CHAPTER 97: CHAPTER 97: THE PRICE OF FAME.

The morning after the Sanctuary Showcase, a new kind of quiet settled over the dungeon. It wasn’t the heavy, defeated silence from our last loss, nor the tense, anxious silence before a match. It was a deep, satisfied, and profoundly sleepy silence. The silence of a job well done.

My team was gathered in the Tea Nook, basking in the glory of their ridiculous, wonderful victory. Zazu, the newly crowned Chamomile Champion, was, of course, fast asleep in a plushy armchair, a soft, happy snore escaping his lips. A small, hand-carved wooden trophy of a sleeping elf sat on the table beside him.

Guarding his armchair with the solemn dedication of a royal guard, Sir Crumplebuns stood perfectly still, his Spoonblade held at a respectful salute. Beside him, Sir Wobble-a-lot was trying his best to copy the heroic pose, but his permanent wobble made him look more like he was gently rocking a baby to sleep.

Pip and Clank were quietly playing a game of Stones and Crosses, and for the first time, Pip was actually winning. He looked so happy and relaxed, a quiet joy radiating from him now that the threat of monsters and scary librarians was gone.

Gilda was silently sharpening her axe, her movements practiced and efficient. She paused and looked at her weapon, a beautiful, deadly piece of steel that had helped her win hundreds of battles. Then, she looked over at the sleeping Zazu, who had just won a national exhibition match with a cup of tea and a good pillow. A slow, disbelieving grin spread across her face. "Well," she muttered to the empty air, her voice a low rumble of pure, baffled respect. "I guess there’s more than one way to win a fight."

Even Kaelen, while meticulously polishing a single teacup with Sloosh at her side, seemed to have a lighter, more peaceful energy about her. Nearby, curled up on a plush rug in front of the Tea Nook’s warm hearth, Cinder the Cobblestone Drake was fast asleep, his stony tail giving a happy little thump-thump against the floor every few seconds. A thin tendril of cinnamon-scented smoke curled up from his nostrils.

It was a perfect, quiet morning. My core hummed with a deep contentment. This was it. This was the peace I had been working for.

’This is nice,’ FaeLina’s psychic voice was a soft, satisfied whisper in my mind. She was hovering near the ceiling, just watching them. ’The public loves us. The King loves us. Our brand approval rating is at an all-time high. Mochi, do you have any idea how much we can charge for an officially licensed ’Chamomile Champion’ tea set?’

Her happy thought was suddenly cut short by a new, dawning horror.

’Oh no,’ she whispered, her voice trembling. ’I almost forgot. It’s almost ten o’clock.’

’What happens at ten o’clock?’ I asked, a new sense of dread creeping into my own core.

’The King’s new ’Royal Tourism Initiative’!’ she fretted. ’He’s keeping the tournament portals open all week to promote inter-dungeon commerce! He’s turned our front door into a public attraction! We’re about to be invaded!’

And at that exact moment, the ten-o’clock portal from the Royal Arena opened for the day.

The sound that flooded in wasn’t the usual, casual trickle of a few curious tourists. It was a roar. A loud, excited, and very, very large roar that physically shook the teacups on Zazu’s table. The peace was shattered.

A flood of new visitors poured into the lobby, their voices echoing in my previously silent sanctuary. There were knights in shining armor trying to get Zazu’s autograph on their shields, robed mages attempting to magically analyze the fluffiness of the cushions, Impatient nobles demanding a table at the now-famous Tea Nook.

A small army of bards had set up in a corner, each trying to compose the official epic ballad of the "Nap Heard ’Round the World." One particularly loud bard with a lute was already on his third verse: "...with a pillow so soft and a spirit so true, Zazu the Snorer, we sing now for you!..."

The line to get into the dungeon didn’t just stretch; it snaked all the way back into the main arena, a noisy, cheerful serpent of pure, unadulterated stress. My quiet, perfect morning was officially over.

The roar of the crowd hit the team like a physical blow, shattering the peaceful morning.

Gilda stood up, her hand instinctively going to her axe, her face setting into the grim, weary lines of a bouncer about to clear out a very large and very loud tavern. Pip let out a squeak of terror and dove behind Clank, as if the sheer volume of people might attack him. Zazu, woken from his champion’s slumber, just blinked, his expression one of profound, sleepy confusion.

Sir Crumplebuns, however, saw the adoring crowd and puffed out his chest, striking a magnificent, heroic pose. "GREETINGS, GOOD CITIZENS!" he boomed, completely misreading the stressful situation. "WELCOME TO THE HOME OF CHAMPIONS!"

Kaelen, on the other hand, reacted with a quiet, efficient sigh of pure annoyance. Her peaceful, orderly task of polishing teacups had been interrupted. She simply picked up her tray of clean cups and, with a silent grace, melted back into the shadows of the Tea Nook, determined to find a quieter corner to continue her work.

As the rest of the team reeled from the sudden invasion, FaeLina’s managerial brain, which had been blissfully dormant, rebooted with a jolt of pure panic.

"Customers!" she shrieked, her voice a high-pitched buzz of terror and excitement. "So many customers! We’re not prepared for this! The Tea Nook only has six tables! Sloosh is overwhelmed! We’re going to get a one-star review on the ScryNet for ’excessive wait times and a critical cushion shortage’!"

The lobby was a nightmare of happy, noisy commerce. Sloosh the slime waiter was a blur of wobbly efficiency, but he was just one slime in a sea of demanding adventurers. The Listening Post Capybaras, usually so calm, looked like they were on the verge of a collective, stress-induced nap of their own.

But as I tried to process the chaos,my senses picked up something new. It wasn’t the loud, chaotic energy of the fans. It was a quiet, focused, and very determined presence, moving with a single-minded purpose through the sea of noisy adventurers.

A small, timid-looking golem made of rough, unpolished river stones shuffled its way through the crowd, politely excusing itself as it navigated around the legs of knights and the robes of mages. It walked to the very center of the lobby, to the spot directly beneath the highest point of the domed ceiling—the place where the dungeon’s magic felt the most focused and present.

"Excuse me, Great Founder?" the golem asked, its voice a low, rumbling whisper that was full of a deep, nervous reverence. "Are you... are you the one they call ’The Great Sleeper’?"

My mind went blank.

’Founder?’ I thought, a jolt of pure, undiluted panic shooting through my core. ’Great Sleeper? No, no, no. Those sound like job titles. Job titles come with responsibilities. Responsibilities are the enemy of naps.’

’FaeLina, what is happening?’ I projected, my mental voice a squeak of pure terror.

’I don’t know!’ she fretted back, her mind already calculating the potential brand-building opportunities. ’But it sounds important! And possibly profitable! Just... go with it!’

The little golem bowed, a clumsy gesture that sent a few pebbles clattering to the floor. "Greetings, Great Founder," it said, its voice a low, rumbling whisper. "My name is Pebble. I am the humble emissary of the dungeon known as ’The Quiet Creek’."

It paused, shuffling its stony feet nervously.

"My Core is... new," it continued, its formal tone cracking a little. "And she’s... well, she’s a very big fan of yours."

"She saw your performance in the Sanctuary Showcase on the Scry-Screen. She says that you have shown the world a new way. A path of peace... and," it finished, as if reciting a sacred text, "...and naps."

It looked up, its rocky face a mask of pure, hopeful admiration.

"My Core wishes to know," the golem whispered, "if you would be willing to take her on as your apprentice."

I stared at the small, hopeful golem. I looked at the chaotic, noisy, and very much not-nap-friendly crowd that had taken over my home. An apprentice. A student. Someone who would ask questions, need guidance, and generally require... effort. My non-existent stomach churned.

’Apprentice?’ I thought, a wave of pure, soul-crushing horror washing over my core as I pictured it. The endless questions. The mentoring sessions. The complete and utter destruction of my carefully planned nap schedule.

’I don’t want an apprentice,’ was my final, desperate thought. ’I just want to take a nap.’

_________

Author’s Note:

And the consequences of victory have arrived! Mochi’s perfect, quiet morning is officially ruined by his own success. He didn’t just win a showcase; he started a movement, and he has the fan mail (delivered by a very polite golem) to prove it.

I love the new titles he’s earned: "The Great Sleeper" and "Great Founder." They sound so important and come with so many responsibilities, which is Mochi’s personal nightmare.

But now he has a fan who wants to be his apprentice! How is our lazy, introverted hero going to handle being a mentor? This might be the most terrifying challenge he’s faced yet. Thanks for reading!