to tell her when I do."
For a second, no one said anything. Even Bral, who normally couldn't resist inserting a sarcastic comment, stayed quiet.
Then Bral cleared his throat, leaned forward, and said with a grin, "And that's why he doesn't like women. He has a sis complex."
Idin blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," Bral said with mock seriousness. "You're ready to become a monk for your sister. Not even a flinch when girls flirt with you. She has claimed your heart forever. You are forever her loyal knight. A brotherly monk!"
"I... What!?" Idin spluttered. "What kind of bullshit are you making up right now?"
"You just admitted it," Bral continued, gesturing like a noble in court. "You love her. You obsess over her. You are ruined for all other women."
"That's not—!" Idin stood up, pointing accusingly. "That's not how it is at all!"
Bao leaned over to Amukelo and whispered, "He's totally flustered. Which means it's true."
Amukelo nodded solemnly. "Confirmed."
"I am NOT becoming a monk!" Idin shouted.
Everyone burst out laughing, and even Idin had to smile, rubbing the back of his neck in defeat.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, sitting back down. "But when we get back, I'm finding a quest board that bans dumb teammates."
Bral raised his spoon. "Long live Sister Complex!"
More laughter followed.