Nikolai stared at the smiling man in confusion for a few seconds before he remembered where he had seen him.

  “You’re the husband…” Nikolai managed to say, before the man enveloped him in a crushing bear hug.

  “I am indeed still the husband, thanks to you!” the man laughed, releasing him and clapping him on the shoulder.

  A woman stood beside him, a small girl clutching her hand. The girl was perhaps five, dressed in light blue, with blonde hair, hiding halfway behind her mother.

  Nikolai met the woman’s eyes, and she beamed at him. She was still thin but far healthier than when he had poured essence into her back at the hospitarium.

  Nikolai smiled, and something inside him shifted. Tears welled unbidden, and he coughed awkwardly.

  “Sorry, I… I’m happy to see you’re well.”

  The woman carefully embraced him and whispered into his ear, “Thank you.”

  Nikolai took a steadying breath and stepped back.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a quiet smile.

  The man grinned and gestured to himself.

  “We never had time to introduce ourselves back then, so allow me now. I am Erik Sardoson, and this is my wife and daughter, Christina and Mirila.”

  Nikolai nodded politely.

  “Happy to make your acquaintance. I’m Nikolai.”

  Christina smiled.

  “We know. We asked to see you after I recovered, but you were already gone. The dwarven priest mentioned you needed healing yourself afterward, and we worried you might have harmed yourself helping me.”

  Nikolai shook his head.

  “Nothing that serious. The healing I used… I didn’t have many options, and I may have cut things a bit close.”

  Erik leaned in and spoke in a low whisper.

  “We haven’t told anyone what you did—or how you did it. But you’re rather well-known among our friends…”

  Nikolai let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded.

  “Thanks. The method I used was a bit unorthodox.”

  “What matters is that it worked,” Erik said with a broad grin. “My daughter still has her mother. We’re eternally grateful. Oh, and just a warning—someone named Ulin will probably want to talk to you. When we wouldn’t tell her what you did, she unfortunately became even more interested.”

  Nikolai grimaced.

  “Thanks for the warning. You going into the dungeon?”

  Erik nodded.

  “I am. Christina isn’t. That whole situation put things into perspective. She decided to stop adventuring for now and take care of Mirila.”

  Nikolai was relieved to hear it. One glance at the shy little girl was enough—the thought of her losing her mother made him uneasy.

  “I’m glad,” he said quietly.

  Simi suddenly appeared beside him, frowning.

  “Come on already, the others are waiting. Hey Erik, Christina—sorry, but I need to steal this idiot away.”

  Erik gave Simi a flat look.

  “As rude as ever, I see. Nikolai saved my wife, you know. We just wanted to thank him properly while we had the chance.”

  Simi glanced between them, then looked Christina up and down.

  “So you’re the one,” she said. Christina nodded, also frowning at Simi’s tone.

  “Well, I’m happy you’re alright, but we really need to move,” Simi said—her voice a touch more polite than before.

  Erik opened his mouth to say something, but Nikolai held up a hand and smiled.

  “It’s fine, really. I’m sorry—we can catch up later, right?”

  Erik’s expression softened, and he nodded.

  “Alright, Nikolai. Don’t be a stranger. And thank you again. We won’t forget what you did.”

  Nikolai waved goodbye before being dragged away by Simi.

  The camp wasn’t huge, but with families, friends, extra guards, and what appeared to be couriers with horses and wagons, it was bustling. As they weaved through the crowd of armored men and women, Nikolai suddenly felt eyes on him.

  A cold prickle ran down his spine. Between the shifting people, he spotted a robed figure. Heavy, dark garments concealed any sign of gender, and the face was shadowed, but the eyes—faded purple and faintly glowing—bored into him.

  Behind the figure stood a massive armored man. His darkened steel helmet had only narrow slits for vision and no other openings. A wide, imposing sword hung across his back. A bodyguard, perhaps.

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  Before Nikolai could get a better look, the pair vanished from sight as Simi tugged him onward.

  They passed a trader hawking what looked like runes, and Nikolai slowed. He hadn’t had time for rune shopping yet.

  Simi took one look and rolled her eyes.

  “No. You don’t buy runes in places like this—you go find them yourself. Besides, they only sell overpriced crap in places like this.”

  The trader looked offended, but Nikolai was dragged away again.

  “Why?” he asked. “If they’re a good fit, does the source matter?”

  Simi scoffed.

  “The best combat runes are sold directly to the guild, and the guild sells them to its members. You can get lucky once in a blue moon, but good runes are rare in this part of the Empire. Now stop wasting time.”

  They reached a smaller camp within the camp, where a few people were gathered around a cooking pot. Simi’s team was an unusual mix:

  The typical large human warrior—broad-shouldered, stern, and powerful.

  A female caster in an orange robe, long golden hair flowing, with pointed ears. Nikolai paused on her; she was quite possibly the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

  A short man—too short to be fully human—with slightly oversized eyes, polished leather armor, and enough swagger for two men. He noticed Nikolai and immediately rolled his eyes.

  And lastly, a striking woman with serpentine traits. Scales covered her arms, neck, parts of her face, and faint spines pushed through her light orange and white hair. She wore segmented plate molded perfectly to her body—every piece moved with her smoothly, without scraping or clinking, only the faint whisper of fabric-on-fabric.

  Her eyes were bright orange with vertical pupils, and when she smiled, it was predatory. The sharp fangs didn’t help.

  “Simi, you finally decided to appear,” she said. Her voice was mostly normal, though faintly lisping—and faintly sultry, as if assessing someone as prey.

  Before Simi could respond, the woman turned to Nikolai. Her expression soured.

  “And you—Nikolai, yes? Our very own bought-and-paid-for charity case.”

  Nikolai raised an eyebrow.

  “Hello to you too. You know my name, so…”

  “So nothing,” she snapped. “You were forced on us, man-child, and I don’t care what happens to you. You will follow orders and maybe survive. Stay at the back. Heal when told. Stay out of our way. Understand?”

  Nikolai nodded.

  “Sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

  The snake woman accepted this with a curt nod, slung an arm around Simi, and walked away without introducing herself. Simi grinned and wrapped her arm around the woman’s waist.

  Next came the short man. He stopped a few steps away, cleaning his fingernails with a sharp knife—an old, theatrical gesture. Pale but not unhealthy, curly brown hair, smooth chin, and an expression that spelled “deeply unimpressed.”

  “Why are we bringing luggage again?” he asked no one in particular.

  The big warrior shrugged.

  “Because the guildmaster ordered it. Someone paid well for him to be here.”

  The short man smirked.

  “And if he were to get lost or die in there?”

  Another shrug.

  “It’s a dungeon. Things happen.”

  The short man flashed a malicious grin.

  “Well, there you go. Watch yourself, rookie.”

  Nikolai sighed. He wanted very much to punch the arrogant little bastard, but starting a fight with people stronger than him would only go one way. For now, he’d have to endure it.

  He stood awkwardly for a few minutes, ignored by everyone, until he finally asked,

  “Could I at least know your names? Might make things easier than calling someone ‘big warrior guy.’”

  Again, he was largely ignored. The short man chuckled.

  “You won’t need to call anyone, rookie. You don’t need to know.”

  No one else offered their names, and Nikolai stared at them in disbelief.

  These pricks…

  Finally, the orange-haired, scaly woman finished whispering to Simi and turned to the group.

  “Alright, time. Gear up—we’re heading to the entrance.” She focused on Nikolai. “Stay at the back. Stay close. Stay silent. Understood?”

  Nikolai gave a mock salute, because at this point his patience was thin. Her eyes narrowed. Nikolai returned her stare with a neutral expression until she sighed.

  “Let’s go.”

  Everyone gathered at the huge entrance, where people said goodbye to loved ones before turning their attention to a man standing on a small wooden podium. He was youngish man, dignified, wearing simple but sturdy armor of mail and plate, shield on his back and sword at his hip. He had black hair which was streaked with a few white strands, and his well-trimmed beard framed a face with a slightly Middle Eastern looking complexion.

  He surveyed the gathered expedition and nodded.

  “Alright, people—time to work. Most of you know me, but for the new ones, I am Calim, and I will be your expedition leader. As you know, the crypt has begun moving again. Monsters are massing below, and we are here to clear them before they spill into the countryside.”

  People nodded around him as he continued.

  “This dungeon has been cleared before—some of you may have taken part in previous expeditions. This is not the same dungeon anymore, so do not get complacent. We are unsure what changes have occurred, which is why we are entering as a large group.”

  More nods.

  “We proceed together until the first large chamber, where we will establish a small camp and rest. After that, we split into three teams. From then on, each team operates independently until we reach the lower levels. You’ve all read the dungeon layout I hope, but be aware—things may have changed with its revival. If all that is clear, let’s move.”

  Two teams stepped up to take point, with Simi’s team—and therefore Nikolai—placed somewhere in the middle. Nikolai spotted Erik among the front groups, but the man was focused and didn’t notice him.

  Nikolai’s heart pounded with both fear and anticipation. The moment he stepped into the large hallway, he felt a shift—like passing through a thin veil into another world. The air grew heavy with dust and a faint, sickly-sweet scent, reminiscent of incense.

  Faded murals lined both walls, depicting a small army standing against an uncountable horde.

  He was so absorbed in the artwork that he didn’t notice when the first monsters appeared…