There is no Epic Loot here, Only Puns.

Hazhur nervously tied the knife to his waist.

“Nice and tight, you don’t want to lose your side-knife. Adventurers who lose their side-knives lose their lives shortly after,” said an old familiar voice behind Hazhur. He turned to see the leader of his group strolling towards him.

Hazhur tried to recall why he thought he was in a bath... why was he in a place he only saw in memories and nightmares?

“Master Ivan,” he said nervously, voice deeper at the age of sixteen than most. The man clapped Hazhur on the shoulder.

“None of that. We’re going into trouble together, so just Ivan,” he said and Hazhur’s head hurt as people moved past, some with faces and some blurred as if the world had deemed them unimportant, but despite that, Hazhur felt like he was exactly where he should be.

“Is it trouble? I thought it was kept on top of?” Hazhur mumbled and Ivan peered over him to something in the distance.

“Dungeons can be sneaky... this one more so than most, about their new levels. You only get the big mana surges every couple of levels and the deeper the Dungeon? The less the wave makes it to the top,” Ivan said as he rubbed his grizzled face that had collected scars from many years of ‘trouble’.

“I thought Fairplay had men on every floor? Merchants before every boss and constant material collection?” Hazhur said with a frown, idly rubbing at the badge on his belt that denoted him as ‘Fairplay’s Scout Team-35’.

“It’s good propaganda, ain’t it? ‘Dungeons made safe’!” Ivan cackled, as if imagining the slogan on some colourful poster.

“We have enough men, if we focused ourselves, we could do that, but that was 20...30 Dungeons ago,” Ivan went on as he pulled his short sword and shield out to check for nicks or damage before the expedition began.

“I didn’t know there were that many,” Hazhur said, frowning. He mentally counted the famous ones off his hand.

The Royal Dungeon, the Great Ruby of the Desert, the Lighthouse, the Pestilence Swamp, the Silver halls, and a few he heard about by gossip, like one in a land where they spoke semi-common and a mix of their own language...

Supposedly, there was one under the World Tree, but the thing went feral ages ago.

“Dungeons are symbiotic or parasitic depending on their relationship to local life. Some Dungeons just get unlucky and birth in areas with not much in them. No prey, no growth and thus no one really knows they’re there,” Ivan went on, checking his armor straps next.

Hazhur hesitated and did the same.

“Doesn’t Fairplay have a big magic tracking map?” he pushed, wondering if he had joined up with a scam group?

“It's no delicate spider-web, lad. It’s a big metal nose pointed at the sky and only the big prey gives off any reasonable mana to sniff out. Most of the scouts find Dungeons off the beaten path... mostly by luck,” Ivan admitted as he stood up on a road.

That’s right, they were in a town.

“And towns that sell the rights,” Hazhur recalled as he turned slowly.

“Aye. Dungeons are like finding a caged-beast in your garden. Some talented folk can make it work, but most just end up feeding it. There’s no shame in admitting you’re over your head and the legal jargon got important when greedy mayors or kings tried to snatch the Dungeons back once we mastered them,” Ivan said with a dark look.

Hazhur was sure the ‘jargon’ went both ways in unfairness, but he didn’t care. He was just here to get his name out there.

He wanted to be famous like Cadderic the Spear or Lorsa the Knight-Captain! Maybe even... like the rising hero of his hometown, Ruberoi Smalls or Smalls the Great! The man whose rapier could cleave iron from rock and web from a spider!

Ivan’s hand smacked the back of his head before he put his gauntlet on.

“Daydreaming already? We haven’t even gone inside!” he guffawed with bright cheer. Hazhur glared at his leader, rubbing the already forming bump before he followed him and the others to the entrance of the Dungeon.

It was a chaotic looking thing. A door that half rose out of the sea with pink coral forming walls and stairs... the chaos came into focus when a metal gate that would guard a castle rose out of the sand and rocks, mashing wildly with the coral to form a twisted blend of pink and iron.

The entrance opened with snaps of coral pieces and metal bars, but it did open.

“Ever been in the famous Dungeon of the Twin Cores?” Ivan asked conversationally. Hazhur was too awestruck to answer. Someone came up to Ivan, speaking in a faint voice that Hazhur didn’t take notice of.

He took a step forward, almost hypnotized by the entrance. His glory and fame laid within and he gripped his axe with eagerness.

Hazhur the mighty... no Hazhur the Great!

His heart burned with joy and anticipation.

Yet, even lost in this tranquil memory, a horrible lurch of pain filled Hazhur. He was not sixteen or a boy... he knew how this ended and he tried to make his feet turn back... to run away. But he was a watcher more than an actor at this point.

They entered, finding the entrance hall to be a mix of swirling coral doing battle with jagged metal statues, the coral infecting the statues like parasites as the metal rusted and diluted the pink rock in return.

In front of them, a door opened to the left, leading down... and a door opened to their right leading forward.

The doors were simply rock, but on their surface was scripture that seemed old-fashioned, even for someone like Ivan to read.

“The other portal is upon honor certain death,” Hazur read then turned to the other.

“That other door upon no honor is certain life,” he said and Ivan snorted.

“Welcome to the running theme of the Dungeon, conflicting style and always two choices,” he said with a sigh. He pulled out a detailed map, showing the way forward leading to a series of rooms with clear marked traps and the door leading down to something Ivan had marked as the ‘pit of Coral-Crabs’ that also had ways to proceed forward.

“Teams already marked up to the 35th floor, so we’re covered in majority there. We’ve to do a weeks’ worth of scouting, checking for any new monsters or patrol deviations in existing creatures,” Ivan instructed the team, though Hazhur could only see Ivan.

“I don’t think I can fight...” Hazhur said, trailing off as Ivan smiled at him.

“We got two of the Fair Maidens coming in. They’ll clear us a path forward when we need it, but don’t expect them to hold your hands... though, you might want them to,” he said, grinning as Hazhur went pink in the checks, looking down at the pink coral to avoid Ivan’s gaze.

Hazhur had seen one.

She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Will... will it be ‘Winter’s Silent Sigh’?” he asked, ever so casually.

“Hm, not likely. We’re expecting trouble, not a full blown corrupted Dungeon,” Ivan replied dryly.

“But Isanella... she’d be the strongest, right?,” he argued as if Ivan had any say in where the Maidens went.

“In the right field, they’re all the strongest. But I’m not getting sucked into another Maiden debate. Everyone has their personal favourite,” he warned. He marked a path on his map.

“Anyway, Isenalla is getting sent to the Blood-Plains. A tribe there has knowledge on a Dungeon and she’s being sent to ‘convince’ them to share,” he said and Hazhur’s heart dropped.

He really wanted to impress the Fair Maiden with his... low-rank skills.

“Besides, everyone knows Brilda of the Striking Summer is the best Fair Maiden,” Ivan said cheerfully as they set off.

Hazhur bristled.

Maybe... maybe he’d let the Spring’s Hope Maiden or the Kingdom Fall Maiden be considered... but Summer?!

He would have to correct Ivan’s taste... he was as bad as his cousin who sneezed sparks and ate frogs for fun.

---

Karn stared up at the giant tower jutting out of the sand in the far distance. The harsh sun of the Sister beat down hard in this region and the sand around them shifted on harsh winds.

“I’ve already kind of handled this,” he called aloud to the illusion of drugs and magic. The sun flickered and the tower tilted.

The scene shifted to him staring up as a half-wolf, half-woman covered in slaver blood, snarling as she raised her weapon to remove Karn’s head.

“Nope, got this out in a drunken party. Was cathartic,” Karn went on.

There was a pause and the scene shifted and Karn found himself at one of the few oases in the desert, holding a gleaming scimitar. He was maybe twelve... maybe younger.

“Oh... I haven’t handled this. This is a good one,” he called, trying to be helpful to make up for his crab-stomping business from before. The weapon he held had many gems embedded in it and Karn had pulled it out from the bottom of the oasis after he fell while trying to swim...

Karn wasn’t sure if he was trying to kill himself or honestly just wondered what being in water was like.

“Child of the dunes...” the sword mumbled, as if trying to remember a script it had forgotten. It sounded male and half-asleep.

“I am Slave-22,” Karn said, remembering how the conversation had gone.

“And I am the great Gamma. A weapon of a thousand dreams and forms!” the weapon responded, sounding more on-track now.

“This is painful. Can we not?” Karn asked honestly, ignoring the scene for a moment.

Luna’s voice hummed from far away, like she was the moon itself in the sky.

“The point is to address old wounds, but you’re free to leave. Only two need pass... but no one else has yet,” Luna said breezily.

Karn thought furiously for a moment. He’d presume Hazhur would pass... Silver was 50/50, but Estal...

“I already know what happens, I don’t see how reliving it makes me stronger,” he argued, but decided in his heart to remain in the trial.

“Slave, huh? Well, listen up, kiddo. If you tell me what you wish and take me away from the Oasis, I’ll make your wish come true!” Gamma said and Karn sighed.

“You won’t,” he said with absolute confidence.

“Oi, oi! Don’t doubt me. So, I just need to ask a question real quick before I make some magic happen... Do the names Alpha, Beta or Delta sound familiar?” Gamma asked and Karn jolted in surprise. He had forgotten Gamma had asked that.

His original answer had to have been no... but now?

Delta. He was in the Dungeon of Delta! Karn felt his heart beating faster as he had dark thoughts rise up.

“Shame,” Gamma said as if Karn had answered. In a moment, Karn threw the blasted sword back into the oasis with a snarl.

There was a ripple and the scene reset itself, he was holding the sword.

“Child of the dunes...”

Karn threw the sword away. The scene reset itself. Karn tried to bury it and the scene reset itself.

Finally, he just stood there, listening to Gamma effectively talk to himself as if Karn the slave boy was still here... still talking.

“You just hold me high and announce yourself free. I’ll take care of the rest,” Gamma promised and Karn watched as Gamma turned into some strange contraption he had once seen at a blacksmiths... the sword moved on its own, clipping Karn’s chains so that they dropped into the sand below with a thud.

“See, freedom is here already,” Gamma sang and Karn looked at it.

“You gave me hope,” he accused hoarsely. Gamma oddly broke the script to reply.

“I gave you a weapon... don’t blame me for anything else,” the weapon retorted as it shifted to a giant axe that little Karn could lift with ease. Karn remembered the path he took back to the camp. The other slaves saw him first, backing away as their chains rattled, tied to metal poles buried in the sand.

Karn couldn’t lie, Gamma did as he promised and as he held the weapon up, Gamma seemed to attack on his own, dragging Karn around rather than the other way around. The axe became a myriad of weapons, cutting down his slavers to the point Karn could feel he was losing... some strength as Gamma wielded him.

Before he could do much to stop Gamma or even think of letting go, Gamma lurched towards the harsh open desert.

“Come on, more will come and you’re my only chance at getting to some real place. I’ve been stuck in that oasis for two months!” Gamma complained as Karn stared wide-eyed... his face felt hot as sticky stuff dried on it.

“N-No, the others,” Karn protested and his will made Gamma pause.

“Well... alright, but that’s a lot of slaves,” he reminded as he let Karn drag him back to start hacking up the chains. Karn hacked and hacked, remembering very little of the faces he rescued. They all backed away from him or just ran.

“Kid... the patrols are coming back and we don’t have the energy to take more on. Grab a horse!” Gamma insisted. Karn didn’t exactly regret trying to save the slaves, but he clearly could see it was a lost cause as he was much older.

Karn watched his little hands swing over and over, freeing more people as he returned closer to the water’s edge in his haste.

He was going to fight, die as a free boy than live anymore as a slave, but-

“Anyone with a brain, raise your hand and I’ll get us out of here!” Gamma yelled in slight panic as Karn got too close to the oasis once more to free more people.

“I don’t want to go back into the oasis!” Gamma yelled, losing all composure. Karn blinked as an older woman snagged Gamma out of his hands, it was so easy for her since Gamma forced himself out of Karn’s grip.

“Take me from here, Devil-Blade!” she commanded with a rasp and kicked Karn down to the water’s edge as chaos erupted in the camp.

Karn looked up, sand sticking to his face.

“Gamma... you...” he said but both of them were gone over the embankment and into the fight. Karn reached his hand out for someone to help him, but no one came.

No one came except for the chains.

“The others say this boy brought the Devil-Blade to camp,” a large man called and Karn just laid there... feeling hollow and used.

The slaver leaned down in the ruins of the camp, gripping Karn’s collar tightly.

“No magic blade here, boy... no friends among slaves and no heroes,” he said and Karn didn’t feel fear at the sight of the man. He had seen far greater men and demons bear their teeth at him.

“I was a hero and Gamma was the coward,” Karn said flatly and it all broke apart.

He was abruptly back at the pool, head in Luna’s lap as he rested in the calm pool.

“I failed,” he said with a blank tone.

“Oh, adventurer. The only mark of failure at my hotspring is the unwillingness to face your demons at all. Running is failure... but I think seeing things from a different perspective helped a little,” Luna said soothingly.

Karn just sat in the steaming pool for a moment longer before speaking.

“I don’t get the lesson,” he finally admitted.

“Depends on how you want to take it,” Luna said, bemused.

“Perhaps seeing the fact you were a boy who was used and left made you not a failure nor a coward. Perhaps seeing the options you had that if you had left the slaves to perish then you would be a different... lesser man with a cowardly blade at your side,” she said with a long sigh.

Karn blinked once then looked down at his pruning fingers.

“I choose to be free... even when they put the chains back on and branded my back... I had tasted hope. Hope from a traitor, like poisoned wine. I was free in my heart,” he said slowly. Luna smiled at him and Karn couldn’t say he was into frog-people, but she was pretty in her hazy hotspring air and calm aura.

“Now, you can be free to hunt down a traitorous blade and snap it like a man’s private pride into two then melt those pieces down to make fashionable earrings!” Luna advised brightly.

“Anyone else passed?” he asked and Luna gestured to the side where Silver waited on a bench, holding a rather tiny shell of some hairy fruit that had a pink umbrella in it. Karn needed one of those things so he joined the odd Silver on the bench.

“How was your trauma?” Karn asked politely and Silver turned his head to Karn with unnatural rigidity.

“Inside, I am a storm of howling beasts that slather and drool for serene release from these memories that hound my soul like hornets that have knives instead of stingers,” Silver responded tersely.

“So...” Karn trailed off, not sure what to say.

“It sucked and I am now on the path of cathartic healing... supposedly,” Silver summed up.

There was a violent explosion from the pool Estal had been in and she stood up, barriers forming together in such a way she made two giant hands that were attempting to squish somebody’s head.

“FATHER!” she screamed before she spun and stormed forward, still in whatever illusion she was in.

She began to knock over something in her vision.

“I hate your porcelain duck collection! I hate your stupid pen collection! I hate your stupid books!” she yelled, throwing the ‘objects’ down with glee.

Luna cautiously prodded her back to the pool with a long stick.

“I AM A MAGE! I don’t need... your or anyone’s approval,” Estal concluded as she flexed her magic and pointed forward.

“I am the Barrier-Mage, Estal Unnamed. I discard your name, Mage Thunderblaze!” she announced and Karn stared as her swimsuit was tearing from the magic.

“Worth the trauma,” he said with excitement but Luna swaddled her in a large colourful towel.

“Mage names? I remember that being important,” Karn commented and Silver nodded.

“Mage names are the very magic they wield. It's rare to see one have such a powerful effect as Thunderblaze. It would be worth a lot of clout in magic circles,” Silver explained.

Karn remembered a few mages, but they had ‘wiggle’ or ‘tapping’ in their name. He hadn’t fought one that had a real mage name before!

---

“Quiss Firesmasher,” Alpha said, making note of it.

The scruffy blond man sighed as his companion leaned over with a wide smile

“Salvation! I am Sethamus PurgingRiver! I am life-companion of Quiss. I cool his burning tongue,” he introduced and Alpha stared at the man with utter bafflement.

“He’s a longtime friend who stops me setting rude people on fire,” Quiss translated as he nursed his drink.

“Isanella said I should introduce myself to ten people so I can get over my crippling fear of socializing,” Alpha said as to explain why he was bothering the wizards.

“Quiss, isn’t he funny!” Seth said in that weird tongue that used mana.

“I thought I was being serious,” Alpha frowned in the same tongue. Seth and Quiss turned to him with surprise.

“You’re a mage?” Quiss asked and Alpha paused.

He was a lot of things, if he was being honest.

Nodding, Alpha watched as both men eyed him.

“What’s your ‘name’?” Quiss asked slowly.

“Alpha,” he responded simply. That was an easy question!

“No. your mage name,” Seth asked with excitement.

Alpha mentally checked his stats and didn’t find a title that fit a mage name.

“I don’t have one,” he admitted as he wondered if he should flee the bar and try somewhere else, but the only other interesting place was a bank and the man there asked if Alpha was donating blood, memories, or gold.

“Hmm... that can’t be left alone. A mage with no name is like a man with no underwear on. Just rubs the wrong way,” Quiss said as he stood up and took his very nice hat off.

Alpha stared at the magic hat as Quiss waved a hand over it.

“By the power of a named wizard and someone who's worked a double shift today, I open a way to the realm of names,” he said and the hat shook before there was a sound like a plug being uncorked and cold air began to leak from the hat.

“Don’t be nervous. Just reach in and pluck a piece of paper!” Seth said in magic-tongue, clapping his hands excitedly. Alpha got a quest to do just that so shrugged and reached in.

It was a lot like pushing his hand through thick pudding that was cool and occasionally parted to reveal pockets of air that had jellyworms in them. After some fisting of the pudding-like realm, Alpha finally felt what seemed to be a scrap of paper.

He pulled his hand out which was now covered in a dark purple slime, holding a piece of paper. He read it.

‘Alpha FirstKing’

---

Far across the land, near the capital, a series of tools and instruments began to vanish off a very shocked , now naked, old man, leaving him standing nude in the great hall of the Wizard Clan.

It was soon discovered that there was a new position above Grandmage and it’s name was ‘Mage King’.

In a single act of pulling from a hat... magic as they knew it was forever changed... or as Sister would say ‘finally moved out of Alpha’.