I looked at the figure that had emerged from a tunnel in the chamber we had just cleared. While they didn’t look overly strong, I was on my guard. They looked human, but one could never be sure.

“Peace for peace. Fist for first,” I called out.

“Oh. Another human? Here. Peace for peace. Fist for fist,” the man declared.

The tension in the air eased slightly.

“You got siloed into this section of the dungeon as well?”

“Siloed. That is a good way to put it. Kill any beastkin?”

“One team,” I replied, and he nodded.

“Good. There isn’t any other way to get food.”

His eyes scanned our faces, looking at us. I saw him looking at the spatial pouch on my hip. “I would be willing to trade cores for spare food.”

“You can’t eat Mana cores.”

“True, true. But I have saved up quite a bit over the years I have been roaming the dungeon.”

“On the 11^th layer?”

“Of course. The cores are better here, and beastkin teams like to hunt on this layer. It is the best one for survival. Ambushing them, getting food. Unfortunately, the pickings have been getting slimmer over the years.”

“Trading away food is foolish. You know this. You wouldn’t give up food if I offered monster cores,” I replied and rested a hand on the hilt of my blade.

“Haha, you got me. But humans need to stick together, even if you are with a kid.”

“My companion is an adult, just had a soul injury as a kid and is quite capable.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”

“I do. But in the interest of friendship and knowledge sharing, I will offer a full meal for your knowledge of this continent, the beastkin, and the surface. I have levels in cooking.”

“As much as I can eat.”

“One full pot of stew. If you have an eating or food-related skill, I won’t be cheated,” I replied and the scraggly looking man chuckled. I kept myself clean-shaven, but this man had clearly run out of such supplies or didn’t care.

“Deal. I won’t follow you either. One meal, one full pot, to the brim. And we can chat.”

“Justin Burnstock and my companion is Lanner. My pet is nicknamed Ozy.”

“Burnstock, Burnstock. Hmm, sounds familiar. I am Illian Crosston,” he introduced himself and approached. I always kept him in my sight as I got out a table, chairs, and then began cutting up vegetables for the stew.

He sat down and placed his flat hands on the table. A clear sign that he was trying to put me at ease.

“So, how long have you been siloed here?”

“About ten years, give or take. You?”

“About a year.”

“It just gets worse.”

“You checked the surface?”

“Once. The entrance passage led to a beastkin settlement. Complete savages. Lost my old team there while I escaped back into the dungeon. You?”

“I made a passage with a ritual. Just stones, ice, snow, and cold up there.”

“Sounds about right from what I tortured out of the beastkin. If there were forests or something, I would take my chance. But with snow and rocks, there’s no way to survive properly.”

“The coast would be an option.”

“Fishing? Maybe. But I would have to make it out of their settlement. That won’t be easy. Unless you want to try another ritual and open another passage,”

“I am hoping to develop a skill to find my way back.”

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“Impossible. Maybe if you were the top graduate of the College of Advancement, then I might take you seriously.”

“I actually am.”

“Huh. Well, talent finds a way in the dungeon no matter what. Wait, Burnstock. Is your mother the Supreme Warlady?”

Lanner was listening in, not saying anything. He knew nothing beyond the Eldarin Continent besides what I had told him.

“Yes, she is my mother.”

“Well, we can just wait for a rescue then,” he said with pure joy.

“She died. Just after you got siloed over here,”

“Died? The Supreme Legend who made grown men piss themselves in fear? The one who could harvest the lives of legends like wheat under the scythe of a farmer?”

“The 26^th layer. A demon got her and three other supreme legends.”

“Damn. Curse those monsters. Double for demons. Curse them all to the pits of hell that they spawned from. I swear if I get home, I will never go back into this dungeon ever again.”

“Well, I learned the demons are fighting the beastkin on the surface. I fought, and it pursued me into the dungeon.”

“How dangerous was it?”

“Very. We barely survived. It retreated as well and then came back later on, chasing me down.”

“Damn. A monster that runs. How annoying and dangerous. I haven’t run into anything like that down here so far. Only two Abnormals. Those were rough.”

“We fought one and beat it.”

“I can see. Tough fight if your armor is banged up like that. Mine, I had to give up long ago. Just have my trusty sword.”

“Any ideas on how to get back?”

“No. I have thought about it, but the dungeon hasn’t seen fit to cooperate. We are truly…siloed, as you call it.”

I finished cutting the vegetables and set two pots to simmer. “Give it half an hour and then the stew will be ready.”

“I haven’t had a hot meal in forever. Just the rations the beastkin carry. The meat…well, don’t eat the meat if you can help it. It has Mana in it.”

“I know,” I replied, not wanting to talk about that subject.

“So, any luck creating a skill?”

“No.”

“A shame. A shame. You said the demons and beastkin are fighting?”

“Yes, as far as I could tell,” I replied, and Illian nodded.

“Perhaps I will try to escape and get to the coast and fish. But if I do that, I give up all hope of returning home. If you get back…let the Adventurer’s Guild know that I have perished. I doubt my family thinks of me anymore, but I want them to know.”

“I will,” I replied, and he nodded, relaxing at my promise.

“Thank you. It is nice to talk to someone after all these years. Anything interesting happening back home?”

“The Dark Cabal tried to collapse the College onto the City of Undercraft. The College took flight thanks to the planning of The Mathemancer, his last accomplishment before his final descent. Then the Dark Cabal tried to engulf the College in a volcano. The new Dean sent it plummeting to seal the volcano.”

“Dark Cabal? Huh, never heard of them. But if they can do all of that, then have some serious skills.”

We continued to chat about general subjects while Lanner listened.

Eventually, the stew was ready, and we ate. Illian ate like a starving man, which he was. He devoured his entire pot, which was the amount of food Lanner and I could eat over three days.

“Ahhh, that was perfect. Living down here has been a nightmare. I honestly hate the dungeon.”

“I don’t have many kind thoughts either. I am going to clean up, and then we are leaving.”

“I understand. I will go down that tunnel,” he said and pointed. He got up and then hesitated. “I hope you make it back, Justin.”

“You too, Illian,” I said. He gave me a small smile behind his overgrown facial hair before trudging off. I had Ozy seal the tunnel behind him. I then got to packing everything up.

“Why are we running?” Lanner asked me. “Why not team up?”

“Because there is no trust. We might be friendly, but in the end, we would fight for food. Sharing a meal was kindness we gave, but to do that for days and years would only hurt us. Also, he probably has some kind of food-related skill to live down here for so long with so little to eat.”

“Is your mother really a supreme legend?”

“Yes, but she is dead.”

“Ah, sorry,” he said.

I wasn’t sensitive about the subject, but it wasn’t one that I enjoyed talking about in depth.

“It is fine,” I replied and let Ozy know to seal up the tunnel behind us as well. If Illian wanted to pursue us, it wouldn’t be easy.

I had us backtrack the way we had come. We had to clear another chamber of monsters and then another one. After we cleared them, I made us go back the way we had gone.

If Illian wasn’t following us, the chambers we had met and the one after that should have been replaced. I scouted ahead, and the dungeon replaced the chamber where we had met.

Unless he had tracking skills, he was no longer a concern. He was off in another part of the dungeon.

“He could wait at the nearest passage,” Lanner said as we settled down for the night.

“He could. That was why we were going to descend and then find another passage to ascend. Make sure we are nowhere near him. If he wants to ambush us or the beastkin, he will wait near the passage from the 10^th layer, not the one to the 12^th layer.”

“You already thought of that,” Lanner said, and I nodded.

“Of course. Knowing how to manage a non-hostile encounter in the dungeon is important. We aren’t hostile, but we aren’t friends either. Best to make sure we don’t run into each other. Perhaps we will stay on the 12^th layer for a while.”

“It will be harder,” Lanner said, and I nodded.

“Of course. But you have been improving rapidly. You are above level 40?”

“Yes, I got my second class,” he said, and I nodded. He didn’t share any information about it, which was fine. I didn’t expect him to, nor did I want him to. A person’s skill choices had to be managed by them.

While a parent might guide a child, ultimately it was up to a person to decide their class and skills. Outside interference or suggestions would only build resentment and create pointless drama. I was just asking about his general level to get a better sense of how he was progressing.

Lanner was behind Ozy, but that wasn’t a big surprise. He wasn’t as involved in combat, and his wands didn’t help his experience gain.

I would encourage him on a method of combat he could use with his wands, but ultimately if he wanted to do something else that was up to him. But if he tried to progress Gnomish Fencing, he was courting death. Gnomes’ size prevented them from being physical fighters.

Every fight would be like the one I had against the Abnormal. Though if a gnome fought in melee, they would probably level up rapidly from the sheer pressure they were under.

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