NOVEL NEXT Chapter 13: The Squeaking Developments
The arena dungeon-core, Munera, ever-adapting to the evolving needs and desires of its many, many, many patrons, has embarked upon a new phase of enhancements at the colosseum. As part of these upgrades, a host of broader amenities are introduced to cater to the viewing public, turning the arena into a more comprehensive experience for all who enter. Upon arriving at the colosseum, visitors are greeted by an expanded entrance plaza lined with all manner of booths and stalls. The eerie atmosphere is punctuated by flickering torches casting long shadows across newly erected constructions, many of which are hewn out of ornate stonework rather than being plain wood constructions. Here, vendors hawk their wares — obscure trinkets and potions, mostly.
The difference is that these vendors belong to Munera. They are monsters, not humans. Everyone is pulling their weight well, except for the slime that was assigned to sell food. That might have been a miscalculation. It ate too much, grew too large, and started going after the customers.
— So Munera threw the giant slime into the arena.
It has proved massively popular with the public, but not so much with the gladiators, who get eaten regularly now, not quite having found a good way to counter a slime that is the size of a good house.
But that’s life. You can’t make everyone happy.
Inside the arena itself, new seating arrangements have been constructed to accommodate larger crowds drawn by recent developments. From commoners to nobles, all can find suitable perches within this tiered labyrinth overlooking the battlegrounds below. The higher tiers boast private boxes draped in somber fabrics where influential figures may watch events unfold in relative seclusion, as well as receiving private service from many attendants.
Between battles, restless audience members may explore newly added corridors surrounding the arena. These dimly lit passages appear to shift underfoot like living shadows, leading them deeper into an ever-changing maze filled with peculiar attractions: arcane fortune tellers who peer into realms beyond mortal comprehension; eerie puppet shows portraying gruesome tales from forgotten legends; and hidden alcoves where hushed voices share sinister secrets for a fee. Groups of entertainers have made their way here as well, including dancers, minstrels, and the like, who do their best to fight for attention but never quite seem to get any when the fights are happening.
An additional innovation includes enhanced refreshment options that cater to more ‘diverse’ tastes, which is to say that arrangements have been made as there are more than just humans visiting these days. The wild regions around the dungeon were home to many intelligent-enough creatures, such as goblins, that also took an interest. Alongside standard fare such as mead and spiced meat pies, visitors can now sample peculiar delicacies like murky brews that tingle on the tongue with every sip or pastries filled with… unique… flavors that leave taste buds craving more.
The ingredients are not publicly listed. Any requests for them are politely ignored.
As the dungeon-core continues to revamp the colosseum's amenities, it cements its reputation as a must-see destination across the nation, with word spreading farther than that still.
The area surrounding the dungeon-gate has also undergone a remarkable transformation under the industrious spirit of the humans. Once a desolate expanse, it now thrives as a bustling small town with the arena-dungeon at its very core, fueling the growth and prosperity of both.
Nestled around the dungeon-gate, the spontaneously growing town presents an intriguing contrast to the shadowy aura that pervades its center. A web of cobblestone streets and alleyways radiates outward from the colosseum’s imposing exterior, connecting various establishments integral to daily life. Entire financial pathways, born from the dungeon's many opportunities, stem from its existence and begin creating considerable wealth for many.
Inns and taverns dot these well-trodden paths, offering respite to weary travelers who have ventured far to witness the thrilling battles within the arena or sample its array of eccentric attractions. The warm glow emanating from their windows creates a welcoming atmosphere that envelops visitors like a comforting embrace. Of course, the inn inside the dungeon itself is the premium experience that many prefer to pay more for, instead of using the cheaper, human-run taverns. There is something to be said about watching fights to the death from your bed while being pampered and tended to by skeleton maids and servants.
As trade flourishes in response to growing demand for exotic wares and monstrous curiosities associated with the dungeon, lively marketplaces emerge, including a black market for all sorts of odd monsters that could be presented to the dungeon-core in order to earn its favor or be paid for. Craftsmen and merchants set up their stalls beneath vibrant awnings, hawking everything from exquisite weapons forged by master blacksmiths to rare ingredients purportedly sourced from hidden corners of the dungeon's depths, sourced from strange hallways and holes that lead nowhere. Among these thriving enterprises stand training grounds where aspiring gladiators, who aren’t ready to sign the contract yet, hone their skills under watchful eyes before venturing into the arena-dungeon itself. Dwellings constructed from sturdy timber and stone rise amid this landscape as families settle in proximity to this new hub of commerce and excitement. Although their homes may be modest compared to lavish noble estates, they are comfortable, dry, and in a good location.
As day turns to night, laughter echoes through lamp-lit streets while local musicians perform spirited tunes near flickering hearths at local pubs. The town comes alive as people stream to the arena as today’s games begin.
Today, the dungeon-core has established a death-maze that a good twenty people are going to take part in.
It’s going to be quite the show.
A horn blows, signaling the start of the games.
In the dank, dimly lit corridors beneath the colosseum's grand stage, in the gladiator’s quarters, a solitary figure moves with slow stealth and grace. Vilalie, the elf archer whose lethal precision has won her both admiration and fear from her fellow gladiators, now finds herself transformed into a silent predator stalking very different prey.
Her keen eyes have spotted a small mouse scurrying through the shadows, its tiny form darting between cracks in the moss-covered stone walls that confine them both within this subterranean world.
It’s standing there, its nose twitching, as it nibbles on some old bread she had placed in a dark corner.
As she creeps closer to her quarry, her breathing is slow and steady. Her socked feet walk slowly over the carpeted floor, step by step, as she stiffly moves, so she doesn’t scare it away. Mice are skittish things. She needs to be careful. This might be her only shot.
Sure, there are plenty of mice down here if you know where to look, but try actually getting one in a place where you can have a chance to snatch it. It’s easier said than done, especially with so many people here all the time. This might be her only chance for a while, now that everyone is out in the arena and the little animal isn’t spooked.
The mouse remains unaware of its impending capture, its tiny nose twitching as it sniffs out morsels of sustenance amongst the detritus strewn across the cold flagstones.
Vilalie approaches with infinite patience, knowing all too well that one misstep could send her potential ally fleeing beyond reach. She waits for just the right moment, when opportunity presents itself.
The critter looks around, scampering to another lump of crumbs.
— NOW!
Finally, with nerves strung taut as steel threads, Vilalie leaps, her agile fingers stretching out like tendrils seeking purchase upon fur and flesh. The mouse squeaks in terrified alarm, its tiny heart very likely pounding with life-threatening fear as it tries to react. But the elf’s hand closes around her target, capturing the mouse within a gentle yet firm grasp; its frantic squirming is testament to an instinctive will to survive shared by all living creatures—no matter how small. “GOTCHA!” shouts the archer. She doesn’t intend to kill it, but it clearly doesn’t know that and acts accordingly.
Vilale gazes down at her newly acquired helper with a blend of relief and amusement at her own situation.
With this small victory secured, Vilalie turns her thoughts back towards those plans she has meticulously crafted, like an artist honing their masterpiece one silent stroke at a time. For days, she’s been scheming, plotting, and strategically planting breadcrumbs while people watched her from a distance like she was some kind of weirdo. But she’ll show them. Everyone here has accepted being imprisoned and being forced to dance to the dungeon-core’s whims like some sick dolls. But she isn’t going to accept this all lying down.
She returns to her bed, cradling the captured mouse like a precious treasure carried across countless leagues of bloodstained sands or wind-swept valleys carved from ice and stone, holding her cupped hand gently closed as if within them existed hope and not a mouse — the faintest glimmer of light shining like the sun itself.
This little mouse is her key out of the dungeon.
