Michael left the bench he meet Vespa behind and trudged slowly down the hall, the weight of the unfinished dungeon strategy assignment heavy on his mind. Each footstep echoed in the empty corridor, reminding him how late it was and how little time he had left. When he opened the door to his room, he was met with the familiar clutter of books, gear, and the quiet hum of his laptop’s cooling fan.
He let out a tired sigh, the *smack* of his hands on his thighs as he flopped into his chair breaking the silence. For a while, he just stared at the blank page, mind replaying the endless expanse of desert, the way the heat made the horizon ripple, and the ever-present, gnawing thirst. He forced himself to start writing, jotting down every memory: the blinding sun, the dunes shifting beneath his feet, and the lurking monsters waiting below the surface.
He described the harsh ecosystem in detail: sand that never stayed still, dried-out plants that drew blood with every touch, and the constant battle for water. The desert worms had been the biggest terror—hearing the faint rumble before a massive, armored creature erupted from beneath, jaws snapping. Then, the serpents: silent except for the quick flicker of movement, nearly invisible against the rocks, venom so fast-acting his hands still tingled at the thought.
Michael sketched the battle with the Fiend Wolf, the dungeon’s towering boss. He wrote about the tense standoff in the ruined amphitheater, the fiend’s glowing eyes and brutal speed, how he’d barely dodged out the way as it lunged. Describing his final desperate gambit, tricking it into collapsing part of the floor, he could almost hear the crash echoing in his ears. The memory-reward was fleeting, but he scratched in every detail he could remember.
He finished with a series of survival notes and was just capping his pen when the peace shattered—his door banged open with a loud crash.
Nick staggered in, covered head to toe in dried mud, hair in spikes, a single shoe missing. He kicked his bag into the corner and flopped face-first onto his bed.
Michael’s eyebrow shot up. "What the hell happened to you?"
Without turning, Nick groaned, "I fucking ended up in a mud dungeon. Everywhere was just... mud, mud, mud." He turned his head, eyes wide with disbelief. "You think sand’s bad? Try climbing three meters then getting sucked in up to your knees, while goblins made out of sludge try to steal your boots. I spent ten minutes fighting off a mud ooze that kept flinging gunk right into my face." He made a face. "It tasted like chalk and regret."
Michael laughed, despite himself. "Wow. Tough luck, man. At least I only left with sand in my boots, not a whole swamp." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
For a moment, the exhaustion faded as they shared the misery of their latest adventures, each grateful not to have faced the other’s ordeal.
Michael glanced at Nick and smirked, "At least you survived. Now let me get back to my assignment." He turned to his desk, determined to finish—but Nick groaned and sat up. "Wait, what are you doing?" Nick asked.
Michael didn’t look up. "The strategy assignment, remember?" Instantly, Nick’s eyes widened in horror. "No! That’s due tomorrow, isn’t it?" He buried his face in his hands. "I totally forgot... I am way too tired for this," he muttered angrily.
Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Nick’s misery. Nick shot him a pleading look and scooted to the edge of his bed. "Bro... please. Help me with mine? I’ll owe you forever!" He clasped his hands together in dramatic, desperate begging.
"Alright," Michael grinned, "but only if you give me all the monster cores you got from your dungeon."
Before he could even finish, Nick nodded furiously. "Deal! Take ’em all! Just save me!"
Michael stared. "Wait, you’re agreeing? I was half-joking—I thought I’d at least get you to go solo this time."
But Nick was dead serious. Michael let out a groan, realizing he’d just signed himself up for double the work. "Fine," he muttered, "but next time, you’re the one with sand in your boots and mud in your hair."
The two laughed, and as Michael opened a fresh page and Nick dumped a muddy bag of monster cores on his desk, the long night of writing began.
Michael was shocked how many cores he possessed with him as there were about 35 of them inside there" did this guy go monster hunting or what?" Michael asked himself but he decided to get back to work but he would sometimes ask Nick a few questions inorder to make the report better and descriptive.
When Michael was finally done it was already dark and he was very hungry so both of them decided to head over to instructor keal and submit the assignment and then head to the cafeteria.
The hallway was nearly empty as Michael and Nick made their way to Instructor Keal’s office, the stale light buzzing overhead and echoing off walls plastered with outdated dungeon safety posters. Nick clutched his freshly cleaned report while Michael balanced two thick folders—his and Nick’s—plus the loot bag still heavy with monster cores.
At Keal’s door, Michael rapped twice. The old instructor looked up from a worn stack of papers, peering over his glasses. "Late night, boys?" he grumbled, but took the assignments without complaint.
Nick managed a tired salute. "Never doubted us for a minute, sir."
As soon as they left, Nick’s stomach grumbled loud enough that Michael burst out laughing. They dashed to the cafeteria, joking about whose assignment would score higher and which one of them would fall asleep in their food first. For now, their dungeon troubles were behind them.
Michael ordered some void space meat and so soda with it, nick didn’t really care much about food so he ordered the same as Michael.
Both of them found a table to eat and while they were eating Michael saw someone coming close to him and not much of a shocker it was Ethan and his group boys.