Mahya and Al finished demolishing the landscape, turning the once-wild area into a mess of holes where trees used to be, exposed roots, and stripped shrubs. It was time to explore the mountain. The door was enormous—at least ten meters tall and five wide—and looked weathered and rusted, but it opened easily with the slightest pull. Inside, the air was heavy, damp, and the smell reminded me of the swamp where I used to hold concerts for strange creatures to cover Al. A narrow tunnel stretched forward, its packed earth walls full of exposed roots. The mental slimy feeling was even stronger inside.

Mahya winced. "I hate that feeling."

Al nodded and rubbed his face.

We slipped into the regular formation for such an environment without a word. Al took point, shield raised. Mahya and I flanked him. Rue padded silently behind us, ears up and eyes scanning, serving as the rear guard.

We didn't make it ten meters in before Al barked, “Damnation!” He spun on his heel, mana surging around him. His shield flared, then flew forward and caught all of us mid-step. I slammed into Rue’s broad side; poor guy thudded against the door like a beanbag against a wall.

“Out!” he yelled.

Mahya recovered first, cursing under her breath as she shoved the door open. We tumbled through in a tangle of limbs and gear. Al came last, slammed the door behind him, and leaned on it, chest heaving.

Mahya narrowed her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“Pink ants,” he said, still catching his breath.

Mahya swore again. I groaned.

“We should give up on this section,” I said, glancing between them.

Mahya and Al exchanged a look. Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a long breath through her nose.

“Yeah,” Mahya said, voice low. “Better than all of us being stoned in a dungeon.”

We trudged back to the hall and tried every other door, one after another. Nothing budged. We ended up just standing there, facing each other in grim silence.

Mahya dragged her hands down her face, then turned and kicked the wall hard enough that some stone crumbled. “We can either retrace our steps to the exit or brave the ants.”

“We cannot go back,” Al said.

I blinked at him, caught off guard. If anyone was going to vote for retreat from pink ants, it should’ve been him.

“Shit,” Mahya muttered. “You’re right. We couldn’t open the door to get more saddles.”

Oh.

“Maybe we can sneak by them while invisible?” I suggested.

Mahya yanked at her braids, then spun and kicked the wall again. Poor thing was earning hazard pay.

“I do not think it will be feasible,” Al said. “One ant is enough to incapacitate all of us except Rue.”

All three of us turned to stare at Rue. He blinked, looked between us, then tilted his head to the side. A wave of confusion pulsed through our bond. Yeah, I had no idea how that helped either.

Al frowned, his gaze distant. Mahya kept pacing, muttering curses under her breath and occasionally taking it out on the wall. Rue stood in the middle, radiating confusion.

“I believe I have a solution,” Al said, straightening up.

Mahya stopped mid-pace and whipped her head toward him. “What?”

“They are ants. Hallucinogenic, yes, but ants nonetheless. Our previous impediment was my intent to capture one alive for study. However, if we are now committed to extermination, that is no longer necessary. I can brew a potion tailored specifically for ant elimination. Rue shall enter alone and pelt them with potion-balls.” He turned to Rue. “Do you believe you can manage the ants by yourself using the potion?”

Rue puffed up his chest and nodded decisively. “Yes! Rue is very dangerous.”

I opened the house against a wall, and Al rushed straight into his lab. In the meantime, I cooked dinner. To help Rue overcome his disappointment with the Tuanela burrowers not being edible, I spoiled him with a thick snake steak topped with melted cheese. For us, I made one of our favorite dishes from the days we spent clearing out those damn birds in the Mana Occurrence. Grilled bird wings coated in my special sauce: garlic fried in butter, with a splash of soy sauce, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a sprinkle of dill, all simmered on low heat. The smell even brought Al out of his lab.

After a few hours, the potion was ready, and we trudged back to the door. None of us was exactly excited about heading in again. Well, except Rue. He practically bounced, radiating such a thick wave of smug satisfaction that my mood perked up with every step, whether I wanted it to or not. Mahya pulled the door open, Rue trotted in, head held high, I pushed the door closed, and we plopped down on the steps to wait.

I tracked his progress through the tunnels by the emotions bleeding through our bond, and the occasional exclamation. At first, there was puffed-up pride, all tail-wagging ego and "Rue do job. Rue bestest. Rue dengerous." It was infectious. That shifted into raw enthusiasm as he chased down ants with single-minded joy. But then came the hiccups. Flashes of irritation, like a kid who had just realized his favorite game had too many levels. The annoyance grew steadily. A while later, it morphed into pure exasperation. He was still doing the job, but the excitement had long since worn off. And by the three-hour mark, the emotional feed settled into a dull, repetitive loop of resigned grinding. No joy or pride, just the feeling of "still more ants."

After five hours, he came back carrying something pink in his mouth. He trotted up, dropped it at my feet with a huff, then flopped onto the stone floor, limbs sprawled dramatically.

“Rue need lunch,”

he declared, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

I squinted at the odd object. “What’s that?”

“Loot,” he replied with great finality, not bothering to lift his head.

I bent down and picked it up carefully. It looked like an oversized, mutated garden shears. The handles were covered in uneven spikes, the blades were dull and oddly curved, and the whole thing felt like it had been molded from hardened ant exoskeleton.

Mahya leaned over my shoulder and frowned. Al took it next, turning it over with a slight tilt of his head. We all ended up wearing the same look, confused and vaguely disappointed.

Mahya let out a sigh and crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at the pink monstrosity. “The loot in this dungeon is getting worse and worse.”

Al crouched beside the shears, inspecting the dull blades with a thoughtful frown. “It is possible that our nightmares do not facilitate good loot drops. Other nightmares might be better.”

“Hey,” I said, straightening up with a scowl. “Our nightmares are great. We rolled through this dungeon easily.”

Mahya shrugged and nudged the shears with the toe of her boot. “I don’t think it’s the nightmares,” she said. “This dungeon is considered the easiest in the area except the final boss, the Lord of Lightning. But with your lightning immunity, we figured it won’t be a problem either.”

"I thought you didn't buy the info packet," I said.

"I didn't," Mahya said. "But I did ask around before deciding which dungeon to register us. The guy I talked to said this dungeon was 'As easy as plucking dreamfruit,' except the final boss which is considered one of the hardest, but I'm sure not for you."

"What about the final boss?" I asked.

"It shoots a very concentrated lightning constantly, and immune to any physical weapon. You can only harm it with magic, but nothing that has physical form, like stone or ice. Also, you can't use magic that is part of it, like lightning or thunder, it only makes it stronger."

I nodded, already deep in thought. Yeah, the final boss was definitely mine, but I had to think how to go about it without my strongest offensive spell. Or, well, not spell, but ability.

After feeding Rue, we returned to the mountain. I pushed my mana sense into the ground, scanning for crystals, but came up empty. On the other hand, the tunnels were scattered with chunks of pink ant exoskeleton. Mahya collected them without a word.

The tunnels stretched on, long and slightly sloped, just enough to wear on your calves over time. It took us almost an hour to reach the end of the ant kingdom. And then, it just ended. One moment we were weaving through dug-out dirt passages, the next we stepped into a stone chamber with another big, rusted iron door.

Mahya stepped forward, hand on the handle. She eased it open and peeked through the gap. “I don’t see anything yet.”

Al moved ahead without a word, taking point as usual, and we slipped inside behind him. The next area was a massive cavern, way bigger than any stadium back on Earth. The ceiling stretched so high I couldn’t even make it out with my high Perception. We crept forward, eyes scanning the vast space, every footstep echoing faintly on the stone floor.

Then came the sound. A sudden flutter above, and before we could react, a massive swarm of flying creatures dropped from the darkness. My heart stopped for a beat. I was sure we were about to get shredded by the acid murder balls. Instead, a thick cloud of needles shot down at us.

I barely flinched. Most of my body was armored, only my hands and face were exposed, and I had a Mana Shield. The needles hit and bounced right off, until the shield broke, but this time only with a mild twinge in my head, not the terrible headache of the past. Now the needles stung a little, like someone poking me with a bunch of dull sewing needles, but they didn’t pierce.

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Al wasn’t as lucky. He yelped in pain and bolted for the door. I turned and sprinted after him. Outside, he spun around, face twisted in pain. His hands and face were full of little quills. He looked like someone had turned a seamstress’s pincushion into a person.

“Those are venomous,” Mahya said, stepping out after us.

We started plucking out the needles one by one. Al stood stiffly, barely blinking.

“My... face... 'n hands... g-gettin’ nnmm…” he slurred, lips barely moving.

I cast Diagnose. The venom was a fast-acting paralytic. I cast Neutralize Poison and kept repeating it until we worked the last of the needles free. His breathing eased, and he finally exhaled a long, shaky sigh.

“That was highly unpleasant,” he said, voice still tight.

“You should add points to your Constitution,” Mahya said, picking up one of the discarded needles and examining it. “The needles couldn’t pierce John and me.”

She moved around the landing area, collecting the rest of the needles like she was gathering rare flowers. “These are very useful.” Then she turned to me with a look that was far too enthusiastic. “We should go back in and let them shoot us until they’re out.”

I pulled out a pair of goggles and slid them on, just in case.

Mahya gave an approving nod. “Good idea.”

Rue decided to stay with Al. We walked back into the cavern and took our places near the center. Above us, the creatures stirred again, wings rustling against the cavern’s invisible currents. One by one, they swooped down in wide arcs, launched volleys of needles, and flapped back up into the dark.

Up close, they looked even stranger. They had long, pointy mammal-like faces with oversized black eyes that didn’t blink. The upper part of their bodies and their wings were covered in feathers, but their undersides bulged with distended, rounded bellies, like they’d swallowed something bigger than them. That’s where the needles came from. With every bombing run, their bellies shrank a little more.

“They're almost out of ammo,” Mahya said, shielding her eyes to watch the next wave. “Let them shoot it all out, and then we catch them.”

It took more than an hour until all the belly-shooters were out of ammo, but out they were. I took off and flew into the air, trying to catch them, but it didn’t go well. The buggers were fast. Very fast. And they didn’t fly like normal birds either. No smooth arcs or steady glides, but wild jerks and sharp turns that made them impossible to track. They zipped through the air like they were glitching through reality.

Mahya was having the time of her life, laughing loudly and calling up encouragement. “Left! No, your other left!” she shouted, nearly doubled over with laughter. “Come on, John! You’re getting shown up by flying porcupines!”

Another dive missed by a hair, and I growled under my breath.

“They’re mocking you!” she yelled. “I swear one just did a barrel roll!”

I banked hard and shot after one that had slowed slightly, but it zipped away before I could even aim properly.

“You’ve been up there half an hour, and your success rate is still zero!” she cackled. “Do you want Rue to come help?”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer. Mostly because I was busy nearly flying into a wall.

After over an hour, I landed hard, breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. I bent over, hands on my knees. “Your turn,” I said, shooting Mahya a look as I pulled off the goggles.

Mahya cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders, and grinned. “Watch and learn.”

She crouched, then launched into the air with a gust of wind and a blur of motion. Thirty meters straight up like it was nothing. She kicked off the cavern wall at an angle, sprinted across the vertical stone, and shot toward the nearest belly-shooter.

Her arm lashed out mid-air. Snatch. One down.

She landed in a crouch, snapped the monster’s neck, and tossed it to me. “That’s how it’s done.”

I turned it into a crystal, and she was gone again. A streak of motion across the rock. She didn’t chase the little buggers, but intercepted them. Waited for their jittery turns, then jumped straight into their paths. One after another, they landed in my lap. Her movements were so fast and smooth, half the time I didn’t even see the grab.

“Are you keeping count?” she called, voice echoing down.

I just groaned and sat on a rock.

The last needle-shooter crashed into my lap, twitched once, then burst into motes of light. When they faded, a crossbody sheath lay across my legs, that had sleeves for at least fifty needles.

Mahya and I inspected it.

"At least this one is relatively useful," she said.

I nodded.

“You can come in,” I called to Al and Rue telepathically.

On the other side of the cavern, there was another rusty iron door, this one smaller. Beyond it stretched a long stone corridor. Al took point, and we continued cautiously.

A sudden thundering of hooves echoed through the corridor. A blue bull came charging straight at us, its hooves striking sparks off the stone as it barreled down. It slammed full force into Al’s shield. Al didn’t budge an inch. The bull flew back a meter and hit the ground with a heavy crunch. Its eyes rolled back, limbs twitching once before it collapsed with a dull thud. Al stepped forward, calm as ever, and with one clean stroke, removed its head. I turned the monster into a crystal. The horns clattered to the stone floor, untouched by the spell. Mahya scooped them up and stored them.

“That was easy,” I said.

Al sheathed his sword with a soft metallic click. “I have a lot of experience with Thunderbulls. But the version I am familiar with does not leave its horns behind.”

Mahya tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “How come you didn’t budge when it charged?”

He gave a small shrug and a smug smile. “A skill.”

We didn’t press him. Just kept moving. The path twisted upward through the mountain, a winding trail of circular tunnels that seemed to spiral without end. One bull after another came charging down the slopes, but each time, Al stunned them mid-charge and decapitated them in a single, fluid motion.

The loops of the stone corridors got shorter and shorter, until we reached another door. This one shimmered with a silver sheen, touched with a faint bluish tint that gleamed softly in the low light. By then, we had over fifty sets of horns packed away.

“Mithril!” Al and Mahya exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Mahya pulled the door open, and we peeked inside.

A humanoid figure stood in the center of a large room. The space was wide and tall, with polished stone floors and high, carved walls. Everything was clean, symmetrical, and expensive-looking. The furniture was ornate. Chairs with velvet cushions stood around tables with gold inlay, and a chandelier of glowing crystals hang from the ceiling. A long red carpet stretched toward the creature, and tapestries depicting battle scenes hung on the walls. Along the edges stood tall bronze braziers shaped with curling motifs, and alcoves filled with marble statues of armored warriors. Big fancy couches lined one wall, and several pedestals displayed vases painted in deep blues and reds. In the corners of the hall stood tall urns, higher than my head, with carved lids. It looked like someone had tried to recreate a royal reception hall deep inside a mountain.

The figure itself wasn’t human, just shaped like one. It was made of a turbulent mass of roiling storm clouds, constantly shifting. Bolts of lightning flickered through its form at random, cracking in its chest, curling around its arms, or jumping between its legs and the floor. There were no visible eyes or mouth, just the outline of a head and limbs, like it had formed the idea of a body and stopped there.

It didn’t move. Just stood there, waiting.

“You figure out how to take the door, and I’ll handle that thing,” I said, stepping forward.

The disgusting pressure around my mind thickened immediately, growing heavier with every step. It felt like my thoughts were swimming in sewage, sludgy and slow, as if every idea had to drag itself through filth just to reach the surface. The clarity I usually relied on was gone, buried under the mental equivalent of rot. I stopped for a moment and forced myself to take a deep breath, not to push the feeling away, but to settle into it. To let my mind adjust just enough to stay focused.

“Rue protect John,” Rue said firmly, trotting up beside me.

“The lightning will make you puff up again,” I warned, glancing at him.

Rue huffed through his nose. “Rue help with door.”

The moment I stepped fully into the room, the figure lifted its arm and fired.

A lightning bolt tore across the space, bright enough to leave afterimages. It hit me dead center in the chest. Nothing. Almost didn't tickle. My armor also absorbed the impact like a champ, but the clothes underneath started smoking. I slapped at the front of my shirt, more annoyed than anything else. It shot another bolt, this time from its shoulder, and then a third from its chest. The flashes hazed my vision, the air cracked, and I could smell burnt cotton. Besides that, I was totally fine.

I drew both swords to check the "no physical weapon" theory, and slashed through the cloudy body. The blades passed straight through with no resistance. I stored the swords and grabbed my crossbow, fired three bolts in quick succession. All passed through like I’d shot into fog.

Oh, well, the guy didn't lie.

The thing lifted both arms and blasted me again. My shoulder armor sparked, and my sleeves caught fire. I cursed and beat them out. It kept throwing lightning. One bolt after another. My hair stood on end, and the air stank of burned cotton and ozone. But something was changing. The bolts were still bright, but the glow inside its body was dimmer. The arcs of lightning moving through its form were slower, and there were fewer of them. I backed off, watching. It was weakening itself. Every time it attacked me, something inside it thinned out.

I let it shoot me for over five minutes, and sadly, my armor would need to regenerate again left out of Storage to absorb mana. it was getting boring, so I split my mind into four and connected to the elements. Water first. The air around me thickened. I reached out with mana, pulling gently. The moisture inside the figure tugged toward me. At first, it resisted. Then the clouds began to lose shape, like they were drying out.

Next was fire. That one fought back harder, both the element and the creature. The heat inside it lashed out, twisting around my pull. I had to focus harder, force my will into it. Bit by bit, the sparks lessened, the inner glow cooling.

Last was wind. This part wasn’t dramatic. Just a steady pull, like drawing in air from a cracked window. The upper part of the figure hollowed. Its head lost shape. Then its form started to collapse inward. It didn’t fall, but unraveled. The lightning flickered one last time, then the whole form dropped to the floor like a pile of steam pulled too far apart to hold itself together. Gone. I stood there, smoke still rising off my armor, completely done with this boss.

The gang joined me and stared down at what was left of the thing.

“Where’s the loot?” Mahya asked, hands on her hips.

I released my hold on the elements. The air shimmered, and all the separate pieces of the creature turned into motes of light. They drifted together and solidified into four spell scrolls.

Mahya let out a sigh. “Shit. Lightning Bolt. We already have it.”

“We can always sell it,” I said, brushing ash off various parts of my body. Looking down at myself, I stored the armor and the smoky clothes, and took out fresh jeans and a T-shirt.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice low and flat. “But I knew the final reward is sometimes an Affinity Stone. I had hope.”

“Aren’t we, like, supposed to touch the core to get the final reward?” I asked.

“Not in high mana dungeons at this level,” Al said. “In such dungeons, the core hides, and the reward is granted upon the defeat of the final boss.”

“So if we find the core, we could get another one?” I asked.

They both shook their heads.

Bummer.

A door shimmered into existence at the far end of the room.

“That’s the exit,” Mahya said, pointing.

“We should first collect all the spoils from the boss room,” I said. “It will compensate us for the shitty loot from the rest of the dungeon.”

“Of course. That goes without saying,” she said, already moving.

We stored everything, including from the ceiling and made our way toward the exit.

Mahya rubbed her face with both hands and groaned. “We have so much red tape waiting for us.”

“Can’t we leave while invisible?” I asked.

They both stopped mid-step.

“Hmm,” Mahya hummed, tilting her head. “Usually, it’s a problem. The portal reacts when someone leaves, so it’s obvious. But with the swords, we can fly out and up. They won’t be able to stop or contain us.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “The only issue is if they recognize us later.”

“We can change our glamor,” Al offered.

“Won’t work,” I said. “My weapons are with a blacksmith, and... I have a date.”

They both turned to look at me, eyebrows raised.

“What?” I asked, shrugging.

Mahya just shook her head, lips twitching like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

Al placed a hand on my shoulder. “If you wish to continue traveling, ensure you do not get too attached. It will make it harder for you to leave, or cause you a great deal of pain when you do.” His voice was calm, but I could read his emotions clearly this time. My throat contracted in sympathetic mirroring. A wave of sadness came from him.

Who did he have trouble leaving? As far as I knew, he always walked away clean. All the guys he hooked up with, he left without a second glance. I shook the thought away. Not my business. If he ever wanted to talk, I’d listen. If not, I had no right to dig.

I took a breath and squared my shoulders. “Let’s face the red tape,” I said, trying for resolute. And with that, we stepped out of the dungeon.