Prologue

The Oracle tells your fortune on your tenth birthday; they decide the life you will have and there's no space for arguments or take-backs. They also give you a new name.

It's all a little unfair in Nike's humble opinion, though they knew better than to point it out loud. The last time they tried, their Mother had struck them, leaving an ugly imprint of her hand on Nike's cheek and a bleeding lip as reminders of never saying those 'blasphemous things' ever again.

Today was Nike's tenth festival.

Today the Oracle would dictate what they would do the rest of their life.

It's supposed to be a celebration. Nike feels anything but joy as their Mother and Aunts dress them all in white, combing their short hair and talking over their head like they're not really there. They feel like they're more doll than a real child.

"She's so pretty, Margery."

"So well behaved."

"Such an adorable little girl. The stars have favored you, sister."

Nike endures the hands picking at their cheeks and pulling at their hair. They know better than to move away. They sigh, covering it with a smile as four women continue fussing and calling them the incorrect term.

Mother's smile is sharp, her nails even more.

"Of course, the Stars had always favored our line. We all four sisters are the strongest and cunning presences in the council. What were the odds of all of us succeeding in our designed paths as we did? Slim, the fools suspected. But we proved them wrong! We thrived and now we sit among their numbers. We will continue to do so." Mother's voice is fierce and cutting, it fits her perfectly. "And with a new generation finding their purpose today, our future, our legacy will be cemented!"

Nike is the oldest of her cousins, if only by a few months. But all of them were born in the same year, thus they all will receive the Oracle's gift tonight.

They're not enthusiastic about it.

They can tell that no matter the path the Oracle gives them, they will not be truly happy, even if their mother is— Especially if their mother is.

The last thing they want is to be trapped in her shadow for the rest of their life.

"Tonight, let's drink to our success." Another aunt agrees. "To the fact that our children will reach for the top as we did."

To be honest, Nike tunes it out after that. They're tired. And held little interest in their family's plans for the future.

They just want this night to be over.

An hour and a half later, Nike is seriously considering the pros and cons of making a scene to be excused from the festival. Their cheeks hurt from keeping smiling all this time. Their neck is stiff and their hands are twitching every two minutes now.

The Oracle's black mask stands out in the sea of white clothes. They're tall and imposing, their shadow eats the lights of the torches illuminating the walls. Hundreds of people fall silent as they enter the room, their sole presence chills the auditorium in seconds.

"Welcome, my children." The Oracle's voice is shrill and shattery, similar to the sound of glass breaking. "Tonight we celebrate a new generation reaching the most important mistletoe in their journey. Today our children become adults. Today our children embrace the path the Stars have chosen for them."

Stars, the beings that had created the Dungeon, and the beings Nike's people adored. They weren't known for their mercy as they ruled with a ruthless hand to ensure everything was peaceful but Nike was a firm believer that they were kind indeed. After all, most of the children were happy. The city was clean and no one was ever hungry.

Nike had faith in the Stars.

Just not so much in the human that carried their words.

Because the Oracle was a human. It was a job. And Nike had *opinions* about jobs and how they worked.

Nike was a stubborn little shit. There was a fire under their skin, one that pushed them forward, to never stop asking hows, and whys, to twirl a problem and find a solution that no one had thought about before. There was a fire under their skin and it *itched* every time their Mother spoke.

The fire roared every time the Oracle was mentioned.

And now that the Oracle was in front of them, the fire licked Nike's eyes and sharpened her smile into something ugly. The Oracle had no eyes. Nike was sure the Oracle was watching them even as their mask was tipped to face the line of children that were moving forwards to receive their 'gift.'

Mother practically pushed them when it was their turn.

Nike's feet obeyed because they weren't dumb; mother had been clear with what she wanted and what would be the consequences if Nike failed her. They knew what she would do to them if the Oracle didn't give them the 'correct job for someone of their line.'

Nike held their head up, chin raised defiantly, as they walked all the way to the Oracle.

"State your name, child."

"Nike. D-Daughter of Margery." Nike fumbled, wincing internally at their mistake. How they hate to call themselves the incorrect term. "I'm here, humblingly asking the Oracle to share the fate the Stars had decided for me." There, confident and without a hitch. That was better. "This lowly child of Carva begs the Oracle to share the good news with them."

The Oracle's mask is as dark as their robes.

The Oracle is a shadow that grows and grows, waiting to devour them all, and the mask does nothing to make them look human. The features are distorted. There's no smile but Nike can see too many teeth already.

The number only grows as the Oracle speaks.

"Dungeon Conqueror."

Nike's pulse is screaming in their ears. They stare at the Oracle, face twisted in horror. They know what being a Dungeon Conqueror means. (They know the Oracle just sentenced them to die.)

The Oracle laughs as the people around them explode into cheers.

Nike is ten years old and they're gonna die.

Nike is ten years old. They're afraid. They want to run. They want someone to save them. They make the mistake of looking at their mother.

Mother's eyes are filled with anger, disappointment and— And. Mother's eyes are cold. She's already planning for the fallout of losing her pawn. Her pawn. Not her child. Never her child. Mother is not going to help them and Nike is a fool for hoping she would.

Nike is numb as their feet guide them back to the feast table.

This is their last meal and the only thing they can taste as they eat is ashes.

…

Nike enters the Dungeon at sunrise.

They do not expect to get out.

…

Two years later the Dungeon's doors open and the wind carries a message:

// All hail the King!//

// All hail the Saviour King!//

// Remember the souls that came before them, remember the little doves that flew too close to the sun and crashed down to Earth like shooting stars.//

// Remember the names of the ones that paved the path.//

// Remember Red, the Lost Child.//

// Remember Blue, courageous and kind.//

// Remember Orange, loyal and bold.//

// Remember Green, the one that won.//

// All hail the King!//

// All hail the Savior King!//

// All hail Nike, sovereign of the Monsters!//

// All hail Nike, Conqueror of the Dungeon!//

Two years after Nike was left to die the Dungeon's doors opened and the wind carried a message. If humans had forgotten how to hear the warning the winds carried to them…

Well. That sounded like a them-kind of problem.

And for the ones who did remember how to listen but refused to acknowledge the warning anyways… The wind laughed, sharp and cruel. The wind laughed because the Savior King may be a pacifist but their hands are covered with more blood than anyone can count.

The King is kind, yes.

The King is also a fair monarch; one that looks for the good of their people first. Perhaps even only.

…

Five years after Nike entered the Dungeon they had shed the title of 'Monarch' and prefer to use 'Ambassador.'

There is peace between their people and Carva.

The Oracle is gone.

Margery is too afraid of their real Mom to get close to them, her once beautiful face was now scarred and she was an only child. Their brother, Io's brother, had made sure that no one would ever make Nike uncomfortable again.

Everyone liked them.

Everyone was happy.

Their people were safe.

The Dungeon was no more.

Nike had everything they had ever wanted; a home, a family, friends. Their wish, made at the King's Hall, had been the correct one.

Nike had promised their people a 'Happy Ending' and they had delivered. Everything was fine. Better than fine. Everything was *perfect*.

…

Nike was a liar.

…

Nothing was perfect because Io wasn't there with them. They missed their friend. They missed the person who had become a part of their heart, the shadow to their light. Their one and only true companion. The other half of their being.

No one needed to know that, though.

No one would understand anyway. Not even Victor, who knew of Io's continued existence as a ghost. No, their skeleton friend would never understand why Io's absence ached like a missing limb.

'Good riddance.' They could imagine Victor saying if Nike were to talk about Io with him.

…

Nike was an amazing liar.

…

They had to. Acting, lying. It all had been a part of their life since they could have coherent thoughts but the Dungeon and the thousand of years they spent fighting and killing, negotiating and begging, barreling through the suffering with nothing but willpower, had honed their natural talent into something that scared them.

Nike was a liar.

And the blood on their hands, metaphysical or not, sometimes was too much for them.

Io's absence ached deep into their soul because Io was the only one that Nike was allowed to be honest with.

The only one who *understood.*

And she was gone.

Io had been gone for at least four months. It feels longer. Maybe it *was* longer. Nike couldn't know. Time didn't make much sense anymore. Not after the Dungeon. Not after the uncountable days, and months, and weeks, and years. No. Time was fickle and Nike knew it.

Time was fickle and Nike didn't trust it.

But then, Time didn't trust Nike either. So maybe that was fair. It didn't matter because Time and Death were just things that the Stars had dictated Nike didn't have to deal with if they didn't want to.

(They want to.)

(Nike has learned their lesson. They know better than battle two of the Great Powers. Well, three if Destiny is involved. It usually is.)

Nike sighed.

They wanted Io to come back; wanted to believe that their friend wouldn't leave them if it wasn't necessary. And so, they waited. Nike trusted Io more than they trusted themselves and Io never lied.

She had promised they would stay with them.

And Nike believed them.

Nike knew they would come back. Thus, it was fine if she took some time. Nike could wait for her. They would always keep waiting.

[You stare sadly to the sky and pray for better times to come.]

[Don't you know better by now?]

Nike squeals as the system flares to life. They make a little dance of victory. Smiling big enough they feel the corner of their lips starting to sting.

'Welcome back.' Nike accompanies the thought with enthusiastic waving with their left hand. ''Where did you go?'

[I'm glad to be back.] The system's voice is mechanic. It never traduces Io's sarcastic streak very well so Nike has learned to always take its words to face value, preferring to extrapolate from Io's expressions.

Speaking of which…

'Why can't I see you?' Nike pouts.

[I brought you a gift.]

Io doesn't lie but taking information from her is like pulling teeth off their own face.

Nike huffs to show their discontent. 'What gift?'

[One that you will like.]

Nike scratches the back of their head, slightly confused and annoyed. That wasn't— Ah. 'Alright. Can you give it to me now?'

[Go to where the doors were.]

Nike stopped like an angry bunny but obeyed anyway. They knew better than to give Io grief with their stubbornness; Io was ten times more stubborn anyway. It was just better to go along with the flow.

Nike wasn't expecting to find a child resting on a bed of fallen leaves.

They weren't expecting said sleeping child to look like a carbon copy of Io. And that was a lot to say for someone who was mistaken for Io a lot by their family. But as much as Nike was similar to Io in looks, this person won.

Right down to their clothes and size.

[Happy birthday, Nike.] The system said for the last time. [Take care. And don't ever forget I love you.]

Nike lips trembled but their hands reached for the child's shoulders anyway. Their Attribute may be Green now but once upon a time it had been Blue and Nike held onto that bravery now as they shook the sleeping child awake.