Ch 38

On the outskirts of Hope, in a recently renovated theater, was life. There were a little more than twenty who lived in the Kabuki Bar and Grill Theater, the often advised against business venture undertaken by a man who struck it big gambling, and lost it all on a bad idea in an economically depressed part of the state. He was dead now, and the property had been abandoned for years. It had sat in the dry desert heat, collecting dust and scorpions, spiders and webs, sand and snakes, just ready for an errant ember to set it ablaze. More than one teenager had considered providing that spark.

Or at least it had been, until Melmat bought it from the bank and had it declared a house of worship. Becoming a legally recognized church was a simple process, a little finagling with state paperwork, some forms with the IRS; that sort of thing. The process, speeded along by Melmat's unique people skills, had been a short one, and in no time at all Melmat and Lisa had stood before the decrepit building in the Nevada sun, all of their luggage at their feet. Lisa was wearing a white sundress and a wide brimmed hat, smiling like the happiest new bride in the world, a ring on her finger.

The Master would have been furious, my student getting married?! he would have roared. Melmat chuckled, and eyed the golden band on his finger. Ever since he'd cut ties with Ronnie, he'd been feeling so. . . spontaneous. It had been years since he felt so alive, so impulsive. His self control, still absolute, seemed to be evolving, crystallizing into a more advanced form that allowed for a much wider range of action. The plan the master had laid out for him was in tatters, and Melmat wondered, perhaps too late now, if it had been a test or a lesson. The student has become the master, and must make his own way in the world.

They had a month of hard work in marital bliss, a unique honeymoon accompanied by a group of former masters degree students who had quit college and joined up with their little cult; Melmat had a few very flashy tricks that could be used to convince a skeptic of his legitimacy. The Master's masters would have rolled in their graves if they knew the things Melmat showed these uninitiated plebeians. They all worked hard, the sounds of hammers and saws, power tools and good natured shouting as they reconstructed the building one piece at a time, all at once. They pooled their money and rented equipment, purchasing the services of contractors and transforming the failures of someone else into their success.

The locals, a collection of drunks, tweakers, drug dealers, prostitutes, pimps, hitmen, hit women, mafia middle management, cartel mules and other criminals trying to lay low; well, they were really nervous about this new group moving in. The only reason they were still around was, in addition to their really cheery and positive attitudes, they were also extremely well armed, and guarded their complex as well as most military installations. This had prompted several somewhat polite meetings with the 'Town Elders', the criminal elite of Hope, who came away from their meeting with Melmat completely sure of three things.

Melmat's group had nothing to do with law enforcement; they were an excellent addition to the town; and they were a group of very skilled money launderers, and should be trusted to handle dirty money. It was as simple as that. Any dissenting voices were silenced, all questions were shut down by their absolute trust in The Red Church's high priest.

It really freaked people out.

–

All around Melmat, people worked. Some worked accounting, some were cleaning, but the majority were doing a different kind of work. They rested motionless, sitting in a grid of rows, eyes closed, deep in trance. Librorum walked among them, their open minds and the thinnest amount of mana that had managed to reach Hope without evaporating allowed her to see what their mind's eye was seeing, and to instruct them.

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“You've lost focus again, Jared,” she whispered, putting a paper hand on the shaved head of a new recruit, bringing him back to his visualization of a white circle on a black background. It was an incredibly simple image, but all visualization beyond a second or two was notoriously difficult both to learn and to teach.

Or at least, it had been difficult, before The Dungeon. With the mana as a medium, Melmat and Librorum had been able to give hands on, direct instruction and correction to their students, bypassing months and sometimes years of difficult practice, teaching them how to practice perfectly. After all, shoddy practice produced shoddy results, and perfect practice produced perfect results.

He was so incredibly jealous. Even if this had been one of the master, and melmat's long held dreams; the ability to improve the methods by which their powerful tools of improvement could be passed on, he was still human. He remembered how incredibly difficult it had been, how much effort he had to put forth, how many mistakes he had made, it had taken him five years to get to the point these kids reached in a few weeks; and Melmat was considered a prodigy!

That was the way of the world, though. Those at the tip of the spear must work so incredibly hard, so that those who follow can do so easily.

“Melmat?” One of his followers, Doug, a computer science major, approached him.

He shook himself loose from his musings. There were more important things for him to be thinking about.

“Yes, Doug. What is it?”

“I've been monitoring End Chan. You told me to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

“Yes?”

“Come take a look at this,” he said, and walked to the computer lab. Melmat stood up with a grunt of effort and left the hopeful initiates to their training. Lisa, both his wife and best student, was somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, seeking new talent to join their group. He realized he missed her, and wished that carrying a cellphone wasn't so risky, so that he could give her a call.

“Shadows and secrecy, that's what we deal in,” he quoted The Master under his breath, he walked through the complex, receiving formal, respectful greetings from everyone he passed. They all wore a variety of clothing, though eventually they would all be wearing robes. The theater had a high ceiling and big windows; the HVAC system was a sturdy beast that had to work hard to keep everything cool. That had been a major expense, but with the number of fortunes and trust funds that had been pooled together by the upper class graduate students, money wouldn't be much of an issue for a little while at least. Once they started entering the dungeon, money wouldn't ever be an issue again.

Melmat stopped in front of the door labeled 'Computer Lab', and opened it. Inside were eight workstations, and half of them were occupied. Doug was standing next to one, motioning for him to have a seat. Melmat did, and Doug operated the mouse and brought up the End Chan homepage.

Normally, it wasn't particularly exciting, just a welcome portal with links to the most popular boards and a random banner that changed every time you refreshed the page. It didn't look like that anymore.

Now it had a detailed picture of a solid wooden door set into a rock cliff on a mountain. The door had a symbol burned into it, one that Melmat recognized immediately. Above it, written in archaic, old style video game font, was written.

The Dungeon, Coming Soon.

“I've already tried to find out with the symbol means, but there's no record of it anywhere. Me and the boys,” he gestured to the rest of the team working “Think it might be some kind of code.”

“Don't bother trying to figure it out. I know what it is. It's her signature, Doug.”

“Her signature? Who's?”

“Melchsee.”