Freya stared at the entrance to the dungeon.
It was smaller than she expected.
Not in a "cozy and quaint" kind of way, but more like someone had installed a sinister rabbit hole into the side of a perfectly innocent hill. A wooden sign nearby read: "Beginner Dungeon – No Insurance Provided. Management is not liable for accidental hero flatulence or sudden demonic possession."
Beside her, Greg the party bard adjusted his lute and said, "This reminds me of my ex's basement."
"I thought you said your ex was a princess?" Freya asked.
"She is. Royalty can be into weird stuff too."
Their party, a ragtag group consisting of Freya, Greg, a cleric named Bunny (who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else), and Sir Beef, a knight who insisted on flexing every five minutes, was assembled for their first real dungeon crawl. According to the Guild Board, this dungeon contained "Low-Level Monsters, Mild Traps, and at least One Suspicious Smell."
Freya had done her research. Which is to say, she briefly skimmed the quest description, got distracted by the idea of lunch, and then made a decision based on the doodle someone had scribbled of a goblin in a tutu.
"Alright," she said, sword in hand and bravery set to 'mild panic.' "Let's go dungeon crawling!"
---
The first room was dimly lit and filled with a suspicious number of mushrooms. Not the edible kind. Or maybe they were. Greg tried licking one to check.
"Don't lick random dungeon fungi!" Freya scolded.
Greg shrugged. "I'm just trying to bond with nature."
The mushrooms glowed softly in response, and then one of them sprouted legs and screamed.
"RUN!" shouted Bunny, who was halfway out the door before anyone else reacted.
Sir Beef unsheathed his comically large sword with a mighty "HAH!" and charged the mushroom. Unfortunately, the mushroom ducked, screamed again, and ran into a wall, knocking itself unconscious.
"Well," Freya said, staring at the now-snoring shroom. "That was... anti-climactic."
They moved forward, stepping cautiously over piles of moss and the occasional suspicious puddle. The second room greeted them with a trap: a panel on the floor that triggered a barrage of tiny arrows.
"TINY arrows?" Freya muttered, catching one in her sleeve. "What are we? Hobbits?"
Greg, ever the opportunist, started collecting the arrows. "You never know when you'll need a very small dart."
The third room contained a chest.
"Oh no," Bunny whispered. "I read about these. It's probably a mimic."
Sir Beef marched forward confidently. "Mimic or not, it shall not best me!"
He kicked the chest. The chest groaned. Then it belched out a pair of dentures and a cloud of glitter.
"…Was that chest cursed with a theater major?" Greg asked.
The party stood frozen as the mimic slowly transformed—not into a monster, but into a stage. A spotlight clicked on, and a goblin with a tiny top hat appeared.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he croaked. "Welcome to the Dungeon's Weekly Amateur Talent Show!"
"…What."
"You've triggered the random event," the goblin explained, gesturing to a scoreboard behind him labeled "Team Talent vs. Traps."
Before Freya could object, Greg leapt forward. "Finally! My moment has arrived!"
---
What followed was fifteen chaotic minutes of interpretive lute soloing, Sir Beef attempting ballet (with mostly flexing), Bunny performing an awkward slam poetry about cleric taxes, and Freya—who panicked and ended up juggling rocks.
The goblin clapped politely. "Five out of ten. You pass."
The wall behind them creaked open.
"…How is this a real dungeon?" Freya muttered.
The fourth room had a mirror. That was it. One large, ornate mirror covered in runes and questionable smudges. Greg stared at his reflection, fixing his hair.
Freya stepped closer. The mirror shimmered—and then her reflection winked.
"Oh no," she said flatly. "I don't trust this."
Her reflection stepped *out* of the mirror.
"Oh NO."
"Hello," Mirror Freya said with a smirk. "I'm the confident version of you who didn't eat three-day-old bread this morning."
Regular Freya groaned. "Do we have to fight, or can I bribe you with snacks?"
Turns out, Mirror Freya was a level higher and had a sarcastic streak a mile wide. The party watched as the two Freyas insulted each other while flailing swords around.
Eventually, real Freya bonked her mirror twin on the head with a rock.
"Juggling practice paid off!" she announced victoriously.
---
By the time they reached the final room, they were exhausted, slightly traumatized, and covered in various substances they didn't want to identify.
The room was a wide chamber with a single pedestal and a floating object glowing with mysterious light. Next to it: a sign.
"Congratulations!" Freya read. "You've reached the final challenge. Now choose: Do you take the Artifact of Mildly Impressive Power, or… Date the Dungeon?"
"…Date the what now?" Bunny asked.
A second door creaked open. Inside was a table, candlelight, and what appeared to be the sentient spirit of the dungeon, now taking the form of a suspiciously charming man made of stone and moss.
"Hello," the Dungeon Spirit said, bowing. "I'm single, emotionally available, and enjoy long walks through traps and puzzles."
Freya blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
Greg laughed. "This dungeon has romance options! I *knew* it felt like a dating sim."
Sir Beef leaned in. "What's the reward if she dates the dungeon?"
The Dungeon Spirit shrugged. "Emotional fulfillment and a voucher for one free dungeon skip."
Bunny coughed. "Just take the artifact. Please. I don't want to go to a wedding with a pile of rocks."
Freya thought about it.
"Sorry," she said. "You're lovely, but I'm not ready for a committed relationship with sentient architecture."
She grabbed the artifact, and the dungeon let out a dramatic sigh before fading away.
"Another heart broken," Greg said, wiping a tear.
---
Back in the town, the party was greeted with polite applause. Apparently, most adventurers either died or ended up married to the dungeon.
Freya looked at the glowing artifact. It was shaped like a potato.
"…It gives +2 to snack-finding skills," she read aloud. "Best. Dungeon. Ever."
And thus ended the dungeon crawl that would go down in Guild history as "That Time Someone Rejected a Dungeon Proposal."
Freya, proud and snack-empowered, strutted off into the sunset with her party in tow, ready for the next ridiculous quest fate had in store.
Hopefully one with fewer sentient mushrooms.
Or at least better lighting.