The chamber breathed—steady drips of spring water against stone, cold air carrying that deep-dungeon taste of moisture and old iron. My lungs still burned from the harvest rush.
Six pieces of Phantom Vine sat wrapped in Elara's pack now. Hours of work compressed into fragile cargo worth more than most adventurers saw in a month.
Elara checked her sword. Clean draw. Smooth return.
Raska rolled her shoulders, tail swishing once. Restless energy looking for an outlet. "That went better than expected."
"We're not out yet," Elara said.
I was checking my knives when the footsteps echoed from the opposite tunnel. Multiple sets. Heavy boots on stone. Confident rhythm.
Not running. Walking.
Five adventurers emerged from the darkness. Two humans—one carrying a chipped axe, the other a longsword that had seen real use. A dwarf with a mace gripped like an extension of his arm. An elf, bow already in hand, arrow nocked but not drawn. An amazon woman with revealing cloths that barely covered her healthy wheat-colored skin, twin daggers at her hips, moving with that Amazonian grace.
The axe guy's eyes went straight to Elara's pack. To the bulge where Phantom Vine stems pressed against canvas. To the empty chamber walls where blue-white flowers had been growing an hour ago.
"You took the Vine," he said. Not a question. An accusation.
He stepped forward, hands visible but tense. "We need that Vine. We'll pay triple market rate."
Triple? That was actually generous by dungeon economics. My stupid brain started calculating—split three ways, that could be—
"Not for sale," Elara said. Ice queen mode locked in.
The axe guy's jaw tightened. "Be reasonable. The Dungeon is dangerous. People get hurt all the time. Accidents happen." Smile crept across his face, cold and didn't reach his eyes.
Elara's expression didn't change. "We gathered it. It's ours."
"Don't be stupid," the dwarf growled. "You really want to fight over some plants?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them. "You're the ones who showed up empty-handed."
Everyone looked at me. Including Raska and Elara.
Oh god. Why did I say that. Shut up. Shut UP—
The longsword guy stepped forward. "Just sell us the Vine. You can gather more tomorrow."
"So can you," Elara said, voice cool and measured. "The Vine isn't going anywhere."
The dwarf's face darkened. "There's five of us. Three of you. Think about the odds."
Raska's grin turned sharp. Unfriendly. Her ears flattened slightly. "I like those odds just fine."
The elf's bow came up slightly. "You really want to bleed over this?"
"Do YOU?" Raska shot back, tail swishing once. Aggressive. "Because I'm getting real tired of listening to you assholes count."
The amazon woman's hand moved to her dagger. "Watch your mouth, dog."
Raska's eyes flashed. "What did you just call me?"
The axe guy raised his hand. "Last chance. Sell us the Vine or we take it."
Elara's hand moved to her sword hilt. "We're done talking."
The silence stretched. Heavy. The kind that pressed against eardrums.
The axe guy's face hardened. "Fine. Have it your way."
He moved.
Everything exploded.
Raska blurred forward—werewolf speed my eyes couldn't track properly—closing ten feet before I finished blinking. Her fist drove into the longsword guy's guard. Metal shrieked. The impact echoed. The guy stumbled back, then his knees buckled and he dropped. One punch. Out cold.
"Weakest one first," Raska said, grinning.
The dwarf charged her with a roar, mace high. She caught the weapon mid-swing. Bare hand. The impact rang through the chamber. Her palm didn't even bleed. "My turn," she said, and yanked. The dwarf stumbled forward. Her other fist drove into his helmet. He staggered but didn't fall. Shook his head. Came at her again.
"What the—" Raska blocked the mace again. Hit him. Solid shot to the chest plate. He grunted. Backed up one step. Still standing. "Why won't you go DOWN?!"
The elf fired. Arrow screaming through air.
Elara's sword flashed. Metal rang. The arrow deflected mid-flight, ricocheted off the wall, splashed into the spring. The elf was already nocking another. The axe guy moved in from the side, coordinated. Two on one. Elara's footwork shifted. Guard high. She deflected the axe with a clean parry, pivoted, knocked the second arrow out of the air with her pommel. Not a scratch on her. Moving like water.
"Where you are looking, pretty boy?"
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
The amazoness came at me with terrifying speed. And everything was... jiggling—
Don't look don't look don't LOOK—
My brain split in half. Survival instinct screaming DODGE while my eyes committed treason. Her daggers flashed. I stumbled backward. Barely got my knife up in time. Steel rang. The impact jolted through my arm.
Focus! She's trying to KILL you!
She pressed in. Fast. Too fast. Another slash. I parried. Badly. The blade scraped past my guard, kissed my ribs. Leather armor saved me. Barely.
"Eyes up here," she purred, and I made the fatal mistake of making eye contact while she was moving and—
Her knee drove into my stomach.
Air exploded from my lungs. I doubled over. Gasping. Her dagger came down.
I rolled. Pure panic. The blade sparked off stone where my head had been. Scrambled to my feet. Wheezing.
She smiled. Predatory. "Cute."
I was going to die. I was going to die because my stupid brain couldn't—
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