Reality spun like a merry-go-round for a moment. Phatagin, despite the changes to his inner ear that had long ago rendered him immune to mundane vertigo, nevertheless felt sick to his stomach for a moment. The discomfort was a small price to pay, however, to have escaped the insane plant thing that called itself an “instructor”.

  The pangolin had little time to reflect on the harrowing experience, as a message from the System overtook his awareness.

  Phatagin grumbled under his breath as he read the message twice through. He didn’t think much of Charlemagne’s chances based on the way that the System had worded the Level’s parameters. “Completing challenges” sounded a lot more complicated than “defeat the Floor’s Boss”, something he was certain that the overpowered rooster could do with ease. On top of that, Josephine had mentioned that the Delve would be constructed in homage to human culture, meaning that they would be facing challenges for which neither of the pair understood the relevant context.

  When the pangolin’s eyes finally adapted to the dim light of wherever he had ended up, Phatagin took stock of his surroundings. He was in a room that was almost entirely gray, although the floors, walls, and ceilings were entirely different textures for some reason. The floors were composed of rough stone tiles, the walls were made of stone blocks of a slightly different color, and the ceiling consisted of yet another shade of stone tiles. Torches lined the walls at semi-regular intervals, somehow affixed without sconces and burning without smoke or heat.

  “Bawk!” Charlemagne yelled, startling Phatagin back to more important matters.

  “She is not with us at…” the pangolin began to remind his Knight, but his words were quickly proven incorrect.

  “Why am I here?” Josephine inquired as she turned around in a circle, her dress swishing and heels clacking loudly as she examined her new surroundings.

  “Ser Charlemagne, this is not part of my duties. I cannot accompany you through the Delve.”

  “Bawk!” the rooster demanded.

  Even in the dim light, Phatagin could see the fear in the Attendant’s face as she retreated from the angry bird. After a moment, anger replaced the fearful look as Josephine stamped her heel into the hard stone tile, causing tiny cracks to spiderweb out from beneath her skirts.

  “I’m going to file a formal complaint against you, Ser Charlemagne,” she yelled. “This entire thing is a farce! You are no Knight, you’re not even a person. You’re just an amoral beast pretending to be sapient. You should never have qualified for the Systemic Games at all!”

  Having said her piece, the Attendant stood stock still, no doubt sending some sort of appeal to the System. Charlemagne turned away and began examining the room. Since his low-light vision was better than Phatagin’s, he immediately spotted the exit and started walking towards it.

  “Bawk!” he called.

  The pangolin Squire hurried to follow, not wishing to annoy Charlemagne any further. Once he had caught up, he addressed the rooster.

  “Charlemagne, what do you plan to do if Josephine refuses to aid us? I beg you to recall that you will be penalized if you do not at least pretend to care about proper behavior during the Games. That…uh…that includes ensuring nothing untoward befalls me. You are indeed aware of this, yes?”

  Charlemagne turned to his Squire and was about to answer when Josephine began moving again, her appeal to the System apparently over.

  “I can’t believe this!” she all but screeched at the pair. “The System said it was part of my contract to accompany you ‘if desired by the Knight’. In what universe does a chivalrous Knight force a lady to accompany him into a Dungeon? I hope your rewards are cut down to the minimum for this!”

  “Bawk,” the rooster answered calmly as he proceeded. Two torches, slightly brighter than the others, flanked the heavy wooden door, which was further reinforced with bands of metal. A wave of heat struck Phatagin, causing him to recoil. At first, the pangolin thought that they were already under attack, and he almost pulled himself into ball form for immediate tactical repositioning. But then Charlemagne’s leg flashed out, slamming into the solid wood door with a deafening boom. The door’s hinges gave way with a tortured groan, allowing the door to fall with a resounding thud. A harsh white light streamed in from beyond, so bright that it was impossible to see beyond the threshold. Without hesitation, Charlemagne walked through the now accessible doorway and into the next room.

  What he saw confused him quite thoroughly.

  There were three humans standing in a rough circle, each pointing at the others. They each wore identical blue and red armor with a black symbol emblazoned on the chest that the rooster didn’t recognize. The trio did not react as Charlemagne, Phatagin, and Josephine approached, but the Squiggles did.

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  Once the Squiggles had relayed the conditions, the floor tile closest to the center of the accusatory knights slid back, allowing a pedestal to rise from the floor. A blinking green button was set into it. Even Charlemagne had no issues recognizing that, once that button was pressed, he would be given his score.

  “I say, what a strange challenge,” Phatagin noted, carefully examining the trio of figures that continued their bizarre standoff.

  “Bawk,” the rooster demanded.

  “I don’t know anything about any of the particular challenges that you may face,” Josephine said with a sigh. “But it’s clear that you need to speak to them and ask them questions to determine which of them are illusory, unless you possess other means to make that determination.”

  “Charlemagne, if I may question them on your behalf, that might be the best approach,” the pangolin Squire noted helpfully. The rooster, confused by the instructions and somewhat disappointed that he wasn’t going to get to eat the Knights, assented readily.

  “Now, the first thing to do is determine which of these figures are truly illusory,” Phatagin mused. “Allow me to gather my thoughts for a few moments.”

  Charlemagne, having already decided that his Squire could handle all the talking, wandered off to a corner of the room and, having nothing better to do, began working on slowly expanding his Ember Core. He was still very annoyed that he had yet to unlock its next evolution, but he comforted himself by wondering which Skill would be absorbed during the process.

  Phatagin, on the other hand, racked his brains for a solution. He eventually had to ask Josephine for advice, however, as he had never before encountered such a mental exercise.

  “Honestly, I don’t even know. Maybe they’ll eventually get tired, or have to eat or drink or something. But why would the System make a challenge where waiting was the right answer? That seems very odd. From what I can tell, the System really enjoys when things progress quickly. Sitting around for hours doesn’t make good entertainment for the countless trillions of beings watching us right now.”

  A shiver ran down the pangolin’s spine.

  “We are being watched by such a great number of beings at this very moment? I find that…extremely discomfiting.”

  “Oh, not me, just you and Ser Charlemagne. Many Attendants aren’t included in the broadcasts. You get paid less, but the privacy is worth it.”

  “Indeed,” the pangolin gulped. “Well, perhaps I should talk to them?”

  Phatagin, still feeling out of sorts as he considered the uncountable number of voyeurs watching his every move, cautiously approached the silent trio.

  “Ahem,” he called.

  There was no response.

  “I say, I was wondering if the three of you would be willing to answer a few questions, if you’re not too busy, that is.”

  “Make it quick,” the closest of the three knights snapped, its voice sounding tinny and distorted through its full helm. “I gotta keep my eye on these two jokers.”

  “Well, if I may ask, why are you suspicious of these two fine-looking gentlemen?”

  “Because they’re impostors! If I look away, they are almost certain to attack me! And once I’m dead, they’ll pretend to be me! Or maybe they’ll fight each other for the right to be me….either way, I’m dead!”

  “Don’t listen to him!” another of the knights cried out. “He’s the imposter. He thinks that he’s real, but if I look away, my soul will be devoured!”

  “And why are you suspicious of the one on your right?” the pangolin asked the second knight. “Will your soul be devoured if you look away from him?”

  “Nay, that one comes from a traumatic brain injury I suffered in a joust two years ago. He’s harmless, but he tends to run off if I don’t keep an eye on him.”

  Phatagin stepped away from the conversation for a moment and beckoned to Josephine, who bent down so she and the pangolin could converse in whispers.

  “I really don’t have a clue what’s going on here,” Josephine admitted. “All of these knights seem to be, well, disturbed. But maybe you should ask the third one before we come to any conclusions.”

  “That may be the correct course of action, but their behavior is so bizarre I fear that no amount of conversation will suffice.”

  The Attendant raised herself back up to her full height and shrugged before gesturing to the final knight. Phatagin sighed before moving closer and addressing it.

  “And you, my good sir, what concern do you have? I see you are just as suspicious of them as they are of you.”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” the third knight replied. “I have a Special Ability that lets me summon duplicates of myself. I created these two, but at the time, I was so inebriated that I forgot that I summoned them. Now they both think that they are the real ‘me’ and refuse to obey me. I fear that we may come to blows if an arrangement is not reached soon.”

  A sudden idea struck the pangolin.

  “When did you create these two duplicates?” he inquired.

  “Oh, it was…uh…I forget. As I stated, I was quite drunk at the time, but I was definitely…where was I? Was I here? No, not here. I was somewhere else.”

  “Wasn’t I fighting a monster?” said one of the other identical knights. “I seem to recall taking a blow on the head. I reflexively used Mirror Mirror, and when I came to, these other two were pointing right at me!”

  “No, no, you’re both wrong!” the third one insisted. “I had just rescued a town from a ferocious damsel, and the System reward was this cool new Special Ability. So I tried it out, despite being grievously wounded in the battle. The strain must have made me lightheaded, and, when I recovered, I was here.”

  Phatagin put a claw to his head, confused and overwhelmed by the problem at hand. All of the knights had a similar-sounding story. None of them seemed physically different than the others. And, even if one was, did that mean that he was the sole illusory copy, or that the other two were illusions?

  “Whatever will I do?” he moaned out loud.

  “Perhaps, Squire Phatagin, you might put your trust in your Knight?” Josephine suggested. “He may be a terrible, uncouth brute, but he seems to be quite competent.”

  “I cannot possibly ask Charlemagne to attempt a mental puzzle that I am unable to solve,” the pangolin gasped, horrified by the suggestion.

  “Why not?” the Attendant pressed. “In fact, he’s headed this way. Let’s ask Ser Charlemagne if he has any ideas.”

  Phatagin wished that he could disappear as the rooster strolled up and cocked his head to the side, sizing up the three knights as they continued their silent standoff.

  “Well, Ser Charlemagne, it’s your show,” Josephine announced. “What are you going to do?”

  “Bawk!” the rooster announced grimly as he approached, causing Phatagin to take off running.