The plan is to skip through the troll village—basically, we'll run straight through and fill the pouches the academy gave us with eggs. By the way, these pouches are tiny: each one is about a handspan tall and just wide enough to fit in the palm of my hand. That's a relief. At least we won't be dealing with giant worms bursting through the cave walls or floor.

According to the dungeon info, the worms aren't particularly dangerous. Their touch is irritating and causes hives. Since they're all over the spawning pits, they'll climb onto you when you collect the eggs. Of course, if you get swarmed by a hundred of them and they make contact with your skin, sure—that could be a problem. But the idea is to be careful and have Ronan exhaust the pit area so they're slower at climbing our gloved hands when we grab the eggs.

Just thinking about small insects crawling on me makes me shudder. Ronan, without stopping, looks at me strangely and I smile as if nothing's wrong.

Returning to the floor-skipping strategy—with Ronan in charge, I know it won't be as simple as running through the dungeon with creatures chasing us and just trusting we'll lose aggro, either along the way or once we return to the first level. No. He wouldn't do something like that without a backup plan in case they catch us.

I'm afraid that back on Earth, while gaming, I've done this many times. And several times I ended up dead. Or worse, got PK'd. But I'm more careful now that my life is at stake. With the slime dungeon I was a bit careless and overconfident, trusting that I knew it and entering casually at level 1. But I want to believe I've gained some common sense since then.

"Ronan," I say to him, "about skipping—you have a plan if they catch us, right?"

"If they catch us, my lady? Why would I waste all that experience if they do not? My priority is you and the divine beast, but if there is extra experience, I shall gladly take it. My goal is to gather all the trolls and bomb them."

Ronan, you're not from Earth, you don't know what aircraft bombers are, I think to myself, though obviously not telling him—despite the urge to.

"What do you mean by bombing them?"

"The ice golems. They are designed to ambush from above and, when we were underneath, cancel their levitation and fall on us. Their weight combined with their point-blank ice shard attacks, plus their hard bodies, made them fearsome enemies if not for the fact that everyone who comes to this dungeon already knows this."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, now they will levitate as close to the cavern ceiling as possible, moved by the bats that have a dive attack, as you may recall. And when all the trolls are together, the bats will dive alongside the golems who will cancel their levitation. Additionally, when they are close they will launch their ice shards and the bats will disorient the enemies so they cannot escape."

Damn Ronan, he's combining two of this dungeon's mobs, merging their attacks. Without a doubt it could be brutal. I look up as if to remind myself how far the ceiling is. Yes, brutal.

"That said, my lady, I am afraid the seed will not be able to attack here and you will not gain experience unless you set some terrain traps for assists. Like sinking them up to their calves."

"That's fine with me. I want to complete the mission as soon as possible, and if we can fill more than ten sacks, even better."

There's a reason we brought fifty. And no more because they wouldn't give us more.

We continue advancing through the forest until we reach the edge of the nearest troll village, which sits in a clearing and is attached to the cave wall. From our position, hidden by the trees, we can see the complete settlement: crude huts made from frozen forest logs and covered with the white pelts of snow wolves. Between the main structures are areas clearly dedicated to spawning: depressions in the damp earth, protected from the cold by low stretched-hide roofs.

"There," Ronan points quietly. "Those are the spawning areas. The worms deposit their eggs in those pits. I do not know why the trolls protect them, since they do not eat them. Possibly because the dungeon core arranged it that way."

From here I can distinguish several blue figures moving between the huts. They're very large, easily reaching three meters in height. Their muscular bodies are partially covered with white pelts tied with rudimentary cords. Each carries a club almost as tall as I am and their movements are surprisingly agile for their size.

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"Ready?" asks Ronan, then looks up where the bats and ice golems are already positioned near the cavern ceiling. "Once we enter, I do not think we will have much more than a minute or two before they realize our intentions and coordinate to stop us. In that time, we need to reach the main spawning area, which is in the center."

I nod, Ronan gives the signal, and we begin our run.

We cross the village perimeter at full speed. Some trolls see us pass, but initially seem more surprised than aggressive. By the time the first one roars an alarm, we've already covered a third of the distance.

"This way!" Ronan shouts, veering onto a path between two large huts.

I follow him, feeling how the earth under my feet changes consistency. It's softer, damper. We're entering the spawning area.

And then I see them. The worms.

They're about 40 centimeters long, narrow, and whitish with bluish markings that resemble the trolls' skin. They writhe in the damp earth, some burying themselves and others emerging. The smell is nauseating—a mix of rot and something sickly sweet that turns my stomach.

"Ugh," I can't help but grimace in disgust as I take out the pouches. "This is disgusting."

Honestly, right now I'd prefer them enormous and hidden underground. How revolting, please!

"Remember, my lady," says Ronan while guarding our perimeter, "it is the eggs we need, not the adult worms. They are half-buried in clusters, like small translucent pearls."

Indeed, now that I look closer, I can see clusters of small shiny spheres, partially buried in the earth. I crouch, trying to ignore the worms writhing around me, and begin carefully collecting the eggs, placing them in the sacks. The earth in the pit and surrounding area suddenly darkens and the worms move more slowly.

Part of me is screaming. If I listen to it, I'll end up jumping around hysterically. Oh please, even though I'm wearing gloves I'm putting my hands in that slimy stuff and the worms are climbing on me. To calm myself a bit, and also because it's the plan, I begin to feel the earth around me, ready to start casting my spell.

"My lady, they are approaching!" warns Ronan, who is also collecting eggs.

The first roar of fury echoes through the village. I look over my shoulder and see three trolls running furiously toward us, brandishing their clubs.

"Keep collecting the eggs!" Ronan orders me as he stands up. "I'll distract them long enough."

"Like hell!" I snap, unable to hold it back. "I'll handle it, you get the eggs."

I stand up quickly, slap off two worms that have climbed up my glove—their slimy touch against my skin makes it itch (how I want to freak out and scream something like, 'Get them off me!')—and draw my sword.

Let Ronan deal with the damn slippery eggs. I'm going for the trolls.

Wasn't I just feeling the earth, preparing to cast my spell? Well, that's what I do.

There are only three trolls but I don't care. Suddenly the ground they're standing on becomes extremely soft. I've created a good pit downward and they sink past their knees as they try, vainly and increasingly slowly, to reach me. Then I harden the earth and run toward them, dodging the swings of their huge clubs. I know that my sword, without fire, won't penetrate what is undoubtedly extremely tough skin. Luckily I can cast while moving and once my sword is burning, I begin cutting the flesh at their waists. Like this, sunken in the earth—which they're cracking in their still vain attempts to escape—their waists and bellies are at perfect height for me. It's a shame the fire cauterizes the wounds so they don't lose hit points from bleeding. The pup has magically grown and helps me, taking advantage of the areas where I've pierced the skin to sink his teeth in and retreat before a club hits him. From other directions several more trolls have approached, and the pack of wolves attacks them frenetically, as if recognizing their natural enemies from when they were alive. Knowing Ronan's necromancy, I don't doubt it.

"Got them?" I shout to Ronan between slashes.

I left a couple of filled and closed pouches next to him. The truth is, since the eggs are slippery and we don't want to break them, collecting them is super slow.

"Almost, my lady."

I finish off the last troll as I feel a rumbling in the ground. I turn. It seems all the village inhabitants have gathered and are coming for us.

"Do we run to the next village or launch the bombardment?"

"Bombardment."

Great. I smile when I hear it. I also see a darkness on the ground between them and us. It's circular. It doesn't cover the entire building-free path, but a good portion. I prepare another channeling to create my own version of quicksand in the dark area, expanding it to cover the full width of the street. As soon as the trolls arrive, all who enter that area are suddenly slowed, both by the exhaust and by my earth spell. Those outside are only affected by my spell. Then I begin to hear it—the whistling of the bombs, I mean the ice golems descending at full speed propelled by their sudden weight and by the bats' dive attack that grab them with their feet. I retreat to where Ronan is and help him store the pouches that are already closed in a large backpack-type bag we brought for that purpose. I really don't want to enter the area of effect of the bats' disorientation attack.

I keep my eyes fixed on the trolls and the "bombs", shifting focus from one to the other like I'm watching a tennis match. Until they land squarely on the trolls. The impact is deafening. A cloud of dirt and blue blood sprays upward. The trolls' screams are quickly silenced as the survivors are quickly finished off by the bats' bites and the golems' ice shards.

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