“Is he sleeping?” Sebekton asked, his voice booming across the gold-gilded chamber.

  “Do undead even need to sleep?” Viktor murmured, gazing at the mummy before him. Khenemhotep was sitting motionlessly on his golden throne, two hands folded across his chest, while his desiccated eyelids shut, veiling the green light that pulsed beneath. Come to think of it, the undead priest had been in a simir posture when he was first summoned, and only awakened after a short while.

  Sebekton chuckled. “He told us to come, but when we arrived, he was sleeping.”

  “Actually, he was not—” said a soft, feminine voice from the side.

  Viktor and Sebekton turned in unison, and the demure speaker froze under their gaze. Her words died in her throat, and she dropped her head, glossy bck hair falling like a curtain, hiding her face. She stared at the floor, silent now.

  That was one of the spider-women summoned by the “Summon Earth Minions” skill, who were then assigned to this floor to serve Khenemhotep along with the troglodytes. And they were called... Joro-something. Seriously, what kind of nguage was that? Why wasn’t that name transted like everything else in the dungeon? If they were some sort of human-spider hybrid, they could just be called spider-women, spider-dies, or whatever.

  The woman wore a silk robe in muted green that flowed to her ankles, with sleeves long and absurdly wide. A broad sash wrapped around her waist, tied at the back in a bow that looked more ornamental than practical. She had long, lustrous hair framing a face that might have been considered beautiful, if only she had two eyes like a normal person, instead of eight. Still, other than that unsettling face, she looked no different from a human. Perhaps the spider parts were hidden beneath those yers of fabric and only revealed themselves when she was in combat.

  “Continue,” said Viktor.

  “Y-yes, my lord,” the woman replied. As she lifted her head, he found himself staring into eight gleaming orbs of obsidian. “Lord Khenemhotep is not actually sleeping. His soul has journeyed beyond this world to the nd of the dead.”

  “So he’s traveling now, huh? We came all the way here, and the guy’s out on vacation,” Viktor said with a chuckle. “When will he be back?”

  The woman squirmed. “I... I don’t know...” she said, her eight eyes blinking rapidly as she csped her hands tightly in front of her, while her whole body recoiled, as if she was bracing for punishment.

  Viktor frowned. She looked genuinely afraid, though of what? Him? Sebekton? Khenemhotep? While he didn’t really care much about his minions’ quirks, her behavior made him question whether she would be of any use in a fight.

  But before he could ask more, the chamber shifted.

  His gaze swept back to the throne. Khenemhotep, once still as a statue, began to stir, tattered bandages shifting and rustling as his limbs unfolded. His eyelids rose, slowly, steadily, like the lifting of a veil, and behind them, two emeralds fred to life.

  “Sovereign of the Dungeon,” the undead priest said as he realized who was in front of him.

  “High Priest,” Viktor said with a smile. “Back from your journey?”

  “Verily,” Khenemhotep intoned. “I did summon you and my lord Sebekton to come to this pce, so that you could hear the tale I am prepared to tell at this appointed hour. Tell me, have you waited long for my awakening?”

  “We’ve just arrived. And we had this charming dy accompanying us while waiting, so it wasn’t really a problem.”

  Khenemhotep’s gaze shifted to the woman standing to the side, her head bowed and her posture rigid. “I thank you greatly. You are now dismissed.”

  “Of course, my lord,” she replied with a soft voice. She retreated to the far end of the chamber, without turning her back on the throne, her eyes remaining cast downward, and only when she reached the entrance did she allow herself to stop. She lifted her head, but not enough to meet anyone’s eyes, turned away, and disappeared into the darkness.

  “She’s... awkward,” Viktor said once he was certain the woman was truly gone. “What did she fear anyway? Is she the only one like this, or are all the spider-women the same? Are you sure they’re actually useful?”

  Khenemhotep let out a rare, dry ugh. “Sovereign of the Dungeon, she is still unaccustomed to your presence, hence her manner is somewhat reserved. Truly, those dies have been of great help. They have done a lot to get the skeletons ready to rise as sentinels of this tomb.”

  “Speaking of which, are your tomb guards ready for combat yet?”

  “Verily, I have raised for you a total of twenty warriors and five mages. They are yours to command.”

  Viktor nodded. “Good. I can’t wait to see them in action. Well, how about we let Sebekton test their strength?”

  The Crocodilian’s eyes lit up at the mention of combat, a broad grin spreading across his face. “I’m always ready for a good fight, Master.”

  “I hold no objection, Sovereign of the Dungeon.”

  “Since everyone agreed, let’s do it tomorrow. Should it be here, or...”

  Viktor let his gaze drift across the vast chamber, the Chamber of the Dead, as Khenemhotep had called it. The undead priest had once told him that in the original tombs that inspired this pce, the central halls would have housed rows of ornate sarcophagi, surrounded by funerary offerings meant to serve the dead in the afterlife.

  But of course, this was not a real tomb, so the chamber was empty by design. It was no resting pce, but a battleground. If the intruders ever reached this pce, the moment they crossed the threshold at the far end of the chamber, they would find an ancient mummy seated upon the throne of gold before them. He would stir when they drew near, and descend upon them with the full wrath of the kingdom of sand. Only after passing the Guardian’s test would they gain access to the other exit, hidden behind the throne, which led to a smaller room with a dder descending to the third floor.

  That might not be the most practical way to deal with the adventurers, but it would certainly be dramatic. Khenemhotep was clearly someone who enjoyed such theatrics, and it was written into every stone of this so-called arena. The chamber might have been empty in terms of furnishings, but it was in no way not richly decorated. The walls around them were alive with artistry, each surface etched with vibrant murals, all rendered in rich pigments and outlined with lines of molten gold. Well, this was Khenemhotep’s floor, so Viktor let the ancient priest have his way. Within reason, of course.

  “Sovereign of the Dungeon, if it be a contest between my lord Sebekton and two dozen opponents, I fear this pce is too confined for such a battle. Perhaps we should take it outside, into the desert, where the sentinels can be at their fullest strength.”

  Outside, huh? It might be easy to forget, but beyond these stone walls y a burning desert. A world of shifting dunes, jagged rocks, and a merciless sun hanging in an endless artificial sky. It was here that the tomb guards were meant to intercept the intruders, acting as the first line of defense before anyone could invade the great tomb itself. The raised undead had been designed to take advantage of that environment, so it made sense to test them there. On the other hand, such conditions might be too harsh for someone like Sebekton, who was used to a more humid climate.

  As if he could read his mind, the Crocodilian let out a booming guffaw. “Don’t worry, Master,” he said. “I don’t mind a handicap or two. I’ve survived a raging inferno before. A bit of sun and sand won’t be any worse.”

  “Alright then. If no one has a problem with it, we’ll do it outside. Tomorrow morning.”

  That was one matter taken care of, but it was not the reason why Viktor and Sebekton had come here today. Rather, it was time for Khenemhotep’s storytelling session of the week. They had made time for it and arrived at the appointed hour. There was a dey, though, due to the fact that their host had been, well, asleep. No, not exactly. He was not sleeping, as that spider-woman had timidly corrected them, but travelling to the nd of the dead.

  “Just now,” Viktor asked, “when you were sitting there, your soul left your body?”

  “Verily, Sovereign of the Dungeon, I did leave this vessel and entered the realm of the Bearded God. It is one of the gifts He has bestowed upon me.”

  Viktor chuckled. “So you went to meet your god? What did he say?”

  The ancient priest lowered his gaze. “I saw Him not,” he said quietly. “Gone are the days when we, His servants, could walk into His hall and behold His presence, for He is no longer seen in that pce. Nay, I went to that realm to enter the Garden of Peace, so that I could be reunited with my brethren and companions of old.”

  Khenemhotep can no longer see his god? Viktor thought. It was not the first time he had heard a story like this. He recalled Orloth, the Acolyte who served the being called the Great One of the Deep. One day, his god just... vanished. Orloth could still wield the power granted by the Great One, but he no longer heard his voice. Now Khenemhotep, too, seemed to be suffering a simir fate. What the hell was going on with all those gods abandoning their followers?

  Come to think of it, hadn’t the exact same thing happened to this world? The old myths spoke of a time known as the Age of Gods, the golden age when divinities walked among mortals. It was said that they had taught humanity how to use magic, and they had created the dungeons. Then, they left. No expnations. No warnings. One day, they were simply gone, as if they had never existed at all. Aeons passed, and the stories surrounding them gradually faded into legend. Magic was still here, and so were the dungeons, but the Gods themselves? Not a trace remained. The Forgotten Gods, they had become.

  “Why couldn’t you see him?” Viktor asked. “Why is he no longer in his hall?”

  Khenemhotep didn’t reply. The green fire in his eyes dimmed as he lowered his desiccated eyelids. Silence cimed the chamber, until he finally spoke again.

  “Sovereign of the Dungeon,” he said with a solemn voice. “When you summoned me, you inquired why I had come to this pce. And I told you then, it was a long tale. It is the same story I wish to share with you today, and once you have heard it, you will have your answer. Yet, the tale is long, so I may need many sessions to tell it in full.”

  “Fine by me. Go ahead, High Priest.”

  “Then listen to me, the Sovereign and my lord Sebekton,” Khenemhotep intoned, “and let the words of the dead speak to the living.”