The morning sun crept over the horizon, bathing the bustling town square in golden light. Merchants were already setting up stalls, calling out to early risers in hopes of striking the first bargains of the day. Among the townsfolk, a group of five adventurers moved through the crowd, laughing and talking as they prepared for their long-awaited day.

  The group was a curious mix of personalities, each wearing the mismatched gear that spoke of a party still finding its footing. At their head was Erwin, the light-armored fighter, his twin short swords strapped to his hips and his confident swagger making up for the scuffs on his leather armor. Behind him walked Davian, the mage, his simple blue robes marked with faint burn stains—souvenirs of spells that had gotten away from him. Reed, the ranger, was quiet as always, his bow slung across his back, the sharpness of his gaze contrasting with the easygoing nature of his companions. Alan, the rogue, flipped a dagger idly in his hand, his quick grin a little too mischievous. Lastly, Barret, the heavy-armored fighter, lumbered behind them, his shield strapped to his back and his axe hanging from his belt, his stoic presence grounding the group.

  None of them noticed the faint, pulsing green glow coming from the pouch at Erwin’s side as they walked.

  “Alright, boys,” Erwin said, clapping his hands together. “Before we hit the dungeon, we need fuel. I’m talking a proper breakfast. No trail rations. No stale bread. I mean eggs, meat, and whatever else they’ve got at the tavern.”

  “You just want an excuse to eat bacon,” Alan quipped, twirling his dagger once more before sheathing it with a flourish.

  “Damn right I do,” Erwin replied with a grin. “Let’s move.”

  The group made their way to the local tavern, “The Rusty Tankard,” a modest establishment known for its hearty meals and questionable hygiene. The smell of sizzling bacon and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

  Barret, ever the pragmatist, was the first to grab a seat at one of the long wooden tables. “We’ve got a long day ahead. Best eat something that’ll stick to the ribs.”

  “Bacon and eggs for me,” Erwin said, sliding into the seat next to him. “And maybe a tankard of ale.”

  Davian raised an eyebrow. “Ale? It’s barely past dawn.”

  “Breakfast ale,” Erwin corrected. “Completely different.”

  Reed chuckled as he sat down. “If you’re sluggish in the dungeon because of that ale, I’m not saving you.”

  “You’re just jealous you don’t know how to enjoy life,” Erwin shot back, waving down a barmaid.

  As plates piled high with food arrived at their table, the group dug in, their chatter turning to the dungeon ahead.

  “I heard the first floor’s been completely redone,” Davian said between bites of bread. “Mechanized carts now, instead of mine carts. Supposed to be faster.”

  “Faster?” Alan said, grinning. “That just means I’ll finish first.”

  “You mean crash first,” Barret said dryly, earning a round of laughter.

  Unbeknownst to them, the seed nestled in Erwin’s pouch pulsed faintly, as though feeding on the group’s energy and excitement.

  With breakfast behind them, the group headed to the local general store to stock up on supplies. The small shop was crammed with everything from potions to rope to mismatched pieces of armor that had seen better days. The smell of leather and herbs filled the air as the adventurers browsed the cluttered shelves.

  “I need more health potions,” Barret said, inspecting a row of glass vials filled with red liquid. “I used up my last one in that spider nest.”

  “Yeah, and you didn’t even share,” Alan teased, picking up a throwing knife and testing its balance. “Some team player.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who takes the hits,” Barret replied. “You get to stay in the back, nice and safe.”

  Alan grinned. “Touché.”

  Reed, meanwhile, was inspecting a bundle of arrows, testing the fletching with practiced fingers. “These’ll do,” he said, tossing a few coins onto the counter.

  Davian held up a scroll, squinting at the faded writing. “A spell of shield? Could be useful.”

  Erwin leaned against the counter, tossing a coin in the air. “Don’t go overboard, guys. We’re already broke from signing up for this dungeon. Remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Alan said, slipping the throwing knife into his belt. “We’ll make it all back with the prizes we win.”

  Again, the seed in Erwin’s pouch pulsed faintly, unnoticed amid the banter.

  Their next stop was the blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks and a permanent scowl etched into his soot-streaked face. The forge glowed brightly, the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil filling the air.

  “Barret,” the blacksmith grunted as the group entered. “Your armor’s ready.”

  Barret stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the counter. The blacksmith handed him a gleaming breastplate, freshly repaired and polished.

  “Looks good,” Barret said, inspecting the work. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t let it get dented up again so soon,” the blacksmith replied. “Next time, I’ll charge you double.”

  Barret chuckled. “No promises.”

  As Barret donned the armor, Alan wandered over to a rack of daggers, eyeing them with interest. “Think I can get one of these for free if I say I’m a famous adventurer?”

  “Only if you’re famous for being a cheapskate,” Erwin said, pulling him away.

  With their business concluded, the group made their way toward the dungeon, their excitement growing with each step.

  The line outside the dungeon was as long as ever, a testament to the Golem’s Gambit’s growing reputation. Adventurers of all shapes and sizes chatted excitedly, comparing notes and exchanging rumors about what lay inside.

  The party took their place in line, Alan yawning as he leaned against the wall. “Man, I can’t believe it’s finally our turn. Feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

  “That’s because we have,” Davian said, adjusting his robes. “A week, to be exact.”

  Barret folded his arms, his expression serious. “Let’s make it count, then. No screw-ups.”

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  “Don’t worry, big guy,” Erwin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

  As the line moved forward, the group’s anticipation grew. The seed in Erwin’s pouch pulsed once more, unnoticed amid the excitement. Its mission was nearly complete.

  The haphazard team, blissfully unaware of the dark presence they carried, stepped forward, ready to face the challenges of the Golem’s Gambit.

  The Verdant Depth's scout skulked through the bustling streets of the town, its shadowy form expertly blending into the background. The bright light of day was a stark contrast to the dense, verdant depths it was accustomed to, but its mission kept it focused. It had less than a day before its consciousness would transfer fully into the seed embedded in the adventurer’s pack. The thought of leaving its body behind filled it with urgency and dread; this stage of the plan was critical, and failure was not an option.

  The scout’s glowing emerald eyes flickered as it scanned potential hiding places. It needed somewhere discreet, somewhere it wouldn’t be disturbed. The transfer process was delicate, requiring it to be close to the dungeon yet out of sight. It darted down a side alley, pausing to survey a dilapidated stable at the edge of town.

  The stable was dark and dusty, with collapsed beams and rotting hay scattered across the floor. It seemed abandoned, but the scout hesitated. A faint trail of human footprints in the dirt suggested that someone had been here recently—likely squatters or curious children. Shaking its head, the scout moved on, slipping through the shadows like a wisp of smoke.

  Its next stop was a cobbler’s shop that had been boarded up for years. The scout crept through a broken window, its clawed fingers leaving faint scratches on the wood. Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of mildew and leather, and cobwebs hung like curtains from the ceiling. The scout crouched low, its gaze sweeping the room. It would be a decent hiding place, but the proximity to the main road made it too risky. Too much foot traffic passed by, and any noise or disturbance could draw unwanted attention. Frustrated, the scout exited as quietly as it had entered.

  With each failed attempt, the scout’s mind raced. Time was running out. The longer it took to find a secure location, the closer it came to being caught out in the open during the transfer. It cursed silently, its claws scraping anxiously against the stone walls as it moved through the town’s quieter quarters.

  Finally, it stumbled upon an old, abandoned building on the edge of town, half-hidden by overgrown weeds and vines. The structure leaned precariously, its once-proud fa?ade now chipped and crumbling. More importantly, it was far from the main thoroughfares and surrounded by a cluster of other abandoned properties. No one would have reason to come here.

  The scout pushed open the rotted door, its movements cautious but deliberate. Inside, the wooden floor groaned beneath its weight. Dust motes floated lazily in the dim light filtering through cracks in the walls. The scout’s gaze landed on a hatch in the corner of the room, partially obscured by debris. It stalked toward it, claws deftly clearing away the clutter.

  The hatch creaked loudly as it opened, revealing a dark, musty basement below. The scout dropped down silently, its feet landing with a soft thud on the dirt floor. The air was damp and stale, but the space was perfect. The basement was small, windowless, and utterly forgotten by the world above. Even better, it was just within the range necessary to maintain its link to the Seed once the transfer began.

  “This will do,” the scout hissed to itself, its voice a raspy whisper that echoed faintly in the confined space.

  It began its preparations methodically, knowing it wouldn’t have another chance to secure its body. The scout surveyed the room, using its claws to dig a small hollow in the dirt near the back wall. It worked quickly, the loose earth piling up around it as the hollow deepened. Once satisfied with the size, it carefully smoothed the edges, ensuring it would be a snug fit.

  Next, the scout rummaged through its satchel, pulling out small, enchanted warding stones. It placed them in a circular pattern around the hollow, activating each one with a whispered incantation. The stones glowed faintly, casting an eerie green light that pulsed in time with the scout’s movements. These wards would deter any curious animals or wandering adventurers who might stumble upon the basement.

  With the wards in place, the scout knelt beside the hollow and took a deep, shuddering breath. It extended its clawed hand, tracing a series of runes into the dirt around the hollow’s edge. The runes glowed briefly before sinking into the earth, their magic anchoring the scout to this spot. The process was nearly complete.

  Finally, the scout planted itself. Its clawed feet dug into the soft earth, roots of shadow and magic spreading downward like tendrils. Its body began to stiffen as the transfer process took hold. The scout’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly, a sure sign that its consciousness was beginning to shift.

  The scout’s thoughts flickered to its mission. The Seed was already in place, embedded in the adventurer’s pack and primed to sprout. Soon, it would be inside the dungeon, unseen and unnoticed, ready to execute the Verdant Depths’ will. The scout felt a twisted sense of satisfaction despite the risks it faced.

  As the last traces of its mobility faded, the scout let out a soft chuckle, its voice barely audible. “Soon… the dungeon will fall.”

  The basement grew silent, save for the faint hum of the warding stones. The scout’s body became motionless, rooted in the ground like a sinister plant waiting to bloom. Above, the town bustled on, oblivious to the dark presence hiding beneath their feet.

  And somewhere in the distance, the Golem’s Gambit awaited the chaos yet to come.

  The adventurers pushed forward into Rolling Stones, their mechanized carts screeching as they sped into the first challenge. Massive stone boulders rolled back and forth across the tracks in predictable but dangerous patterns. Erwin almost lost control of his cart early on, narrowly avoiding one of the boulders. His pack jostled violently in the process, but the group pressed on, cheering as they cleared the room without any injuries.

  Next, they entered Spinning Blades, the metallic hum of the deadly rotating traps filling the air. The adventurers weaved through the narrow sections of the track, dodging the sharp blades as they spun and shifted positions. Alan, the rogue, called out directions, guiding Erwin and the others through the chaos. The group’s synchronization improved, and they exited the room with a growing sense of camaraderie.

  The path led them into the Pendulum Gauntlet, where swinging axes and clockwork sentinels awaited. Erwin’s pack bounced precariously in his cart as the team raced through the room. They successfully dodged the deadly pendulums, and Alan’s quick reaction to a switch plate saved them from being knocked off the track as it disabled a trap about to strike. Near the end, they spotted the secret switch plate, which Alan hit without hesitation, revealing a hidden passage to Shadow’s Secret Room of Illusions.

  Curious and eager, the adventurers veered into the hidden room. Shadow wasted no time creating a chaotic, disorienting experience. Illusions of monstrous creatures leaped across the track, and Shadow’s laughter echoed throughout the room, making the team uneasy. As the adventurers focused on navigating the deceptive space, Erwin’s pack, dislodged during one of Shadow’s scares, toppled over slightly, and the seed slipped free, tumbling to the ground unnoticed.

  They managed to finish the hidden room, panting with relief as they exited back onto the main track. Unbeknownst to them, Shadow watched from the darkness, his attention fixed on the strange object lying on the ground where Erwin’s pack had faltered. He slinked toward it silently, his curiosity piqued.

  The adventurers continued their run, speeding through Kagejin’s Arena, where Kagejin’s razor-sharp precision and stealth provided a harrowing challenge. They narrowly avoided his ambushes and traps, working together to disarm his defenses. Then came the refreshing but tricky twists of Winter Wonderland, where the icy track tested their driving skills and teamwork. Laughs and curses filled the air as they skidded and slid through the chilly obstacles.

  The group pressed on into the vibrant Jungle Room, weaving through lush plant life and avoiding mechanical beasts hidden among the greenery. The roaring sound of flowing water accompanied their tense race through the room, and they emerged, winded but alive. Magnetic Mayhem followed, and the chaotic pull of the magnets sent carts spinning and bumping into each other, resulting in a few close calls. Finally, they reached Ignarok’s Room, where the fiery boss’s towering presence loomed over them. Their tense battle with Ignarok tested every ounce of their skill, but they managed to escape with only minor injuries.

  Back in the Room of Illusions, Shadow approached the seed cautiously. Its faint energy pulsed, a low hum vibrating through the air as he studied it. What is this? he thought, running his metallic fingers over the strange object. It didn’t belong to the adventurers, nor did it seem like something crafted by the dungeon.

  Shadow picked it up and turned it over in his hands. Its energy felt foreign yet tantalizing. A dark part of him stirred, whispering that this seed held potential—chaotic potential. But why had it fallen from the adventurer’s pack? And, more importantly, should he inform Brent?

  Shadow hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching. The minion’s chaotic nature warred with his loyalty to Brent. If this seed is something dangerous... wouldn’t it be better in my hands? he wondered. He took the seed to a dark corner of the Room of Illusions, his mind racing with possibilities.

  For now, he decided to remain silent, keeping the seed and its mysteries to himself. A grin crept across his face as he retreated into the room’s shadows, the faint hum of the seed filling his thoughts.

  The adventurers were none the wiser, their attention solely on finishing the dungeon. But Shadow knew that this single discovery could change everything—for better or worse.