(I'm posting one extra chapter since we made it into the New Release section, and small wins deserve to be celebrated. So tomorrow you'll get only 2 chapters.)
Dawn seeped pale and quiet through the tent fabric.
Phong woke first.
For a second, he forgot where he was.
Then he felt it.
Warmth.
Weight.
Alexandra's arm lay loose across him. Her head tucked under his chin. Her breathing steady.
His brain, tragically, chose that exact moment to stop filtering his mouth.
"You're surprisingly soft to hold."
Silence.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
Idiot. That sounded objectifying. That sounded shallow. That sounded—
She shifted, tightened her hold instead of pulling away.
"You're comfortable too," she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
He blinked.
"…I didn't mean—"
"I know," she said, light as a shrug.
She tilted her head just enough to look at him, eyes amused.
"You said it like a cat discovering blankets."
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"That bad?"
She laughed quietly.
"Relax."
He groaned and buried his face in the pillow for a second.
She nudged him.
"You overthink."
"You noticed."
They laughed together, and the tension evaporated.
Outside, boots crunched against soil.
Dominic's voice carried.
"Ohhh, look at that. Lovebirds finally up?"
Phong froze.
Alexandra didn't.
She called back without raising her voice, "Mind your own relationship."
Dominic cackled.
Janet's voice snapped in immediately.
"Dominic. Tools. Now."
He coughed and retreated.
Phong pressed his forehead lightly to Alexandra's.
"Welcome to Stymphalian."
She smiled faintly.
"I'm starting to like it."
Outside, camp had shifted into quiet prep mode.
Jake reinforced fence posts.
Jack rearranged chili clusters for cleaner launch angles.
Joanne checked garlic mine spacing near the shoreline.
Janet paced among them like a field engineer.
"Assume a third skirmish," she said. "Don't assume surrender."
The Moletato network hummed low beneath the soil.
The lime tree swayed.
The trolls remained silhouettes on the mountain ridge, watchful.
Then the lake stirred.
Everyone paused.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
A single figure rose from the water.
No formation. No mage escort. No infantry behind.
One lizardman.
Unarmored, except for ceremonial scale plating along the shoulders. No trident. Hands visible.
He walked toward shore at an unhurried pace and stopped at the edge of chili range.
He bowed his head slightly.
"I am Envoy Thassir of Lake Baratok."
Not Ssarath.
A different voice. Still controlled.
"We come under banner of negotiation."
Dominic glanced at Phong.
Alexandra stood just behind him, blade unmanifested.
Phong stepped forward.
"Speak."
Thassir drew in a single breath.
"Lake Baratok acknowledges the strength of Camp Stymphalian."
Pause.
"War is costly."
Understatement.
"You have demonstrated capability."
Another pause.
"We propose formal vassal arrangement."
Dominic snorted under his breath.
Thassir kept his voice smooth.
"On record only."
That made Janet's eyes sharpen.
"Camp Stymphalian shall be recognized as a vassal state of Lake Baratok. However," Thassir said, emphasizing the word, "the Scaled Throne shall hold no authority over your internal governance."
"No interference in operations."
"No command rights."
"No levy."
Janet's eyebrows lifted.
"In exchange," Thassir continued, "Camp Stymphalian shall deliver one hundred units of what you call 'Bonktato' per moon cycle."
He pronounced it with care.
"Our scholars refer to it as Rootbreaker."
Dominic whispered, "Metal name."
Thassir continued.
"No percentage tax."
"No expansion clause."
"Fixed tribute."
"In return—"
He gestured to the lake.
"Trade lanes open."
"Oysters."
"Crawlfish."
"Scaled fish."
"Waterborne materials."
"All members of Camp Stymphalian recognized as protected under Lake Baratok. No lizardman shall harm you henceforth."
A beat.
"If declined, Lake Baratok commits to prolonged war."
"Months."
"Until submission or annihilation."
Silence settled over the shoreline.
The offer cut clean.
Measured.
Pride intact.
Vassal in name. Independent in practice.
Trade disguised as tribute.
Sharper and simpler than human diplomacy.
Dominic looked at Phong, quiet for once.
Jake, Jack, and Joanne watched with careful faces.
Janet's mind clearly sprinted through logistics.
Alexandra stayed silent. She watched him, letting him choose.
Phong weighed it.
He thought about the Level 30 threshold Alexandra hovered just beneath. She would not stay behind like some damsel while they bled through months of war. If the fighting continued, she would hit 30 and evolve far sooner than they wanted.
Then the opportunity cost.
More conflict meant Dominic's team stayed anchored here for months.
No family. No friends. No surface life. No deeper dives. No income they could explain without raising suspicion.
They had lives outside of him.
Phong couldn't force them to stall here just because he wanted everything at once.
And there were upsides.
Fish. Shrimp. Clams.
Water infrastructure. Mutual protection. A lake full of lizardmen would make other divers steer clear, which made Camp Stymphalian safer.
He looked at Thassir.
"You call it vassal."
"Yes."
"But you don't command us."
"No."
"You don't interfere."
"No."
"We pay 'tribute' on paper, but in practice it's trade."
"Yes."
"And you protect."
"Yes."
"And if we trade one hundred Bonktatoes per month, no more, no less…"
"We will trade you lake delicacies of equal worth."
Phong nodded once.
"Then we accept."
Dominic exhaled slowly.
Janet eased a fraction.
Alexandra's posture loosened.
Thassir bowed again.
"Lake Baratok acknowledges Camp Stymphalian as honored vassal."
"Trade begins at next tide."
He turned and walked back into the lake. The water sealed behind him.
Rico popped out from behind a crate.
"…We have fish diplomats."
Dominic slapped Phong on the back.
"Well fucking done, farmboy. You just established the first diplomatic relation between humans and a dungeon civilization."
Phong shook his head.
"It's trade."
Janet smiled faintly.
"Even better."
The trolls on the mountain rumbled in curiosity but didn't descend.
They would adapt. They always did.
Camp Stymphalian stood between troll mountain and Lake Baratok, officially recognized as a force to be reckoned with.
No blood spilled today.
No months-long siege.
No stalled progress.
Phong looked at Alexandra.
She stepped closer.
"You chose stability."
He nodded.
"I don't want you stuck here."
She smiled faintly.
"Then let's not waste it. At least not more than we have to."
Behind them, the garden stirred.
The lime tree shimmered.
Garlic mines lay dormant.
Onions breathed quietly.
War had tried to swallow them.
Instead, they negotiated.
And the farm endured.
They split the next morning.
Dominic, Janet, Jake, Jack, and Joanne packed light but moved with purpose.
Floor Two.
Grinding levels again. Slow and careful. No spotlight.
Dominic clasped Phong's forearm.
"I'm hitting the road, farmboy. Don't start another war while I'm gone, yeah?"
"If you can convince my plants, I'm all for boring peace."
Dominic backed up with both hands raised, smiling.
Janet gave Alexandra a look.
"Don't hit Level 30 without us."
Alexandra smirked.
"I'll try not to evolve out of boredom."
They headed toward the mountain trail, trolls watching from higher ground like massive mossy sentries.
The camp went quiet immediately.
Lighter.
Different.
Phong turned to Alexandra.
"So."
"So," she echoed.
"We're going up."
"Yes."
"With the animals."
"Yes."
"And visiting Selena."
"Yes."
She paused.
"And doing couple stuff."
Phong blinked.
"Define—"
She cut him off with a look.
"Normal human activities."
"Oh."
He nodded fast.
"Right."
She studied him for a second.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Call me Alex."
He frowned.
"Alex?"
"Yes."
"Not Alexandra."
"That's formal."
He hesitated.
"In Vietnamese we don't really—"
"Nicknames?" she finished.
He nodded.
"Our names are one syllable already."
She tipped her head.
"Then I'll make one for you."
He braced.
"…Okay."
She smirked.
"Mudskipper."
He blinked.
"What?"
"Mudskipper."
She stepped closer as they walked.
"Lives between water and land. Thrives in impossible environments. Adaptable. Stubborn."
He processed it.
Ugly little fish. Hard to kill. Tastes good with wine too.
Kinda like him.
"…I like it."
"I know," she said simply.
They walked toward the Gate together.
The puppy trotted happily.
The kitten rode in a sling across Alex's shoulder like royalty.
Rico strutted dramatically.
They didn't walk alone.
At a distance, two trolls shadowed the mountain ridge.
At the lake edge, a pair of lizardfolk glided through the shallows.
Escort.
Protection.
Balance.
Neither side approached closer than necessary.
Once the Gate came into view, the escorts peeled away.
An open alliance between monsters and humans would cause political meltdown if exposed. The system already smelled like corruption. Neither Phong nor Alex trusted it.
Better to keep this contained.
They stepped through the Gate.
New York air hit different after weeks in dungeon humidity.
Taxi horns. Cold wind. City noise.
Normal.
Hà Nội Corner greeted them with roasted robusta and Long's loud voice.
"Ah! My farmer!"
He stopped mid-wipe when he saw Alex.
Then he squinted.
"You'll lose this, coffee wizard, and badly too. Mark my words."
Dominic's voice echoed in memory.
Long groaned theatrically.
"You two… together?"
Alex folded her arms.
"Yes."
Long slapped the counter.
"Impossible."
Phong leaned forward, already briefed on the bet by Dominic.
"Dominic had an unfair advantage."
Long narrowed his eyes.
"What advantage?"
"He saw us hugging last Christmas."
Long blinked.
"Where?"
"The house. The one that belonged to my uncle."
Long huffed like a cartoon villain.
"That tank man cheating!"
He jabbed a finger at them.
"Fine. I pay."
Then he leaned over the counter, conspiratorial.
"But first, you try something."
Phong and Alex exchanged a look.
"Oh no," Alex murmured.
Long grinned.
"Yoghurt coffee."
He set two glasses in front of them.
It looked harmless.
Coffee layered over thick yogurt. Condensed milk swirling. Ice clinking softly.
They sipped, cautious.
Silence.
Then Alex's face went completely still.
Phong blinked twice.
"It's… sour."
"And sweet," Alex added carefully.
"And bitter," Phong said.
"And creamy," Alex finished.
Long crossed his arms, proud.
"Fusion!"
"If you invented this in 1912, people would remember it as the biggest tragedy of the 20th century," Alex said, blunt and snarky.
Phong nodded slowly.
"I admire the ambition."
Long squinted.
"No culture."
They laughed.
Long relented and made proper salt foam coffee to go.
"One for Mr. Vogel. One for Mrs. Vogel."
He handed over the cups with exaggerated care.
"And no more yoghurt slander."
The Vogel bakery smelled like butter and sugar heaven.
Warm. Bright. Comfortable.
Mr. Vogel was mid-knead when they entered.
Mrs. Vogel arranged pastries behind the counter.
Alex walked in first.
"Morning."
Her parents looked up.
Then at Phong.
Then at the animals.
The kitten blinked regally. The puppy wagged like it might detach its tail.
Mr. Vogel smiled slowly.
"Ah."
Mrs. Vogel's eyes softened.
"Good morning."
They exchanged salt foam coffees like diplomatic gifts.
Mr. Vogel sipped. His brows lifted.
"Interesting."
Mrs. Vogel smiled, approving.
"You two look… comfortable."
Alex didn't deny it.
Phong tried not to look like he'd swallowed a chili.
They stayed a while.
Pretzels. Strudel. Coffee refills.
Normal conversation.
No war talk. No lake kingdoms. No Level 30 pressure.
Just city life.
Afterward, they walked a few blocks to meet Selena.
She'd texted coordinates.
"Neutral ground," she'd said.
They found her outside a small indie bookstore-café hybrid.
She wasn't alone.
Beside her stood a goth-punk girl with short black hair streaked electric blue, heavy eyeliner, layered chains, combat boots.
Confident posture. Sharp smile.
Selena waved, awkward.
"This is Vanessa."
Vanessa looked them over.
"You're the farmer."
Phong blinked.
"…Yes?"
She nodded, satisfied.
"Good content."
Alex leaned in.
"You know her?"
Vanessa smirked.
"Indie diver space."
She tapped her phone.
"I cover non-corporate dungeon ecosystems."
Phong realized he'd seen her.
Short-form deep dives. Analysis on independent groups. Critiques of sponsor monopolies.
She was rising fast in niche circles.
"You're dating," Alex said, plain as daylight.
Selena flushed.
"Secret."
Vanessa leaned in.
"Not secret-secret. Just algorithm quiet."
Phong nodded.
"Smart."
They ended up sitting outside with coffee and pastries.
The animals sprawled comfortably.
Rico declared Vanessa "acceptable."
The kitten inspected her boots.
The puppy tried to climb into Selena's lap.
Vanessa leaned back, studying Phong and Alex together.
"So," she said casually, "you two are canon now?"
Alex snorted.
"Yes."
Phong glanced at her.
"Mudskipper and Alex," she added.
Vanessa's grin widened.
"That's disgustingly cute."
Selena rolled her eyes fondly.
They talked for hours.
Dungeon politics. Shifting patterns. How independent divers dodged sponsor pressure. How dangerous Level 30 visibility could get.
But mostly normal things.
Movies. Food. Terrible coffee experiments. Inside jokes.
Walking back toward the Gate later, Alex bumped his shoulder.
"You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
He looked at her.
"Balance."
She nodded once.
They walked side by side.
Mudskipper and Alex.
Between two worlds.
And for once, the world above felt as steady as the one he'd grown below.
They didn't rush back into the dungeon that evening.
Instead, they stopped at an electronics shop, bought a signal enhancer, and wired it into the small generator back at Camp Stymphalian.
The device hummed once connected.
Stronger bars. Cleaner Wi-Fi calls. Selena's face no longer pixelated mid-sentence.
"Risk of being eavesdropped?" Alex asked lightly as she adjusted the antenna.
"High," Phong admitted.
"Actual reason to eavesdrop on you?" she countered.
"Low."
He wasn't boasting. Just realistic.
If Josh's father, sponsor-backed and image-polished, had cared enough to monitor him, he would've done it months ago. Back when Phong drifted through life like a half-dead monk on a side quest nobody assigned.
Half a year of depression. Half a year of drifting.
If anyone had watched then, they'd have written him off by day twenty.
"Dungeon guru in exile," Alex teased.
He snorted.
"Unintentional branding."
They settled under the lime tree with a tablet propped on a crate.
The news feed streamed live.
Divers. Panels. Politics. Corporate sponsors smiling too wide.
The anchor's tone tightened.
"Breaking developments in global dungeon exploration—"
The screen cut to China.
A young woman stood at the edge of a vast canyon. Rock formations formed two massive hands pressed together like a Buddhist greeting.
Robes layered over modern tactical gear.
Hair tied back.
Eyes calm.
A faint golden aura flickered behind her.
"—the first confirmed human to establish a footing on Floor Three."
Text appeared:
Yue Ting
Class: Taoist Master
Level: 35
Same level as the Troll King. Same level as Lake Baratok's captains.
Phong leaned forward.
"She's their equivalent," Alex murmured.
"Troll tier," he said.
The report continued.
Her expedition had been costly.
Footage showed medical evac teams. Empty boots lined up in rows.
The anchor kept his voice neutral.
"—China's centralized dive infrastructure continues to demonstrate aggressive forward expansion."
Dominic would've whistled at that. China never lacked manpower.
The panel shifted to American commentary.
A senator's voice, sharp with controlled fury:
"We cannot allow authoritarian regimes to monopolize dungeon advancement."
The rhetoric flowed downhill instantly.
Defense contractors smiling.
Sponsorship deals announced.
New funding packages.
Independent reporters and smaller channels tried to speak over the noise.
"Casualty rates have spiked 38% in the last quarter—"
"Independent divers pressured into high-risk expeditions—"
"Floor Two instability escalating—"
The same politicians invoking human rights and democracy quietly incentivized faster, deadlier pushes.
Alex muted the panel.
"They're panicking."
"Yes."
"Superiority complex bruised."
"Yes."
She unmuted.
Another segment rolled.
"While Floor Three claims headlines, mapping efforts on Floor One continue to expand."
A graphic appeared.
Approximately 10% of Floor One had been thoroughly mapped and cataloged.
The most detailed biome data sets?
Japan.
And Ethiopia.
Japan didn't surprise anyone. Their survey grids were meticulous, layered with environmental annotations.
Ethiopia stunned commentators.
Interviews showed small, disciplined dive teams operating with minimal corporate backing.
The anchor tried to spin it into geopolitical strategy.
But the truth was simpler.
Some nations sprinted upward.
Some studied the foundation.
Some burned through people.
Some conserved them.
The screen returned to Yue Ting on Floor Three.
Her gaze steady. Unshaken. Dungeon wind tugging at her sleeves.
Alex watched carefully.
"She looks… grounded."
"She does."
"She's Level 35."
"So are the Troll King and Lake Baratok captains."
Alex glanced at him.
"And we're negotiating with them."
Phong didn't answer.
The signal enhancer hummed.
Selena's icon popped up.
Incoming call.
Alex accepted.
Selena's face appeared crisp and clear.
"You're watching it too?"
"Yes," Alex said.
Selena leaned toward her camera.
"Have to say… this will make the big fish go into a feeding frenzy."
The words hung there.
Big fish. Big corporations. The elites. CEOs. Powerful men like Josh's father.
Camp Stymphalian hummed beneath them.
They hadn't raced for Floor Three.
They had anchored Floor One.
They had negotiated with mountain and lake.
They had built.
The news slid into sponsor ads again.
Smiling divers. Clean armor. Logos brighter than dungeon fire.
Alex muted it.
"You ever think about Floor Three?" she asked, quiet.
Phong looked at the lime tree. The garlic rows. The shoreline where trident and staff stood mounted.
"Gave up chasing the spotlight years ago," he said. "Why do you think I sold socks and energy drinks at the edge of Floor One back then?"
She leaned back.
"That's probably healthier."
Selena's voice came through the call.
"Don't underestimate yourselves."
Phong shook his head.
"Am I?"
"Phong," Selena said. "You're modest, but you've also had pretty low self-esteem. You have to work on that. Honest advice between friends."
Silence settled, comfortable this time.
Above them, the dungeon sky shimmered faintly.
Below them, the Moletato network pulsed steady.
Level 35 humans stepped onto Floor Three.
Governments postured.
Corporations salivated.
And here, Mudskipper and Alex sat under a lime tree with stable Wi-Fi and a generator humming softly.
Between mountain and lake.
Watching the world sprint.
Choosing, quietly, not to.