The guard stepped before Jackal and the team, blocking the entrance to the dungeon. “You aren’t going in.”

“What are you doing?” the cleric asked, but the other guard held him back.

“This is our run,” Jackal stated.

“I don’t care. You’re not going into that death trap.”

Tibs frowned. If the guards cared how many Runners were dying, did it mean they were afraid the town would die because of it and they would lose their job?

“There’s loot in there,” the fighter said, stepping forward, stopping when the guard placed a hand on his sword. “Loot, me and my team are going to get. So get out of the way.”

The guard only glared at Jackal.

“Is the dungeon closed?” Mez asked, looking from one to the other.

“Yes, it has,” the guard facing Jackal said too quickly for Tibs to believe.

“No, I’m not,” Sto replied, offended, at the same time Jackal snorted.

“This has nothing to do with the dungeon,” Jackal said dismissively. “It’s my father.”

“Then you know I can’t let you in.”

Okay, that made more sense.

Only… Sebastian had to know how good Jackal was now. Why was he so afraid for Jackal? Sto wasn’t that hard yet. Tibs watched the guards and how they tried to hide their fear.

“Maybe you haven’t been paying attention,” Jackal said, “but I don’t answer to him. Move out of my way, or I am going to move you myself.” His skin turned the gray of stone.

“No,” the guard replied, his voice shaking.

Jackal stepped forward.

Instead of drawing his sword, the guard stepped back. Jackal took another step and, and another, each time the guard moved until he glanced behind him and realized he was at the threshold and got out of the way as Jackal took a last step.

Grinning, the fighter entered.

Tibs looked at the guards as he followed. They were terrified, but of what? That Jackal would die? Of Sebastian’s retribution?

“Why did you let him in?” the second guard hissed once the team was inside.

“I didn’t see you come to my help.”

Tibs stopped to listen.

“Hey, I’m not to the one who was ordered to keep him out. Don’t fucking put this on me. If I’d been you, I would have gone into the dungeon with him, instead of having to face Wells. Better those horrors than Wells’ displeasure.”

“That can’t be worse than what the Runners who came out said.”

“Right, you never worked for the man. You’ve just had to deal with the orders he’s given since arriving. There’s still time for you to go in there and be tortured. Trust me, that’s the better fate.

“Tibs?” Jackal called. He stood next to the section of wall where the doorway to the second floor hid. That he’d stopped there meant he could sense the way the essence was altered. Was he getting better, or had Tibs missed the fighter putting his hand against the wall?

Tibs joined them, mulling over what the guards had said. Those words in front of Jackal would have been an act to scare him into doing what Sebastian wanted. With no one but the baffled cleric there… they were truly terrified of what Sebastian might do. Of what they had heard from the Runners who had made it out of the dungeon.

He looked at the doorway, fighting the urge to look in the trap room’s direction. As far as he knew, his team was still the only one who had found the doorway. Carina hadn’t said if she’d told the other teams or not. Tibs didn’t know how many sorcerers with elements were left.

“Why don’t you open it yourself?” Tibs said, stepping back. He’d have to be quick. If something was going on, he didn’t want Sto to hide it. Fedora had said the trap room was deadly. Was it more than only her inexperience?

“Tibs’s right,” Carina said. “We need to stop relying on him all the time for things we can also do. We should all practice interacting with the essence triggers.”

“I’d rather avoid doing that,” Mez said, “since most of the time it means unleashing something deadly in all directions.”

“Which is why practicing here is so—Tibs!” Carina’s yell trailed behind as Tibs ran.

“Tibs?” Sto asked. His friends had joined Carina in calling after him. He could hear Jackal’s heavy steps. “Tibs, what are you doing?”

How quickly could Sto make changes? A dozen paces were what he’d said for distances, and that room had a lot of interconnected essences to make work. Would simply being on one side be enough to stop any of them?

“Tibs?” Sto asked again, sounding worried this time. “Tibs, Jackal opened the doorway. They’re going to go to the second floor without you.”

Nice try. Even if he didn’t hear the steps, the desperation in Sto’s voice was enough to indicate something was wrong.

Tibs stopped on the first row of tiles and looked the room over.

“Tibs, what are you doing?”

It looked the same as the last time he’d gone through it. The floor, with the blank tiles. The walls, with the patterns telling the Runner clever enough to work it out which tiles were safe to step on. And the camouflage holes among that where the spears came out of. No, there were more of those. Did that account for the room being referred to as deadly by Fedora?

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Tibs,” Sto said, sounding too casual. “You’ve been through this room before. It’s still the same.”

No, it wasn’t. The rooms were never the same. That was how Sto operated. He was always changing them, adapting them to be a better challenge.

So why tell him it hadn’t?

He studied the walls, and he could have sworn the far one had changed from when he’d looked at it on stepping in, but there were too many details to be sure. Still, it was best if he didn’t rely on them for that.

He spread air on the floor and let it flow under the tiles. There were a lot more triggers than his last time, but that seemed normal with Runners helping each other and the safe passage being indicated on the walls instead of having to discover which was a real trigger from a fake one.

Of the eight tiles he could reach, only one didn’t have a trigger. He studied the walls again, trying to work out the spear’s path for the triggers around him. With there being more holes, more spears would cross any one of the triggers, making a miss-step more dangerous for the runner.

“Tibs,” Jackal said, sounding worried. “What are you—”

Tibs pressed the tile. He was confident didn’t have anything at his crouching height and the rest of the fighter’s words were cut off by the explosion of spears filling the room and then retracting back into their holes. That had felt a lot like the way the maze worked.

“What was that?” Mez asked.

Tibs pushed the tile in again and studied the way the spear covered the room, sensing the stone as far as he could to confirm that one miss-step wouldn’t kill just the person stepping on this tile, but anyone in the room regardless of if they were on a safe tile or not.

This wasn’t a trap room.

“That’s a kill room,” Jackal said, awe and fear in his voice.

“How…” Carina seemed unable to finish the question.

“What is going on?” Tibs demanded, standing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sto replied.

“Bullshit!” He motioned to the room. “You’re supposed to test us. How is anyone supposed to survive this?”

“I’ve had to make it tougher, as you’ve all gotten stronger.”

“Omegas aren’t stronger! They can’t sense the triggers like we can!”

“I’m just forcing them to be clever. There’s the walls, after all.” The answer was so casual that Tibs ground his teeth.

“Why are you lying?” he demanded.

“Come on, Tibs. You have a run to do. I finally got controlling Bigger Brute down, so get Jackal there so I can give him his fight.”

“Not before you explain yourself.”

“Tibs,” Sto warned.

“What?” he yelled. “What Sto? Come on, out with it! What am I going to find if I go to the boulder room? More rats than even one of us could deal with? There was more last time, but then again, you didn’t have this number of spears in here either!”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Tibs,” Sto said darkly. “I’m the dungeon. I do things the way I want. Now get to the second floor and do your run.”

“What about the rules? You’re supposed to be testing us! Everything in here is supposed to be about forcing us to get stronger and smarter. How does that happen if no one survives?”

“Who cares is they die? Some survive,” Sto scoffed. “You do.”

The casual way Sto addressed the runners dying took Tibs’s voice away. Death didn’t mean the same thing for the dungeon, but he used to hold a certain respect for it happening. It was a consequence of the tests, and with a few exceptions, Sto always sounded disappointed when someone failed them.

He looked at his friends for help, but they were silent and confused. They only heard his side of the conversation, and his screaming did little to reassure them.

“Come on, Sto.” He fought to keep his voice calm this time. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“What’s there to understand?” the dungeon replied. “I’m just doing what I’m supposed to.”

“No!” Tibs snapped. “You’re not supposed to make it impossible for us to get through a room!”

“It’s not impossible. You can get through it fine.”

“This floor isn’t for me anymore! Abyss, Sto, why are you killing everyone? What have…” He trailed off as he remembered Carina going over the pages, trying to understand why they weren’t accurate. What they said was that every room should be harder than they were… for him and his team.

His blood turned cold.

“You’re making it easier for me.”

Jackal’s jibe about Sto breaking a rule because Tibs asked.

Sto said nothing.

Tibs swallowed.

Fedora, Geoffrey, Pyan. So many others he knew and didn’t know.

“Why?” he whispered, then louder, looking up. “Why?”

Sto remained silent.

“What made you into a murderer, Sto?” Tibs asked, still having trouble believing that was what his friend had turned into.

“They did!” The loudness of Sto’s reply staggered Tibs back. “They hurt me! Nearly killed me! You Think I’m just going to let them try again? Never! They’re never going to hurt me again! I’m not going to let them use me just so they can come back and kill me with the strength I gave them!”

“They?” Tibs was momentarily confused. Then he understood. “Sto, it was only Bardik.”

“No! You saw the others. You didn’t hear them talk. Laugh at me, at how they were hurting me! About how they were going to do this to every one of us.”

The hate in the voice scared Tibs.

“They were captured, Sto. Harry threw them all in cells, far away from here.”

“That’s not enough! He should have fed them to me! He should find all the others who helped and feed them to me! They want me dead, Tibs! They want my kind dead. I am not going to let that happen!”

Tibs stared at the ceiling. “So you’re just going to murder innocent Runners?”

“There are no innocents! They let it happen!”

“Bullshit! My friends came to help. They weren’t the only runners to do so either!”

“But you’re different,” Sto said, his tone suddenly so gentle Tibs couldn’t answer immediately.

“No, I’m not.” How could Sto think that? “You think that if any of the others could have heard your cry for help, they wouldn’t have rushed to your rescue? I’m just a runner like them.”

“No, you aren’t.” The certainty in Sto’s voice scared Tibs and lend credence to Ganny’s claim Sto was playing favorites. Made Jackal’s jibes based on something real, instead of imagined.

Tibs didn’t want to be treated special. Not by the guild, not by the town, and not—he stepped into the room again, stepping on the trigger-free tiles—by the dungeon.

“Tibs!” Jackal called after he missed grabbing him. “What are you doing? Fuck, any of you see where he stepped?”

“Don’t step into the room,” he ordered. “Me and Sto have something to settle”

“Tibs,” Carina said, sounding scared. “I don’t think putting your life in danger like that is the way to resolve anything.”

It was the only way.

He stood before so many triggers that he wouldn’t be able to pick one, if that was what he wanted. He was pretty sure that this spot had the most spears crossing it.

“Tibs, what do you think you’re going to accomplish?” Sto asked.

“I’m just like them, Sto. Having all these essences, being able to talk with you, doesn’t make me different as a Runner.”

“Tibs, you’re nothing like them”

“If you’re going to murder them, I don’t deserve anything different.” He raised his foot over a trigger.

“Come on, be reasonable. It’s got nothing to do with what you can do. You—”

“I’m not the one being unreasonable, Sto.” He thought about using earth essence to steady himself as he almost lost his balance, but Sto could sense that, and he might think Tibs wasn’t serious. “I was okay with my friends dying. It hurt, but it was because they hadn’t been good enough to survive your tests. But that isn’t what happened. You just murdered them. You’re just a thug, killing anyone you want.”

Sto sighed. “Think of your team, Tibs. Without you, they aren’t going to be able to make it through.”

“Why? Because you’re going to make it impossible for them too? Is that what you’re reduced to? Making threats? Do what I say or all kill more of your friends? I’m Street Sto. Until I came here, everyone around me threatened to hurt me. I never gave into them. I’m not going to give in to thug like you.”

“You can’t do this, Tibs,” Sto stated. “I’m not going to let you.”

The floor shook slightly, then again, but this time with the rhythm of steps. Sto was bringing the Whipper from the boss room here. Unless he could make a Brute this quickly? Or had already made one to deal with others?

“You think it’s going to be here before I put my foot down?” The questions could wait until he’d survived this.

“You’re not going to do it,” Sto said with what sounded like petulant determination. “You don’t want to die. No dying. Remember? That’s what you’re always telling your team. No dying.”

“That was when I thought we had a fair chance of surviving.”

“Curse it all, Tibs. Stop this. You’re being childish. I have to eat to get stronger so I can make more floors and everyone else can also get stronger. That’s how it works.”

Did Sto even realize he was contradicting himself? Tibs considered things. He had time, and it was clear Sto wasn’t taking into account what Tibs could do to the Whipper. He lowered his foot. His leg had started to hurt, anyway. And if it came to it, he could throw himself on the triggers.

He wasn’t certain he imagined the sigh of relief.

“So, this is just about getting stronger?”

“Yes!” Sto sounded overjoyed.

“That is the only reason you’ve gone so far?”

“Yes, Tibs, I swear. That’s the only—”

“Why haven’t you graduated?” He waited a few seconds. “Come on, Sto. Considering the number of Runners you’ve eaten and how many of those were Rho. You have enough to open the third floor, right? That is what you’ve been doing with all that essence you’ve been accumulating, right?”

He looked down to hide the smirk that formed at Sto’s lack of reply, and as he saw the bracers on his forearms all elation at his success vanished. He’d been wearing them to honor his friends’ sacrifice. But that wasn’t what had happened. These were coins filled with blood. Every loot they’d gotten since Sto reopened had been made with the needless spilling of Runner’s blood.

He thought about ripping them off his arm. He looked at the floor and considered throwing himself on it to stop the mounting pain.

“No.” He barely heard himself. He swallowed the pain. This wasn’t about him anymore. It wasn’t just about Sto. It was about his team, the Runners the guild would bring in next, and those who had survived.

“I need you to be stronger, Tibs,” Sto said in an almost soothing tone. “I need you to be stronger for the next time they try to kill me.”

“Not at my friend’s expense.”

“They weren’t your friends,” Sto scoffed.

“Pyan was my friend,” Tibs snapped, then reigned in his anger. “So was Geoffrey. Fedora was my friend. I’m going to be friends with some of the new Runners. That’s how it works. We help one another. We become friends. Some become family.”

The Whipper was at the edge of his sense now. The last boulders were giving it trouble.

He took a breath.

“You have to decide, Sto. Either every Runner is your enemy, and so am I. Or I’m your ally and so are they. They are no different than I am.”

“Sure,” Sto scoffed. “Don’s just like you, right?”

“Don’s an asshole,” Tibs said without hesitation. Then remembered how quickly the sorcerer had been to wish Tibs hadn’t stopped Bardik. But that was because he thought that without the dungeon, the guild would let them go. “He’s a runner, like me.” He’d done everything he could to extinguish the fire. Don was an asshole and Tibs didn’t like him and his noble-ish tendencies.

Did any of that make him a bad person?

“I believe that if it comes down to it. Don will be with the others to protect you. You can be sure he’s going to make himself the most important person in the process, but he will be there. We all will.”

“They’re going to betray you, Tibs,” Sto said. “Betray me. Tibs, I don’t want to die.”

“No one wants to die, Sto. I don’t, my friends don’t. No Runner steps inside you wanting to die.” He swallowed the lump as he remembered Karl’s words about Pyan’s death. Tibs didn’t think she’d wanted to die. She’d just wanted to stop the pain of losing Geoffrey. “We take risks coming here. That’s what anything in life is. Taking a risk. I can’t promise you no one will betray us, Sto. I don’t know people that well. But if it happens, you aren’t going to be alone.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

“That’s the best I can offer, Sto. That’s everything I have. All I ask in return is that you go back to the runs being a risk instead of a certainty of death.” Tibs waited and when Sto didn’t say anything. “Ganny, you there?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the questioning looks his friend gave one another.

“I’m here,” She answered softly.

“I’m guessing you tried to explain this wasn’t right.” Tibs started unlacing the bracers.

“He hasn’t been in a listening mood recently.”

“What are you doing?” Sto asked.

“My friends died so you could make these.” Not making it an accusation was hard. “I’m not wearing them.”

“Tibs, you need them. You’re too weak without proper reserves.”

“I’ll manage.”

“It’s not going to bring them back,” Sto said, and Tibs froze.

He fought the tears.

“I’m sorry Tibs,” Sto said. “I’m sorry for being scared, for not wanting to die, for—”

“Stop!” Tibs closed his eyes and cursed. “You can be scared. I get being scared. But lashing out at everyone isn’t going to help. When you’re scared, you ask your friends for help. Ganny’s there. I’m sorry if I didn’t come by as often. But what you’ve been doing has the guild saying you’re going feral, whatever that means.”

“It’s when a dungeon loses its faculties,” Ganny said. “It’s rare, but it happened. No one knows why.”

“What happens then?” Sto asked.

“A feral dungeon is a danger to everyone,” she said. “They create monsters and send them out to bring back food. If adventurers don’t stop the dungeon, they will.”

“Them again.” Only this time, there was no mockery in his tone.

Tibs looked at his friends. He wished he could let them know, but unlike Sto and Ganny, he didn’t have a way to talk with them without the dungeon overhearing. He had to hope they’d be okay with his decision.

“We’re going to leave, Sto. You need to decide what me and the Runners are to you.”

“But your run. The loot I prepared for you.”

“You need to think about that, too. I’m not special. If you’re going to give me something like this.” He took the bracer off. “Then every Runner should have them too.”

“I couldn’t survive if I did that for everyone.”

Tibs nodded. “Then you have an answer.” He crouched and put the bracer on the floor.

“Tibs, please keep the bracers.”

“I can’t.” The words nearly couldn’t come out. He was halfway unlacing the other one when Sto finally spoke again.

“I killed your friends, and I’m sorry for that. Please don’t let what I did in fear end up being for nothing.”

Tibs closed his eyes and felt the tears. “Alright,” he whispered. Maybe he was using the excuse to keep them. Or maybe, regardless of how they died. Tibs could still honor his friends.

As he stepped out of the trap room, the Whipper stepped to the other entrance.

“We’re leaving?” Jackal asked uncertainly, eying the Whipper.

“He…Sto needs to think on things. Let’s go the to inn and—” he thought of something. “Sto, can you make the rats and bunnies out of flesh, like real ones?”

“Sure, but stone is kind of my thing.”

“What are you thinking?” Carina asked.

He wasn’t sure. The idea of the stew Kroseph was stuck serving them had triggered the question. “The town’s having problems with food. Someone’s interfering with our supplies. If some of the creatures were like real animals and you let us bring them back, we could survive off them.”

“We’d have to eat rat?” Mez asked, disgusted.

“It’s better than what Russ has had to work with recently,” Jackal said. “Don’t ask,” he added as the archer opened his mouth.

“That would get costly,” Sto said, uncertain. “I use the bodies to make more. If I have to let that go…”

“What if you replace some of the coppers with meat drops?” Ganny offered. “Meat’s actually easier on you, and you have a lot of the essences needed to make those. You haven’t been doing much with them. It also lets you keep the stone motif you’re so enamored with.”

“Meat drops.” Tibs thought it over. “Right now, that’s probably worth more than the coppers.”

“Okay,” again, Sto didn’t sound certain. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Tibs felt better as he headed for the exit.

“So, we’re really not doing this run?” Jackal asked.

“Are you sure you won’t do the run?” Sto asked. “Jackal sounds really disappointed.”

Tibs patted the fighter’s arm. “His sacrifice is worth it for us to know where we stand with you.”