Being a prisoner of the Authority was surprisingly boring, extremely uncomfortable, and smelled of ozone and wet dog.

​The convoy had stopped to establish a Forward Operating Base just outside the influence of the Necropolis fog, a mile south of the dungeon hill. The sun was rising, casting long, harsh shadows across the hastily erected encampment of white canvas tents and magi-tech perimeter pylons.

​Reed sat inside a Containment Field.

​It wasn't a cage. It was a circle of runes burned into the grass with chemical salts. If he shifted his weight too much, the air shimmered with white sparks, zapping him like an electric fence.

​He was still wearing the Suppression Cuffs. The heavy silver metal hummed against his wrists, actively dampening his connection to the world.

​His connection to the Dungeon Core was a faint, static hiss in the back of his mind—like a radio station just out of range. He couldn't feel the earth. He couldn't check his mana. He couldn't even sense if Grika had fixed the blast doors yet.

​"Movement," a guard grunted, leveling a magi-tech halberd at Reed.

​Reed looked up.

​Director Vane was marching toward the circle. He had removed his helmet, revealing a shaved head scarred by old acid burns. He looked like a man who ate gravel for breakfast and enjoyed the texture.

​Walking beside him, looking significantly more haggard, was Kaelen.

​She had been allowed to clean up—slightly. Her mud-caked armor had been wiped down, and she wore a fresh white tabard over her breastplate. But her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, and she walked with a slight limp.

​They stopped just outside the salt line.

​"This is the entity," Vane stated, looking at Reed like he was a pile of hazardous waste.

​"Avatar Reed," Kaelen introduced formally, her voice devoid of the warmth (or at least, the tolerance) she had shown on the bridge. "Currently classified as a Class-3 Subjugated Asset under Protocol 77."

​"It looks human," Vane noted with distaste. "Disgusting mimicry."

​"I am human," Reed croaked, standing up. The barrier sparked, warning him back. "I was born in Ohio. I like pizza. I hate wet socks. Can we take the cuffs off?"

​Vane ignored him completely. He didn't even blink. He turned to Kaelen.

​"You claim you subjugated this Core," Vane said, crossing his massive arms. "Report. How? A Dungeon Core usually requires a specialized Siege Team to bind."

​Reed watched Kaelen. This was the moment. If she slipped up, if she hesitated, Vane would execute them both for treason.

​Kaelen didn't blink.

​"I utilized a localized mana-inversion technique," Kaelen lied. Her voice was smooth, technical, and confident. "The Core was weakened by the Necromancer's assault. I bypassed its physical defenses and engaged the Avatar directly in psychic combat. I broke its will."

​She glanced at Reed. Her eyes were cold, daring him to contradict her.

​"It surrendered to the Authority to avoid liquidation. It is now bound to my mana signature. It obeys my commands."

​Vane grunted. "Unorthodox. High risk."

​"Necessary," Kaelen countered. "The Necropolis forces were overwhelming. I required a fortified position and expendable troops. The Dungeon provided both."

​"Expendable," Reed muttered under his breath. "Nice."

​Vane walked around the containment circle, inspecting Reed from every angle. He stopped when he saw the stinking Bag of Holding still tied to Reed's belt.

​"It smells of sulfur," Vane stated, sniffing the air. "And… vegetables?"

​"Garlic," Reed said. "Tactical garlic. Anti-vampire countermeasure."

​Vane narrowed his eyes. "And the non-standard readings? My scouts reported unnatural energy residues in the area. Banshee wails. Magma golems. That does not sound like a Regulation Dungeon."

​Kaelen stiffened slightly.

​"The Dungeon utilizes… chaotic minions," Kaelen admitted carefully. "I forced it to weaponize them against the Undead. The Banshee residue was a result of a… suicide attack I ordered. The entity was consumed in the process."

​Reed choked on a laugh. Consumed. Right. Elara is just napping in the drywall.

​Vane stopped in front of Reed. He leaned in, the smell of polished steel and authority rolling off him.

​"Dungeon," Vane barked. "Who is your master?"

​Reed looked at Vane. He looked at Kaelen, who was watching him with a terrifying intensity.

​He knew the line. He had to sell it. He had to look like a tool, not a person.

​Reed slumped his shoulders. He dulled his eyes, trying to look lobotomized. He let his jaw hang slightly loose.

​"The Authority," Reed droned, staring at Kaelen's boots. "I serve the State. I fear the Liquidation."

​Kaelen let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

​Vane stared at Reed for a long, agonizing ten seconds. He searched for a spark of rebellion, a hint of the Overlord who had frozen a Lich.

​Reed gave him nothing but exhaustion and submission.

​Vane spat on the ground.

​"Broken," Vane judged. "Good. A broken monster is a useful monster."

​He turned to his lieutenant.

​"Strike the camp. We march on the Dungeon entrance immediately. The Necromancer has pulled back his heavy units to the north, but his infantry remains digging at the hill. We will use this 'Asset' to open the doors."

​He looked back at Reed.

​"If you betray us, Avatar… I will not execute you cleanly. I will seal you in a lead box and drop you into the ocean. You will spend eternity drowning in the dark. Do you understand?"

​"Yes, Director," Reed whispered. "Crystal clear."

​The Plan

​As the soldiers began to pack up the magi-tech pylons, Kaelen lingered by the containment circle. She waited until Vane was out of earshot, shouting orders at the vanguard.

​"You are a terrible actor," she whispered, kicking dirt over the salt line to break the seal.

​"He bought it," Reed whispered back, rubbing his wrists as the magic circle faded. "Mostly because he wants to believe you're a badass who enslaves dungeons."

​"I am a badass," Kaelen snapped. "And you are technically enslaved. Those cuffs are real. If you try to cast magic, the feedback loop will detonate your hands."

​"Noted. So what's the play?"

​"Vane is going to use you to breach the main entrance," Kaelen explained rapidly. "He expects to find a subjugated dungeon. He expects your monsters to stand down."

​"Seraphine is going to try to stab him," Reed warned. "She doesn't do 'submission' well. And Grika… Grika has a turret."

​"You must control them," Kaelen ordered. "If your monsters attack the Vanguard, Vane will wipe them out. You need to order a stand-down. Let the Authority clear the remaining undead outside. Once the area is secure… we will negotiate your status."

​"Negotiate," Reed said skeptically. "Is that what we call 'Asset Forfeiture' now?"

​"I am saving your life, Reed," Kaelen said, her voice dropping. "Again. Do not make me regret it."

​She turned and walked away, her white cloak snapping in the wind.

​"Get him on a transport!" a guard shouted, grabbing Reed's arm. "Asset transport!"

​Reed was hauled onto a supply wagon—his hands still cuffed—and caged behind iron bars.

​As the convoy rolled out, heading back toward the hill where his dungeon lay buried, Reed looked at the sky.

​He saw a tiny speck circling high above.

​Riva, he thought. Stay hidden, bird. This isn't a fight you can bomb your way out of.

​The political siege had begun. And Reed had a feeling it was going to be harder to survive than the Necromancer's army.

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