They found the boss chamber forty minutes after the rest stop.
The kobold chieftain was big. Ugly. Covered in scars that told stories of a hundred fights it had won. It swung a club the size of a refrigerator and screamed orders at its guards in a language that sounded like gravel in a blender.
It took them fifteen minutes to bring it down.
Reyes landed the killing blow. His spear punched through the chieftain's chest and out its back, pinning it to the cavern wall like a bug in a display case. The creature twitched once. Twice. Then dissolved into dust and left behind a pile of crystals and a crude iron crown.
"Gate clear!" Rodriguez pumped his fist. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Cheers went up. High fives exchanged. The newbie kid looked like he was about to cry from relief.
Rome leaned against a stalagmite and caught his breath. His arm still ached from earlier, phantom pain from poison that wasn't there anymore. Kiona had done good work. Too good. He still owed her dinner.
Focus on that later. Money first.
The loot was decent. Not great, but decent. The chieftain's crystals alone would net them a few hundred each after the Association took their cut. Combined with everything else they'd collected, Rome was looking at maybe eight hundred dollars. Enough to cover groceries and put a dent in next month's rent.
Not bad for a morning's work.
"Alright, people." Reyes pulled his spear free from the wall. "Standard sweep. Check for secondary chambers, hidden passages, the usual. Then we head back and—"
"Hey! Over here!"
The shout came from Patterson. The old man stood near the far wall of the boss chamber, his hand pressed against what looked like solid stone.
"There's something behind this. I can feel air coming through."
Reyes frowned. He walked over. Pressed his own hand to the wall. His frown deepened.
"He's right. There's a gap. Maybe a passage."
The hunters gathered around. Someone produced a small pickaxe. Ten minutes of careful work revealed a seam in the rock. Twenty minutes after that, they'd pried open a hidden doorway that absolutely should not have existed.
Beyond it lay a corridor. Long. Dark. Leading somewhere the Association's gate survey had never mapped.
"A double dungeon," someone whispered. "Holy shit. It's a double dungeon."
Rome felt his stomach drop.
Double dungeons were rare. Maybe one in every few hundred gates. Hidden areas that contained their own ecosystems, their own monsters, their own bosses. They were also incredibly valuable. The loot inside a double dungeon could be worth ten times what the main gate produced.
But they were dangerous. Way above One-Star paygrade.
"Standard procedure." Reyes held up a hand before anyone could move. "We report this to the Association. They send a properly rated team to investigate. We get forty percent of whatever they find as a finder's fee."
"Forty percent?" The spear woman crossed her arms. "That's bullshit. We found it. We cleared the gate. Why should some Five-Star team waltz in and take the majority?"
"Because those are the rules."
"Rules we can bend."
"Rules that exist so people don't die chasing treasure above their Star Grade."
The argument spread through the group like fire. Half the hunters wanted to follow protocol. Call it in. Take the safe money and go home. The other half saw dollar signs and weren't about to let some pencil-pusher's regulations get in the way.
Rome stayed quiet. Watched. Listened.
Forty percent of a double dungeon haul could still be decent. Couple thousand each, maybe. Enough to matter.
But a hundred percent...
A hundred percent of a double dungeon...
I could send her to college.
I could move us out of that apartment. Somewhere with actual space. A suburb. Trees. A yard, maybe.
I could buy her a car so she doesn't have to take the bus at night anymore.
I could actually be a good big brother for once.
"We vote." Reyes's voice cut through the noise. "That's the only fair way. Everyone gets a say. Majority wins."
People shuffled into two groups. Continue or report. Risk or safety.
The count came quick.
Eight to continue. Eight to report.
Tied.
All eyes turned to Rome.
He was the only one who hadn't voted yet.
"Well?" Reyes looked at him. Waited. "What's it gonna be, kid?"
Rome pushed off the stalagmite. Rolled his shoulders. Cracked his neck.
Calypso deserves better than what I've given her.
She deserves everything.
"Continue."
The word left his mouth before he could second-guess it.
Reyes closed his eyes. Sighed. "Alright. Majority wins. We go in. But we go careful. First sign of anything above our grade, we pull back. No arguments. Everyone agreed?"
Nods all around.
"Then let's move."
The corridor went on for what felt like forever.
Torches lined the walls. Actual torches. Burning with flames that never flickered or dimmed. The stone beneath their feet was smooth. Too smooth. Like someone had polished it by hand over centuries.
This wasn't a natural formation. Someone had built this place.
That's not ominous at all.
The passage opened into a chamber.
Rome stopped breathing.
Gold.
Mountains of it. Coins piled in drifts against the walls. Jewelry scattered across the floor like someone had upended a dragon's hoard. Weapons with gemstone hilts. Armor that gleamed even in the torchlight. Chests overflowing with treasures that sparkled in colors Rome didn't have names for.
And surrounding it all, standing in a perfect circle, twelve statues.
They towered over the room. Twenty feet tall, maybe more. Carved from black stone that seemed to drink the light. Each one depicted a figure in robes, face hidden beneath a deep hood, hands clasped in front of them. They looked ancient. Powerful. Wrong in a way Rome couldn't quite articulate.
"Holy shit." Rodriguez's voice came out as a whisper. "We hit the jackpot."
The tension broke. Hunters rushed forward. Hands grabbed at coins, at jewelry, at anything they could reach. Bags were produced. Pockets were stuffed. Someone was actually crying, tears streaming down his face as he shoved gold pieces into his bookbag.
Rome didn't move.
Something felt off.
Too easy. This is too easy.
"Rome."
Kiona appeared at his side. Her arms were crossed. Her eyes moved across the room with the same suspicion he felt.
"You're not grabbing anything."
"Neither are you."
"This doesn't feel right."
"No. It doesn't."
They watched together as the other hunters looted with abandon. Gold vanished into bags. Gems disappeared into pockets. Nobody collapsed. Nobody triggered any traps. Nothing happened.
Minutes passed.
Patterson held up a golden chalice and whooped like he'd won the lottery. Rodriguez was trying to figure out how to carry a diamond-encrusted shield. The newbie kid had tears streaming down his face as he filled his backpack.
Kiona's shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"Maybe I'm being paranoid." She uncrossed her arms. "They're fine. Everyone's fine."
"Yeah." Rome watched a hunter pocket a ruby the size of his fist. "Maybe."
But his feet still wouldn't move toward the treasure.
Instead, they carried him toward one of the statues.
This one was different from the others. Its hands weren't clasped. They were extended. Held out in front of it like an offering. And resting in those stone palms was a tablet. Dark metal. Covered in text.
Latin text.
Rome squinted at the words.
Okay, brain. Time to justify four years of a dead language.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory. The old man in his study, surrounded by books that smelled like dust and history. Pushing vocabulary cards across the desk. Drilling conjugations until Rome wanted to scream.
"It's in your blood, boy. Our family has always known the old tongue. You will too."
Rome had hated those lessons. Resented them. Couldn't understand why his grandfather cared so much about a language nobody spoke anymore.
But he'd learned. Because the old man was stubborn and Rome was stubborner, and somewhere along the way the grammar had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter he couldn't remove.
"Aurum... tacet... sed... vigiles... non dormiunt..." He read the first line aloud. His pronunciation was rough. Rusty. The words felt like stones in his mouth.
Gold... is silent... but... the watchers... do not sleep.
Okay. Cryptic. Thanks, ancient assholes.
"Manus... quae... capiunt... capientur..."
The hands... that take... will be taken.
Still not helpful.
"Cum... umbra... quintum... gradum... tangit..."
When... the shadow... touches... the fifth... step?
Rome's eyes moved from the tablet. Scanned the room. Found a pillar near the wall with markings carved into it. Roman numerals. I through XII. A shadow fell across it from one of the torches, the edge resting between the fourth and fifth mark.
A sundial. It's a countdown.
His throat tightened.
"...oculi... aperientur... et... iudicium... sine... misericordia."
...eyes... will open... and... judgment... without... mercy.
"Rome?" Kiona had followed him. She stood at his shoulder, looking at the tablet with confusion. "What does it say?"
Rome stared at the words. Read them again. His grandfather's voice echoed in his skull, correcting his grammar, pushing him to find the meaning beneath the meaning.
Gold is silent but the watchers don't sleep.
The hands that take will be taken.
When the shadow touches the fifth step, eyes will open.
He looked at the pillar. The shadow crept closer to the V.
Judgment without mercy.
Rome turned around.
The hunters were still looting. Still laughing. Still celebrating their windfall with no idea what was about to happen.
He turned more.
The doorway. The massive stone arch they'd walked through to enter this chamber. The one that had been wide open, welcoming them into paradise.
It was almost fully shut.