The chamber was quiet now.

  It wasn’t peace. Peace didn’t feel like this. This was the silence of something unfinished. A breath held. Waiting for what came next.

  The cleric’s body was dragged across the stone, her robes streaked with dust and blood. The mage and the rogue knelt where they’d been left, wrists bound. No weapons. Nothing left that made them dangerous.

  I should have felt victorious.

  I didn’t.

  I looked at them. The rogue was tense but still. The mage was shaking from exhaustion, his fingers twitching like they were trying to reach for a spell that wasn’t there. Neither of them looked at me. They stared at the ground, or at the kobolds shifting nearby. Waiting.

  They weren’t fighting anymore.

  They had lost.

  And for one long, quiet moment, I thought about how easy it would be to end it.

  I didn’t have mana. No reserves. But if I waited a few hours... I’d have enough. Just one fireball. One incantation, and it would be over. No more threats. No more adventurers. No more wondering if they’d come back with reinforcements and finish what they started. Or I could let the kobolds do… well, whatever it is kobolds do with humans.

  I could kill them.

  Maybe I should.

  But I was tired of endings. Tired of rubble and blood and everything breaking just to keep the lights on.

  I let out a slow breath. “Cut them loose.”

  Krix hesitated. His tail flicked. His claws curled. He didn’t like it. None of them did. The kobolds shuffled behind him, anxious, their yellow eyes flicking between me and the prisoners. Waiting for me to change my mind.

  I didn’t.

  Krix moved first. He sliced through the rogue’s bindings with a flick of his little talons. She didn’t react. Just let her arms fall into her lap, like she was waiting for a trick. He did the same to the mage, who rubbed his wrists, wincing as circulation returned.

  “You are not welcome here,” I said. My voice was quiet. Final. “Neither is anyone who comes here to kill or steal.”

  The rogue finally looked up. Wary. Sharp.

  “And if we come back?”

  I met her eyes. Empty sockets to guarded brown.

  “Then I won’t be so forgiving.”

  She held my gaze a moment longer, then gave the smallest nod.

  I turned to Krix.

  “Gather the dead. Put them at the entrance.”

  The rogue flinched. Barely. A small shift of her shoulders. But I saw it.

  Neither of them spoke.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Slowly, they stood. The mage was stiff. Limping. Careful. They turned toward the exit, their footsteps soft and measured.

  They didn’t make it far.

  “Wait,” I said.

  The rogue stopped immediately. Her whole body tensed. Her breath shallowed. Like a trapped animal, waiting for the snap.

  It was strange, seeing someone look at me like that. Like I was something dangerous.

  I walked over. Took her hands. She didn’t resist, but her expression turned wary—something caught between fear and disgust.

  I removed her gloves.

  There, on her finger, was the ring.

  Grib’s ring.

  She’d taken it from his body. Souvenir or trophy, I didn’t know. I touched it. Felt the soft hum of the enchantment still clinging to it.

  “This doesn’t belong to you.”

  “By all means,” she said, holding her hand out.

  I slipped the ring free. Stared at it for a moment. My grip tightened.

  She didn’t move.

  I looked up at her. Then back down.

  “Now,” I said, voice flat. “Please. Get the fuck out.”

  She didn’t hesitate this time.

  Once they were gone, I let myself breathe.

  Metaphorically, obviously.

  I found a discarded bucket in the rubble. Flipped it over. Sat down.

  It wasn’t a throne. But it would do.

  And this wasn’t the kind of sitting that meant bracing for the next attack. Or recovering from the last one. For the first time since I’d woken up like this, there was nothing chasing me.

  The adventurers were gone.

  The knight was... someone else’s problem. For now.

  The dungeon was mine. Two full floors of it.

  And I was still here.

  The kobolds were already moving. Clearing rubble. Checking wounds. Doing whatever kobolds did after surviving a fight they had no business surviving. A few just sat, stunned. Still trying to understand they were alive.

  And then there was Grib.

  I barely noticed him until he was standing in front of me. Looking up. That same manic, impossible energy radiating off him. Still undimmed, even after death. The slime on his shoulder wobbled gently, pulsing in the low light.

  Grib stared at me for a long moment, like he was weighing something very serious.

  I sighed and held out my hand. “Here.”

  He blinked. I dropped the ring into his palm.

  For a second, he didn’t move. Just stared at it, face unreadable. Then his expression cracked wide open into a grin. All sharp teeth and unfiltered joy.

  “Boss find Grib’s ring!” he crowed, spinning it in his fingers like it was some kind of sacred relic. His eyes gleamed as he slid it back onto his bony green hand. “Grib knew Boss was best!”

  “I literally took it off a thief five minutes ago.”

  “Boss still best,” he said, absolutely certain.

  I snorted and shook my head. He just grinned harder, practically vibrating.

  Then, with a strange kind of solemnity, he held out the blob of sentient goo.

  “Boss look tired,” he said. “Here. Hold slime.”

  I blinked.

  I stared at the wobbling mass in his hands. It jiggled.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out and took it.

  It made a faint, wet blorp as it settled into my palm. Warm. Soft. Heavier than it looked.

  I had no idea what to say.

  Grib nodded like I’d just been entrusted with a sacred duty.

  The silence stretched.

  “…Right,” I said, resting my free hand against my skull. “That’s... exactly what I needed.”

  I smiled. Couldn’t help it.

  Grib beamed, satisfied.

  I let out something close to a sigh. The dungeon was still standing. The kobolds were alive. Grib was alive.

  It wasn’t quiet anymore. Not exactly. Water still dripped in the distance. Stone shifted. Kobolds murmured to each other in low, tired voices.

  But the noise didn’t put me on edge this time. It wasn’t something sneaking up on me.

  Not adventurers. Not overgrown brutes with one eye. Not choices I didn’t want to make.

  Just life. Or unlife as it were.

  Welp. That happened. Book 1 is officially in the can, folks. Wrapped up. Finished. Kaput.

  Seriously though, you all reading along? You're the absolute best. Like, finding-an-extra-healing-potion-you-forgot-about levels of best. Every follow, every rating, every comment. Thank you, thank you, thank you. From the bottom of my slightly caffeine-addled heart.

  Alright. Deep breath. Onwards! To Book 2! Let's do this!

  Tomorrow we'll have two short stories going up as a quick breather and then we'll segue right into chapter 1 of book 2! Same Bone King time, same Bone King day.

  Love,

  Tony