There are two ways to get to the dungeon core room. The first one is traditional, where adventurers need to travel through a maze, disarm traps, and fight the monsters and guardians. And the second one is where you need to gain the trust of the dungeon master. Then he could grant you free passage to his private chambers. Many retainers helped protect the soul stone of the dungeon master, like those who defended dungeon mistress Elizabeth, invaded by the forces of the Archlich. Some become family members, like Archpriest Ilrune for Chino. There were also lovers, because even immortal beings, and dungeon cores potentially were immortal, need some fun.

  Naomi didn’t plan to invite anyone to her core chamber so soon. Maybe she will do that in the next century, after she forgets most of his previous life and stops feeling insecure in contact with other people. And also, there was a problem with how her soul stone looked.

  All invited people were staring at a stone levitating over a low floor elevation. It was as big as an adult human and had the resemblance of an amethyst crystal. That was expected. Other dungeon masters had similarly looking soul stones. What they didn’t expect was how bright it was. The shine was almost blinding, but the light wasn’t harsh like that from the sun. It was a soft, warm glow, just like a fire in the middle of the night. It gives hope and strength for anything that could come.

  Noami slumped hunched on the chair, dreading what would come.

  “Dungeon Mistress, your soul stone always looked like that?” Juthar asked.

  “Yeah.” She sighed.

  “But it's so bright.” Pinera gasped.

  “Yeah. It needs to be that way.”

  “Needs to be?” Lady Itylara asked.

  “Yeah. I have so many fears, doubts, and even anger. I fear that you shun me like people from my world. I will be forced to live a life of an outcast, and this time for a very long time, I doubt myself and my decisions, because I made so many stupid ones. And because of that, I am angry with myself. I used to hate people, too, but over time I became indifferent to them. Oh, and I forgot about guilt. My happiness is paid in the blood of adventurers. The more I think about it, the more it looks strange that my soul stone is so bright.” Naomi hides her face in her hands.

  “Dungeon Mistress.” Grand Priest Juthar spoke after a moment. “I see your distress, and I don’t want to sound inconsiderate of your feelings. However, your soul looks normal. There is some darkness in your soul, that is true, but it’s usual amount comparable to our own.”

  “You can see it? But priestess Pinera said she sees only light.”

  “I indeed see only a light of your soul,” The priestess confirmed. “However, I don’t have a blessing given to the priests of the god of the Sun.”

  “Yes, Dungeon Mistress. This blessing allows us to see the truth. In the case of your soul stone, we can see darkness and light in your soul clearly.” The elven grand priest explained.

  “But what about the brightness of my soul stone? I'm no expert, however, should it be that strong?”

  “It’s surprising but not unheard of.” The minotaur priest answered. “It happens for old souls.”

  “But I'm young, even for a human. I only lived for forty years.”

  “Dungeon Mistress, you forget that there is no limit to how many times a soul could be reincarnated. I was telling you that you were a dwarf in the past. It was half jest back then, but now we have proof. Your talent and stubbornness come from the dwarven blood.” Eriser smiled, and his smile widened when he saw Naomi open her mouth to protest but fall silent. She sighed and asked instead:

  “But isn’t a soul cleansed before it is reborn?”

  “From memories, yes. But overall, lifetime experience affects the soul.” Juthar answered.

  “So I feared about nothing? This is normal, at least normal for someone who has reincarnated many times?”

  “Your fear, Dungeon Mistress, was indeed exaggerated.” Juthar nodded.

  “Your bright soul isn’t a bad thing. It’s one of the most beautiful things to see. It’s inspiring to be able to meet a person who, through who knows how many lives, keeps believing in gods, and their teachings.” Pinera smiled gently.

  “That is something I fear too.” Naomi sighted. “I’m not perfect. I don’t want to be worshiped or something.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” The dwarven priest started laughing. “I propose we end this debacle, Dungeon Mistress. Because for every try to ease your fears, you will find an answer that only proves why your soul should be so bright.”

  Naomi needed a few moments to find the right words.

  “I still believe it should be after I do something.”

  “Dungeon Mistress, you definitely did some great things in the past. You don’t remember them.” The elven priest smiled gently.

  “It’s not right.” Naomi shakes her head. “Even if I did something in the past that warrants any rewards, it was a past me. I can’t have someone else's achievements as my own.”

  “Dungeon Mistress, The Grand Forge Master is right. You are worthy, and all your counterarguments only prove that. Thank you, Dungeon Mistress, for your trust. I propose we rest for today.

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  The rest of her guests agreed and thanked her for the welcome and then left.

  Immediately after their vanishing in front of Naomi, goddess Tabitha appeared.

  “Please tell me you are not leaving.” She was upset.

  “Leaving? Where?” Naomi asked, surprised.

  “You talked with the cultist.” She answered with an accusing voice.

  “Oh, him. Yes, goddess, I talked with him, but I don’t intend to leave you or the Lady. They had nothing to offer to me, not to mention I will never associate with anyone similar to him.”

  “But…” Goddess started to speak, but Naomi interrupted her, hugging her.

  The Lady raised her eyebrow, seeing it.

  “Goddess, you're always calling me sister. So let me act like one for a moment. We both have a hard day, and hugs are the best.”

  “Umm.” Goddess Tabitha answered in agreement and hugged her too. The Lady smiled gently, hearing Naomi’s explanation.

  Both of them stood like that for a whole hour, when finally Naomi spoke again.

  “Goddess, I need to go for the moment. I will be right back.”

  “No.”

  “I ordered the cake. It's ready.” She smiled.

  “Then, yes. But return immediately.” The goddess answered.

  “Don’t worry. I will be right back.” Naomi assured her.

  “Hello, Lisusa. I saw that my cake is ready.” Naomi said while approaching the counter.

  “Yes, Dungeon Mistress. I also reserved a table for you.”

  “I forget. I will take it to my private room today. I don’t need a table.”

  “Oh. Then give us a moment to prepare it for takeaway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Dungeon Mistress, I heard rumors that you met with a prisoner today,” Lisusa asked, wanting to know more about recent events.

  “Yes. I needed to see for myself how they are. It’s not that I don’t believe in the things you were telling me, but I hoped that maybe I would find something that could help. Different person, different perspective, and all of that.”

  “And?”

  “And it was a waste of time.” Naomi sighted. “I only confirmed what you were telling me.”

  “The problem is, Dungeon Mistress, that they are crazy, and you are trying to use your head to find a solution.” The tavern keeper answered.

  “Maybe.”

  “I have one more question before you go, Dungeon Mistress. I heard you laugh in his face at the end. Can you tell me what he told you?”

  “He didn’t say anything special. It was me because I realized how naive he and all people like him are.”

  “Naive?”

  “Do you know the proverb: he who laughs last, laughs best?”

  “Yes,”

  “So, the short version is that. We will fight to the end, and therefore, even if the necromancers win, nothing will be left. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Lisusa whispered, scared of that kind of perspective. Even some adventurers nodded in agreement. No matter the outcome of the war, they intend to kill as many necromancers as they can.

  “Here is where things are starting to get funny. You see, necromancers need to eat like all of us, but all farmers will be dead, so soon they too will die from hunger.”

  “Oh.” Lisusa felt cold satisfaction. Justice will finally catch up with the necromancers.

  “But the best part is what happens later.” Naomi started grinning. “While all cultists will die, the undead will remain. And that includes liches. Liches that love to pretend to be kings, wearing expensive clothes, living in palaces. However, things break down over time, and there will be no one to repair them or create new ones. So, quite soon, all those noble liches will be running around naked and hiding in the caves from the rain. Well, they could learn how to sew and repair things, too. I guess.” Naomi explained with a wide smile.

  Lisusa blinked a few times, then started laughing.

  “Dungeon Mistress. That's not allowed. You shouldn’t make that kind of joke.” She said when she calmed down enough to speak.

  “I know, but still it’s so funny. And their faces when they realize what they had done to themself.”

  “I know. Oh, goddess. We often think they are stupid because they believe they can win. But it turns out no matter what they do, they will lose.”

  “Yes.”

  When Naomi returned to her core room, she saw goddess Tabitha hysterically laughing.

  “What happened?” She asked, surprised.

  “We heard your talk with the tavern keeper.” The Lady answered, also having a wide smile.

  “Oh. About liches running naked because they can’t sew. Yes?” Naomi also smiled.

  “Sister, I’m sorry for doubting you.” Laughing goddess managed to say. “That was hilarious. Goddess Iliana, we need to spread that story. Please help me find someone, bard or storyteller, anyone.”

  “I will find someone suitable.” The Goddess of Arts nodded gracefully.

  A half year later, in a typical coastal town on the southern tip of the continent, one of the local artists would paint a mural about Naomi’s story on the wall. At first, people have mixed feelings about it and don’t understand what it means. Even a painter doesn’t know, but it was a message from the gods. There was a white fox in the lower left corner, laughing at the liches. Soon, however, the local Grand Priestess of the Sun visited this tavern and, after examination of the painting, declared it a proper depiction of the Dungeon Mistress of On taram words.

  “Hear me, people of Bidun City.” She raised her voice. “This painting is a message from the gods. Half a year ago, the Dungeon Mistress of the On Taram dungeon reminded us of one of the most important teachings of the gods. We need each other. We need to cooperate and help each other. Farmers need a blacksmith for tools. Blacksmiths need iron from miners. All of them need clothes from the tailor. And that is where the true foolishness of the cultists lies. They think not only could they win, but most importantly, they think they could live lavishly without you. They can’t. Who will repair their regal robes if all tailors are dead? Who will feed them when all farms are burned to the ground?” The people start nodding and whispering among themselves in agreement. “This is also a warning for those who rule. Kings and grand priests like me. She continued. We must remember not only the divine laws and teachings. We must remember all of you. Without you, we will end like those liches at the end of the painting, alone, powerless, and ruling over nothing.”

  While some nobles were a little upset because people got more confident after the priestess' speech, the cultists started attacking the tavern. None of them succeeded. Not only because there were patrols of paladins and city guards waiting around the inn. The tavern, renamed “The Lich Sock,” was protected by the goddess of mischief personally. Not even one assassin was able to approach the tavern. Fresh, slippery dog poop appearing right under someone's foot, roof tiles that had just been firmly attached with cement, now somehow loose. You name it, you have it. Soon, the tavern owner put up a betting board, and people began guessing how the next cultist would be captured.