The standoff in the clearing was tense.

​On one side: Director Vane and four terrified guards holding crossbows that were visibly shaking.

On the other side: A rocket-powered Magma Golem, a feral Lamia General, a manic Goblin with a flamethrower-saw, a Banshee, a Slime, and a Harpy.

​And in the middle: Reed.

​He sat in the dirt, leaning back on his hands, breathing in the sweet, mana-rich air of his territory.

​[MANA: 75 / 150]

[Regen: STABLE.]

[Connection: SOLID.]

​It felt like coming home. The headache from the Void Withdrawal vanished, replaced by the familiar hum of the Dungeon Core singing in the back of his mind. Thump-thrum. Thump-thrum.

​"This," Director Vane said, his voice tight as he stared at the spinning saw blade in Grika's hands, "is highly irregular."

​"It's a performance review," Reed corrected, standing up.

​He wobbled slightly. Immediately, Seraphine was there. She didn't just offer an arm; she coiled around him. Her tail wrapped around his waist, lifting him slightly so his feet barely touched the ground. She pulled him back against her chest, her scales warm and hard as armor.

​"Do not speak to the meat," Seraphine hissed, glaring at Vane. "They tried to break you. I should eat them. I should eat them slowly."

​"No eating the auditor," Reed said, patting her arm. "It looks bad on the tax forms."

​Vane adjusted his glasses. He looked at the monsters. He did the math. If he ordered an attack, his squad would be vaporized in roughly three seconds.

​Vane was a bureaucrat. He didn't fight battles he couldn't win. He fought battles he could win with paper.

​"Very well," Vane said, stepping back. He signaled his guards to lower their weapons completely. "The immediate threat assessment has changed. The Asset appears... functional."

​He looked at Kaelen, who was standing awkwardly between the two groups.

​"Inquisitor," Vane said coldly. "You have secured the Asset. However, the Writ of Condemnation is still active. I will set up a temporary command post at the perimeter. We will convene in one hour to discuss the terms of this dungeon's... continued existence. Or its surrender."

​Vane turned to Reed.

​"Do not try to run, Avatar. The entire mountain is surrounded. Go inside. Clean yourself up. You look like a drowned rat."

​Vane turned on his heel and marched his men back toward the treeline.

​As soon as they were out of earshot, the tension broke.

​And the Harem Panic began.

​"BOSS!"

​Grika dropped her chainsaw and tackled his leg.

​"I thought you were scrap!" Grika wailed, burying her face in his ruined coat. "The signal died! The HUD went grey! I was already drafting plans for a vengeance-bot!"

​"I'm fine, Grika," Reed said, ruffling her greasy hair.

​"Shiny Boss!" Riva chirped, landing on his shoulder. She started aggressively pecking twigs out of his hair. "You wet! You cold! Riva make nest! Riva bring worms!"

​"No worms, Riva."

​"Boss need worms! Protein!"

​"Sir," Elara's voice drifted from the wall. The Banshee floated closer, her spectral face twisted in worry. "Your soul… it feels bruised. The Void chewed on you."

​"I had a good anchor," Reed said softly, glancing at Kaelen.

​That was the wrong thing to say.

​Seraphine froze. The gentle way she was holding him turned rigid.

​She slowly uncoiled her neck, lowering her head until she was eye-level with Reed. Then, she turned her gaze to Kaelen.

​Kaelen stood ten feet away. She had removed her helmet. She looked exhausted, her blonde hair matted with sweat and river water. She was leaning on her sword, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.

​Seraphine sniffed.

​Sniff. Sniff.

​Her pupils narrowed into razor-thin slits. A low, vibrating growl started in her chest, a sound like tectonic plates grinding together.

​"You," Seraphine hissed.

​She loosened her grip on Reed and slithered toward the Paladin. She moved with terrifying, predatory grace, rising up to her full seven-foot height to loom over the human woman.

​"Inquisitor," Kaelen said, standing her ground, though her hand tightened on her sword hilt. "General Seraphine."

​"You smell of him," Seraphine accused. Her voice was dripping with venom. "Why do you smell of him?"

​She leaned in, her forked tongue flicking out to taste the air inches from Kaelen's face.

​"Holy Magic," Seraphine analyzed. "River water. Sweat. And… heat."

​Seraphine recoiled as if slapped. She whipped her head around to Reed.

​"You mixed," she whispered, looking betrayed. "You mixed mana with her."

​"It was a medical necessity!" Reed defended, holding up his hands. "I was dying of Void Withdrawal! She acted as a battery!"

​"She touched your Core," Seraphine snarled. She turned back to Kaelen, baring her fangs. "You touched what is mine. Did you enjoy it, Paladin? Did you enjoy tasting the darkness?"

​Kaelen's face flushed bright red.

​"It was a tactical transfer!" Kaelen yelled defensively. "He was hypothermic! I utilized Survival Protocol 9!"

​"Is 'Protocol 9' the one where you wrap your legs around him?" Seraphine hissed. "Because I can smell that too."

​"Sera!" Reed barked. "Enough."

​He stepped forward, pulling the angry snake-woman back.

​"She saved my life," Reed said firmly. "I'd be dead in a cave if not for her. She stood in front of a firing squad for me ten minutes ago. She is… an ally."

​Seraphine looked at Kaelen. She looked at Reed. She looked at the way Kaelen was looking at Reed, worried, tired, and undeniably attached.

​Seraphine let out a long, frustrated hiss.

​"She smells like lemons," Seraphine complained petulantly. "It is offensive."

​"She stays," Reed said. "Vane is out there. If she leaves, he arrests her for treason. She's coming inside."

​"Fine," Seraphine spat. "But if she tries to Purify anything, I will eat her boots."

​She turned back to Reed. The anger vanished instantly, replaced by desperate, smothering concern.

​"Inside," Seraphine commanded, grabbing him again. "Now. You need mana. You need food. And you need to be out of those wet clothes."

​"I can undress myself, Sera."

​"Inefficient," Grika chimed in. "I have a machine for that."

​"No machines!"

​They dragged him toward the shattered entrance.

​The Lobby (Under Construction)

​Walking back into the dungeon felt like slipping into a warm bath.

​The air inside was thick with ambient mana. The familiar smell of ozone, stone dust, and faint pizza sauce filled his nose.

​The lobby, however, was a wreck.

​The siege had left its mark. The walls were scorched. The floor was cracked. The beautiful fountain Luma usually managed was dry.

​Reed sat on a crate in the center of the room. He was immediately swarmed.

​"Damage report," Grika demanded, scanning him with a handheld device that beeped angrily. "Core integrity: 98%. Avatar integrity: 60%. You have bruises on your ribs, Boss. And you're dehydrated."

​"I'm fine," Reed said, accepting a bottle of water from Luma.

​Luma didn't just hand it to him; she engulfed his hand with her slime to "clean" it before letting him drink.

​"You taste like mud," Luma bubbled sadly. "And dead people."

​"I fought a lot of dead people."

​Kaelen stood by the entrance, awkwardly leaning against a pillar. She looked out of place in the monster den, a shining knight in a room full of creatures she was sworn to kill.

​"Welcome to the crib," Reed called out to her. "Sorry about the mess. We had a break-in."

​"It is… spacious," Kaelen noted politely, eyeing Terra, who was currently eating a rock like an apple.

​"Where is Maira?" Reed asked, looking around. "I haven't heard a lecture about efficiency yet."

​"I am here, Sir."

​The shadows in the corner shifted. Maira stepped out.

​The Demon Maid looked immaculate. Her uniform was pressed. Her glasses were shining. But Reed noticed something, her hands were shaking slightly as she held her clipboard. And her tail was wrapped tightly around her own leg, a sign of extreme stress.

​She walked up to him. She didn't bow. She didn't salute.

​She slapped him.

​Smack.

​It wasn't hard. It was barely a tap on the cheek. But the room went dead silent. Grika dropped her wrench. Seraphine gasped.

​Maira stared at him, her amber eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

​"You left the territory," Maira whispered, her voice trembling. "Without a tether. Without a support team. You engaged an army with a goblin bomb and a grease scroll."

​"It worked," Reed said softly.

​"The statistical probability of survival was 4%!" Maira snapped, her voice rising. "Do you know what that does to my projections? Do you know what it is like to watch your life-sign flicker and die on a monitor?"

​She grabbed his lapels, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.

​"Do not," Maira hissed, "do that again. I cannot manage this facility if I am grieving."

​Reed closed his eyes. He leaned into her.

​"I'm sorry, Maira," he whispered. "I had to protect the brand."

​Maira let out a shaky breath. She pulled back, adjusting her glasses. The mask of the strict administrator slid back into place, though her cheeks were flushed.

​"Your apology is noted and filed," Maira said crisply. "However, the penalty for reckless endangerment of the Core is a mandatory bed rest period. And a bath."

​She turned to the group.

​"The Spa is operational," Maira announced. "The water is heated. Take him to Floor 2. Scrub the outside off him. I will prepare the financial reports for the meeting with Director Vane."

​"I'll help scrub!" Riva volunteered, raising a wing.

​"I will supervise," Seraphine stated, grabbing Reed's arm. "To ensure no… spots are missed."

​Reed stood up. He looked at Kaelen.

​"You too, Inquisitor," Reed said. "You're covered in river muck and ghoul blood. We have guest towels."

​Kaelen hesitated. She looked at Seraphine, who was glaring at her. She looked at the grime on her armor.

​"I suppose… hygiene is mandatory," Kaelen admitted.

​"Great," Reed said, letting Seraphine and Grika steer him toward the stairs. "Team shower. Don't make it weird."

​"It is already weird!" Kaelen shouted after him.

​[SYSTEM ALERT]

​[Objective Updated: PREPARE FOR AUDIT.]

​[Time remaining: 50 Minutes.]

​[Current Status: FILTHY.]

​Reed sighed, letting himself be dragged down into the dark, warm heart of his dungeon. He was home. He was alive.

​Now he just had to survive the bath.

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