Deliveries.
Always deliveries.
If I had known owning a convenience store meant I'd be running takeout into a monster-infested death labyrinth every other day, I would've invested in a laundromat. At least socks don't try to eat you.
But here I was again, plastic bags swinging at my side, dungeon map flickering in my head, heading toward the eastern passage where a group of adventurers had placed a massive order of instant noodles and fried chicken.
The first half was normal. Which, by dungeon standards, meant I only got startled by two bats and one skeleton that wanted to sell me life insurance.
It wasn't until I turned down a narrow, damp tunnel that things... shifted.
The air was heavy.
The ground squishy.
Too squishy.
I stopped, lifted one shoe, and grimaced. It wasn't dirt. It was slime.
And then the walls started moving.
Slimes.
Dozens of them.
Blue, green, and one disturbingly purple, oozing down the walls like jelly waterfalls.
"Ah, crap."
I took a careful step back, holding the bag of chicken like it was some kind of holy relic.
"Alright, listen, fellas. This is not for you. This is clearly for paying customers. Paying. Customers. You guys don't even have wallets."
The purple slime quivered like it understood... then launched itself straight at my face.
"SPICY!" I yelled, half out of desperation.
There was a blur of orange light from behind me.
My tiny, toddler-voiced familiar came waddling up, arms outstretched like he was charging into battle.
"Bad jelly! Bad jelly! Spicy burn!!"
WHOOSH.
A blast of fire shot out of his mouth, catching the purple slime mid-air. It squealed like a boiling kettle and splattered across the tunnel.
The green slimes hesitated. The blue ones jiggled nervously.
Spicy hiccupped.
A spark shot out.
And suddenly half the tunnel was on fire.
"SPICY!" I screeched, dragging him back by the scruff of his neck before the chicken caught flames.
Still, the fire did the trick. The slimes retreated, oozing back into cracks and shadows, leaving the corridor steaming and reeking of burnt jelly.
I panted, clutching the delivery bag. My shirt smelled like roasted marshmallows and regret.
"That" I muttered, glaring at Spicy, "is exactly why you're not coming on deliveries."
Spicy tilted his head, eyes wide, voice small.
"But... Daddy needed help."
My chest tightened. Damn it. How was I supposed to stay mad at that?
By the time I reached the adventurers' camp, I looked like I'd crawled through a furnace.
"Order for Party of Five?" I croaked.
The leader, a cheerful dwarf with braids in his beard, clapped me on the back hard enough to almost dislodge a lung.
"Right on time, lad! Oho, smells good!"
"Yeah, smells like trauma," I muttered, handing over the bags.
He shoved a handful of gold into my palm without counting.
"Best delivery service in the dungeon! Tell that little fire creature of yours thanks for the entertainment."
I froze. "Wait. You saw that?"
"Whole thing" the dwarf chuckled.
"Was like watching a comedy show. Good lad, that one."
Spicy peeked out of the delivery bag I'd stuffed him into, grinning proudly.
"Heehee! Spicy hero!"
Back at the store, I collapsed behind the counter, rubbing my temples.
That was when the Dungeon appeared.
"You were... attacked."
I looked up. "Gee, you don't say."
"No. Not randomly." Its voice was heavier, sharper. "Those slimes did not act of their own will. They were sent."
"...Sent? By who?"
The Dungeon's form flickered. Its voice dropped.
"By another Dungeon."
I stared at it, heart pounding.
So the spies weren't just nosing around.
They were already making moves.
Points Earned: +120
Balance: 1,485