Phong and Alex sat cross-legged on the cot like an old married couple reviewing taxes.
Except instead of bank statements, they had stat menus.
Alex projected hers casually, a translucent blue screen hovering between them.
"Okay," she said in a mock-serious tone. "Assets and liabilities."
Phong leaned in.
He avoided comparing numbers directly at first.
He scanned the categories.
Level: 29
Class: Mind Blade
HP: triple digits
MP: obscene
STR: 64
DEX: 91
CON: 70
INT: 112
He blinked.
His brain stopped processing after Intelligence.
The 112 stood out like a glass pyramid in the middle of a desert.
Sharp.
Impossible to ignore.
His own screen flickered up when he reluctantly opened it.
Level: 1
EXP: —
STR: 7
DEX: 8
CON: 9
INT: 10
WIS: 8
CHA: 9
Nothing above ten.
If he added every stat he had together, it still would not beat her lowest stat.
Gravity.
Light.
Shifting.
Stats were absolute laws now.
He tried not to stare too long.
Alex noticed anyway.
She tilted her head, playful but gentle.
"You're not competing with me."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He gave a faint shrug.
"It's math."
She reached over and tapped his forehead.
"You're farming monsters smarter than me."
"Farming is a strong word. More like getting them to tolerate me."
"Self-esteem. You held off both the trolls and the lizardmen."
"Fine. Forced tolerance."
"Still impressive."
He did not argue.
He scrolled to her quest tab.
One quest had a red FAILED stamp.
Target: Investigate anomaly near Lake Baratok.
Status: Failed — Expired due to postponement.
No penalty.
No HP loss.
No debuff.
Another quest pulsed beneath it.
Target: Troll King
Objective: Eliminate
Reward: ???
She snorted.
"Hard pass."
"You're ignoring it?"
"Yes."
"No penalty?"
"No."
They sat quietly for a moment.
The dungeon, or whatever system handed out quests, was terrifyingly considerate.
Do it, get rewards.
Ignore it, nothing happens.
No forced choices.
No complete-or-die nonsense.
No manipulation masquerading as destiny.
It respected human agency more than humans did.
Phong stared at that for a while.
The system had never forced him to farm.
It had never forced Alex to kill the Troll King.
It offered.
It nudged.
It stepped back.
Human institutions cornered.
Alex closed her menu and leaned closer.
"I'll be gentler on Love Day."
He groaned.
"You saw the stat gap."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And you should consider eating Stoic Garlic next time."
He choked.
"You want me to buff defense for—"
"For survivability," she said calmly.
"Romance is dangerous terrain."
He buried his face in his hands.
She laughed and kissed his temple.
---
Four days later, Dominic returned.
Not swaggering.
Tense.
Jake's arm was wrapped tight in layered bandages.
Elite mob.
Floor Two.
Ambush.
Dominic had forced it to retreat, but the cost had been too high.
Janet made the call.
Retreat to Camp Stymphalian.
No arguments.
No ego.
Dominic stormed into camp roaring about steak night as if sheer volume could erase the fact that he had nearly lost someone.
"You promised me cow!"
"Freezer," Phong said calmly.
Dominic brightened on the spot.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
A polished voice came through.
"Good evening. Representative of the Farmer Guild."
Alex and Phong exchanged a glance.
Olen.
Or one of his people.
The voice continued, smooth and practiced.
"We've reached Level 12."
Dominic raised a brow.
"That's fast."
"1,200 monsters. Twelve species. Efficient progression."
Efficient slaughter.
The voice left that part unsaid.
"We're looking to expand into Floor Two for skill acquisition."
Of course they were.
Slime Skin was beginner-tier.
Floor Two meant better monster traits.
"Your team has experience with Floor Two routes," the representative continued. "We'd like to discuss an escort contract."
Dominic's face did not change.
But his jaw tightened.
Jake was injured.
Floor Two had nearly taken one of his own.
And now a guild of freshly leveled farmers wanted a guided massacre on the way to Level 13.
Dominic's voice settled into something flat and firm.
"Can't."
A pause.
"We're aware of your skill level."
"Not about skill."
Silence on the other end.
"Team member injured. We're not diving Floor Two anytime soon."
Polite.
Clean.
Professional.
The representative kept the same polished tone.
"Understood. Should circumstances change, our funding pool is substantial."
Translation: money is not a problem.
Dominic smiled without warmth.
"I'm sure it is."
The call ended.
He tossed the phone lightly onto the table.
"Elon's people," he muttered.
Phong corrected him gently.
"Olen."
"Whatever."
Alex leaned forward.
"They'll call someone else."
"They will," Dominic said.
"And someone will say yes."
Because there was money.
Because there was fame.
Because escorting production classes into controlled slaughter was low risk and high pay.
Phong felt something cold settle in his chest.
1,200 monsters.
One year.
Twelve species.
Each kill deliberate.
Each skill harvested.
The Farmer Guild banner probably looked inspiring on stream.
[Plant Your Destiny.]
But destiny had a body count.
And unlike Phong's crops, their growth required extinction.
Dominic cracked a Pepsi open hard enough to spray foam.
"Jake needs rest. We hold here."
Janet nodded firmly.
"No Floor Two until he fully recovers."
No ego.
No rushing the Level 30 barrier.
Alex glanced at Phong quietly.
He did not say it out loud.
But the thought was obvious.
The dungeon offered quests.
Optional.
Respectful.
Humans monetized progression.
Optimized slaughter.
Packaged it as liberation.
Phong did not envy Level 12.
He did not envy monster skills.
He looked toward the mountain.
Toward the lake.
Toward the forest.
The Troll King still lived.
The lizardmen were still negotiating.
The treants were still migrating.
The Sky Emperor was still unseen.
And here stood a Level 1 farmer.
No EXP bar.
No escalation.
Just soil.
He exhaled slowly.
"If they reach Floor Two in numbers," he said quietly, "the dungeon will respond."
Dominic glanced at him.
"You think so?"
"Sky Emperor wasn't their pet."
The memory of that roar rolled through him again.
Hierarchy.
Balance.
Order.
Predators.
Prey.
If humans escalated too far, they might wake something even worse than the Monstrous Phoenix.
Dominic raised his can.
"To steak night."
"To Jake healing," Janet added.
"To not being idiots," Alex said dryly.
Phong raised his mug of cocoa instead.
"To choosing when to grow."
Outside, the lime-oak rustled.
And somewhere deep in the dungeon, something vast was almost certainly watching the farmers who had chosen to harvest monsters instead of soil.
Steak night at Camp Stymphalian was not subtle.
Dominic insisted on drama.
Thick, heavily marbled slabs hissed when they hit the iron grates over controlled flame.
Fat rendered slowly and dripped onto the coals with sharp, satisfying crackles.
Garlic butter melted over the surface.
Black pepper.
Salt.
Nothing fancy.
Dominic believed in respecting meat.
Phong set up the projector anyway.
"If we're going to eat like kings," he said mildly, "we might as well see what the world is doing."
The signal amplifier hummed softly.
The screen flickered.
And there he was.
Olen.
Freckles.
Light blond hair styled to look effortless, which meant it absolutely wasn't.
A high-collar sweater in the kind of muted shade that screamed money without saying it.
The camera loved him.
Everything about him radiated generational wealth.
Old-money confidence.
The kind of man who had never needed to calculate the cost of a mistake in human terms.
A lower-third graphic scrolled across the screen:
Olen — Founder of Farmer Guild — Forbes 30 Under 30
Cheers filled the televised auditorium.
The interviewer leaned in eagerly.
"Production classes venturing into Floor Two. How does that feel?"
Olen smiled modestly.
"We believe growth should not be restricted by outdated assumptions."
Applause.
"We've proven that production classes can evolve."
Louder applause.
He continued, measured and composed.
"Floor Two presents new opportunities. New skills. New horizons."
The camera cut to a banner behind him:
[BREAKING THE CHAINS]
Dominic flipped a steak.
"Chains my ass."
The interviewer pushed further.
"You and Josh both made the Forbes list this year. Thoughts on his recent tragedy and leadership in the diver space?"
Olen's expression shifted into carefully curated solemnity.
"Josh represents resilience. We've spoken briefly. Perhaps one day, collaboration will serve the greater good."
The crowd erupted.
Collaboration.
Of course.
Josh's father's funding.
Olen's production-class breakthrough.
Insurance.
Safety.
Infrastructure.
Leveling monopolies.
All threads in the same tapestry.
Phong muted the TV without ceremony.
He did not need the rest.
He turned to Dominic instead.
"Floor Two."
Dominic grinned faintly.
"Now that's real content."
Jake shifted carefully, his arm still bandaged but much steadier now.
Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
A real mattress.
Healing.
Empathy Enoki had done its job.
No infection.
No fever spike.
No spiral.
"I'm good," Jake insisted before anyone asked.
Janet shot him a look.
"You're recovering."
Jake corrected himself at once.
"I'm recovering well."
That was better.
Dominic leaned back in his chair, balancing a steak knife between his fingers.
"Floor Two's rougher than before."
"Because of the Phoenix?" Phong asked.
"Because everything's more aggressive," Joanne answered.
Jack nodded.
"Biomes are shifting faster. Elite mobs are roaming farther from their nests."
Dominic kept going.
"Ran into a group from France. Three girls, one guy."
Alex paused mid-bite.
"They showed pictures," Dominic added casually.
"Pictures of you."
Alex blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
"They had selfies. You in some European square. Fountain in the background."
Alex thought for a moment.
"Summer trip. Before college. Visiting extended family."
Dominic nodded.
"They recognized you instantly. Mind Blade."
Phong glanced at her.
Even after more than two months of deliberately staying inactive and waiting for Dominic and Janet to hit Level 30 first, her name still traveled.
Mind Blade.
Efficient.
Precise.
Reliable.
The kind of person who saved lives and never asked for credit.
Back in her campus queen days, people followed her GPA and confidence.
As a diver, they followed something else.
Her intelligence.
Her composure in battle.
Her moral clarity.
Her heroism.
People admired her beauty.
But what made divers trust her was different.
She would pull you out of a collapsing ruin and refuse to make it about herself.
People loved a heroine.
Few wanted the burden that came with it.
Dominic chewed thoughtfully.
"Trust them?"
Alex considered.
"Further observation."
"Neutral?"
"Cautious."
She set down her fork.
"Time changes people."
Dominic studied her expression.
She was not the same girl from those photos.
Not the girl who had laughed in European sunlight.
Not the girl who had not yet watched a hospital bend under corporate pressure.
Not the girl who had not sat in a Christmas market questioning institutions.
She had sharpened.
She had softened too, just in different places.
Focused.
"If they approach again?" Dominic asked.
"We talk," she said. "We don't invite."
Jack raised his soda.
"To observation."
They clinked.
---
Steak was sliced.
Juice ran.
Bruno stared at Dominic like a disciple studying a master.
Nyx preferred her slice rare.
Rico tried to barter for a thicker cut. He got his way using a newly unlocked skill: puppy eyes, copied directly from Bruno.
The muted television still showed Olen's panel discussion.
Production classes rising.
Second-floor ambitions.
Collaboration.
Hope packaged cleanly.
Inside Camp Stymphalian, the conversation stayed simpler.
Real.
Jake described the elite mob that had injured him.
Scaled armor.
Unpredictable movement - phasing through solid rock like ghosts.
"Didn't expect the that," he admitted.
Janet nodded.
"Underestimated its mobility."
Dominic added, "Won't make that mistake twice."
Phong listened.
No branding.
No slogans.
Just experience.
And steak.
Outside, trolls lingered near the chili perimeter.
The lake shimmered faintly.
Treants held their uneasy truce.
The Sky Emperor stayed silent.
The dungeon did not care about Forbes lists.
It did not care about 30 Under 30.
It cared about balance.
Predator.
Prey.
Growth.
Extinction.
Phong glanced once more at the frozen image of Olen mid-speech.
Polished.
Confident.
Visionary.
He did not hate him.
He did not envy him.
He simply understood the difference.
Olen cultivated vertical growth.
Levels.
Skills.
Market expansion.
Phong cultivated horizontal resilience.
Soil.
Allies.
Neutral ground between factions.
When the steaks were nearly gone and the conversation had softened into a comfortable hush, Dominic leaned back and exhaled.
"You think they'll survive Floor Two?"
"The Farmer Guild?" Phong asked.
Dominic nodded.
Phong considered it.
"They'll survive."
"How sure?"
"They have money."
Dominic smirked.
"That's not what I asked."
Phong's gaze drifted toward the dark horizon beyond the lake.
"They'll survive," he repeated quietly, "until the Sky Emperor remains domant."
Alex glanced at him.
She knew that tone.
Not paranoia.
Pattern recognition.
The Phoenix had appeared after aggressive expansion.
The Sky Emperor had roared when biomes destabilized.
Escalation invited correction.
Inside the camp there was warmth.
Meat.
Friends.
Recovery.
Outside, an ecosystem was watching.
Dominic stood and stretched.
"Next steak night," he declared, "we celebrate Level 30."
Janet rolled her eyes with fond exhaustion.
Jake raised his soda, weak but determined.
Alex leaned closer to Phong, her shoulder brushing his.
He felt steady.
Not powerful.
Not impressive.
Just grounded.
And in a world where people chased levels like stock prices, that steadiness felt rare.
Their retreat from Floor Two had not been defeat.
It just had not been victory.