Salazar was getting desperate. When he first brought the subject of the dungeon spirit up with his direct superiors in the Toronto guild, he was laughed at for flights of fancy. He was told he needed to go back and arrest the illegal adventurers or else face suspension for disobeying orders. Knowing the guild wouldn't waste resources sending anyone else to deal with the group unless Salazar went himself, the choice was easy.
After all, slaying monsters was always the higher priority for adventurers.
A week-long suspension was nothing Salazar couldn't handle. If anything, he appreciated the time off from his work. It meant he had the liberty to direct his focus on the mystery of the dungeon spirit. He had never before heard of such a creature, and it's existence occupied his every waking thought. He pulled in every favour he had in his attempt to garner information about this subject, and yet nothing he found gave him anything new.
After three days of restless sleep and desperate searching, Salazar decided it was time to talk to a true expert. He hopped into his car and drove an hour and a half away from the city, until he reached the University of Waterloo's aetherology campus.
Constructed within the first year following the Aetheric Boom, the aetherology campus was still quite shiny and new compared to the rest of the university. Waterloo was known worldwide for the illustrious alumni it produced, from the founders of Blackberry and Ethereum, to celebrities of all kinds. It wanted to be at the forefront of magical research and innovation, and thus had pulled on these contacts in order to fund one of the largest aetherology labs in the world. That was where Salazar was headed, to a school he graduated from just over a year earlier.
Adventuring as a profession, and aetherology for that matter, where still relatively new in the grand scheme of things. An aetherology degree wasn't required to apply for adventuring certification, but it certainly made it far more likely to be accepted into the licensing process. That was why Salazar even bothered to attend Waterloo, raking in more debt in student loans than he could reasonably afford at the time. Still, he had talent, and the credentials, and now both were paying off.
After paying the exorbitant parking fee to store his vehicle in the lot, Salazar carefully weighed his options. His alumni card granted him access to multiple different buildings on campus, but the two most important were the library and the aetherology lab. The lab was his best bet for any current research topics, while the library would have a repository of recent discoveries. He weighed the two options while standing in line for one of the coffee vending machines on campus. It dispensed a disgusting instant brew and used an enchantment to rapidly boil water, allowing it to almost instantly dispense the mud-like beverage.
Three aetherology students were discussing their assignments in hushed whispers while waiting for their coffees, and Salazar took the opportunity to eavesdrop on them.
"I have a midterm on fundamentals this week, and I'm not looking forward to it. I have to prepare a ten page essay on the cause of the Aetheric Boom, and I haven't even started."
"Professor Lang is such a hard-ass. I heard Shelby got expelled for submitting plagiarized work in his class, even though she didn't copy anything. Is it really her fault an AI scraped her cloud drive?"
Salazar had to hold in a snort of laughter. Professor Lang had been one of his many teachers during his school years. An early prodigy of aetherology, Lang had developed his reputation naturally. Only the best of the best survived his classes.
With a paper coffee cup in hand, Salazar made his way across the expertly manicured lawn toward the library, tapping his alumni ID to gain access to the otherwise off-limits building. Like most of the magically-oriented campus, the library was shiny and new. Automated cleaning robots scrubbed the glittering tile floors, and instead of librarians there were multiple kiosks erected in the main hall.
Flashing back to his early days on campus, Salazar strode up to one empty kiosk and again tapped is ID. A friendly chime greeted him, confirming he was allowed access to all records up to the third floor. The fourth floor, where all the real bleeding edge research was stored, was regretably off-limits to anyone not in the masters or doctorate program.
"Hopefully this will be enough," Salazar mumbled, sipping the bitter coffee.
He started with some relatively simple keywords, hoping it would be enough to narrow down his search. While spirit turned up multiple results, none of them had any relation to dungeon. Curiously, Salazar attempted to isolate his keywords.
Not only did dungeon pull up nothing, the system actually tried to correct it to danger. As though Salazar was confused and wrote the wrong word. He scoffed in frustration and focused on spirit, hoping that perhaps he could glean something from that alone.
There were multiple papers written on the subject, but most of them were with regards to haunted establishments or cursed objects—things that had started popping up with greater frequency in the advent of the Boom. None of them described the kind of spirit Salazar was looking for, though.
"Hmm, this Genius Loci sounds like a close approximation," Salazar mumbled, as he read a brief description of the research paper over. "Spirits that inhabit a specific place and are fueled by local magic. That might be my spirit."
Salazar winced as he realized this paper was located on third floor. That was where all the recently completed research, the kind that was mostly still awaiting peer review but not current, was held. At least it wasn't a fourth floor paper. He quickly memorized the shelf number where he could find it, and then made his way up the stairs. At this hour, the library was mostly empty, but he still didn't want to waste time waiting for the elevators.
After all, his stats were high enough that a quick jaunt up the stairs were hardly taxing to him.
Upon reaching the third floor, Salazar was greeted by a forest of metal shelves. Unlike the two lower floors, in which shelves were arranged in neat rows, these shelves were arranged in an almost haphazard fashion. They were hexagonal in nature, which limited how many books could be held per unit, but they provided a different benefit. As soon as Salazar stepped off the stairwell and onto the third floor, he could feel the way magic shifted and moved through the shelves. The sporadic placement broke up ambient magic, prevented it from coalescing into something dangerous.
Salazar knew from his own studies that this was a method to prevent spontaneous aetheric manifestation. With this much magical research in one location, there was a risk that lingering aether and mana in the pages would condense together to create something dangerous. That was how elementals were born, and no university wanted to lose its body of research to something easily avoidable.
After all, that was how most schools lost validity as an institute of aetherology.
Stolen story; please report.
Mentally referencing the memorized shelf number, Salazar strode between the stacks of research until he came upon what he was looking for. Shelf G-2, row three.
The research paper was held together in a black binder, the white pages within crisp and clean. There wasn't even any dust on the cover, a sign that it had surely been enchanted to repel anything that might damage its contents. Flipping through its contents really quickly, Salazar was satisfied that he had the right thesis. Now all he had to do was read the damned thing.
Fortunately, there were plenty of desk strewn about the library. A few students were hard at work researching their own esssay topics, but none of them paid him any mind as Salazar set the binder down and took a seat.
As soon as he opened the first page, his eyes wanted to glaze over in boredom. It had been over a year since he last attended school, and his body was physically rejecting the need to read an academic paper. Still, he pushed through. He had to know if this was right.
The paper described Genius Loci as spirits born of the land itself. Unlike ghosts, which were manifestations born of a deceased person's remnant mana, there had to be a significant enough source of magic in a location for a Genius Loci to take shape. So far, that matched the description of the spirit Salazar encountered.
It was when he reached the middle section of the paper, which described the sorts of abilities Genius Loci were known to posess, that Salazar's heart sank. According to the paper, this type of spirit was shaped almost exclusively by their location. As the location changed, so too would the spirit in order to further accomodate its base of power.
This was sadly the exact opposite of what he was looking for. The dungeon spirit was able to manipulate its environment, even to the point of summoning monsters. Genius Loci could not.
Growling in frustration, Salazar slammed the binder shut and shoved his chair out from under the desk. He was thankful the library was carpetted on this floor, otherwise he would have just made a lot of noise. He would need to speak with someone in the aetherology research building after all, which meant he would need to apply for proper clearance. It was going to be a lot of work just to ask someone a question, and he wasn't looking forward to waiting.
As Salazar turned to storm back to the shelves, he was surprised to see a familiar face standing not twenty feet away from him. An older human man, roughly a head shorter than Salazar, was watching him with a curious eye. A single curious eye that glowed a mixture of white, black, and blue. The other was sealed shut and scarred over, giving his wizened face a battle-hardened look.
Salazar blinked in surprise as he recognized this man. The white hair and beard, the suit a purple so dark it was nearly black, even the crystal-topped cane by his side.
"Professor Snow, I didn't see you there," Salazar said, nodding his head politely to his former teacher.
"Dean Snow, actually," the old man corrected in a gruff voice that belied his many years of experience. His gloved left hand tightened on the crystal head of his cane as he strode confidently over to the elf. "Salazar, it's been too long. What brings you to campus today? Finally considering pursuit of your masters degree?"
Salazar politely shook Dean Snow's ungloved right hand, tucking the binder under his arm so as not to drop it. "Unfortunately not. Adventurer work is suiting me well enough."
Dean Snow's smile dropped into a frustated scowl. "Your talents are wasted in that line of work, my boy. You know how rare a Crystal affinity is. You could do so much better here than you could tossing magic around like a garden variety adventurer."
Salazar smiled as the older man released his grip. "Unfortunately for you, I'm having far too much fun tossing magic around to willingly sit myself behind a desk in the lab."
Snow shook his head. "If only I could convince you. Sadly, your mind was made up long ago. Your reluctance to live up to your true potential saddens me, but I accept it."
Salazar chose to ignore the subtle jab. Even when he was a professor, Snow had earned a reputation as something of a traditionalist—an elitist, even—in the field. It was no secret he held the adventuring profession in low esteem, and Salazar had spoken to the older man on numerous occassions about his desire to pursue it. They had spoken about his true potential numerous times in the past, but the reality was that Snow wanted Salazar for his elemental affinity and nothing else.
Finding people with affinities for the high elements was rare enough on its own. Even then, finding someone with a light or sound affinity was far more common than people with a crystal or magic affinity. Salazar didn't even know anybody else that had a crystal affinity like him, and wasn't sure how many peers he had out in the world. His power was widely sought after not because he could make crystals appear, but because of the paradigm it allowed him to control.
The crystal element was more than just the manipulation of pretty rocks, but the ability to control matter on a molecular level. Inorganic substances liked to form crystals with their molecular bonds, and Salazar was able to break those down or reshape them with a snap of his fingers. Plastic, stone, even metal were all within his domain of control. That sort of power was invaluable in aetherology, which was why Dean Snow was once again trying to convince Salazar to pursue academia.
"What, no new scholarship offer this time?" Salazar asked, quirking his lips in the slightest of grins.
"What more could I possibly give you, boy? I offered you full tuition, room and board, and even a free meal plan." Snow's fuzzy white eyebrows creased together like a pair of headbutting caterpillars.
"You're the dean, surely you can think of something," Salazar shrugged.
For a moment, the older man's anger bubbled up in his face. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it faded away. His face split once more into a grin, revealing shiny white teeth, as he chuckled. "Never change, Salazar. You are far too good a man for that."
Salazar shrugged again, and adjusted his grip on the heavy binder. "As much as I would love to catch up, Dean Snow, I'm afraid you caught me at a bad time."
The dean nodded at the binder under the elf's arm. "I can see that. I admit it was a rare sight to see you caught in research. I had to be sure it was you and not some other elf. What thesis is that, if I might ask?"
"Powers and habits of Genius Loci," Salazar said, handing the binder to the older man.
"That's an interesting subject. Hogwash, if you ask me, but interesting. Might I inquire as to why you would be researching such a thing?"
"Would you believe me if I said I encountered something new? Something that fell out of the bounds of current research—at least the research publicly available?" Salazar pointed up, to remind the dean he didn't have access to documents on the fourth floor and couldn't confirm whether it was up there or not.
Dean Snow scowled. "New and related to Genius Loci?"
"I'm not entirely sure it is. This is a matter that might be better served to a private conversation, though."
Dean Snow stared deep into Salazar's green eyes, the trio of colours swirling in his own as he drank in that statement. After a second of consideration, he nodded and tucked the thesis under his own arm. "Would you do me the honours of accompanying me to my office, then? I have a feeling you and I have a great deal to discuss."
For a moment, Salazar considered refusing the offer. It wasn't that he didn't want to discuss the subject with Dean Snow, but rather he wanted to find more information as quickly as possible. As Dean, the older man didn't actively participate in research anymore. It was highly likely that Snow didn't know anything more about dungeon spirits than Salazar did. At the same time, though, Dean Snow was the man to speak with if Salazar hoped to gain unfettered access to research materials. And, if there was anything to be gleaned about the dungeon spirit, Dean Snow was certainly the man who could point him in the right direction.
Besides, how often did Salazar get to return to his alma mater for anything other than donation rallies? Never, he reasoned.
He could do a lot worse than speaking to a man who was both invested in his future and willing to speak with him liberally. Besides, it wasn't like Snow was trying to corner him with Professor Lang.
"I would be delighted, Dean Snow," Salazar said, bowing his head politely. "And I agree, we do have a great deal to discuss."
Dean Snow smiled with his too-white teeth, and set the thesis binder back on the desk. "Someone less important will clean that up, I'm sure. Come along, my boy. I wish to hear all about your life as an… adventurer."
Salazar could practically hear the contempt in Dean Snow's voice, but didn't hesitate to jump right in. After all, it was very likely he had made a new discovery.