After looting the corpse and storing the drops, of which I refused my supposed share because it simply felt wrong to accept after my pathetic display, a circle of light appeared in the center of the floating pyramid’s underside. A spiral staircase descended to the ground from the glowing spot a few seconds later, landing with a rumbling thud that seemed to shake the world itself.
“That’s odd,” George said, back in his human form, fully clothed and scratching his chin.
“What is?” I asked, hand tightening around the grip of my sword.
“Oh,” he said, startled by my reaction. “No, no. It’s nothing like that, I think. It’s just, usually, dungeons create teleportation circles to get us to the next level after we loot the corpse. It’s pretty rare for a dungeon to use the same dimensional space for two different floors.”
“It is a fairly young dungeon,” Jones said from my other side. “It only has three confirmed floors, after all. It’s likely that it just hasn’t consumed enough matter yet.” Idly, I wondered just how much matter was involved in creating interdimensional portals.
“Enough with the chit-chat,” Carlyn said, clapping her hands. “Let's get moving.” And so saying we followed her and Borgen’s lead up the spiral stairs. It was a surprisingly short climb, taking not more than a few short minutes. We emerged into the guts of the pyramid to find ourselves once more encased in stone.
The walls of the large entry chamber were made of dark basalt and were lit by thin luminescent threads of a pale blue hue that lined the seams between the large stone bricks. Whereas the threads provided but dim illumination, half a dozen glass balls hung from the flat ceiling, each holding a bright radiance the color of blue lightning.
Jones gasped from my side and stepped forward, wand glowing as he cast a spell to raise a pillar of ice beneath him so he could inspect the hanging lights. “They told me we might find this, but I didn’t believe-”
“Jones,” Carlyn snapped, glaring at the lanky man, making him flinch. “We’re not here for some scientific expedition. Take notes as we walk if you want, but we’ve got a mission to finish and not as much time as I’d like.”
“But this is an electric light,” Jones explained, gesturing wildly to the nearest ball of light. “Even our scientists haven’t figured out a way to make them in such a way-”
“Then grab one and take it with you. We’re moving on.”
Jones grumbled to himself, but acquiesced, cutting away to electric lights and stowing them in his ring before rejoining the rest of us. “Is it really that special?” I asked the man as he fell in step beside me.
“Oh yes. Never in my life have I seen craftsmanship so fine, and I am quite familiar with such things. It’s almost a shame.”
“A shame?” I frowned, and Jones startled, staring at Carlyn’s back.
“Oh, uh, yes. It’s a shame to have our greatest minds shown up by such a young dungeon. These lights might spark a whole new revolution in the electrical sciences when I return.”
“That sounds interesting,” I said, losing interest in the conversation. Jones evidently didn’t catch on.
“You have no idea. With this discovery, I might never need to dungeon dive ever again.”
“You don’t like dungeon diving?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I’d assumed as much before, but I was curious and didn’t think I’d get a chance like this to learn more about the group again.
“No. It is a miserable business, this. Full of death and misery and loss. No person of real power would ever lower themselves to such work. But alas, there must be some who risk their lives to keep the dungeons at bay and retrieve discoveries from their depths. I just never thought that would be me. I was made to be a man of science, not an arcana damn sellsword.” He gained a longing expression that made me feel a bit sorry for the man before I recalled that he was willingly going along with a plan that would destroy my home city.
“What do you mean by keep the dungeons at bay?”
“I keep forgetting you are such a naïve,” He said, pressing a hand to his forehead and letting out a heavy sigh. I rolled my eyes. “I told you that most dungeons are living things, yes? Those that occur naturally are inherently aggressive to the sentients of this world and the arcana themselves. It is by a divine mandate that the association trains up adventurers to dive the dungeons’ depths.”
“What about the arcana-made dungeons?”
“Training grounds,” Jones said simply. “They tend to be much safer than natural dungeons like this one.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said, then had a thought. “Why aren't any of you affiliated with the association?”
Jones gave a shrug. “I am barred from joining the association due to an unfortunate misunderstanding. The others all have their own reasons I suppose.”
I still wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “Why do you dungeon dive then? Isn’t it a lot riskier for unaffiliated adventurers?”
“That is a complicated question that I am not allowed to explain,” Jones said, avoiding my curious gaze. “Stick around long enough though, and you’ll find out.”
I let the subject drop, recognizing that Jones didn’t want to explain further. The party continued on at a careful, steady pace. The first monster we came across was a strange mechanical thing of hissing components and metallic footsteps no larger than my hand. They resembled spiders with only one body section and needles in place of legs. Despite traveling in groups of close to twenty, the others had no issue dispatching the monsters. When looted they dropped strange mechanical devices that Jones couldn’t puzzle out the purpose of. I again found myself incapable of doing much to help, my sword bouncing ineffectively off the mechanical spider’s metal carapaces. Curious and wanting to prove at least somewhat helpful, I pulled up the new bestiary entry for the creature, looking for some useful information.
==========
=Bestiary=
=Mechanical Spider=
-Genus: Unknown
-Description: Otherworldly devices of unknown origin that travel in large packs. Little is known of the creatures. Please provide any notes on the mechanical spiders to your nearest temple priest.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
==========
Well, that was useful, I thought sarcastically, closing the box, keeping the useless description to myself, and sighing. We continued through the dungeon, encountering the mechanical spiders a few more times, and I actually managed to kill a few once I figured out it was easier to crush the things than to cut at them.
==========
=Level Up!=
Congratulations, you are now - Level 7
==========
It was a welcome message, to be sure, but I ignored it for now, deciding to put it off until we were somewhere safer. “Let's hold up here for the night,” Carlyn said a few hours and two more encounters later as the group entered a smaller room with two narrow, defensible doors. Once the magic cloth coverings were in place over the doors and a fire started, we all finally settled down.
“You’re doing well,” Nika said as I asked her what else I could be doing against the spiders. “Your best chance is likely just to reinforce yourself and crush them as you have been doing.” I nodded, a bit disheartened. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re doing better than most do at this stage. You just have the misfortune of being too low-level for this area. Keep this up though and that might change.”
I gave her another nod, feeling some of the pressure I’d been feeling to match the other’s combat prowess ease somewhat. It was a silly feeling, I told myself. These people were trying to destroy my home and I still had no idea what I was going to do about it. Settling down at the fire beside Borgen, ignoring Carlyn’s suggestive stares, I remember that I had a level-up to take care of.
==========
=Status=
-Name: Mairenn Crowe
-Blessing: Reverse Minstrel
-Level: 7
-Experience: 14/218,700
-Attribute points: 0
-Skill points: 0
-Ability Points: 0
-Health: 44/44
-Stamina: 38/44
-Mana: 7/7
=Attributes=
-Strength: 11
-Dexterity: 13
-Constitution: 16
-Intelligence: 10
-Wisdom: 8
-Charisma: 9
-Luck: 10
=Skills=
-Sword Dancer’s Proficiency
-The Minstrel’s Taunt
-Oration Casting
-Demotivating Call
-False Rest
-Countercharm
=Abilities=
-The Minstrel’s Luck - Rank II
-Utilized Proficiencies
==========
I was dismayed to find nothing changed on my status page but my level and experience count. It seemed as if I’d just barely made it past the experience cap for the level. Gods, how did people manage to level up past level ten? If I did my math right it would have taken nearly six million experience points to get from ten to eleven.
“You level?” Borgen asked, breaking me free from my miserable ponderings. I nodded.
“Yeah, got to seven,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. The agondlon man gave me a knowing smile.
“Ah,” he said. “That makes sense. Seven sucks. Eight will be good though. If you’re lucky you might just reach it before we’re done here.”
“Maybe.” I eyed the impossibly large amount of experience I needed to reach level eight. “You said that everyone here is level eight, right? I think someone said something about that being a stalling point in most adventurers’ progress?”
“It is,” he began slowly, nodding in agreement. “But we got past level eight a long time ago. Sorry, that was one of our little deceptions.”
“Ah,” I said, realizing that I should have already put that together. “What are your levels then?”
He gave a shrug. “Last I knew, Jones, George, and Nika were all stuck at fourteen. I’ve been stuck at fifteen for a while now, but Carlyn is the highest at level sixteen.”
My mind boggled as I did the math. “Gods. How did you all get so much experience?”
“Dungeon dives, mostly. Though some of us have also seen combat and that will level a person up pretty fast. It's a good thing greater blessings aren't very common, otherwise, I’d hate to imagine what war would look like.”
“You were a soldier?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup, Carlyn and I both were. Drafted into the Dash military before leaving to become ‘independent contractors,’ as she likes to call it.” I tried to imagine Borgen rampaging through the battlefield in his full form while Carlyn cast a sea of black flame over their enemies and shuddered at the thought. Borgen nodded gravely at my reaction. “It was a grisly job. I’m glad to be done with it.”
“Why are you doing this job then?” I asked before I could stop myself. Borgen gave me a sharp look.
“What do you mean by that?” He asked harshly.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, holding up my hands. “I was just wondering why you’d go back into the business of battle if you hated it so much.”
The big man settled back, the tension easing between us but I could tell he didn’t quite believe me. “We’ve got debts of our own to pay, my sister and I, and we’re good at what we do. It just seemed like the logical choice. We did try to live peacefully for a while, but, well, let's just say some people are not built for peace.”
I felt he was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation and decided to change the subject. “What about those two?” I said, gesturing towards George and Nika as they disappeared behind a hanging cloth.
He gave an uncertain shrug. “They don’t talk much about their personal lives, but from what I understand they’ve got a family out there somewhere but, for some reason, cannot stay bound to one place for long. I think they send the majority of their earnings to a church in Bumunz, but they’re pretty cagey about it when I’ve asked them before.”
“Wow,” I said, tearing my eyes away from their corner. “That sounds pretty rough.”
“What about you?” He asked, and I let out a nervous laugh.
“My stories aren’t really all that special, not compared to everyone else's,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable. He just gave me a raised eyebrow and an expectant look. I thought about it for a moment and realized that even if this man and his sister we're planning to destroy my home and everyone I loved, it really didn’t matter if I told him, and Borgen wasn’t a bad guy, he was just in a bad business so I sighed and acquiesced.
“My dad was a solo adventurer, affiliated, and since my mom wasn’t in the picture I kind of looked up to him a lot. He’d come home after dungeon dives with so many exciting stories and I just thought that he was the coolest, so I decided I was going to become an adventurer too. He told me off and never taught me more than how to throw a punch, but that only made me want it more for some reason.”
“He sounds like a man with a good head on his shoulders,” Borgen said.
“He was.” I pulled out his journal and just held it as I continued, wanting to at least hold something of him close as I reminisced. “Anyway, he was so excited when I met Síle, he thought that I’d finally given up on my dream. I hadn’t of course, I just stopped talking about it with him because every time I brought it up we ended up arguing. Well, I got married, and he went on a dive and never came back. I talked about it with Síle and we came up with a plan together, and that’s how I ended up trying to join the association.” I continued, telling him about my rash idea and jumping headfirst into the dungeon without any real plan. I told him about my return, how bad it was, and how I was forced to dive back into the dungeon.
“Like I said, my story isn't that special compared to everyone else’s. I’m just some stupid girl who got way in over her head.”
Borgen slapped a gentle hand against my back in a reassuring gesture. “Just because your problems feel smaller than ours, doesn’t mean they are. Hell, I’m pretty sure being stupid is how most of us got here.”
“Fair enough,” I said with a shrug and a smile I didn’t really mean. It was a nice sentiment, but I wasn’t sure I agreed.
“You know,” the big man began, giving me his usual warm smile. “You still haven’t told me exactly how you and your wife met.”
I let out a genuine laugh. “You are relentless. Ask again next time we stop. Maybe I’ll tell you about them.” I faked a yawn and got up from my spot by the fire. “I think I’m going to retire.”
He let out a sigh we both knew was fake, but let me go, saying, “I’m beginning to think that I might die before you tell me that story.” I stuck my tongue out at him, then laid out my pallet and laid down, still holding onto my father’s journal. Idly I began to page through the book again, reading by the faint firelight. I realized that the journal was still only half full, and, inwardly shrugging, pulled out a pen and began to write.