I peek inside one last time, just to be absolutely sure. Nope. Still there.

  I let the silk flap drop for a second, just long enough to rub my throbbing temples. I expected anything. A trapped chest. A dimensional portal. A weapon of mass destruction.

  What I got was a trope as old as Super Mario Bros.

  I rip the tent open again. “Come on in, kids. Come admire the highly original script.”

  Chris and Kim step up, weapons ready, and freeze right next to me. The inside of the tent reeks of cheap incense and musk. Dead center, resting on stolen Persian rugs, sits a crude black iron cage.

  And huddled in the corner inside it… is a woman.

  Well, something that closely resembles one. She’s humanoid, small, and fragile. Her skin has the warm, earthy tone of terracotta. She’s wearing a torn silk outfit that probably looked like pure luxury before getting ruined by her violent capture.

  Her ears are the real eye-catcher, though. Huge. Way longer than a standard elf, incredibly thin, and pointed at the tips. They twitch at the slightest sound. Her massive, deep violet eyes stare back at us, flashing a mix of sheer terror and pure defiance.

  “An elf?” Chris whispers, totally fascinated.

  “Nope,” Kim corrects, squinting to analyze her morphology. “The bone structure is totally different. Much more fragile. Look at her hands.”

  She’s got four fingers. Long and elegant, sure, but definitely four.

  I lean against the tent entrance, crossing my arms. “It’s Princess Peach,” I grind out. “Floor 4 was Pinocchio. Floor 7 is the classic Damsel in Distress rescue. We’ve hit rock bottom for narrative writing.”

  Right on cue, the air vibrates. A System window pops open right over the cage.

  [TIER 2 COMPLETED] [Start of TIER 3: The Homecoming]

  [Mission Type]: ESCORT.

  [Objective]: Bring the target to safety.

  [Indicator]: Follow the target. She knows the way.

  [Time Remaining]: 12:00:00

  I let out a groan of pure agony. “Oh, hell no…” I practically whine. “Anything but that. Not an escort mission.”

  Chris looks at me, totally missing the source of my despair. “What? That’s good, right? We get to save someone!”

  “It’s the absolute worst mechanic in video game history!” I rant. “Escort NPCs are coded by monkeys! They walk faster than your standard walk speed but slower than your sprint, they get stuck on corners, and they always have a suicidal urge to pull aggro! It’s logistical hell!”

  I walk up to the black iron cage sitting on the mud-stained rugs. The creature inside curls into a ball, hissing like a cornered wildcat.

  I hold my hands up in surrender, completely ignoring the fact that I’m still gripping a blood-soaked shovel. “Okay, calm down, princess,” I say, shooting for a soothing tone. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here because the script forces me to drag you back to mommy and daddy to validate my exit ticket.”

  She stares at me with those massive violet eyes, caught between terror and raw animal curiosity. I raise my Excali-Spade and bring the edge down hard on the rusty padlock of the cage.

  CLANG. The metal gives way. The door creaks open.

  The woman stays frozen for a second, muscles totally locked up. Then, she unfolds her limbs with a liquid, almost unreal grace. She steps out of the cage and straightens up to her full, tiny height. She barely reaches my chest. Her gaze lingers on the Orc blood painting my yellow vest, shifts to the armor of Chris, and finally lands on Kim’s rifle.

  She takes a deep breath, smooths out her ruined silk dress with surprising dignity, and opens her mouth. I fully expect screams, some alien gibberish, or an ocean of tears.

  “I thank you, strangers,” she says in a perfectly articulated, melodious voice. She’s got this lilting accent that sounds like water running over pebbles. “Your violence is… refreshingly efficient.”

  Pure silence drops over the tent. Chris’s eyes go wide.

  “She talks?” he marvels. “I mean… she actually talks? Usually, dungeons just have grunting monsters. I thought only the Safe Zone Guides could speak.”

  “She’s a quest NPC, not a mob,” I mutter, instantly suspicious. “This is our first encounter with intelligent life outside a neutral zone. The System has to be running an auto-translate.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The woman drops into a slight curtsy with impressive dignity. “I am not an ‘NPC,’ whatever that insult means,” she retorts dryly. “I am Nectarine, Eldest Daughter of the Minimoon people.”

  Kim lets out a little snort that sounds suspiciously like a stifled laugh. “Nectarine?” she repeats. “Like the fruit?”

  I slap my forehead, an incredulous smirk stretching my lips. “Unbelievable… What did I literally just say? I called the Princess Peach scenario. And what does the System hand me? Her cousin, Nectarine. The laziness is absolute genius.”

  Nectarine stares at us with wide eyes, completely missing the joke. “It is a noble name! It evokes the softness of skin and the nectar of life!”

  “Minimoons?” Chris chimes in, changing the subject as the princess starts getting visibly offended.

  “The People of the Hollow Earth. The Guardians of the Roots,” Nectarine answers proudly. “We live beneath the surface, where the light of the False Sun does not burn the skin. You must help me return.”

  “Hold up a minute,” I interrupt. “How exactly did a ‘Nectarine’ end up here? In the middle of a Porci King’s camp?”

  Her face darkens. A shadow of profound sadness passes through her violet eyes, and her long ears droop. “I was… sold.”

  “Sold?” Chris chokes out, completely indignant.

  “By my own kind,” she whispers. “They dragged me to the surface like cattle.”

  She shivers, wrapping her thin arms around herself like she’s trying to block out a freezing memory. “They threw me at the feet of that vile King.” She glances outside toward the pile of ash that used to be the Orc King. “He wanted an heir. He wanted… to breed a stronger hybrid lineage.”

  A glacial chill settles over the tent. The pure horror of the situation hits us like a truck. Even Kim, usually totally detached, clenches her jaw until it pops. Chris turns bright red with anger, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

  “That’s disgusting…” the kid breathes.

  Suddenly, Nectarine’s angelic face twists. Her eyes bulge, completely bloodshot. Her mouth stretches into a grotesque, hysterical grin straight out of a cursed manga, and a little drool escapes her lips. The dignified princess aura vanishes instantly, completely replaced by an entity possessed by the demon of absolute lust.

  “BUT WHAT AN ABSOLUTE WASTE!” she bellows. Her voice drops an octave, sounding like a chain-smoking trucker. “THAT FAT PIG WAS PACKING MONSTROUS GEAR! DID YOU SEE THE SIZE OF HIS CLUB?! I WOULD HAVE KILLED TO TEST THE DURABILITY OF THAT HANDLE, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT! THAT SHIT WAS OLYMPIC CALIBER!”

  We all take a massive step back, absolutely horrified, looking at her like she just exploded.

  “What?!” Chris chokes.

  Nectarine blinks. Her face instantly snaps back to the sad doll features. She clasps her hands over her heart, looking like the most innocent creature in existence. “Pardon? Did I say something? I was just saying it was a terrible ordeal for a pure young maiden like myself…” She bats her eyelashes.

  Then, pop. Her face contorts right back into the perverted grimace, tongue hanging out, a string of drool dangling from the corner of her lips.

  “ALTHOUGH, FRANKLY, A LITTLE ANIMAL BRUTALITY NEVER KILLED ANYBODY! I SPENT HALF A DAY IN THAT CAGE JUST WATCHING HIS MUSCLES GLISTEN WITH SWEAT! I WAS THIS CLOSE TO BEGGING HIM TO OPEN THE DOOR SO WE COULD ‘NEGOTIATE’ A HORIZONTAL PEACE TREATY!”

  I look at Kim. Kim looks at me. Chris is completely petrified, his entire worldview collapsing in real-time.

  “She’s bipolar,” Kim analyzes coldly, her hand drifting toward her knife. “Or possessed.”

  “She’s in heat,” I correct, thoroughly disgusted. “She’s a nymphomaniac princess.”

  Nectarine snaps back to normal, a silent tear sliding down her cheek. “Please… take me home. The tunnels are so dangerous, and I am incredibly fragile.”

  She hits us with a pleading look worthy of an abandoned puppy. Then, her face shifts into a terrifying ahegao mask, eyes rolling back in her skull.

  “AND IF WE RUN INTO ANY TENTACLES, I GET FIRST DIBS! I NEED TO KNOW IF THE LEGENDS ARE TRUE!”

  I let out a heavy sigh, massaging my temples as the throbbing kicks back in. “Okay. The script is creepy, the mission is clear, and the client is absolutely nuts. We drag the lady home before she tries to jump a monster. This isn’t a quest anymore; it's a public safety measure.”

  I look at Nectarine, who has gone back to crying with royal dignity. “Alright, Jekyll and Hyde,” I call out. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have all day.”

  She smiles at me. A thin, royal smile… which instantly morphs into a lewd wink as she checks out my ass with zero discretion.

  “Don’t worry. I prefer men who know how to handle a shaft.”

  She bursts into a crude, barking laugh and struts out of the tent with a light gait. The green dot on my map moves right along with her.

  “Fantastic,” I sigh, following her out. “We’re going spelunking with a perverted princess. I love my life.”

  We leave the pink tent, Nectarine falling into step beside us with a suspiciously light bounce. Outside, the camp is nothing more than a smoking graveyard. The corpses of the soldiers are just starting to dissolve into particles of light, kicking up a shimmering, morbid mist.

  Nectarine stops dead in front of the corpse of an Orc General, its head buried deep in the dirt. She brings her delicate hands to her mouth, eyes welling up with tears.

  “Oh, what an absolute tragedy…” she laments, dropping right back into the Disney princess voice. “So much life wasted… Violence is a plague that devours the souls of men…”

  Chris, totally bought into her sensitivity routine, bows his head respectfully. “We didn’t have a choice, miss. It was them or us…”

  He doesn’t get to finish. Nectarine’s face convulses. Her pupils blow wide open, her tongue drags across her lips, and she lets out a gravelly bark of a laugh.

  “BUT WHAT A GLORIOUS CARNAGE, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARDS!” she screams, kicking the corpse square in the ribs. “LOOK AT HOW YOU WRECKED THEM! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I LIKE! FRESH MEAT, SWEAT, AND PURE DOMINATION! IT GETS ME SO HOT I’M WEAK IN THE KNEES!”

  She turns to me, practically devouring me with her eyes. “Especially you, Grave Digger. I saw how you handle that shaft of yours. It’s so… forceful.”

  Chris turns violently crimson. Kim sighs so loud she practically blows her bangs out of her face.

  “Move out,” I cut in sharply. “Before I shove her back in that cage for the greater good of humanity.”

  I check the timer floating in my HUD.

  [Time Remaining]: 11:58:00

  “So, Jekyll and Hyde,” I call out to Nectarine. “Is your burrow far?”

  She straightens up, smoothing her silky hair. “The Kingdom Below?” she asks, instantly dignified again. “We must cross the Jungle of Stalks, pass through the Valley of Whispers… Let us say four to six hours of walking, depending on your stamina.”

  I grimace. Six hours of walking with her. The real boss of this floor is her libido. “And then? Are we there?”

  “No. That will lead us to the Twilight Hot Springs. It's the sacred entrance to the underworld. From there, it will take another one to three hours to reach the Crystal City.”

  My brain locks onto two specific words. “Hot… Springs?”

  “Yes. Natural pools of thermal water, heated by a magic core. It is a place of rest and purification.”

  I catch Kim’s eye. I see the exact same glimmer of hope sparking in her pupils. A bath. A real, hot bath.

  “Change of pace!” I announce, suddenly incredibly motivated. “Forced march. Objective: the jacuzzi. Whoever lags behind gets fed to the ants.”