Altair was deep in thought as he moved through the winding corridors of the dungeon, the oppressive heat from the furnace fading into a more manageable warmth. His mind was still replaying the encounter with the hellhounds, the way their molten eyes had locked onto him, their growls echoing in his head. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he couldn’t afford to stop. In the dungeon, staying still for too long was often the last mistake a Courser ever made.

The silence was unsettling, the stillness that followed a chaotic battle always leaving him on edge. There was a tense calm in the dungeon, one that Altair had learned to distrust over his years of diving into its depths. And yet, it wasn’t the usual rustling or distant growls that finally broke the quiet.

It was a voice—high-pitched and dripping with smugness.

"Hey, Courser!" The voice called out behind him, breaking the fragile silence like a stone thrown into a calm pond.

Altair’s ears twitched. He froze in place for a second, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t recognize the voice, and it was certainly no ally. But it didn’t sound like a threat, either. There was something too… playful about it.

"Yeah, you! You with the stupid hooves!" the voice chirped again, followed by an obnoxious giggle.

Altair’s jaw clenched, his muscles tensing. A flood of frustration welled up inside him as he turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the source of the voice. His eyes met a small, rotund figure with cherubic features, perched atop a stone ledge not far behind him. The creature’s face was round and childlike, but its eyes gleamed with a mischievous, almost malevolent light.

An imp.

"Wow, look at him, acting all serious," another voice chimed in, this one from the opposite side of the room. "Like he’s some kind of hero or something."

Altair’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. There were more of them—imps, small and seemingly harmless, but devilishly clever and incredibly annoying. They were scattered around the chamber, lounging on ledges, peeking out from behind columns, their tiny wings fluttering as they giggled and whispered to one another.

"Hey, Courser! You gonna cry, huh? Gonna go cry to your mommy?" one of them taunted, its voice sharp and cutting.

Altair turned fully now, his patience already wearing thin. The imps had a reputation in the dungeon—while not dangerous in the traditional sense, they were masters of distraction, using their relentless mockery and verbal jabs to break the focus of even the most hardened Dungeon Coursers. It was said that more than one Courser had fallen victim to the dungeon’s more serious threats because they had let an imp get under their skin.

"Look at those big muscles!" another imp teased, hovering in the air just above Altair’s head. "Think they’ll help you? Think you’re strong, huh? You’re not even the strongest in here!"

The imp’s voice had the cadence of a playground bully, childlike yet sharp, and Altair could feel his temper rising. He was no stranger to insults, especially from other Coursers, but there was something about the imps’ voices, their grating, high-pitched giggles and unrelenting mockery, that made it difficult to ignore. His ears flattened against his head, his jaw clenched.

"You think you’re tough?" another imp chimed in, its voice coming from behind him now. "You’re nothing! You’re just a dumb horse! A dumb, sweaty horse!"

"Yeah!" a chorus of imps echoed in unison, their voices blending into a cacophony of insults.

Altair resisted the urge to lash out. He knew better than to give in to their taunts. That’s exactly what they wanted—a reaction, something to fuel their obnoxious behavior. If he let them rile him up, it would only get worse.

He let out a slow breath, trying to center himself, but the imps weren’t letting up.

"Oh, look at him, he’s trying to stay calm! How pathetic!" an imp jeered, its cherubic face twisting into an exaggerated pout. "Is poor little Courser getting mad?"

Altair's hooves scraped against the stone floor as he shifted his weight, his muscles tight with the effort of holding back his irritation. His eyes darted to the nearest imp, perched on a ledge just above him, and for a brief moment, he entertained the thought of charging at it, knocking it from its perch.

But no—he couldn’t waste energy on these pests.

"Hey, Courser!" another imp shouted, this one from a higher ledge. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you look ridiculous? That armor looks so heavy! You must be real slow with that on, huh?"

Altair bit his lip, the metallic taste of blood grounding him. He knew this was a mind game. The imps fed off the frustration of others, and if he gave them an inch, they’d take a mile. He had to find a way to get out of this room, to escape their incessant noise and sharp-tongued insults.

"Come on, don’t be shy!" one of the imps called, floating down in front of him, its tiny wings beating the air lazily. "Why don’t you take a swing at me, huh? Or are you scared? Scared of little ol' me?"

Altair glared at the creature, his nostrils flaring. The imp grinned, baring its tiny, pointed teeth in a mocking smile. It was so close now, within striking distance. All it would take was one swift kick—

But he knew better. He’d seen how this played out before. The moment he made a move, the imps would scatter, laughing even harder at his failed attempt to catch them. They weren’t fighters; they were tormentors. And the dungeon, as dangerous as it was, had no shortage of other threats that could capitalize on a moment of distraction.

"You’re no fun!" the imp said, pouting as it hovered just out of reach. "All bark and no bite, huh? Typical Courser."

Altair’s breath was steady, his muscles still taut with tension, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of reacting. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, waiting for him to snap, to lose his cool. Instead, he straightened up, ignoring the sweat dripping down his neck and the heat pressing down on him.

He wouldn’t play their game.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Altair turned his back on the imps and began to walk away. His hooves clacked against the stone floor, the sound echoing in the chamber. He could still hear them chattering behind him, throwing insults and mocking laughs in his direction, but he didn’t stop.

"Hey, where are you going? We’re not done with you yet!" one of the imps called out, its voice tinged with surprise.

Altair didn’t respond. He focused on his breathing, on the rhythm of his hooves against the stone. Step by step, he distanced himself from the annoying creatures. The dungeon was vast, and eventually, their voices would fade. He just had to keep moving.

"Aw, he’s running away! What a coward!" one imp shouted, its voice barely audible now as Altair moved further down the corridor.

"Yeah, run, Courser! You can’t handle us!" another one chimed in, but their voices were growing faint, the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon swallowing them up as Altair pressed onward.

The insults continued for a while, the distant voices of the imps still echoing through the corridor, but Altair kept his head down and his focus sharp. Slowly but surely, the voices faded, the imps losing interest as they realized he wasn’t going to engage with them.

Altair let out a long breath once he was sure they were far behind him, his muscles finally relaxing. The heat of the dungeon still pressed in on him, but the oppressive, grating voices of the imps were gone.

He shook his head, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The imps were a nuisance, sure, but they were nothing compared to the real dangers of the dungeon. They were just another trial, another distraction meant to throw him off course. But Altair had faced worse.

He could handle a few rude, foul-mouthed pests.

As he continued down the corridor, the weight of the dungeon’s darkness enveloping him once more, Altair’s mind returned to the task at hand. The imps were behind him, and there were far more dangerous challenges ahead. But if there was one thing the dungeon had taught him, it was patience.

He would need that patience in the trials to come.