Dungeon Diary

The dungeon echoed, reverberating with the frantic rhythm of Robin's pounding footsteps, the sound of his desperate flight stretching out through the dim, stone corridors. His breath came in jagged gasps, each inhale tearing through his chest like broken glass. Behind him, the guttural snarls, the pounding, the relentless, furious footsteps of the hundsteins—those massive, bristling creatures—grew louder with each passing second, each growl, each heavy thud of their feet sending a fresh spike of terror ripping through his heart. He knew, even with the adrenaline rushing hot through his veins, that fighting them was nothing short of suicide, a madman’s gamble, an impossibility made flesh and fur. Too many of them, a dozen or more. This wasn’t a time to be brave or reckless. No ‘brace your fear and stand your ground’ nonsense. This was an ‘escape if you can and pray they trip over each other while you run for your life’ moment.

“Minona,” he gasped, his voice barely escaping his throat, ragged, torn from the depths of his lungs, “drop the dust bomb!”

Roosting neat on dreadlocks of Robin’s untended hair like a bird on a nest, she chimmed, “Here it goes!” Minona’s voice rang sharp and bright from above, a beacon of calm in the chaos.

Chunks of solidified dust appeared high above her, materializing from the air itself, crashing down like boulders from the heavens among the snarling pack of beasts. The magic clumped together in nearly perfect spheres, plummeting into the midst of the hundsteins’ charge, and with it came a violent explosion of dust and wind—a thick, choking cloud that billowed up and out, swirling into their snarling, snapping faces. They slowed, the dust stinging their eyes, filling their lungs, blinding them in their furious pursuit. Some tripped, stumbling over each other in their blind rage, the pack faltering as Robin tore forward, the gap between them widening, his legs burning with the sheer effort of escape.

“Good job, Minona!” he panted, breath heaving, his muscles screaming, his vision swimming as the edge of exhaustion loomed closer. He ran, he ran like his life depended on it—because it did.

Minona, perched comfortably atop his head, her light flickering ever so slightly, replied in a voice as calm and curious as a child asking why the sky was blue, “Why are we still running, human?”

He glared upward, disbelieving, his chest on fire, his lungs begging for mercy. “You seriously asking me that?” His voice barely more than a croak, forced out between labored breaths. “Count their number yourself!”

Minona hummed, “Oh, no shing-shing again.” Her disappointment thick in the sound, like a teacher realizing her star pupil got defeated by nobody from no-prestige dojo for a plot.

“I swear—” Robin gasped, his words cutting off as the sheer absurdity of it all washed over him, the mix of terror and exhaustion and Minona’s complete lack of urgency pulling him deeper into the madness that had become his life.

Despite the ache spreading like fire in his legs, his body crying out for rest, Robin kept running. There was no choice. Fear made him move, pushed him beyond his limits, turned his exhaustion into something distant, unreal. The pounding in his chest matched the thundering footsteps of the hundsteins behind him, each beat of his heart in sync with the terror that surged through him, endless as the sea’s depths.

“Hey, human,” Minona’s voice floated down, light and unaffected, that maddening calm in her tone, “some of them are running on all fours now.”

“What do you mean ‘on all fours’?” His voice came out between ragged breaths, each word an effort, each breath harder to catch than the last.

“Like dogs. Uh…” A deliberate pause, the kind that set his teeth on edge. “They’re running faster.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it that way!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Faster? He felt the cold grip of panic tighten around his throat. His legs were on fire, muscles straining with each step, his lungs burning as though he were inhaling flames. Faster? How could he go faster? But he did. Somehow. Fear drove him on, fueled by the image of those monsters, teeth bared, jaws snapping, ready to rip him apart. He could almost feel their hot breath on the back of his neck, see their shadowy forms closing in, feel the sharp claws tearing into his flesh. His mind flashed with gruesome possibilities, vivid pictures of himself being torn to pieces like some cheap rag left for the dogs.

He shuddered, pushing the thought away, but the fear lingered, running through his veins like poison. His feet barely touched the ground now, his movements no longer his own but driven purely by instinct, by the desperation to survive.

“We lost our book,” Minona chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm, like this was all some kind of joke to her. “Feeling faster now that you’ve discarded our only entertainment?”

Robin’s fury flared up alongside his fear. “There’s nothing entertaining about reading some king with mother complex!” His words were gasped out, choked between breaths. “How dense can you be toward danger?!”

Minona’s quiet laugh, that soft, mocking “hehe,” lit a fire of rage in him, but he couldn’t afford to waste energy on her. Not now. Not when every ounce of his strength was focused on keeping one step ahead of the creatures behind him. And yet, beneath the anger, beneath the fear, he knew—this was his fault. The hundsteins weren’t chasing him because of some twist of fate. No, they were after him because of his own damn curiosity, his foolish need to explore, to feed his Dungeon Walker power. He’d stumbled upon their nest, seen the helpless cubs, thought it’d be easy, a quick slaughter to add to his strength. It was a massacre, and he hadn’t thought twice about it—until the adults noticed, until the bloodthirsty howls filled the dungeon, driving him into this frantic, desperate flight response for the first time.

Their howls echoed, chasing him, pushing him. Vengeance. It was all about vengeance now, and he was the target of their fury. There was no escape, only the drive to keep moving, to stay alive for just one more second. He had learnt the feeling being the target of revenge.

The adrenaline finally ebbed from Robin’s veins as Minona’s voice cut through the lingering panic that had gripped him for what felt like hours.

"Hey, slow down, we lost them already!" Her tone was light, almost gleeful, as if none of it had mattered. Robin staggered to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each gulp of air like fire in his lungs.

"Already?" He panted, disbelieving, his ears straining for the echo of the howls that had been his world just moments before. But the dungeon had fallen silent. No pounding feet, no snarls, no furious growls. The safety he hadn't dared to hope for finally wrapped itself around him like a cloak.

"Yeah, but look, there!" Minona, ever the guide, floated forward, her glow illuminating the direction she meant. No fingers to point, just her whole self, leading the way. Robin followed, more out of habit than anything else, still too winded, too shaken to argue. His legs felt like lead, his chest burning with each breath, but at least they’d made it out. At least for now.

The air had shifted, no longer thick with the scent of blood and sweat, but damp and earthy, colder now, the chill biting at the back of his neck as he slowed his pace. Night Beholder caught the glimpse stalactites loomed overhead, sharp and gleaming in the dim light, a reminder of how close everything had come to crumbling. The walls around him seemed rougher, not the smoothed stone of human hands but jagged, untouched rock, wild as the creatures that roamed within. Along on his way, stalagmites jutted up like jagged teeth from the ground, casting eerie shadows as Minona’s light bounced across the cave’s uneven surfaces.

"This place... it’s not like before," Robin muttered, his voice still rough from the breathless sprint, awe creeping in now that the fear had loosened its grip. His feet splashed through the puddles, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed, a slow rhythm that matched the beat of his still-racing heart.

"Are we underground?" His voice was quieter, the cave’s weight pressing down on him.

"This? It’s another side of the dungeon," Minona responded, her voice tinged with that ever-present smugness that made Robin grit his teeth even in moments of peace. “This is the place I told you where food grows!”

"The place?" Robin repeated, half-suspicious, half-exhausted, glancing around at the moss-covered walls, the dim glow of damp earth. "It doesn’t feel like a dungeon anymore…"

"You’d be surprised. You wouldn’t believe what dungeons can hide. Once, I saw a dungeon with its own sky inside, sun and all." Minona’s glow flickered in the dimness, as if her pride in the knowledge could brighten the space.

"A sky... and a sun? Underground?" Robin’s brow furrowed. His legs trembled, the urge to collapse pulling at him, but Minona’s words kept him upright, his mind half-distracted by the absurdity of it.

“For monsters to thrive, sure. Some of these places have entire ecosystems. Monsters feeding off other monsters, evolving.” Her tone had taken on a knowing edge now, like she always reveled in his ignorance, waiting to enlighten him when he was too tired to fight back.

Robin stood there, the exhaustion that should have weighed him down like an anchor seemed to evaporate, leaving him oddly refreshed. His body felt lighter, as if he had just woken from the deepest sleep, though he knew better. Normally, pushing himself this far would leave him pale, skin clammy, senses dull, teetering on the edge of collapse. But now—now he felt stronger, like a current was humming through his veins, steady and constant.

"It seems," Minona hovered near, her tone intrigued and full of that insufferable wisdom she always flaunted, "your Dungeon Walker is doing something big on you, human. Your stamina, especially, improved after you slaughtered those hundstein cubs."

"No wonder I feel the force with me," Robin muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"What force?" Minona blinked, if floating, light-filled beings could blink, her confusion palpable.

"Never mind!" he snapped, not in the mood for explaining his world pop-cultural references she wouldn’t grasp. "But does this mean I'm stronger, even by a bit?"

Her light flickered with amusement as she bobbed in that zigzag way that made him want to throttle her. “Stronger? To the level of ‘shing-shing’? Maybe. But don’t forget, by cutting their numbers, you’re keeping them from overpopulating and cutting off food supplies for stronger species too. You’re doing a great service, really. Keeps some monsters from breaking free from this dungeon." She sounded proud, as if his accidental genocide of cubs had been part of her grand plan all along.

"So, I’m just doing everyone a favor then?" Robin’s voice dripped with sarcasm, though the thought gnawed at him—was this really some twisted version of good? Killing as a service for everyone? Never heard of that before.

“Too bad you didn’t eat them,” Minona chimed, her voice rich with smugness. “I used my omitaid on that horde, turns out they had all kinds of weapon ‘Mastery’ innates you could’ve absorbed.”

Robin felt the familiar swell of anger rise in him, the absurdity of it all clawing at his chest. “How many times have I told you, I’m not eating dog!” If she’d had cheeks, he might’ve pinched them with his bare hands right then. But as it was, she remained an untouchable, glowing orb, far too pleased with herself to care about his frustration. Throwing her like softball? No, too agile, like fly.

He glanced down, eyes catching on something sprouting from the ground—a plant, its green base resembling a carrot but off, something different lurking beneath the surface. More of them dotted the cave floor, like they’d been there all along, waiting.

“Is this... a carrot?” Robin asked, his eyes narrowing.

"That’s what I was telling you about! Omiotad!" Minona announced with her usual flair, her voice carrying that otherworldly echo as she cast an appraisal spell. The glowing panel appeared before him: Dang-gora, a plant monster.

“Monster?” His pulse quickened, the word sparking a panic that sent his hand flying to his dagger’s hilt. Without thinking, he flashed his dagger as he brought it down toward the carrot-like creature. His mind raced, already conjuring the image of some hideous beast lurking beneath the soil, ready to strike.

“Wait, hey!” Minona zipped in front of him, her light flaring in alarm as she intercepted his attack just in time. “I know you’re hungry, but it’ll let out a scream that causes fainting to anyone who hears it.”

Robin froze, the tip of his dagger trembling inches from the creature, its unassuming green leaves swaying slightly in the air. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he slowly lowered his weapon.

“Then how the hell do we deal with it?”

“Easy, just let me cook,” Minona said, her voice as light as a breeze, but something darker swirled beneath it. Robin watched in disbelief as she summoned several orbs of fiery light that began orbiting around her. Was this what she called cooking? A bunch of fireballs spinning like a hellish carousel? His unease grew as she continued.

“If you burn the stem, they’ll die without knowing what killed them,” she added with a soft, almost tender laugh that barely concealed the sadistic pleasure bubbling just below the surface. “When they wake up, they’ll already be in the afterlife, wandering like children lost in a crowd.”

Good God, Robin thought, swallowing hard, the hairs on his neck standing up. The fireballs slowly descended, igniting the stalks with a crackling hiss. Flames curled and twisted through the cave like wild snakes, consuming the patch of dang-gora as Minona floated by, raining down her fireballs. A faint, eerie scream echoed, soft at first, then growing—a chorus of shrieks that sent an icy chill crawling down Robin’s spine. It was like listening to the cries of souls being roasted alive.

Minona’s light flickered, almost vibrating with delight. "Oh, don’t worry, Robin,” she said, her voice filled with unsettling glee. “This is just the shriek of the dang-gora. By the time they realize it, they’re already cooked!” Her tone practically hummed with excitement, like she was orchestrating some grand, sinister spectacle. "My wisps, let them be cooked!”

Robin stared at the light ball beside him, his heart pounding in his chest, unable to believe what he was hearing. His mind scrambled, trying to make sense of the horror playing out before him. “I—I told you," he stammered, his words a jumbled mess of disbelief, "I mean, see, uh, are they even edible? The scream, Minona, the screaming—are you even okay with listening to that? Burned alive like that?” His stomach churned as the faint wails faded into silence. “You want me to eat a tormented parsnip?!”

Minona giggled, her light growing brighter, the very image of delight. “Oh, you have no idea, human! You don’t know the feeling of barbecuing vegetables that scream back at you,” she said, her voice dripping with perverse joy. “And they taste amazing! I promise. In fact, dang-gora is usually served with hundstein steak—though I know you’re not a fan of the meat.”

Robin stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. This was beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined. The world gave you a squealing carrot, and what—Minona made a screaming salad? Who could enjoy this?

“You look pale, human,” Minona remarked, her voice brimming with mock concern. “Ah, you must be starving! Poor thing. I wish I could’ve fed you earlier if not for those pesky Hundsteins getting in our way. They were practically begging you to eat them!”

Robin sighed, the weight of his situation settling like a stone in his chest. “Fine, but—on the premise that it’s a monsterized vegetable,” he said, resigned to whatever fresh madness awaited him. His hands, still trembling slightly from the ordeal, reached for the roasted dang-gora Minona presented. “And this doesn’t mean I’ll ever eat hundstein, even if I’m starving. Don’t get your hopes up!”

He bit into the dang-gora hesitantly, expecting the worst. But instead, the crunch of the roasted skin gave way to a surprising sweetness, rich and savory. His eyes widened in shock as the flavors burst on his tongue. It was, against all reason, delicious.

Robin looked down at the dang-gora in disbelief. “It’s... good?”

Minona’s light shimmered, smugness oozing from her every flicker. “Told you so.”

Robin chewed slowly, torn between disgust and genuine culinary surprise. He hated how right she was. He hated how wrong he’d been. And he hated, most of all, how much he wanted another bite.