Grimmand kicked a massive slab of the Void Knight's black armor. It didn't dissolve like the biological monsters. The Construct's remains were staying put, and they were made of high-grade void stone.
"We have a problem," the dwarf grunted, trying to lift a pauldron the size of a beer keg. "This stuff is worth a fortune. Smiths in the capital kill for void stone. But this piece alone weighs eighty pounds. My inventory is full. Tamsin is full. Carlos, unless you want to strap this to your back and crawl to the fourth floor, we have to leave it."
"We are not leaving void stone," Elara said, eyeing the loot hungrily. "That is essential for high-tier mana conduits. But Grimmand is right. We are at capacity. We physically cannot carry it."
Jacob stepped forward, adjusting the shoulder strap of his rough-spun canvas sack. It looked like a standard farm bag, the kind used for carrying a few loaves of bread and some cheese, but it hung loosely against his back despite being packed with his own supplies.
"I can carry it," Jacob said.
Tamsin snorted. "Kid, I appreciate the spirit, but that pauldron is bigger than your torso. You would crumble like a biscuit."
"No, I mean inside the bag," Jacob clarified. He swung the sack off his shoulder and opened the drawstring.
Carlos watched, curious. The bag looked barely large enough to hold a melon.
Jacob walked over to the massive stone pauldron. He grabbed the edge of the sack and held it open.
"Grimmand, drop it in," Jacob said.
Grimmand looked at Carlos. Carlos shrugged. "Humor him."
The dwarf heaved the eighty-pound slab of jagged stone into the air and dropped it toward the small opening of the sack.
It should have ripped the fabric apart. It should have gotten stuck in the opening.
Instead, the mouth of the sack seemed to ripple. The fabric stretched impossibly wide, swallowing the massive object whole without a sound. The pauldron vanished into the dark interior.
Jacob pulled the drawstring tight. The bag returned to its normal, small size. It didn't look lumpy. It didn't look strained.
Jacob swung it back over his shoulder with one hand.
"See?" Jacob said. "I have plenty of room. I enchanted the weave with a flexibility aspect so it stretches without tearing, and I added a lightness lattice to the bottom so the weight doesn't pull on the straps. I was upgrading it last night while we were taking turns napping."
Silence descended on the group again.
Tamsin stared at his own expensive leather adventurer's pack, which was currently bursting at the seams and digging into his shoulders. Then he looked at the farm boy's magical void-bag.
"You made a Distortion Bag," Elara whispered, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Spatial magic is supposed to be a lost art. High-tier enchanters charge thousands of gold for a pouch that holds twenty pounds. You . . . you made a sack that eats boulders."
Carlos felt that familiar prickle at the back of his neck.
Combat Insight Triggered
Target: Rough Canvas Sack
Analysis: Spatial distortion detected. Internal volume exceeds external dimensions by 500%. Mass negation active.
Anomaly: Enchantment method non-standard. Weave altered at fiber level.
Strategic Suggestion: Do not let the Merchants Guild see this bag.
Economic destabilization risk: High.
Carlos closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Of course you did," Carlos sighed, the exhaustion finally winning out over the surprise. "Why wouldn't you?"
He looked at the rest of the scattered void stone rubble.
"Alright," Carlos said, his voice flat. "Load him up. Give him the stone. Give him the extra hides and the heavy cores. Apparently, our asset is also a pack mule."
"Best. Escort. Quest. Ever," Tamsin declared, dumping a heavy stack of raptor claws into Jacob's bag.
"Let's move," Carlos ordered, turning toward the gate to the fourth floor. "Before I start asking questions that I don't want the answers to.
"Another floor, another roll," Tamsin said, wiping void dust from his daggers. "I am starting to like this anomaly life. It is very generous."
The blue notification hovered in the air, offering the third skill upgrade of the dungeon.
[Reward: Upgrade for one skill (one per team)]
"My turn," Grimmand growled, stepping up to the interface. "If I lose this one, I am filing a formal complaint with the System."
"You cannot file a complaint with a metaphysical construct," Elara noted, though she looked tired. The constant spellcasting on the third floor had drained her reserves, even with the potions.
"Watch me," Grimmand muttered. He punched the holographic die.
[Grimmand rolls: 18]
"Ha!" The dwarf pumped a fist in the air. "Eighteen! Beat that, you luck-stealing rogue."
Tamsin rolled a four. Carlos rolled a ten. Elara, rubbing her temples, rolled a three.
"Justice!" Grimmand roared. He didn't hesitate. He selected his skill immediately.
[Skill Upgraded: Iron Skin -> Mithril Weave]
Effect: Passive physical resistance increased by 15%. Active activation hardens skin to withstand piercers and crushers for 10 seconds.
"About time," Grimmand grinned, tapping his chest. His skin shimmered with a faint, metallic sheen for a second. "Now I can actually take a hit without denting my ribs. Let's go see the boss."
They moved through the gate.
The transition to the fourth floor was jarring.
The violent purple grass of the third floor did not just stop. It rotted. The ground beneath their feet turned from firm earth to a sucking, wet slush within fifty meters. The air grew heavy and smelled of sulfur and stagnant water.
"Terrain change," Carlos warned as his boots squelched in the mud. "Watch your footing. This is a swamp biome."
The arena was massive. It was a partially submerged basin where the dying grasslands bled into a murky, black bog. Skeletal trees jutted out of the water like grasping hands. Patches of dry land were scarce and connected only by treacherous sandbars.
In the center of the bog, something massive was waiting.
It stood on four legs with the sheer, muscular bulk of a prize bull, but that was where the similarity ended. Thick, moss-green scales armored its shoulders and flanks as they overlapped like the plating of a swamp lizard. Its tail was long and thick, thrashing the water into foam.
Its head was a nightmare of biology. It had the snout of a bull but was armored with bone plates. Two massive, forward-swept horns looked designed to punch through castle gates.
It snorted, and a cloud of black gas hissed from its nostrils.
Combat Insight Triggered
Target: Swamp Behemoth (Dungeon Boss)
State: Empowered (300% Mana Density)
Aura: Necrotic Miasma. Continuous area-of-effect debuff.
Suggested Action: Purify the air immediately. Do not engage in melee while Miasma is active.
"It is empowered," Carlos hissed as he read the prompt. "Three hundred percent density. That is not F-rank. That is barely E-rank. That is approaching a calamitous spawn."
The Behemoth saw them. It did not roar. It simply lowered its armored head and charged.
The ground shook. Water sprayed twenty feet into the air as the monster tore through the bog. It closed the distance with terrifying speed.
"Shields!" Carlos yelled.
Grimmand stepped forward with his new Mithril Weave skill flaring. He planted his feet in the mud and locked shields with Carlos.
"Brace!"
The Behemoth hit them like a runaway train.
CRUNCH.
The impact drove both tanks back ten feet. The mud offered no traction. They plowed deep furrows into the earth as mud sprayed up to their waists. Carlos felt the impact distribution rune on his chest plate scream as it dumped kinetic energy. It glowed white-hot against the strain.
"Hold!" Grimmand roared. His skin turned silver as he ate the force that should have crushed his bones.
The Behemoth reared back. It seemed annoyed that the little metal men had not popped. It opened its mouth.
It did not bite. It exhaled.
A thick, oily cloud of black fog rolled out to engulf the frontline.
"Miasma!" Tamsin choked as he retreated instantly. "It burns!"
Carlos felt his strength sap instantly. His limbs felt like lead. His stamina bar plummeted.
[Status Effect: Necrotic Rot. Strength reduced by 50%. Stamina regeneration halted.]
"Elara! Light!" Carlos gagged. He swung blindly to keep the beast back.
"I am on it!" Elara yelled. She raised her staff and began chanting the incantation for Solar Flare. It was a light spell designed to burn away impurities.
"Orio-Lantis . . ."
The Behemoth's eyes snapped toward her. It knew. The dungeon had made it smart.
It stomped its front hooves. A wave of black mud and water erupted from the swamp. It carried the concentrated miasma with it. The wave crashed over Elara before she could finish the syllable.