Nancy hovered close at her side now—not just a cousin in this fake storyline, but a survivor clinging to her.
The Dungeon Master's presence rippled faintly, unseen but very much watching.
The Little Black Book, tucked securely in Ming Sulin's inventory, shivered faintly. Its pages rustled on their own, ink forming tiny angry scribbles: "Ah, so he thinks he can toy with her? Foolish tyrant…"
The two of them made it back to the lakeside with everyone and started setting up for the bonfire.
Everyone made s'mores and told stories, but Ming Sulin excused herself to the restroom again like the first day.
This time, she pulled Nancy along and decided to check the rest of the forest cabins.
"D-do I have to come?" Nancy asked quietly but suspiciously as she held onto Ming Sulin's clothes while walking behind her.
The forest stretched endlessly, thick with pines that blotted out the sun.
Ming Sulin and the scared Nancy trudged through the underbrush later that night, her inventory heavy with new gear.
And someone was listening.
The Dungeon Master drifted above, unseen, his laughter bottled behind his teeth.
The Little Black Book snapped open slightly, quivering in Ming Sulin's hand. "Finally… chaos, rage, fury! This is my kind of show. I will record EVERYTHING—every insult, every trap, every humiliating stumble. Let him try me!"
The dungeon only listened, letting her rant, letting her fury spill about battles, duels, and the way enemies should properly face each other.
"Hey, I know it's you messing with me, dammit!"
She jabbed a finger at a tree that had tripped her several times.
"Don't worry, just wait till I come back. Once I clear this first floor, I'll challenge you properly. To the death. Like real men should do!"
Ming Sulin lifted her head, raised high like a chicken, pulling poor Nancy with her.
Her silence was worse than mockery.
Somewhere in the bushes behind her, the Dungeon Master frowned.
Worthy rival, then I must step up my game.
The Little Black Book flipped a few pages wildly, quills scribbling words at a furious pace: "This rival… alive, defiant, and unbroken. He will regret this. Every trap will be noted. Every humiliation cataloged!"
The silence didn't last.
A guttural growl split the woods.
Ming Sulin whipped her head back just in time to see a zombie hound burst from the dark, its rotting body moving far too fast.
"Ahh!" Nancy flinched back, and Ming Sulin pushed her to the side, charging forward.
She drew her fillet knife, weaving between trunks and branches, drawing out the hound as it gave chase.
When Ming Sulin finally got it stuck, she was smacked in the face.
"Seriously?! A dog?! What's it gonna do, give me a matching corpse perfume?!" she complained.
Then she quickly rounded the trees, trapping the hound and ending it in one motion.
[You have killed x1 yellow/blue-grade hound. You received 3 kill points, 60 EXP]
Loot: x4 undead token, x1 pelt of fur, x3 half-eaten right shoes, x1 pile of feces
The Little Black Book's pages giggled in their own sinister way: "Ha! And one pile of feces? Already cataloged. This dungeon master is messy, but I like it. This will be fun."
"Damn you, one pile of shit?! You really know how to have a good time, huh?!" Ming Sulin stomped her foot.
"Petty! Childish! You think I'll give in first?!" she yelled at the sky.
Nancy ran and hid behind a tree in the distance, feeling she would be safer there.
That's when the Dungeon Master laughed.
Deep, merciless, rolling through the forest like thunder.
Every trap, every stumble, he savored it.
Her rage was entertainment for him.
"You laugh! But I'll be back after I finish this first floor! Then we'll meet in a true duel—thousand days, ten thousand battles, and only death will decide who stands! Otherwise, you take my pride as a man for nothing!" she roared, conviction spilling from her tone.
Ming Sulin would come to know the consequences of her careless words. She had not realized that someone—or rather something—took her words literally.
The Little Black Book's ink jumped wildly, stamping letters across its pages:
"PROMISE RECORDED. DEBT TO BE COLLECTED. Ming Sulin vows 10,000 battles… every man's pride, every triumph, every humiliation noted. The Dungeon Master will answer for this. I will see the debt paid!"
After venting her immediate rage, she looked around, searching for Nancy who had made her way back to her side.
"Let's go."
They reached the cabins and searched through all 14 of them, collecting and taking everything whether it was useful or not.
Atmos—she would have to toss out the useless things or sell them to someone who could find use for them on the players' thread.
After searching all cabins, they only found a couple more things before pocketing them and heading back.
The ground collapsed beneath them.
"Move!" Ming Sulin shouted to Nancy, feeling the earth sink under her.
Nancy jumped out of the way.
Ming Sulin dropped into a moss-slick pit lined with stakes.
"Ahh… Oh shit!"
Ming Sulin caught the ledge in time.
[You sustained 8 HP of damage!]
'Damn, that hurt a bit,' she silently thought.
She had her knife stabbed into the wall of the pit as she dangled with stuttering breaths, getting her footing trying to pull herself up.
"Gasp!" Nancy rushed forward.
Looking up in time, she saw Nancy coming and shouted in a panic.
"STOP!"
Nancy stopped instantly.
"Back away and don't get any closer. Give me a moment to pull myself up, okay?"
Ming Sulin instructed her clearly, watching her back away a safe distance before she pulled herself up.
Ming Sulin rolled away from the edge, laid on her back, processing what just happened, then balled her hands into fists and slammed them on the ground.
This damn dungeon really is trying to kill me!
She screamed mentally in rage.
The Little Black Book trembled in her hands, words appearing in jagged, angry text: "Yes! Let him try! Record it all! Every trap, every spike, every hound! PROMISE COLLECTED. The thousand days, ten thousand battles vow is now an official debt. I will keep it."
Ming Sulin spat dirt, eyes blazing, and dusted herself off the best she could.
Mud smeared across her clothes as she got off the ground.
"Oh, come on! Really? Pits? Spikes? You man-child!"
Then more zombie hounds came out and prowled the rim, drooling.
Nancy hid behind her, shaking, and whispered,
"I don't wanna die so young."
And these words set something off in Ming Sulin.
"Enemies must meet on the crossroads, shit master—just you wait and don't get comfortable yet!"
She made her way forward, and a branch swung, smacking her across the back as she exited the forest.
"Owww!"
She shrieked, her back arched with the hit.
The forest shook with the Dungeon Master's laughter.
But beneath it, the unspoken promise curled tight as wire.
The Little Black Book's ink fumed, practically bouncing: "Enemies at the crossroad… yes… the story thickens… record everything… and the thousand-battle debt will not be forgotten!"
}}"Indeed, enemies must meet at the crossroad"{{