The air in the eleventh floor hung thick and acrid, a stark contrast to the relatively clean, if damp, tunnels of the lower levels. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the stone, punctuated by the skittering of unseen creatures. Gordon, his voice a raw, echoing bellow, shattered the uneasy silence. "Why the fuck is that Goblin so big? And gray?"

  Sophie, her patience stretched thinner than a goblin's loincloth, clenched her jaw. Fucking amateurs. She'd spent the last few hours repeating basic dungeon etiquette and monster identification to this group, and they still treated the place like a glorified petting zoo. "Gordon!" she snapped, her voice sharp as flint. "This is the last time I'm explaining the layout. I've told you three goddamn times already!"

  Gordon, a hulking warrior with more muscle than sense, finally focused his attention on her. Sophie, though petite, radiated an aura of seasoned danger. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, held the weight of countless dungeon delves. She was a veteran, a survivor, and she wasn't about to tolerate any more idiocy.

  "The first ten floors," she began, her voice laced with weary exasperation, "were crawling with standard, weak Goblins. The ones you just finished butchering to reach level ten." She paused, letting the information sink into Gordon's thick skull.

  Behind him, his companions stood like startled deer. The fire mage, a slender woman draped in crimson robes that shimmered with residual heat, fidgeted nervously. The rogue, a lean figure shrouded in shadow-black leather, remained unnervingly still, his eyes darting across the cavern.

  "Floors eleven through twenty," Sophie continued, her gaze sweeping across the cavern, "are Hobgoblin territory. Bigger, stronger, faster, and slightly more cunning than their smaller cousins. Regardless of what Abi claims." The muttered aside, a sliver of personal frustration, was quickly brushed aside.

  "You'll stay on these floors until you hit level twenty. That's not happening today. We've been down here for hours, and it's time to retreat."

  "Aw, but Sophie," Gordon whined, his voice a jarring contrast to his imposing physique, "can't we just try to kill one Hobgoblin before we go? Please?" He bounced on the balls of his feet, his eyes gleaming with an almost childlike eagerness for violence.

  Sophie sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand exasperated guides. "Fine. But only one. Are you listening, Gordon?"

  "Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air, a surge of adrenaline momentarily overriding his chronic stupidity.

  "Which one is the Hobgoblin again?" he asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

  Sophie's eyes narrowed. She could feel a headache blooming behind her temples. "The big, gray one," she said, pointing towards a hulking figure that stood a head taller than the other goblins, its skin a mottled, ashen gray. "The one you were so concerned about when we arrived."

  Gordon scowled, his pride stung. He felt like a child being scolded in front of his friends. "You don't have to talk to me like that," he grumbled.

  "I'll talk to you however I damn well please," Sophie retorted, her voice hard. "I'm the one who's annoyed here. This is the third time I've explained this. Do you want to die here? Because that's how you die. Dungeons are dangerous, even this one, which is safer than most. You can't have the attention span of a goldfish and expect to survive. Not while… Look, I'll continue to be your guide, but there are going to have to be some changes." Her finger jabbed the air, punctuating each word.

  "Changes?" Gordon asked, his voice subdued.

  "Leadership, party structure, member count. We'll discuss it back at the tavern. Now, do you still want to fight that Hobgoblin?"

  Before Sophie could finish her sentence, Gordon and his party charged towards the nearest Hobgoblin. The warrior’s battle cry, a clumsy roar, echoed through the cavern. The fire mage unleashed a torrent of flames, illuminating the gray skin of the Hobgoblin in a hellish glow, and the rogue darted around the edge of the fight, looking for an opening.

  Sophie watched them, her expression a mixture of exasperation and grim amusement. She knew the conversation back at the tavern would be… Interesting. She just hoped it would be quick, so she could get back to Light.

  Dungeon Stories Volume 3

  The next problem is who am I going to choose to run the Assassin's Guild?

  It's not like I'm short on choices. Practically two thirds of my family were created with that class, but the Guild Master should be someone extremely capable.

  My mind drifts to Noir, laughing loudly whilst proclaiming something about his weapon and how he's the best.

  Nope.

  That also rules Carrie out as she's needed to keep him in check. I can't have the boisterous, trouble maker running missions solo. Who knows what would happen.

  Realistically, there are only two choices left. The two people that have continued to defy expectations even when I thought it impossible.

  I decide to leave the decision until later and teleport over to Talia's. Anya should be arriving soon and Me is already here, a cold glass of juice in his hand. In the corner of my eye, however, Light is standing on a table, mug in hand, doing something daft.

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  It's not often I see the blue-haired Assassin drunk as he always seems to handle his liquor well. One of the new spirits Talia unlocked must have really done a number on him. Everyone has that one drink that just obliterates your memory.

  With that thought, Light slips and lands on the table, crashing through it in the process. Landing hard on the ground, his arm is still raised high, indicating he didn't spill any of his ale.

  Nope!

  Not a chance.

  Bloody idiot.

  I'll choose Dropper.

  "Hey, Me," I beam, ignoring the antics at the other side of the room. The commotion now being Talia giving Light a well-deserved scolding.

  "Hi, Abi." We chat about dungeon management and the Assassin's Guild until Anya arrives, then we get serious. My bestie and I eventually managed to convince Me to try something different. He had sworn off drinking after his last experience, but after explaining that other alcohols taste nothing like Jack's, he was in.

  Showing more gratitude than he needs to as he slurs his words, it turns out Me is a fan of the fruity wines. The sweet taste being more to his liking than any ale or spirit.

  Fortunately, it lets him partake in the evening's merry atmosphere rather than being the only sober one.

  Unfortunately, the fruity taste of wine is very misleading, and before he knows it, Me's already drunk, performing a repeat of Light from earlier. Only his antics don't go so well and he ends up covered in his own drink, passed out on the floor.

  I have no worries about his physical wellbeing as his soul is easily transferable these days. No, the problem I have is that he's soaked in the strongest wine I've ever had the pleasure of smelling in either of my lives.

  Anya is laughing so hard that she's holding her stomach, while Talia doesn't seem impressed that two of her tables have been destroyed in one day.

  With that a night of drunken foolery commenced. The type that you can never remember until someone calls you out on it later down the line. How nice it is to have a body to experience that feeling again.

  After my Assassins' visit to the Lord's city of Ishda, a lot of rebuilding is needed. That was mainly Noir's fault, but as he completed his task and nothing else was said on the matter, I let it slide. It could have gone a lot worse.

  Either way, with the recently vacated properties and an abundance of shop-keeping Assassins at my disposal, I've decided to work my way into the city of Ishda and establish myself a base of sorts using Land Acquisition.

  Future wise, if everything goes well and a dragon doesn't somehow destroy my home with a quick wash of its breath, I can totally see myself acquiring that much land. Hell, I could potentially own the entire region of Ishda.

  Imagine the DP!

  I'll never have to work again!

  Not that being the Core is work. It's more of a lifestyle and a pretty good one at that too. You even get to spend most of the day with your friends and family.

  With thoughts of where to start, I teleport to the eastern edge of my current boundary and begin using Land Acquisition. With each additional plot, more and more small sections of Tironia fall under my domain as I start what is guaranteed to be a large job.

  Unlocking sections one after the other, the plan is to create myself a path of sorts straight to Lord Aldor's city. A direct line. As I can teleport freely anywhere in the dungeon, the idea of being able to bounce back and forth between other cities fills me with joy. Not that I dislike what I've built, but I'm no longer trapped or confined to a singular location.

  Not only am I able to teleport, but so too are my faithful, shopkeeping family of Assassins. Supply and demand mixed with arduous travelling conditions are the main issues every merchant faces and if they don't have the wares, are waiting on a delivery to arrive, or can't make the journey for whatever reason, then they're losing money. My family won't have that problem after I've connected us to all the other cities in our region. They can port over and pick up what they need at bargain prices from the suppliers themselves.

  It's not as though I take part in Varona's administration, or have a say on how our economy works. The Gods know I'd screw it up if I did, but I do know that this means my family and city will benefit exponentially and that's enough to make me happy. Not as happy as finally being able to get out and visit different places brings me, but it's still good.

  Depending if things keep going well here, I might even set up a second training dungeon in Ishda. That's something time will tell though and as it stands, I'm nowhere even near the city yet. There are hundreds of miles in between us and Lord Aldor. Even with Land Acquisition, it will take me a while to get there.

  However, as I stand in the middle of the forest, the idea of 'how long it will take' is completely lost on me as the sounds of nature fill my ears. Water running in the distance and the sounds of birds chirping in the foliage above sends a peaceful vibe through my body. The bushes shuffle as I push through and the foliage crinkles beneath my feet. The touch of wood on my skin sends shiver down my spine as the sun warmly coats my body.

  Being out here alone makes me feel more alive than the body I created for myself ever did.

  The realization that I haven't been this far away from the dungeon ever since I was reincarnated hits me like a horse-drawn cart. Even though I'm still technically connected to it, the freedom I feel is unrivalled. Amazing.

  Unexplainable.

  It's as though I can do anything. Take on anyone.

  Hell, at this point I might be able to, but the goal of my second life isn't to go around being a badass.

  No.

  My purpose, which has slowly grown on me, is to aid the people of Tironia to become the best people they can be. Soul Guide being the driving force behind my motivation and the residents of Varona show the fruits of my labor. Proving that people can change and that my efforts aren't in vain.

  A few unfortunate souls had already been sent down the path of reincarnation before I decided to try an alternate method to the skill and System's recommendation. However, people die everyday and seeing how they'll get another chance to try again, there's no point in dwelling on those scumbags or how I could have helped them.

  Instead, I'll concentrate on what I can do with the people I already watch over. The ones who are destined for the great question marks of beyond. There's still a good deal of suspicion lingering around inside my mind over where they go, if they go anywhere at all and the System isn't just fucking me. But only time will tell.

  I just wish I knew more.