The things that happen to you when you’re young sink in deeper than you might think that they do. I mean, sure, you might think that they’re pretty deep down at the bottom of the core of your character to begin with. But let me tell you something, friend. You aren’t looking deep enough. The dungeon has one-hundred floors, but you know what? The world goes way deeper down than that. Those imprinted traits that define you as a person, they’re way, way, waaaay deeper down than where you think they are. They’re not the foundation of your personality, they’re the loose, dank sediment which that foundation is built on top of.

 

You can’t choose who you are, but you can choose who you become, if you catch my drift. Sort of. Within reason.

 

  You’ll never be able to replace that quagmire of goop, that black-water that you rise up out of as a person as you become an entity aware of its own existence. It will always be there. But you don’t have to worry about that, because all you have to do is walk far enough away from it, so that it doesn’t stain you anymore with its malignant presence. If you run fast enough, if you drag yourself forward far enough, the last slippery tendril of the black-water will slip right out of your body and flop down lifelessly to the ground while you just keep on running. Just keep on running.

 

  Make sure not to get any in your eyes though, haha. It stings like a treat. Also, just between you and me, guy, it smells a little unflattering, you know? Body odor is important. Nobody will love you if you’re smelly and gross. Sorry. It is what it is. Take care of yourself, okay?

 

  I stand atop the precipice, staring down into the void. Bending my legs, I leap, bounding over the chasm as I spring to one pillar of stone and then from that to the next one as bubbling green-water simmers below me. But that’s not important. It has nothing to teach me.

 

  There is little left to teach me and there is little left to teach you, guy. We’ve just about expended the dungeon’s contingent of metaphors and lessons. There’s nothing left but you and me and a few eyes that I see in the distance, always watching me from the darkness. Yet every time I turn to look at them, they vanish as if they were never there at all. As if they were nothing more than a vivid hallucination.

 

  I think we’ve learned enough though, honestly. At least for one journey. Maybe we’ll have another one, sometime, guy? That’d be nice. So what’s your plan for when we reach the top of the dungeon? Me? I want to see the ocean. I bet it’s nice. I wish there was someone to come with me, but that’s fine. You don’t want to stick with me anymore after we leave, right?

 

Yeah, I thought so… So you want to see a mountain, huh? I mean… that’s a bit odd, but I guess it’s no less odd than me wanting to see the ocean. What? You want me to drop you off on the way?

 

  Oof, that’s a big ask, guy. How big are mountains? Aren’t they like… reverse dungeons? I don’t know if I have it in me to go up another hundred floors. Can’t you just go without me? I really want to see the ocean. I really want to see the sun. I don’t think either of those things are on a mountain. Why do you want to climb to the top of a mountain anyways?

 

Because it’s high up? What does that mean? The apex of the world? That just sounds like some made-up nonsense. What are you trying to say?

 

  I mean, I guess they are. High up, that is. But why is that relevant? Do you just want to enjoy the view or something? Well, I guess I can understand that. We’re just different people with different tastes, guy. Though I suppose the word ‘people’ is very generous when applied to the two of us, haha.

 

I leap, shortly after landing on the next stone pillar. It crumbles as my feet leave it, the large fragments breaking apart and splashing into the green-water.

 

  Landing on the final ledge, I run up the next staircase, having long since lost track of where I am or how many stairs I’ve gone up. If only I had some way to… I don’t know, list what floor I was on. Imagine if it even had a map of the layout, so I could find my way without getting lost. Man, that would be so efficient. Oh well. What fun would that be? Besides, these last floors have been very un-mazey, so everything is fine like it is. Even if I do get lost, I have you and the wind to show me the way.

 

Excitedly, I run up the next staircase, feeling the bag with the rope slap against my leg as I move. I feel the fabric attached to my back billow as I run, I feel the blade of the lance cut the air as I run. As I run. As I run towards… towards…

 

I shudder, shaking the weird feeling out of me. Don’t distract me, guy. If you get too excited, I can’t concentrate and will you please stop growing so much?

 

  I rub my hands against my face, scraping and pushing some of your blue fuzz back inside of the hole. Stay inside, guy. You’re going to get hurt if you come out here. Let me take care of this part, okay? We’ll get there. Have some faith in me, alright? I might not be a hero, but I’ll do my best anyway. We all need something to believe in, so I’ll give you something to believe in, okay? Okay.

 

Still, I feel excited. I feel happy. Bending my knees, I leap, pressing forward towards the next floor above. I wonder which one it is? I wonder if -

 

  I land, my feet falling flat onto the precipice of the staircase. The heavy draft of the warm wind that rises ever-presently from the deepest core of the dungeon so far below, buried beneath a tower of darkness, presses past my body. My cape, my treasured cape billows past the side of my frame as it rises up, flowing towards the incredible brightness of the light that I see in the distance.

 

  Far ahead of me, on the other side of the floor, I see a giant gate that spans from the ground all the way up to the dungeon ceiling. It’s big enough for a full grown dragon to march through. A swirling, dense, purple fog fills its core, obscuring the other-side from my sight. But it isn’t a calm fog. It twirls and spirals, like heavy clouds during a thunderstorm.

 

  A chill runs through my body and I feel my legs grow weak, despite my desperate efforts to keep them steady as I look at the broad-shouldered silhouette standing on the other end of the floor, his cape billowing in the same wind as my own. His eyes burning in the same light of the flames as my own. Four staunch defenders stand behind him. But they are not alone.

 

I look around the floor. Around the floor that marks the entrance to my treasured home, to the dungeon and I see… I see…

 

- Humans?

 

Dozens of humans who I’ve never seen before all fill the area. Adventurers? No. Well, maybe a few of them. The rest are more uniformly armored, though they look more like priests than soldiers of any kind.

 

  I watch as the crowd shifts, reacting to my presence as I step cautiously forward towards their midst. Do you think they want to be friends with me? As I do so, as my heavy boot scuffles across the ground, I accidentally kick something that is laying there.

 

  A busted up, metal helmet rolls across the stones, clambering to break the deafening and somewhat awkward silence. I stare down at it, looking at the melted thing that has been bombarded with far, far more magic than any living thing could survive. It’s half-melted, sunken down towards its midst, as if it were a skull with no jaw.

 

Looking back up, I see two dozen hands, staves, wands, swords lifting up to point my way as another group enters from behind the hero-party, adding to their numbers.

 

Ah… I lift a hand to wave.

 

“Hello, fellow humans. Beautiful day today, huh?” I nod excitedly. "Say! Does anyone feel like visiting the miller with me?"

 

They look at each other. I think it’s working, guy. I think they bought i-

 

 

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