Chapter 12: Finishing Touches

Brent still stood in awe of the Infernal Colossus, its fiery, molten form towering over him, radiating waves of heat and power. The creature’s body seemed to pulse with life as molten lava coursed through its iron veins, and its armor glowed like freshly forged metal, cooling in some places and still molten in others. Its eyes burned with a deep, primal energy, glowing like twin suns. Brent had never seen anything so raw, so destructive, yet so magnificent.

“Badass,” Brent whispered, the word slipping out with reverence. His core flickered with excitement. “Right... a name. This is important. You need a name that’ll strike fear into the heart of every adventurer who steps foot in this dungeon.”

He mulled over a few possibilities, pacing in his mind as his Dungeon Vision kept him locked onto the hulking creature. “Or... I could name you something totally mundane, like Steve from accounting,” Brent mused, a grin spreading across his mental self. “But nah... that won’t do. You need a name that truly represents the chaos and power you hold.”

Brent thought hard, each name he considered feeling more inadequate than the last. His mind raced, but nothing seemed to fit the colossal, fiery being. Then it struck him.

“Ignarok!” he exclaimed, the excitement evident in his voice. “Ignis for fire... and ‘rok’ from Ragnarok, the end of the world. I see some apocalyptic-level battles in your future, big guy. Or at least some end-of-the-world-type havoc during the races I’m planning.”

As soon as Brent declared the name, he felt an enormous pull of energy, like a tide being ripped from him. The drain was intense—stronger than anything he’d felt before. His vision blurred at the edges as the power surged from his core, wrapping itself around the colossal minion. Ignarok’s massive form was lifted off the ground, bathed in an intense orange-red glow, his molten armor flaring with light.

“Whoa... trippy,” Brent murmured, barely holding onto his Dungeon Vision as the energy drained from him. He swayed mentally, feeling light-headed.

The light surrounding Ignarok suddenly exploded outward in a brilliant burst, and the colossus crashed back down with a thunderous thud, sending tremors through the dungeon floor. Its eyes, now a deep, menacing crimson, locked onto Brent’s Dungeon Vision, as if seeing the world for the first time.

“What... Where...” Ignarok rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, shaky with the weight of newfound consciousness. “Master?”

Brent groaned at the title, still feeling the effects of the energy drain. “What is it with everyone calling me Master? I’m not your master. Well, technically, I guess I am, but I don’t like the sound of it. Makes me feel like I’m running a slave operation, and that’s not the kind of PR I need.”

Ignarok tilted his head slightly, confusion crossing his molten features. “How... should I refer to you, if not as my master?”

“Brent,” he replied simply. “Just call me Brent.”

“I see... Brent,” Ignarok said slowly, as if testing the word, unfamiliar with the casualness of it. It felt strange on his molten tongue, but if that was what his creator wanted, he would obey.

“Yup, that’s me. Brent. Don’t wear it out,” Brent said, still catching his mental breath. “Which is a weird saying, really, because can you even wear out a name? If that’s the case, my mom sure put a lot of mileage on mine when I was a kid.”

Ignarok stared at him, silent, processing the strange rambling of his creator.

“Ah, I see you’re the strong, silent type,” Brent nodded. “Cool. I can dig it.”

Ignarok straightened. “You... want me to dig?” he asked, already preparing to gouge the floor with his massive fists.

“No! No digging,” Brent blurted, then caught himself. “I meant I like your vibe. Vibe means your... atmosphere. You know, the energy you’re putting off.”

Ignarok seemed to pause, processing the new information. “I... see.”

Brent chuckled, shaking off the last bit of dizziness from the energy drain. “Anyway, welcome to the family, Ignarok. You’ll meet the others soon enough. If Ferron asks you to do something, just do it. He’s kind of my right hand around here.” Brent paused, thinking. “Anything you need from me right now?”

Ignarok pondered the question, his fiery form crackling softly. A long moment passed, and then another, before he finally answered, “No.”

“Great! Well, I’m off to the Core Room. Lots to do before the big opening. Be sure to give the adventurers hell when they come through!” Brent called out, releasing the Dungeon Vision and retreating back to his core. “Well, Ignarok’s not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but I think he’ll do just fine.”

Emil, standing nearby, looked at Brent with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You named another one?”

Brent nodded. “Of course. I thought you’d get the idea by now that I’m going to name all of them.”

Emil sighed. “When you didn’t name the other minions, I thought maybe you’d finally given up on that.”

Brent shook his head. “Nah, just needed to save some energy for naming the boss. If I’d tried to name all the minions before, I probably would’ve passed out.”

Emil’s eyes widened in concern. “Wait... You’re losing energy when you name them?”

“Yeah,” Brent replied, his tone casual. “I feel really drained afterward. No idea why, though. Maybe I’m doing something wrong?”

“That doesn’t sound good, Brent,” Emil said, his voice growing urgent. “You need to be careful with your energy. You can’t afford to run out before the dungeon even opens. And we don’t know what effect naming them is having. You could be giving away part of yourself without realizing it!”

Brent waved him off. “Cool your jets, bro. I’m fine. We’ve got more important things to focus on—like setting up an entrance.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Emil asked, eyeing Brent closely. “You’re rambling more than usual.”

“I’m fine,” Brent insisted, though his voice wavered slightly.

"Look, let's not go putting the cart before the horse, here. We still need to check on a few other things in the dungeon," Emil said, trying to slow Brent down in his currently excited state.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. “Wait... Cart before the horse... Cart...”

“What? I was talking about slowing down,” Emil said, now thoroughly confused.

Brent’s core pulsed brightly. “Cart! Racing! I’ve got an idea. Do they have mine carts in this world?"

"Um... yes? Why?" Emil replied, clearly unsure where this was going.

Brent’s core pulsed with sudden energy. "I just got an amazing idea. We need to redo the dungeon!"

"Redo the dungeon?!" Emil exclaimed, his disbelief clear as he stared at Brent. "We're only a couple of days away from opening! We’d be pushing the envelope—no, shoving it off a cliff—if we try to overhaul everything now!"

"Don't care. We need to do it." Brent was already flipping through his menu options, his mind racing at the possibilities. "Ferron, I need you and the other minions ready to put in some serious work. We're gonna make a real track!"

Emil’s metallic shoulders slumped. "You're seriously going to redo the entire dungeon?"

"Yup!" Brent didn’t even hesitate. "I told you I wanted a race. Ferron, can you figure out how to make the carts move on their own? Like, if someone pulls a lever inside the cart?"

Ferron, who had been quietly listening, perked up at the challenge. "Sure. That's not too difficult. Most mines already use something similar, so workers don’t have to push heavy carts by hand. A mana-powered chain system runs under the tracks and pulls the carts along. Are you thinking of letting adventurers control their own carts? And what about getting a whole party through the dungeon?"

"We’ll set up three tracks," Brent said, now fully immersed in his plan. "We can add switch points they have to hit with their weapons to navigate between tracks in each room to avoid traps. There could also be levers they pull to speed up or slow down. And the minions will trigger traps or swoop in to mess with them as they race. Oh man, this is going to be amazing!"

Emil, who had been trying to keep up, threw his hands up in frustration. "But... we need to... we’re almost done!" He was practically stammering now, so overwhelmed by Brent’s rapid-fire changes that he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence.

"Emil, breathe." Brent was unfazed, radiating confidence. "We’ve done all this other setup already. Trust the process. I don’t want to open this place until we’ve nailed the concept down perfectly."

Emil took a deep breath—a strange sight for a mechanical being—and sighed. "Okay. You’re right. This is your dungeon. I’m here to help you, so... let’s do it your way." He seemed to be calming himself, though his gears audibly creaked as if under stress. "Alright, let's get to work."

Brent wasted no time. He called all the minions that could leave their assigned rooms to the Core Room and laid out the new plan. Ferron, standing tall and solid, was particularly excited by the challenge. The others remained expressionless, as expected, but Brent could feel Ferron’s enthusiasm radiating like the heat from a furnace.

"Alright, everyone, this is going to be intense. We're building tracks through the entire dungeon," Brent announced. "Ferron, lead the charge."

With Ferron directing the team, they began to rearrange the dungeon. Rooms were shifted with a few mental commands, the layout gradually morphing into a design more suited for a multi-lap race. Brent’s focus sharpened as he used his map interface to visualize the track, weaving it through the existing rooms. He was using more of the materials he had absorbed during expansion—wood for the ties, iron for the rails—to create a functional mine cart system.

Purchasing a set of mine carts from the Dungeon Store, Brent also found the track mobility systems—expensive but necessary for his vision. As each cart was positioned at the starting line near the entrance, Brent instructed Ferron and the other minions to set the traps along the new track, ensuring they were strategically placed to challenge the racers.

Kagejin and Ignarok, his more sentient minions, took an immediate liking to the new design. Instead of seeing themselves as combatants in every room, they now had the freedom to act as traps themselves, controlling when and how to intervene with the racers. Brent was surprised to find them experimenting with the layout of their respective rooms, devising ways to create unexpected challenges.

Brent’s core swelled with pride as he saw them fully engaged in the process. His minions weren’t just following orders—they were contributing creatively.

"Alright, team," Brent said, gathering Ferron, Kagejin, and Ignarok for a final check. "This is going to be a five-lap race since the track isn’t that long yet. You’ll have plenty of chances to knock the racers off, mess with them, or even take them out. Don’t worry if you miss—they’ll come around again. Their goal is to survive, not necessarily win."

The three minions nodded, all clearly ready for the challenge ahead.

"You've got this. Do your best, and we’ll fine-tune it if we need to," Brent said, smiling mentally at his growing team.

Satisfied with the progress, Brent zoomed out using his Dungeon Vision, surveying the new layout. The intertwining tracks, the traps, the strategic rooms—it was all coming together. His excitement reached a fever pitch.

"Now, we just need a test run," Brent muttered. "Damn this formless body... I wish I could test it myself." He turned to Ferron. "Ferron, you’ve got the honors. Take one of the carts for a spin."

Ferron, always dutiful, nodded and moved to the first cart, his bulky form nearly filling it. Brent had taken the extra time to create different colored markers for the start of the race, painting the ground in a checkered pattern to mark the starting line, which doubled as the finish line. The carts lined up behind it, gleaming in the dim light of the dungeon, waiting for the countdown to begin.

Above the track, a magical timer hung—another clever addition Brent had programmed in. It hung just below the ceiling, perfectly visible from the start, ready to count down to the race’s beginning, and keep track of the racers laps and finishing time.

"Oh! Wait!" Brent exclaimed. "We need weapon boxes. They should have a chance to grab items to use against the minions. Let’s add some."

After digging through the Dungeon Store for almost half an hour, Brent found something suitable—fragile treasure chests that could be suspended from the ceiling by thin twine. He positioned them along the track, each one filled with random items for the racers to use, be it temporary weapons, shields, or potions.

Once the final adjustments were made, Ferron positioned himself in the first cart, excitement evident in the steady thrum of his metallic body.

The timer clicked to life, counting down from three. Brent held his breath, watching as the numbers ticked closer to zero.

This was it. His dungeon, his race, his dream—all about to be set in motion.