​The morning of the second tournament event, the "Labyrinth of Lethality," arrived with a heavy, anxious silence. The usual, gentle calm of my dungeon had been replaced by a tense awkwardness. Even the Dust Bunnies seemed to be hiding.

​FaeLina hadn't said a single word, which was somehow even more terrifying than her usual panicked screaming.

​Gilda stood by the entrance, methodically sharpening an axe that was already impossibly sharp. The entire dungeon felt like it was holding its breath.

​My entry for a competition of deadly traps was, in fact, a series of rooms designed to be mildly inconvenient. I wasn't just expecting to lose; I was fully prepared to be laughed out of the kingdom.

​But if I was going to fail, I was going to fail my way: the cozy, passive-aggressive, and deeply, deeply annoying way.

​And then, the wait was over. The golden portal swirled open in my lobby, the roar of the stadium crowd flooding in.

​The commentator's voice boomed through the gateway. "Welcome back, dungeon divers, to Day Two of the Royal Dungeon League Tournament! Today, we test our competitors' creativity and power in the fan-favorite event: The Labyrinth of Lethality!"

​The massive Scry-Screens in the arena showed quick highlights of the other dungeons' entries—the fiery 'Maw of Magma,' the poisonous 'Whispering Death Garden,' and the monstrous room submitted by the Blood Pit. Then, the screen cut to the entrance of my temporary 'Tournament Annex'.

​"And now," the commentator said, a note of sarcastic curiosity in his voice, "from the controversial winner of our first event, a new creation they are calling... 'The Gauntlet of Grievances'! Let's send in the Challengers and see what horrors our Infuriatingly Fortunate dungeon has cooked up for us today!"

​The five professional adventurers known as the 'Challengers' stepped through the portal into my annex. Their leader, the massive warrior Brutus, led the way, his face grim and determined. They were ready for anything. Or so they thought.

​They slid open the door of the first room, and charged in.

​They entered the 'Corridor of Mildly Inconvenient Slopes.' Brutus, expecting a trap, took his first step cautionly, but immediately stumbled, his heavy armor made clanking sound.

​"Steady!" he growled, adjusting his stance. The slight slope was forcing the entire party of elite warriors to walk with an awkward shuffle, like sailors trying to find their sea legs on a tilting deck. Their proud, professional poise was completely gone.

​A ripple of confused murmuring went through the massive stadium. The commentator, trying his best to make the bizarre scene sound exciting, leaned into his crystal microphone.

​"Incredible, folks!" he roared, his voice was filled with full of forced enthusiasm. "Not a single spike or fireball, but you can see the mental damage it's causing! This is a direct assault on the adventurers' very sense of confidence! A bold and deeply confusing opening move from The Comfy Corner!"

​The Challengers, now thoroughly off-balance, slowly and steadily go into the second room: the 'Chamber of Unpleasant Noises.' The loud, magically amplified, and slightly off-key children's song about a lost pixie hit them like a physical blow. The professional warriors become stunned, their faces have a mask of pure agony.

​In the Royal Box, King Caspian was laughing so hard it looked like he was crying. High Adjudicator Thistlewick looked like he was in physical pain and In a nearby private box, Duke Valerius could be seen smiling faintly, while the ambassadors from the other kingdoms just looked completely and utterly baffled by the display.

​'It's working!' FaeLina cheered in my mind. 'Their morale is dropping at an alarming rate!'

​Finally, the now-annoyed and musically-traumatized Challengers kicked open the door to the third room: 'The Gallery of Questionable Art.' They were met with a visual assault that made them physically cringe. The walls were painted in clashing shades of pea-soup green and bright, nauseating orange. The Duke's grumpy gargoyle statue glared at them from the center of the room. And covering the walls were dozens of Sir Crumplebuns's heroic, signed portraits, all hung slightly crooked.

​Brutus, the lead champion, just stopped and stared. "My eyes," he groaned, shielding them with his hand. "What kind of foul sorcery is this?"

​They stumbled through the horrifyingly decorated room and reached the final door. They cautiously opened it, expecting a final, terrifying monster to put them out of their misery.

​But the final room was small and empty room. In the very center, on a single, dramatic pedestal, sat the final "treasure," illuminated by a single spotlight from above.

​It was the 'damp sock'.

​The five champions stared at it. The Official Observer Orb floated around it, broadcasting a dramatic, high-definition close-up of the sad, limp piece of footwear to the entire kingdom. Brutus first stared at the sock for a full ten seconds and then he looked at his companions, who are looked just as broken as he felt. He first looked back at the sock and then turned to the Observer Orb, his voice filled with a deep and defeated resignation.

​"We're done here," he said. "The final treasure has been found. Please Let us out."

​A moment of stunned silence fell over the Royal Arena, and then the entire crowd erupted. It was like a chaotic explosion of laughter, confused shouting, and even some scattered applause.

​(The Judges' Deliberation Chamber)

​Inside their private chamber, the three junior judges were having a heated argument.

​"A farce! A complete mockery of the Lethality rubric!" wheezed Archmage Tiberius, his long beard trembling with indignation.

​"My dear Archmage,take it like it was a brilliant theatre!" countered Maestro Valerius, fanning himself with a silk handkerchief. "The emotional journey! The psychological torment and finally 'The sock'! It was a masterpiece of minimalist horror!"

​Inspector Barnaby just sighed, the sound carrying the weight of all the paperwork he done in his life. "There is no rule," he said in a flat, tired voice, "that states the lethality must be physical. The official report says their will to continue was completely broken. So,Technically, it meets the criteria of the event."

​(The Main Arena)

​The commentator, seeing the verdict had been reached and sent to the High Adjudicator, raised his voice. "The judges are now calculating the final score!" he announced. "How will they rate a dungeon whose ultimate weapon is... a sock? We'll find out, right after this!"

​And then the giant Scry-Screen in the middle of the arena flashed with a new message: [JUDGES' DELIBRATION IN PROGRESS...]

_____

Author note:

Mochi's masterpiece is complete. He has defeated a party of elite adventurers with bad music, terrible interior design, and a damp sock. I am so proud.

I love the image of the entire kingdom staring at a Scry-Screen showing a dramatic close-up of a single, sad sock. This is peak comedy for me.

But how do the judges even score this? Is 'Annoyance' a valid form of 'Lethality'? The fate of The Comfy Corner hangs in the balance! Thanks for reading!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.