Hekkeran approached the entrance to the tomb.  The sound of Heavy Masher’s members rushing into the dark still echoed back to where he stood.  Tenmu’s footsteps were slower and more steady, however they were no less sure.  ‘Bastard didn’t like being left out of our bargain, I guess.  Well, fine, there’s only one treasure we’re after, anything else is a bonus.’  Hekkeran reminded himself. Parpatra and his team however, chose to be more circuitous.

The many smaller teams of workers however, simply rushed into the tomb, and thereby showed themselves as novices.

“With Heavy Masher and Tenmu in front, what have we got to worry about!”

“Don’t let them take all the loot!”  

Cries like that kept Foresight standing to the right side of the walls while the overeager workers drawn by rumors of wealth went eagerly to their tasks.  

‘Most of them won’t survive.’  Imina thought with a grim expression on her face, ‘But then, most of them wouldn’t survive anyway, but there’s enough here for a military company or two.  Why would anyone want this kind of attack… unless they were sure they could handle it?’  

The whoops and mix of barked orders over the sound of crashing feet and kicked doors were receding into the distance, the flickering lights of torches that loomed like suns when they were close, became flickering glowbugs as various members of worker teams charged down every path and toward every door.

Excited cries came and redoubled, then redoubled again, then redoubled again.  The sound of falling clinking coins and happy laughter echoed out through the dark halls.  The cool air of the tomb brushed over their skin like the caress of a clammy, decaying hand.  

‘This way, follow the long hall.’  Imina heard the voice of Arche ringing in her head.  ‘Ignore anything and everything, touch not one single coin, not even to inspect it.  When you hear cries for help… ignore them.  Their trials are not yours.’  The half elf stopped mid-step as the voice spoke to her.

She felt her lover bump into her back, “Watch it…”  Imina whispered without looking over her shoulder.  

“You heard her?”  Roberdyck leaned forward to ask, the warmth of his breath wafted over Hekkeran’s ear, a stark contrast to the chill of the tomb.

“What do we do?”  Hekkeran asked, “Is it her, is this a trap?”

“You’re asking if this is a trap now?!”  Imina whispered with a rough voice of disbelief just as the first screams reached their ears.  “Of course it’s a trap!”  She hissed over her shoulder and crouched down to peer into the dark.

Somewhere not far away, a crunching noise began as the screaming subsided.  “I mean, is this part of…”  Hekkeran drew his hand down over the front of his face, “never mind, do we listen or not?”

The trio looked back and forth up their still line, faces searching silent words of wisdom through hard or shallow breaths, darting eyes and shaking hands.  The smell of fear began to come from each of them as for the first time in a long time, they wondered truly, ‘Will we survive this?’

“Yes.”  Roberdyck finally added, putting on a brave, if wavering smile.  “If Arche were being made to trick us, at least she’d find some way to say so.  Besides, we’re already here, why lie now?”

Persuaded by their cleric, they began to advance.  Priceless objects began to come into view through open, waiting doors.  Glittering gold sparkled before Imina’s eyes, and with her companions’ martially enhanced senses, as well as her own, she could not just see, but also feel the pull of their bodies toward the gold and silver things.

It was no less true for her.  The wealth of kingdoms lay within a few paces, a whisper of temptation passed her parted lips when the corner of her eyes caught a golden statue of a woman’s terrifying face with live snakes for hair.  The eyes were rubies, the teeth were pearls, the scales of the snakes were flakes of emerald and jade… the artistic value alone made it beyond worth.

‘What else is in there… what else is in here… can’t we just…’  Imina asked when she stopped to look.

She felt her lover’s hand on her shoulder, his bright eyes were pleading, and full of fear.

Imina felt the greed slip away in the face of her lover’s anxious face.  Their breath became shallow as they continued into the darkness.  

‘When you reach the four way… wait.  And do not use your weapons.’  Arche’s words rang in Hekkeran’s head, there was no questioning them.

‘I will listen, come what may.’  He told himself.

 

---

 

Erya was enjoying himself, a spring was in his every quiet step.  A dozen skeletons had fallen to his sword without any bit of effort.  His slaves walked with timid steps at his back.  He could feel their eyes on him.  He could feel their awe, he could feel their fear.  It was moments like this that he savored, even more than when trembling thighs opened at his command.

He knew that about himself, ‘I am superior to them, and what’s more, they know it, they know it now far better than at any other time, because I walk tall and strong, and they can only scurry after and let me lead.  How can anyone doubt the superiority of humans when we are at our peak?’  It was a question he both savored, and hated at once, because the very fact that he had to ask it, meant that others doubted the answer.

‘Imina… next elf I buy, she’ll look like you.’  He told himself and made a mental note to make sure he got a chance to work with Foresight again when that time came.

The treasures he passed by were eye-catching at the least, golden coins, expensive decorative armor, coffins overflowing with coins, and banners that were literally spun with gold.  And yet for Erya Uzruth of Tenmu, there was only one thing driving him.  ‘I have to get to the center, let the other trash fools dig through the stuff that’s easy to reach.  The best loot is always deeper in.’  A golden rule of ruin exploration, though he had little idea why beyond the notion that throne rooms tended to be there, which was as good a reason as any, he supposed.

A piercing howl of pain reached him, scrambling feet so far distant that he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to, and he never did.

“Master… there are… there are noises ahead.”  The blue haired ranger elf said in her usual timid voice.  She looked down at the stone beneath her bare feet.  Clad in nothing but the cheapest ragged clothing, they had no enchanted gear or armor to protect themselves, not even basic sandals.  

The clammy chill of the flow of air through the tomb seemed to stick to him like the saliva of some nasty, disgusting lizard.  “Are you sure?”  Erya demanded, his narrow eyes narrowed even further.  The other two nodded without giving voice to their agreement.

‘Alright, their hearing is better…’  He admitted, and asked, “What is it?”

“It’s… it sounds like a woman’s voice, and… squeaking.  Like she’s humming music.”  The ranger answered, accompanied by furtive nods from her comrades, they clutched their hands together at the chest and tightly shut their eyes in case their master chose to hit them again.

He didn’t.  Erya listened as carefully as he could, quieting even his breath, and they were right.  He kicked a stray bone out of the way and watched it bounce and tumble with noisy, drum like sounds of its own until it slid to a stop at the far wall near the door where the sounds were coming from.

He drew his sword from his sheath and made his way forward again.  The door was clearly open, resting slightly ajar, thick and heavy, it seemed to be made of one solid piece of iron.  Between the gap and from the gap below, a flickering of many lights revealed that someone or something lay beneath.

Erya flung open the door and entered as if he lived there.  His face twisted in horror at what he beheld.

The room.

The room.

The room was covered in… pink.  Ribbons, stuffed animals all designed to be so absurdly… cute.  It didn’t fit anything he knew of dungeons, frilly lace, tiny puppy dolls and kitten dolls, like what a tasteless girl with an unlimited budget might have done.

A fragrant scent of expensive perfume hung in the air as ephemeral as a single strand from a spider’s web.  The source?

In the center of the room stood a young girl holding a small penguin wrapped in her arms.  She was obviously squeezing it tight, more interestingly, the penguin was alive.  “Get me out!  She won’t let go!”  It wheezed out and flapped its flippers with frantic urgency.

The girl had one green eye, mottled green gloves, a black and white maid dress with an almost metallic shine, auburn hair that hung loose down to her waist, a dark eye patch, and a blank expression.  Everything about her was… strangely cute, from her white boots that came up just below her thighs, to the tiny mouth whose lips were pursed as if she were disappointed and had just let out a huff.

“So you’re my target.  Surrender.  It will be quick.”  The girl said in a short monotone.

Erya held the sword out in front of him.  “No.  Lead me to the greatest treasures in this place, and I’ll make your end quick and painless, if it’s worth enough, I might even let you live.”

“So, you have chosen… poorly.”  She said in the same cold monotone.  She turned and walked to the wall where she then set the penguin down.

That was when he saw an unfamiliar looking device slung over her back.

Erya flashed forward when her back was turned, ‘I’ll just take her head and be done with it!’  He told himself.  A vicious little smile on his face, he could already see her head tumbling to the ground…

Until he felt himself flying backwards with agonizing pain in his gut and his arms reflexively going forward to clutch his body.

Pain shot through him from his front that made the thudding sensation when he landed on his back, feel like nothing.

He rose to his feet very slowly, his body shaking from both pain and fury.

“Names first.  You do that, don’t you?”  The girl asked while she took the long device off her back.  He heard an unfamiliar sort of ‘clicking’ noise as she fiddled with it, seemingly indifferent to him again.

“In duels with humans… but no matter what you look like, you’re obviously a monster.  No ‘human’ would be in a filthy place like this!”  Erya spat and looked over his shoulder to his slaves.

“Boost magic and heal me you worthless trash!”  He shouted, and though they winced at his words, they raised their hands and the glow of magic circles emitted a moment later.  Erya felt his body strengthen, his dexterity rise, and began to activate his martial arts.  ‘I’ll close the gap between man and monster and end this bitch!’

“I see.  I don’t like you.”  The girl said in the same monotone.  “I made this room pretty, just for this.  You are rude.  We maids work hard.  You should acknowledge that.  My name is CZ Delta.  Regret your rudeness in death.”

Erya snarled at her and attacked again, his body flashing towards her three times faster than before… only for him to see the tip of her weapon begin to flash like glowbugs.

The punches to his gut were like hammer blows.  His sword held up, bouncing back and forth as he tried to use it as a shield and bat away projectiles he could barely see.

But there were too many, she simply stood there, he saw her finger twitching over and over and over… and the pain in his body began to rise.

His armor dented, cracked, and shattered, the rain of her unknown weapon’s projectiles began to get through.  ‘I have to push through!  Just bring my sword to her and…’  He struggled forward, the distance shrinking.  A part of his armor shattered, and then he felt not a punch, but a tear as his body was pierced and flesh torn away from his forearm.  It fell to the floor with a wet, sticky flop, exposing naked bone to the air.

Erya grunted, he was there, he thrust out his sword, but the strange maid calling herself CZ Delta, spun on her heel faster than he could follow, brought her weapon into his already battered gut, and sent him tumbling back.  His sword clattering and crashing end over end before it slid to a stop just in reach of him.

Erya snatched it up and, aided by his martial arts, he shot to his feet again, breathing hard, the rain of blows from her distance weapon began to hit him again.  The tiny projectile strikes tore through both his thighs, and then…

He felt his hands burst like pressed grapes.  “Explosive rounds.”  She said with casual indifference as Erya stared through tearing, trembling eyes down at the bloody stumps.  “You should not have been rude.  It is not cute.”

“No… No…”  He mewed out, injury was a common thing even for him, but losing the ability to hold his sword, that had never taken place.  He yanked his head around as he came crashing to his knees when the strength of his thighs gave out.  “Heal me!  Heal me you worthless slaves!”

They only smiled at him, sweetly, hatefully, and began to giggle.  “No… no…”  They pointed at him, and began to laugh, and their laughter was like knives.  ‘Don’t you know… I’m better than you…?’  He pointed a bloody stump at the trio, “Do it!  Heal!  Heal!”  His shouts went unanswered, and his orders died in Erya’s throat when he heard the tap of a heel on the stone just in front of him.

“Neuronist can have you.  We are done.”  CZ followed up.  He spun his head back to the front and stared up at the young girl who now towered over him, he opened his mouth to say ‘no’ one more time, only to see her bring the butt of her weapon up, and then crash down into his face.

“Slaves?”  CZ asked the trio who stared down laughing with joy at the unconscious body of their master.  They began to kick him repeatedly with their bare feet.

They looked up at her with pitiful expressions.  “Make it quick.”  They said in unison, and went back to kicking the unconscious blonde swordsman.

“If you had no choice,  you might be spared.  Wait, and we will see.”  CZ replied, and this seemed to please the slit eared elves, who went on kicking their former master, for quite some time.

 

---

 

Parpatra was cautious by nature, allowing others to go in as if there was no danger.  ‘Even against skeletons, most of them won’t survive.  The ones who do, will become like me if they live long enough.’  The wily old man gave a chuckle to the scene around him.  He checked for traps and had his magic caster look for illusions, at each tombstone he approached, he thrust down with his earth penetrating spear.  It pierced the grave and with its holy tip, he sought to purify whatever twisted unlife lay within.

The soft earth gave easily beneath his powerful thrust, and then he yanked it up a moment later.  “Be careful.”  He reminded his team, “A place like this, it always has unexpected surprises.”

“That’s right!  It does.”  A woman said as she emerged out of an open doorway that led into the darkness.

Slender and with dark hair done in a bun high up on her head, she wore glasses and a very clean, even perfect looking maid outfit.  She had a slender face and wore expensive looking glasses, but most eye catching of all were the enormous green gauntlets she wore at the wrists.  “My name is Yuri Alpha, and you… are our test subjects.”

She swept her hand out in a grand gesture before her, and following her arm with their eyes, they saw rising from the ground, a slew of heavily armored skeletons.

“You… think you can beat us with these to help you?”  Parpatra’s old voice was full of confidence and he puffed out his slender chest, his team closing into formation with practiced skill.

“I won’t be fighting unless I must, you will face the Nazarick Old Guarders by themselves.  I’m just here to gather data.”  Yuri replied in a steady, even tone that was betrayed by the beginnings of a taunting smile she struggled to hold into place.

From the darkness, at the maid’s back, another maid appeared, clad in flowing robes and with purple hair, her face, curious to Parpatra’s eyes, didn’t move when she spoke.  “You’re so childish, sister.  Quit taunting them and get on with it.”  The smaller purple haired maid said and covered her mouth with her sleeve before letting out a giggle of her own.  “It isn’t as if they have a chance.”

Yuri turned a little pouting look down to her companion.  “Don’t ruin all my fun, Entoma…”  She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

‘Is she insane?  No, that would stand to reason from their perspective, those aren’t humans, that’s for sure… humans wouldn’t live here.  Whatever they do, must be normal for them…’  Parpatra thought before the maid simply shouted…

“Begin!”  Yuri commanded. And the undead with gleaming armor, crackling magic hammers and swords began their inexorable advance.

 

---

 

Gringham felt the burning in his muscles, the raging pain ran through his body to the music of his clinking armor.  He looked over his shoulder, one of his teammates had fallen and was surrounded.

“Help me!  No!  No!  Not like this!”  The slender thief brandished a dagger and held it up, shaking it before his body, but nobody stopped.  A gout of flame illuminated the hall behind him and engulfed Gringham’s teammate.  The scream of pain caught up to his retreating companions even if he had not.

‘That’s the fourth one!  The fourth one!  But they don’t know how many of us there are!  If I just keep going…’  

Ahead of him he saw another flickering light, and heard more screaming.  The light was carried out from around a corner, it was also bouncing like mad.  ‘Another team, they’re in combat, and they’re losing!’  He realized and the Heavy Masher leader realized almost instantly, ‘If we go that way, we’ll just get caught between both sides!’  His heart raced as if it wanted to compete with his thoughts, his eyes darted around him for something, ‘anything’ that offered a ray of hope.  ‘What’s with this tomb?!’  He wondered, frustration and despair warring for control of his mind.

A door caught his eye and without thinking, he ran for it, flinging it open and diving in, a few of his comrades made it in, but the rest who were looking behind them, missed what happened and kept going.

Gringham did not open the door to call them, instead he flung his back against the door, was breathing heavily and turned his head to press his ear to the door.  Forcing his mouth to shut while he listened.

The sound of tearing flesh, like ripping cloth, and screams, echoed and redoubled when his pursuers caught up to the part of his team that kept running, and whatever team was struggling around the corner.  Then it was done.

It was pitch dark within the room, except for one small flickering white light from the far side.  “Do we go in?”  Gringham recognized the voice of one of his rangers.

“No… we wait, then we go back out the way we came, grab what gold we saw along the way… leave this place, and never come back.”  Gringham replied with a whisper.  “I think… I think I’m done with this.”  He added with the whites of his eyes wider than he thought they could be.

“So, you’re thieves after all.  Even with your comrades dead, all you think about is taking what isn’t yours and running away.  I have seen a few noble humans, but you are not among them.”  The room began to brighten, and within it stood an old man in a butler outfit. 

Gringham of Heavy Masher was not a man easily frightened, and yet when the aged man in the formal suit bowed with a hand over his chest, the veteran worker could only feel a profound existential dread.  

The butler straightened up, “My name is Sebas Tian, and I am afraid you have committed three grave sins for which you must be punished.”  Sebas raised his hand and held out a finger, “The first is that you have attacked my master’s home.”  He raised a second finger, “The second is that you abandoned your comrades, leaving them to die to save yourselves.”  He raised his thumb, “The third is that you sought to steal.  If I were to add a fourth, it is that you made me lose a bet with a colleague.”

“Ah… a bet?”  Gringham stammered, ‘He’s talking, as long as we’re talking, there’s a chance!’  He realized, and held his hands out openly as if making an offering.  “What if we were to help you to win another bet instead, double or nothing!  Then could we persuade you to let us make it up to you!  And your master also!”

Sebas didn’t respond, not with words, instead, he ‘changed’.  The old man was gone, the body seemed to melt into itself as something else ‘grew’ out of it, so that he was now two or three times his former height and build.  Dark scales that were even at a glance, utterly impenetrable.  Sharp, hook like spikes and protrusions thrust from his shoulders and head, and the hands were now tipped with razor claws.  However, his gestures remained as formal and dignified as the butler who stood before them a moment ago.

One hand came out, turned palm up and with fingers open.  Sebas gave a half bow again and said.  “I accept your offer.  My colleague predicted you would make it and despite our differences, I respect his mind, and out of that respect… if nothing else, I allow you a second chance.  You may choose to fight me to the death, and if you are victorious, you will be allowed to go free.  Or…”  

Gringham and his companions traded uncertain glances.  ‘Fighting that thing is asking to just die.’  He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up at the black implacable face, “Or?”

“Or, you can kill one another, do that, and the last one standing will live.”  Sebas quipped, “It’s that simple, I promise you.”

Gringham and his companions drew their weapons, there were five, including himself, and of them, ‘None are a real threat to me…’

Resolve settled on all their faces, ‘This is about survival, it’s nothing personal…’  

Sebas watched with disinterest as they fell to hacking at one another, one by one falling to the floor, reduced to lumps of dead meat.

Of them all, one still stood within two minutes’ time, blood streaked and breathing like he’d run a marathon, the heavy armored Gringham went down to one knee, his heavy hammer falling from nerveless fingers, to thud to the floor.

“You killed your comrades, and won your life.”  Sebas said with an icy stare.

Gringham nodded, “Yes… I… does that attone… can I, can I rest a minute before I leave?”

“Leave?”  Sebas asked rhetorically, “You’re not leaving.”

Gringham’s eyes shot up, “But you said if-”

“I said that if you defeated me you would be allowed to leave, but if you killed each other, then one of you would be allowed to live.  I will keep my promise, you will continue to live.  I fear however, that you will regret that very much, as you spend the rest of your days in the Frozen Prison.”  Sebas replied, and with two long steps, he towered over the worker.

Gringham screamed as he was dragged away, he screamed as he was dragged down the hall, as he was dragged down stairs, and as he was dragged into a frozen hell.  The door shut behind him and was now alone, and around him, nothing but ice, snow and icy blocks.  The warmth of his body’s exertions were slowly drained away, until heat became a distant memory.  

He would never leave that room.

 

---

 

When they reached the four way intersection they were told of, and finally stopped, Hekkeran spoke.  “Why do you think we haven’t faced any opposition?  Weren’t we supposed to fight?”

“Maybe you misunderstood?”  Imina suggested doubtfully scratching her ear.

“Maybe.”  Roberdyck added, “Or maybe we’re being led to the fight.  We’ve heard the screaming, who knows how many are still alive.  I can only… who can say?”  Whatever he was going to add, the cleric changed his mind and clutched his mace tighter against his body.

“Well, well, well.  You came after all.”  A taunting, beautiful voice came from the darkness.  

“You remember me, don’t you?”  Solution asked when she stepped into the light.  Her hands were on her hips and her chin was raised with an arrogant expression.  

“Yes… now we came!  Give us back Arche!”  Hekkeran demanded with more courage than he truly felt.  The buxom blonde brought a hand to her lips and laughed like he’d told the world’s funniest joke.

“I don’t have her, I’m only to lead you to her, if you stay with me, you’ll be safe until you get to the arena, after that?”  She shrugged, “The rest is on you.”  

“How do I know I can trust you?”  Hekkeran demanded.

The woman looked flatly offended and drew herself up close to him, “My name is Solution Epsilon, I will torture, I will kill, eat, and consume any living thing I please that my master does not prohibit me from taking… but I will never lie.  Least of all to an inferior life form with few redeeming qualities.”  Her hand came up and gripped him by his jaw.  He felt the radiating heat threatening to rise and burn his flesh away.

And then before he could even understand the viciousness in her bright blue eyes, and before his comrades could intervene, she released her grip.

“Proof enough?  I could have killed you then boy, and chose not to.  This hall isn’t where it ends for you.  Now shut up and follow, before my master thinks you’re being rude.”  Solution spat the vicious words and whirled around to show her back to them as if to say, ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re behind me, you’re not a threat.’

As if to further taunt the lot of them, the woman wore a maid outfit, and her skirt was slit at the thigh and all the way up to her hips.  She walked with the sultry air of a woman leading a suitor to a bedchamber for a night of fun.

Hekkeran felt his team’s eyes on the back of his head, but unable to think of what else to do, he followed.  They passed monsters he’d only heard of, demons of wrath, elder liches, and bizarre creatures with many tentacles and strange horns.  Yet nothing touched him or his team as they followed the curious blonde maid.

‘If we hadn’t obeyed… what would have happened if we encountered these things without her as our escort?’  Imina wondered, and did not like the answer, she still clutched her bow, as Roberdyck did his mace, but her lover in front of her seemed disturbingly at ease.  

‘Like he’s just ‘given up’ and lost all hope.’  Imina thought.  It seemed oddly freeing, his twin swords remained in hand, but nothing about his posture suggested he intended to do anything with them.

It was a long, silent walk until a pair of maids came from another hall and fell in beside the blonde to chat amiably as if Foresight was not following them.

The blonde maid treated the duo of maids very, very differently, ‘Comrades, so, monsters can have comrades.  Strange to think about, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.’  Hekkeran concluded just as the trio bade farewell and parted company, and in the distance a portcullis rose up and to reveal a much brighter area beyond.

“Just in here.”  Solution said and stopped at the opening, waving them on.

Up ahead, there was erected a dark iron wall set in the middle of the sands, and to that dark wall, was chained their comrade.

“Arche!”  The trio shouted and rushed past where Solution stood, they moved so quickly they almost missed the masked robed magic caster who stood beside their bound comrade.

“Stop!”  He bellowed with a voice of thunder, and held a gloved hand out over the forehead of their captive companion.  In his other hand a golden staff of incalculable value snapped down to point at the trio in a gesture that could only be called threatening.

The waves of sand they kicked up as they ran stopped instantly, fear of what the unknown figure might do was visible on each of their faces and none of the three could even make an attempt to hide it.

Then the same noble voice rang out, and the staff the mysterious caster held in his hand swept out in front of him, the bright lights grew brighter as the flames of torches tripled in size, illuminating a vast number of stone golems serving as stand-ins for an audience.  “My name is Ainz Ooal Gown.  Welcome to the Great Tomb of Nazarick.”