The metal of my boots thuds out against the rocks as I descend the staircase, coming down towards the moonlight arena from the treasury above. The other way, through the goblin outpost, isn’t exactly accessible anymore.

 

Something wet makes itself heard and I turn my head to look at the surface of the stone walls, at the coating of the fungus on the rocks of the dungeon, as it slowly creeps its way further upward, spreading further from the heart of darkness nested at the deepest depths of the dungeon. Inaccessible now, but still there. Still beating. I step down the final step and look around the moonlight-arena, this time for real, one hand clutching my lance. One hand clutching my hollow sockets so that my eyes can see. Can see. Can see. It hurts. But I can see. Something cracks in my side as another of my bones is relocated.

 

Befouled.

 

My eyes squelch as they turn to the left.

 

Befouled.

 

They let out a wet noise as I turn them to the right.

 

Befouled.

 

  Everything is covered in rot. Everything is being gnawed and eaten away by the rot. By the mold. The walls are coated. The pools of water that line the sides of the room have become a thick, coagulated jelly. A goo that is filled with mushroom mycelium. With invisible roots that dig through their mass like parasitic growths worming through a necrotic organ. Befouled.

 

  I enter the arena. Dark-fairies float through the air, though they seem to be glowing with unusually bright amounts of energy, they are listless and droll. I watch as every few odd moments another one falls from the air, drained entirely of their overflowing magical energies, as they plummet to crash against the rocks or to sink away beneath the goo that swallows them so readily. Burnt out and frazzled, as they are being overloaded with magic. Too much for their small bodies to sustain.

 

  My eyes look up at the toadstool of the fairy-mother, towards the entity sitting high atop the apex of the world and her glowing eyes look down towards me from so high up above, from high in the hallowed skies, peering out from beneath her hood. Something cracks in my knee. I watch as magical energies seep out from her, but not towards the fungus. No, she’s channeling everything she has into the fairies.

 

I tilt my head. Wondering. Are you trying to save them? You can’t. You can’t. The fungus wants magic. It’s pulled towards it.

 

  But then I realize. She isn’t trying to save them. She’s channeling her magic out of herself into any willing vessel that is here to be found. The fairies. She’s pumping every bit of energy she can into them, so that the fungus doesn’t come for her as quickly. It wants them. But she’s running out. Soon every last one of her children will be dead and then she’s next. She lifts her hand up into that air in that gesture again. This time for real. This time it’s not a dream.

 

It seems a little heartless. But I don’t blame her. The fairies are undead anyways. There’s nothing left to save. Killing them like this is probably doing them a favor honestly.

 

A frazzled fairy falls down, its tiny body slapping against my shoulder as it then flops down to the rocks below.

 

  Talk about some real CONVICTION. I like that. I like that. My eyes go wide as I stare down at the ‘grass’ beneath me. It seems to be swaying just a little, moving just a little as if pushed by some cosmic winds towards my body. It has sensed me. The lance-hero’s corpse was a high energy thing to begin with. But now that I inhabit it…

 

  I leap and notice that I fly further, higher than I would have in any other human body. My hand grabs the cap of the mushroom with ease, before I even begin to lose momentum and I vault myself up onto the top of the toadstool. The fairy-mother holds her hand up in the air, as if for me to take it. But I don’t have time for that. I have so much work to do, I don’t have time for any nonsense!

 

Bending down, I grab the fairy and hoist her over my shoulder where she hangs rather limply, like a sandbag. She just hangs there and I jump back down, barely noticing the weight on my shoulders. This is a strong body.

 

It hurts. My shoulder cracks. I keep walking and I run up the staircase once again carrying the fairy-mother, once again followed by a swarm of fairies, though this time much smaller than before. I’m sorry I’m late ma, I overslept.

 

  Carrying the jostling fairy who doesn’t say a word or make a single squeak as my metal spaulders press into her gut, I run. I sprint. I climb. I scurry, scuttle, skitter and scamper as we run. Is the dungeon-master watching me? Maybe. Are they mad at me again? Maybe. But that’s okay. That’s okay! I’ll carry them beneath my arm if I have to. I run. Floor ninety-five. Then ninety-four. Then ninety-three but this time I don’t speed through it, avoiding the ireful gaze of a thousand rats.

 

  This time, I turn left and enter the depths of the green-water sewers once again. Poison water rushes past my boots that slosh through the muck. It seeps into the metal, running over the bones of my feet as I slosh forward, holding mama higher so that the water doesn’t get her. She’s undead like me, so she’ll be fine if it does. I just think she deserves better, you know?

 

  Beady eyes shimmer in the darkness as I walk, pushing my way forward. This time not running, this time not closing my eyes and speeding through. I jump down, crossing a large metal pipe that spans a deep pit, filled with criss-crossing pipes beneath us and a pool of green-water further below that.

 

Grasping the fairy-mother tighter, I leap, pulling us both up onto the opening and continuing further. I need to know. I need to see. I need to be sure.

 

As I walk, I kick old bones and empty armor out of the way. Goo sloshes all around us and rats squeak with an intense outrage at my intrusion. But they don’t understand. They don’t have eyes. Not like I do. Not like she does.

 

I reach the edge of the pipe and look down towards the throne room, towards a pair of fiery gleaming eyes, glaring up my way. They look so nice. I want them.

 

I leap, landing before the rat-queen who presses her hands down in anger, pressing her long nails down into a pair of rats who squeak in agony, but in delight at the same time as the throne of rats beneath her shifts, vying to push the suffering out of the way so that they might be hurt be her instead. High honor.

 

“YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE COMING HERE AGAIN, PURPLE! GET OUT OF THAT BODY! NOW!”

 

  I tilt my head, looking at her curiously. “Hey. How’s it going?” But then I raise a hand and wave her off. The rats cry in anger, the swarm beginning to stir in a blind rage from my rudeness. Disrespecting queen means death. Death-death. But that’s okay. I’m already dead. She’s not important. Well she is. But… I scan the room. Searching the swarm of rats and then I narrow my eyes.

 

I turn back towards the rat-queen who has risen up to her feet, marching towards me with clenched fists, the swarm of rats at her back all standing on their hind legs, their beady little eyes glinting with fury as they hiss.

 

“YOU DISGUSTING P-“

 

  “Here, hold this for a second,” I drop the fairy-mother down towards the rat-queen who hisses in shock, but still instinctively reaches out to catch the fairy-woman, straining under the weight of her body. My boots thud out as I walk through the sea of rats that parts ways however. They sense it. They sense it. They sense the weakness in her body language. They sense the lance-hero’s power and the retreat. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! DON’T JUST IGNORE ME!” yells the rat-queen with fury. But I do just that. The ground beneath my boots clears way as I walk, each rat scurrying a step to the side to not be crushed. This would usually be a death sentence, to cede ground in front of the queen herself. But they are afraid. My eyes. My eyes shine out from hollow bones and I see -

 

I see. I see. I see.

 

  Thousands of rats move out of my way, forming a circle around me, but none daring to come too close lest they be destroyed. All save for one. The circle is made, I bend down, kneeling and holding out a hand towards him. To the one true champion of the dungeon. I stare at the rat-hero, feeling like I could cry.

 

  “Thank you,” I whisper to him, wiping my eyes with my elbow. I nod to the rat-hero, the rat-hero nods back. He remembers. He is chosen. Chosen like we are. I have chosen him. “One day I’m going to be like you,” I promise the rat-hero, holding my lance to my heart. I mean it. I’m going to do everything in my power like he did to make the world a better place. One day, my eyes will shine with that same passion that burns in his soul. The rat hero raises a paw and grasps my finger. The pact is sealed.

 

  Rising up and leaving a man greater I behind for now, I return my gaze to the rat-queen who is grinding her teeth in anger, a long, clenched growl escaping her throat. Her legs and arms are about to buckle from the weight of the fairy. The fairy-mother tilts her head curiously, watching the rat-queen’s fire filled gaze. I walk towards them.

 

“I like your eyes,” I tell the rat-queen. She twitches. They’re filled with such… anger. With such hatred. With such CONVICTION. Grabbing the fairy mother back, I hoist her over my shoulder and hand her my lance to hold for me.

 

“YOU INSOLENT SHIT! I’LL EAT YOUR EYES AND TEAR OFF YOUR C-IAH!”

 

  The rats in the chamber hiss with a rage not meant for any mortal creatures to harness in their cores. It’s an anger too heavy for a soul to carry, a fire too bright for any eyes to contain. They’re furious. The rat-queen kicks with her knees and smashes her fists against my back as I grab her and heave her over my other shoulder. This really is a strong body.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” yells the rat-queen. I turn my head around, far past its natural turning point to look at her face hanging over my right shoulder. My neck snaps, the bone breaking.

 

“We’re going to see the miller! Come on! There’s so much to DO!” And with that, I leap, rising up towards the apex of the world. A swarm of dark-fairies and a horde of angry, confused rats at my heels. The rat-queen flails in violent protest. But the fairy mother just hangs over my other shoulder and watches her with eyes that can see like mine.

 

 

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