Dungeon Master (Karma System)

Evan Marsh first saw the Dungeon from the roof of a merchant wagon.

He had climbed there to keep a stack of canvas rolls from sliding off, but the higher position also let him see past the caravan. Wagons filled the road ahead of him. More followed behind, mixed with hired guards, adventurers, craftsmen, laborers, and families who had joined the merchants because traveling with several hundred other people was safer than traveling alone.

The road ahead entered directly into the side of a mountain underneath a sign that said ’Stable’.

Through a portal he saw a town that should not have existed inside a dungeon.

Stone buildings spread around a wide village square. Inns displayed painted signs. Food stalls competed with the smells coming from taverns, bakeries, and an open grill operated by an Orc. Adventurers crossed the streets carrying weapons beside gnomes in work clothes and goblins hauling crates.

Farther away, a tower rose above the rooftops. Miniature airships drifted around its upper docks.

”That is the Skyyard. They race every three days.” Said the and adventurer when Evan asked what the tower was.

Evan nearly lost his grip on the canvas. ”People race airships here?”

”People do just about everything here.”

The caravan slowed before reaching a large barn. A group of gnomes directed wagons toward open fields while another group handed out maps and explained how things ran inside the dungeon.

A gnome was calming a few anxious people who would normally never enter dungeons. ”The Sanctuary is protected territory. No fighting outside approved training grounds. Goblins, Orcs, gnomes, dungeon creatures, visitors, and residents are all covered by the same rule. Resurrection applies to registered visitors while they remain within the Dungeon Master’s influence. Resurrection does not make your equipment immortal, and hospital fees are still fees.”

A child near the front raised her hand. ”What happens if the dungeon eats us?”

The clerk looked toward the child’s horrified mother. ”It does not do that.” He responded.

The mother pulled her daughter closer.

Evan received a visitor token and felt a system window unfold at the edge of his vision. He dismissed it so quickly that the gnome clerk laughed.

”First time in a dungeon.?”

”Is it that obvious?”

The gnome guide handed out a pamphlet ”You tried to swat the pop-up interface. Read this before you enter anything marked challenge, level, arena, defense, race, trial, experimental, or Brakka.”

”What is a Brakka?”

”You will hear him before you meet him.”

Evan climbed down when the wagon stopped. He had worked for meals during the trip, but his arrangement with the caravan ended when they reached the dungeon.

That meant he had enough money for several days and no job.

The letter he sent his parents two weeks earlier claimed otherwise.

He had written that a merchant offered him steady work in a distant town. It sounded better than telling them he was traveling to live inside a Dungeon Master’s territory. His mother would have cried. His father would have borrowed money they did not possess to bring him home.

Evan adjusted the pack on his shoulder and joined the crowd.

***

The Sanctuary’s stables had not been built for a caravan of this size.

Every stall was occupied. Temporary ropes created new enclosures beyond the main building, and stable workers rushed between horses, mules, oxen, and several shaggy animals Evan could not identify.

A gray-haired woman stood beside the entrance shouting assignments.

”If your animal bites, kicks, breathes fire, or produces acid, you tell us before we touch it!”

One merchant raised his hand. ”What if it only produces acid when frightened?”

”Then you keep it calm!”

Evan waited until she finished arguing with him. ”Do you need another worker?”

The woman looked him over. ”Experience?”

”I grew up around horses. I worked with the caravan on the way here.”

”Can you lift feed sacks?”

”Yes.”

She pointed toward a wagon stacked with them. ”Prove it.”

Evan carried twelve sacks into the storage building before she stopped him.

”Four copper a shift, one meal, and you clean whatever the animals leave behind. If the caravan stays longer than three days, I will need you every morning.”

It was not a fortune, but it was real work.

”I will be here.”

”Good. Now find somewhere to sleep. Every innkeeper in the Sanctuary doubled their prices when they saw you lot coming in.”

Evan’s brief relief disappeared. ”Is there anywhere cheap?”

The stable manager pointed toward two stone entrances built into a hill beyond the commercial district.

”Try the Undercity. The goblins rent rooms for less than half what the surface inns charge. Keep your money in a closed pocket and do not gamble with anyone who has green skin.”

”Why?”

”They cheat better than humans.”

***

The tunnel descending into the Undercity was wide enough for two carts to pass each other. Metal-framed light crystals brightened the walls, and painted signs displayed arrows in several languages.

Evan slowed as he walked downward.

He had fought goblins once. Three had tried to steal chickens from his family’s farm. They wore rags, carried sharpened sticks, and fled after his father struck one with a shovel.

The goblin standing at the bottom of the stairs wore a red vest and polished boots.

”First visit?” It asked.

Evan nodded.

The goblin handed him a folded map. ”Red streets are commercial. Blue streets are residential. Yellow markings belong to Hizon. Do not enter gray tunnels unless you are registered for the defense challenge. Hospital route is marked in white.”

”There is a hospital down here?”

”Small one. The Big hospital is upstairs.” The goblin pointed toward a counter. ”You can ask your questions there. Rooms are found through the blue arch.”

Evan passed beneath the arch and emerged onto a broad underground street.

The ceiling rose higher than he expected. Stone pillars supported it at regular intervals, and balconies had been carved into the walls above the shops. Goblins operated food stalls, repair counters, equipment stores, and a few other services that looked a bit to shady for him to investigate further. Several hobgoblins supervised workers unloading a cart.

Human adventurers moved among them without drawing attention.

One shop rented goblin guides by the hour. Another advertised hobgoblin shield bearers willing to join adventuring parties. A tavern displayed a sign promising that every meal contained meat from an identifiable animal.

Evan was still reading that sign when someone bumped his shoulder.

A wounded adventurer staggered past him. Half of the man’s armor was burned black. Two companions supported him while a third complained that he should have waited for the healer before touching the glowing mushroom.

They disappeared into a white-marked passage, but nobody around them seemed alarmed.

The rooming house was operated by an elderly hobgoblin named Varka. She showed Evan a narrow stone room containing a bed, a shelf, and a washbasin.

”Three copper each night or one silver for four nights. Door locks from inside. If you die in the dungeon, room remains yours until morning.”

Evan paid for four nights.

His remaining money bought a bowl of stew from a goblin stall across the street. He watched the cook fill it with meat, roots, and something purple.

”What animal is that?” Evan asked.

The goblin pointed toward the tavern’s sign across the street promising identifiable meat. ”You want certainty, you pay their prices.”

Evan looked at the stew again.

”Is it safe?”

”Hospital route marked in white.”

The goblin laughed at his expression, removed the purple piece, and replaced it with a potato.

Evan ate on a bench overlooking the underground street. A group of humans argued with a goblin tailor about pockets. Two hobgoblins in clean armor escorted a merchant toward the surface. Children with green skin chased one another around a pillar until Varka leaned from an upper balcony and shouted at them.

This was not a monster camp pretending to be a town. Nobody here performed for visitors. The Undercity had schedules, rents, bad food, neighbors, and rules Evan did not understand yet.

For the first time since leaving home, he felt less like he was traveling toward something and more like he had arrived.

***

Max watched the last merchant wagons cross into the stable area through a viewing screen above his desk.

”That is more people than I expected.” He said.

Anna was flipping through multiple pages on her clipboard. Applications, stable requests, Merchant requests, and temporary housing complaints filled their pages.

”The caravan has sixty-three registered merchants. The people following it are the larger problem. The inns are full, the stables are overflowing, and the gnomes want permission to establish another temporary campsite. Perferably open ground where people can set up a tent for a day or two.

”Give it to them.”

”Where?”

Max expanded a map of the Sanctuary. The familiar village, forest, lake, and training grounds occupied the center. Beyond them stretched a much larger circle covered by gray mist.

”There.”

Anna studied it. ”You still have not shown me what you added.”

”I expanded the Sanctuary again. The new land will open before the Grand Race.” Max closed the outer portion of the map before she could enlarge it.

Anna narrowed her eyes. ”If you placed another monster-filled forest beside the residential district, I am moving it myself.”

”There is no monster-filled forest beside the residential district.”

That answer was technically true.

She looked unconvinced but approved the campsite.

***

Evan returned to the surface before sunset.

The wounded adventurer he saw earlier walked out of the main hospital wearing clean clothing. His burned armor had not survived, but he had. His companions met him outside and immediately began arguing about whether they had enough money for another attempt.

Resurrection was real.

Evan had heard the stories throughout the journey. Seeing someone walk away after injuries that should have killed him was different.

He opened the small system menu that provided information about the dungeon.

Fey Nights appeared first. The suggested level was low enough that he might survive if he found a party. Training lessons were available. Equipment could be rented. The stables would give him enough money to eat and keep his room while he learned.

Evan closed the menu and looked toward the dungeon entrance. Despite the fact he was afraid, that did not mean he intended to leave.