Chapter 69: Determination

A reply from GraveMom appeared a few seconds later.

GraveMom: The next Closed Door should be in about a week.

Zion immediately brightened.

"A week?"

That was soon. He could actually leave. He would be able to step beyond the dungeon entrance and see the world outside for himself.

Zion was still thinking about it when his attention drifted toward the timer hanging at the edge of his vision. His excitement faded.

[Founding Grace Remaining: 4 days, 6 hours, 41 minutes]

Right.

There was that.

The Closed Door was coming in roughly a week. His protection ended in four days. For several seconds, he said nothing. The others were still chatting, but he barely read the messages anymore.

He might not even make it to the first Closed Door. The thought settled unpleasantly in the back of his mind. He didn’t type that into the chat. Instead, he sent one last message.

SkeletonLordZion: Thanks for the invite. I’ll try to make it.

GraveMom: We’d be happy to have you.

Zion stared at the reply for another moment before closing the Dungeon Network. The throne room went quiet again. His attention shifted toward his essence balance.

It had continued rising over the last several days, even after the four thousand essence he had just spent on Grief. Adventurers were still entering. Sheep were still being defeated. Parties were still pushing through the sulfur caves.

Normally, watching the number climb made him feel better. Today, it didn’t.

Zion leaned back against the throne.

Four days.

That was all he had left before Founding Grace disappeared and nothing stopped an adventurer from eventually reaching his throne room. He needed more floors, more monsters, more traps, and better defenses.

Floor 4 was supposed to be next.

Zion opened the construction interface and stared at the ’purchase now’ option. Even if he bought it right now, he couldn’t think of what he wanted to build.

He already knew he wanted skeletons. Probably a graveyard, maybe crypts or something underground. He opened the monster catalogue, scrolled for a few seconds, then closed it.

Terrain options did not help either.

"What am I even doing?"

Every idea felt incomplete. The Brotherhood had made things worse.

Before them, he mostly worried about adventurers being strong enough to survive his monsters or clever enough to avoid his traps. Now he had to account for people who could disappear completely, teleport across hazards, or dismantle half a floor without triggering anything.

And that was only what he had seen so far.

What if the next group could fly?

Or walk through walls?

What if someone had a skill that—

Zion stopped himself. His thoughts were starting to pile on top of each other. He leaned farther back into the throne and let out a long sigh.

"This sucks."

He had no idea what he wanted to build and time was ticking very fast.

***

Finn woke before sunrise.

The first thing he did was reach beneath his pillow. His fingers closed around cold metal, and he pulled out the silver adventurer plate to hold it above his face. Even in the dim room, the polished surface caught what little light came through the window.

He smiled.

Then, a quiet laugh came from the other side of the room.

"Did you even sleep?"

Finn quickly lowered the plate.

Rowan was sitting up in his own narrow bed with his hair sticking out in several directions.

"Of course I slept."

"Mhm."

"I did."

"Whatever you say."

Rowan rubbed one eye before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Just don’t start complaining later. Hope you haven’t forgotten we’re starting fall plowing today."

Finn’s smile faded slightly.

"I haven’t forgotten."

He slipped the adventurer plate back beneath his pillow and dropped his head onto it.

Fall plowing would take the entire day, usually longer.

His eyes wandered toward the sword leaning against the wall beside his bed, and he immediately thought about the dungeon again.

He wanted to go back. He had barely become an adventurer, and already all he could think about was returning.

Rowan glanced at him.

"Don’t worry. You’ll be able to go."

Finn sat up.

"Go where?"

Rowan stared at him before laughing.

"To the dungeon. Where else?"

Finn blinked.

"But fall plowing takes all day."

"Usually."

"And we still have the eastern field."

"I know."

Finn frowned as Rowan stretched his arms above his head.

"Dad and I talked about it last night."

That immediately made Finn suspicious.

"About what?"

"We’re taking the larger fields this year."

Finn stared at him, unblinking.

"So you’ll have time to go into the dungeon."

"But—"

"Don’t worry about it."

Rowan cut him off before he could continue.

"We can handle it."

"That’s more work for both of you."

"So?" Finn opened his mouth, but Rowan looked over at him before he could argue. "You’ve never asked for anything."

Finn went quiet. He couldn’t find the words to reply.

"Even when we were kids," Rowan continued. "You were always the one saying you were fine with whatever we had."

"That’s not true."

"It absolutely is."

Finn looked away.

Rowan smiled slightly. "We want you to be able to do something you want to do."

Something stung behind Finn’s eyes. He quickly rubbed at one before Rowan could notice.

Unfortunately, Rowan noticed. "Oh, don’t start."

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m not crying."

"I didn’t say crying."

Finn glared at him.

Rowan laughed.

Finn looked toward his sword again, and the feeling in his chest only grew heavier. He would bring something home. Something useful.

Money, a weapon, anything.

If his father and brother were going to work harder so he could enter the dungeon, then he would make sure it meant something. He reached beneath his pillow and put the adventurer plate away properly before getting out of bed.

His sword waited beside the wall.

Today suddenly felt much longer than it had a few minutes ago.

The plowing began before sunrise. By the time the sky started turning orange, Finn’s hands already hurt, but he kept going.

The old plow dragged heavily through the soil while the horse pulled ahead at a steady pace. Finn guided it through one line, turned, and started another.

His shirt was sticking to his back before morning had properly begun, and normally he would have paced himself. Today, every time his arms started aching, he thought about Rowan and his father taking the larger fields and pushed a little harder.

By late afternoon, the field behind him was almost completely turned. Finn finally stopped long enough to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Finn!"

He looked toward the house. His mother was walking across the field carrying a pitcher and several cups.

"Break!"

Finn did not argue. By the time he reached the edge of the field, Rowan and his father were already there.

His mother handed him a cup of water.

"Drink slowly."

Finn nodded and drank anyway. The cool water felt better than anything he could remember.

His father walked over and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"You’ve done good today."

Finn looked back toward the field. "You think?"

"That field usually takes us two full days." His father smiled. "You’ve almost finished it in one."

Finn looked down at his hands. He had pushed himself harder than he realized.

"I didn’t want you and Rowan doing extra work because of me."

His father’s arm tightened slightly around him. "We know."

Finn looked up.

"After you rest, you can go."

"Really?"

His father laughed. "You think we worked all this out just to change our minds?"

Finn smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Just don’t stay out too late."

"I won’t."

"And don’t do anything stupid."

"I won’t."

Rowan took a drink nearby. "That one I don’t believe."

Finn looked over. "I’m not stupid."

"I didn’t say you were."

Finn narrowed his eyes while Rowan smiled into his cup.

His father laughed and gave Finn’s shoulder one last squeeze before letting go.

Finn looked toward the forest, and somehow the exhaustion from the day did not feel nearly as heavy anymore.

He was going back.