The rest of the dungeon played like a bad joke written by a bored game master.
We passed through a corridor that screamed "trap zone," only for nothing to happen—until we were halfway through and Velis stepped on a rune that triggered... a gust of lavender-scented wind and a cheerful ding!
Next chamber?
Goblins. Real ones this time. Armed. Angry. Four feet tall and offended by our presence.
Iria stepped forward to challenge them in formal combat.
They insulted her shoulder armor and called Edelbrecht "overcompensating."
She accepted their surrender five minutes later.
Silas picked through their loot room while muttering, "They're hoarding hair gel and smoked mushrooms. These are budget-tier gremlins."
At one point, Velis tripped a sigil on the wall that inverted gravity. For ten seconds, we all floated upside-down while Lyra shouted at me not to vomit near her cloak.
Then gravity corrected itself with no warning.
The thud echoed.
We limped into the next hallway.
Somewhere near the end of the third floor, the air changed.
The walls, previously carved from smooth, mossy stone, became cracked and jagged. The ever-present glow of minor enchantments dimmed. There were fewer signs of mischief. No more halfhearted traps or sparkly ribbons.
Just silence.
Even Velis looked up from her notes. "We're nearing the core chamber. Can you feel it?"
"I feel dread," I said. "And some bruised dignity."
Lyra muttered, "Your dignity is a flat circle."
The door at the end of the hall was different from the rest—taller, older, carved with a symbol we'd seen before: the Leyline Crest surrounded by binding glyphs.
Velis pressed her hand to it. "Sealed. But weakening. I don't think the Demon Lord has found this place yet."
"Then we're early," Iria said.
Silas raised a brow. "Or it's just too dumb to register on his radar."
Velis finished her incantation. The door opened with a slow groan.
The chamber beyond was cavernous, lit by a giant crystal embedded in the ceiling. Runes circled the walls. And in the center of the room, on a dais—
Was a pedestal.
And sitting atop the pedestal...
Was a note.
Written in ancient script.
Velis read aloud:
"Please Do Not Remove This Relic Unless Authorized By A Dungeon Manager."
Silas blinked. "You ever get the feeling the dungeon's trying to talk us out of something?"
I stepped closer.
The relic was there—same as the others: metallic, spherical, lightly pulsing with energy. It looked... peaceful. Unbothered.
Then the ground shook.
The far wall cracked.
Stone shattered.
And from the dust emerged a shadow.
Ten feet tall. At least.
Massive horns curved back from its head like twin blades. Its muscles rippled beneath gray, cracked skin. Glowing red lines pulsed across its arms and chest like veins made of magma. Its halberd was taller than me.
It stepped into the light.
A minotaur.
Velis gasped. "No demonic influence. That's a pure construct guardian. Old magic."
"I thought they used golems for this sort of thing!" I shouted.
"They usually do," she said. "But this one's... expressive."
I stared as the minotaur stepped into the light, ten feet of muscle and murder with glowing magma veins and a halberd forged from someone's overcompensation.
"This thing came from the same dungeon as the confetti trap," I said. "The same dungeon."
It snorted steam.
Then charged.
Iria met it first.
Her sword clashed against its blade in a shockwave that rattled the walls.
She didn't fall back.
But she did slide five feet.
Then ten.
Then hit the wall.
Iria shook it off, slammed a foot down, and readied her stance again.
"Strong," she said, eyes glowing. "Excellent."
Velis circled left, chanting. Lyra pulled me behind a pillar.
Silas vanished into the shadows.
"Strategy?" Lyra asked, already prepping a healing charm.
"I'm open to divine intervention," I wheezed.
The minotaur swung wide—too wide. The halberd cleaved a section of the wall. Dust exploded. Velis triggered her trap sigils—fire erupted under its hooves.
It bellowed and stumbled.
Silas appeared on its back, daggers flashing—aiming for the glowing lines in its skin.
It roared and slammed itself into a pillar, throwing him off.
Iria attacked from the front, sword meeting horned steel.
Velis launched a cascade of lightning—channeled through the metal shield I was holding.
The pink metal shield.
With the nyan cat crest.
It absorbed the magic perfectly.
Then fired it back like a mirror.
The bolt hit the minotaur square in the chest.
It screeched.
It charged again.
This time, we were ready.
Iria drew its focus.
Silas looped behind, slashing tendons.
Velis sealed the exits with glyphs to keep it locked down.
Lyra cast a wide-area resistance buff and started counting everyone's remaining stamina out loud like a battlefield accountant.
And me?
I waited for the moment it aimed a spell at Velis—yes, it had spells.
It raised a hand, and I jumped between her and it, shield raised—
The bolt of magic hit me square.
The shield ate it.
I skidded back five feet, boots smoking.
Still standing.
Even Lyra looked surprised.
Then furious.
"STOP DOING THAT!"
Victory
In the end, it took everything.
Velis overclocked her final sigil.
Silas landed the precise strike that crippled the minotaur's footing.
Iria slammed Edelbrecht into its collarbone with a battle cry that nearly deafened us all.
The construct fell.
Hard.
Dust curled around it.
And then—
Silence.
We approached the relic.
No traps. No cursed glyphs. No surprise boss dropping from above.
We'd already handled that.
The pedestal lit up as we drew near, text glowing across its base:
"Thank you for surviving the challenge. Please rate your dungeon experience!"
Silas snorted. "Three stars. Too many spiders."
Lyra: "Two. The healing station was nonexistent."
I held up my cat-crested shield. "Five. Would slime again."