Following our brainstorming session and lacking any better ideas, my friends proceeded to employ the dungeon as a makeshift exercise and training room. I, on the other hand, nobly sacrificed my own Running time in favor of pumping Duni for more knowledge on... well, everything.
Despite my initial incomprehension over my friends' disinterest, I came around to their perspective as our telepathic discussion stumbled along, consisting more of effecting communication than imparting information. I could see why, despite the eminently fascinating and extraordinary subject matter, an outside observer might lose their patience and demand leapfrogging to a report of the results.
I supposed some people wouldn't accept suffering through the means, not even for such worthy ends. But I did not begrudge a minute of the former; I was too grateful and excited over the latter. In particular, I learned dungeons, or at least Duni, hoarded and utilized three types of system-affirmed resources: Mana Points, Core Points, and Special Points.
The first of these was by far the easiest to obtain and quickest to be used. Duni's Mana Points -- that I started to mentally abbreviate as MP -- increased apparently all the time, especially when the dungeon slept; when us intruders were active in the dungeon, especially battling the rats; when we exerted ourselves, especially when we sweated on the dungeon (Bessie wiped hers on the wall as a quick and dirty experiment); and most of all when absorbing bodies, especially when these were fresh. Duni likewise spent MP on everything; if they could do it, they could use MP for it.
Unfortunately, of all their resources, MP alone was capped albeit softly. After a certain point, Duni's mana gain slowed from a marathon run to a crawl, or perhaps a limp when sleeping. The total amount they could comfortably hold increased with rooms and upgrades, but the cost of most important purchases -- notably excepting the creation of more Constructs -- also increased, often far surpassing the cap.
This was where Core Points came in. They could be substituted for MP, saving invaluable time, especially as they either lacked their own cap or Duni had yet to reach it. Apparently the conversion ratios differed between potential purchases? They seemed to run from worthless to at best ineffectual when it came to creating new Constructs, but they'd proved essential for adding both new floors.
When I'd heard this, it had sounded to me like an inbuilt measure to prevent wasting CP. But Duni had disagreed when I'd shared my theory. I'd eventually chalked up their confusing attempt at justification to 'dungeon instincts.'
In any case, Core Points were sadly much more difficult to gain, thus far increasing exclusively from absorbing anything new or dead, bonus points for both, where 'new' referred to material substantially different from anything previously absorbed. For example, Duni had spent mana to absorb my book but thereby gained CP, a worthwhile trade. Absorbing bodies barely cost any mana and then returned much more along with CP, doubly incentivizing dungeons to eat once-living beings.
I had encouraged the dungeon to express such transactions using their newly taught numbers and been rebuffed. If I had to guess, they could roughly estimate but not exactly quantify their resources, and they were self-conscious of this perceived failing.
Their knowledge also came up short regarding Special Points. They had marked certain instances where their SP had increased -- their first minions on each floor, their bosses, their newest floor, our first interactions, the maybe-Executive's visit -- but they hadn't been successful at deliberately raising this value.
Duni was even less clear on how SP should be spent, or in other words, they hadn't spent any. The sole option of upgrading current minions failed to appeal.
I was rather proud to present all my above findings to my friends in only a short few minutes, like sifting through a whole creek bed to deposit nuggets of pure gold at their feet. Having read up extensively on dungeons, I could say with authority I was providing fresh material previously unknown or unrecorded. (At least, unless the information was restricted Red or Black, and I didn't see why it would be.)
Alas, they failed to be appropriately impressed. "Yes, that's interesting and all," Bessie said, "But what is the practical point of all this MP-CP-SP business? No offense."
"It is always practical to understand how things work," I said, struggling not to offend or feel offended. "For instance, we now have a better idea of how to increase Duni's resources."
"Great, but can they actually do anything with that?"
"Um... we haven't gotten that far yet. Oh, but I've discovered why dungeons prefer eating humans; Duni believes we would offer so much more CP."
My friends exchanged glances. "Joy," Bessie said drily.
"Um... I suppose maybe that's not so actionable for now," I admitted, deflating. "But do you understand what this could mean for Scholars?" What a pity they weren't my audience. "I truly believe we might have convinced the guild to safeguard Duni... if not for Grimmark."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Tom spoke up to my surprise. "The Scholars should know better than anyone how dangerous intelligence can be. They're the most likely to coldly and rationally make decisions based on what their big brains think's best for the world."
"And the least likely to be swayed by the possibility of personal gain," I finished, thinking of risk calculations and threat analyses. I sighed. "You might be right."
I couldn't help thinking I was a bit of a failure as a Scholar. I kept letting my feelings override my logic... but then, it felt equally drastic to give up on Duni or Nailla, and the worst of both worlds was to waffle halfheartedly between action and inaction, helping and not helping, accomplishing nothing.
"I don't think this will really help," I said, "But I also learned respawning is significantly more costly than creating afresh, so... I am afraid to say that..."
"No, don't tell me," Bessie said, "Our cheapskate dungeon hasn't respawned a single minion?"
"Only King Rat. As a boss, its respawn mechanics are different."
"Er, we didn't kill him though? I'm pretty sure?"
"Executive Scholar," Tom reminded her, and they all shuddered in unison.
I didn't, but I couldn't help recalling the flash of memory Duni had shown me. That floating hooded figure had incinerated the boss to a crisp before it could so much as utter a squeak of protest. No wonder the proud rodent had never even mentioned the incident.
"I guess that is another reason Duni asked us not to kill their minions," Bessie said. "But have to say I'm surprised. I thought the rats were learning from us? At least a little?"
"There have been some survivors," I said. "I imagine the new ones follow their lead."
I had tried to ask Duni if they were sapient. The dungeon no longer had the excuse of not understanding me but still expressed their confusion. After some more back-and-forth, I understood they were not sure themselves.
And they didn't want to think about it too hard. In that, the dungeon remarkably resembled a human.
"So... you were saying about practical?" Bessie said and then burst out laughing. "Kidding! It was a good lecture. You should be a Scholar or something."
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Upon returning to the library later, the first thing I did was seek out another print edition of my destroyed book. I then copied it with Scribe.
Though I hadn't bothered explaining the details to my friends, copying books was not such a simple matter, ordinarily; before my upgrade, back when I had the second-level, Tier-3 [Scribe], I would have needed a perfectly sized blank book upon which to cast my Skill, and the guild would have kept an accounting of my total number of books used and returned.
Thankfully, [Enhanced Scribe] bypassed all that to reproduce any given book in full.
Of course the Tier-4 Skill could be put to much more productive and profitable uses, but I'd gone cold all over at just the thought of approaching the front desk or trying to explain my error. I'd run through all the possible excuses and wordings: misplaced, stolen, innocently obliterated... no, speaking in euphemistic generalities might invite more questions. I'd brought the book with me out on an adventure, mistakenly believing it would be fine. Then cut to the profuse apologies.
I did not know what possible reaction would be worst. Contempt? Disappointment? Blank indifference?
No, better not to find out. I might be wasting my mana, but I was buying my peace of mind.
Afterwards, I returned the Scribed copy, thanked the library assistant, and walked away... before heaving a huge, gigantic, enormous sigh of relief. So that was over.
After that whole ordeal, I was happy to escape back into the comparatively comforting Archives. Though I hesitated, I decided against looking into Red books related to dungeons, judging this too risky.
Which maybe made my next choice of reading all the more dubious.
Misconceptions over demons abounded, no thanks to their popular infamy. I was still surprised to see the vast majority of demon-related books in the Archives were shelved here solely or primarily because they were inaccurate. Then again, I supposed a few judicious reminders this was an older work since disproven or fiction would be enough usually; not so much when the reader might actually try to summon, contain, or bargain with a demon while relying on misinformation.
I supposed I should've been out there in the main library, conducting general research before diving into an Archive search, as when I'd researched familiars. But I would likely need to ask the library assistant for help and recommendations, and today of all days, when I was already burdened with a guilty conscience, I couldn't find it in me to broach the subject casually.
No, I needed to have a preprepared alibi... um, rationale. I should conceive of a... a research proposal or similar for researching demon summonings that didn't sound spectacularly suspicious, like walking right up and saying: 'Excuse me, but would you happen to know any books on how to get away with murder?'
Perhaps Bessie could turn up her charm and laugh over such a question, but I somehow felt certain I would be politely refused and maybe even have the Watch called on me.
The Archives, by contrast, were less open, less occupied, and best of all, involved consulting only the magical catalog. If I was lucky, I could finish up my research here without talking to anybody. Thanks to my helpful book carrier, I even chose a remote shadowy corner and piled up my books as a sort of shield, behind which I might remain unseen. Most especially by Senior Rubrik.
But then all such thoughts and worries faded away as I began to read. I had heard demons were dangerously tempting, but I'd simply supposed they were beautiful to tempt the lustful, powerful to target the purposeful, and the last resort for the desperate. These things were all true, but they were also... startlingly, surprisingly... easy.
That was what made demons so insidious. We'd all heard the tales of them rampaging, but the vast majority of the time, the demon stood in the circle, polite as could be, and engaged the summoner(s) in conversation, trying to work out a deal agreeable to both sides. Keep in mind said demon was typically older than dirt, knew secrets of magic to turn Archmages green with envy, and with enough mana could fight toe-to-toe against Platinum-Rankers or even Names... and yet it would profess itself happy to talk to the lowliest summoner capable of copying a basic summoning circle out of a book.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
No wonder summoning one was tempting.
The most important thing to know about demons was that they lied, but they never broke deals. (Or did that count as two things?) Since they couldn't be effectively threatened -- their real bodies were still back in the demon realm, so they couldn't even really be killed -- they only ever entered into deals of their own choosing, and they were master manipulators; for the longest time, everybody had believed they were like the twisty Fae, unable to lie outright. But they did sometimes offer good deals.
Most often how this worked was that the demon wouldn't quite give the summoner everything desired, but also wouldn't ask for that much. Meanwhile holding the circle drained the summoner's mana, which was still needed to banish the demon back to its realm. This was why summoning the same demon repeatedly might be necessary, or multiple summoners might cast together. Of course, the more summonings or people involved, the greater the chance of slipping up or one betraying the rest. A string of fortunate deals could be negated in a single unfortunate instant.
Yet sometimes good deals were just that, as far as anyone knew, with no hidden catch or long game ever discovered. Some theorized these must serve a purpose unrelated to the current summoner or era; demons were immortal, and unless otherwise specified were happy to complete their end of a deal in a thousand years, or two thousand, or, you know, whenever they got around to it. Others thought demons might be less mercenary than believed, occasionally acting out just because they were bored and amusing themselves. Or maybe, more argued, they knew giving the occasional handout led to far more summoners incautiously falling into their traps.
Honestly, the more I read, the more I was tempted to try a demon summoning myself. I was as curious as anyone to meet one, and though it might be presumptuous or hypocritical of me, I thought I had a few advantages compared to most summoners. For one, I was naturally cautious; I would banish the demon long before I was at risk, and I'd only choose places and times minimizing the chance of interruption. I wasn't so arrogant as to think I was cleverer than any demon I summoned. And I wouldn't agree to any deal out of desperation or ambition; I understood any hole, no matter how deep, could be dug even deeper with demonic assistance.
But I had been acting much less cautiously of late, hadn't I? A year ago, I doubted I'd have given summoning a demon any serious thought. I'd have happily retreated to my books instead.
Or not so happily. I suddenly stopped thinking of demons as abstract concepts on paper and recalled the real live ones I'd seen in Hellsfell... and on second thought, the potential risks seemed to outweigh any potential benefits.
Even if a first summoning often involved little to no risk and tempting benefits. That was how demons got people coming back for more.
I should probably at least raise the subject with my friends... my team. They were sensible enough people. Um, hm. They were worldly enough, and I had to trust together we could make good decisions.
Though I should wait until after we tried moving the Core tomorrow... wait, today.
I blanched as I realized I'd completely lost track of time researching. And since I'd hidden myself away behind my book fort, there'd been no gentle reminder to sleep from my mentor. In fact, maybe my favorable thoughts toward demon summoning could be blamed on sleep deprivation.
Somehow it was already past 3AM. Quickly standing, I swayed, grabbed hold of the nearest tower of books, and had to wait out a spell of dizziness.
Thank mana the Scholar's Quarters were connected to the Guildhall.
----------------------------------------
As we gathered before the Core, I would probably be more anxious if I weren't so tired; despite oversleeping, I'd still been woken by Bessie long before I'd felt ready. But we were all here, and I'd brought two Scrolls of Stone Shape, the extra just in case -- see, still cautious -- though I'd need to have stern words with myself if I failed one of my castings.
No, never mind, I was starting to feel more awake and nervous already. Or was that from feeling Duni's surprising outbreak of nerves?
"Ready?" I said and waited. Then reminding myself I was the adult here, I began to cast.
Stone Shape was only a Tier-2 spell, and as expected, I cast it smoothly... but then it reminded me a bit of observing water while linked to Nailla. The whole dungeon lit up through a new lens, so that for a moment I bizarrely felt like I had eight senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, Empathy, mana sensitivity (enhanced by [Advanced Appraisal]), and this unformed stone sense.
But even as I peered around, I could feel the ability slipping away from me. Right, that was what I got for not splurging on the upgrade. I hurried forward, placed my hands on two sides of the Core, and pulled on the wall.
The stone shifted slowly and grudgingly, like moving thick mud. I poured my mana into the fading spell and yanked as hard as I could...
Everything happened very fast. I stumbled at the sudden mana drain; the Core fell loose out of the wall; Blake shot forward and caught it... and the second-floor rats went berserk again, charging in a homicidal rage.
My heart pounded in terror. "D-Duni?" I said, but the dungeon didn't respond. No, the dungeon was...
The dungeon was panicking. It had been many years since I'd experienced or witnessed a full-blown panic attack, but that was the immediate comparison that sprang to mind. I reflexively plunged myself into [Intermediate Meditation] and forced my breaths in and out, in and out evenly, before I tried to feel and project calm...
No use; Duni's panic continued unabated. I reached out to touch the Core, focusing on happy thoughts, but it was like my waves of forced positivity broke against an unyielding high wall.
The dungeon didn't even notice my efforts, and the first rats were flinging themselves down the stairs.
"Here," Blake said and pushed the Core into my arms.
I blinked, and he was already brandishing his daggers.
Then I had to stomp down on my Empathy, so I wasn't swept up by all the overwhelming feelings. But before I did, I noted the rats were angry... but more than that, they were terrified. It was the blind terror of one backed into a corner, lashing out as a last desperate act.
With my Empathy muted, I felt genuinely calmer. But also as I looked at the swarming rats, I realized not one that died here would be revived. This would mean their true deaths.
Not that my friends were killing them; they didn't need to, despite the swarm's rabid frenzy. With me safely in the back and fully capable of shielding if necessary, my friends worked smoothly together. I didn't like watching the violence, but I couldn't help noticing they were likely more effective overall than when I was in the protected middle and 'helping.'
Still, something seemed off. I did end up casting [Mana Dome] as one rat skittered toward me, but it was picked off before I had to follow through with [Magic Hand].
That was when it struck me. The rats were dissolving far slower than they normally did out of bounds! And for that matter, Duni was spewing mana at an alarming rate. I hadn't noticed immediately because the Dungeon Core itself was so ridiculously mana dense, flooding my mana-sensitive senses, so it was like trying to observe the ocean level dropping while underwater. But it just kept dropping. I couldn't help panicking a little myself at the thought we might be destroying Duni.
Thankfully, the battle was winding down. The disabled rats continued to shake and squeak piteously.
I stared at them with a horrible feeling in my stomach, and for once I couldn't blame my Empathy. The long and short of it was that they did still look rather monstrous, full of sharp claws and teeth, but they were no longer only that; I remembered them huddled against the wall or eagerly awaiting cheese, and apparently they could learn from each other.
Yet they were second-floor Constructs on the third floor. Despite whatever Duni had done, they were slowly but surely dying.
I let my Dome fall as Hannah backed up near me, once again the least involved since she wasn't shooting to kill. "All right there? How's Duni?"
"Not... um. Do you..." I swallowed. "Do you think you could bring the minions upstairs?"
She stared at me and then slowly shook her head. "They bite. And scratch."
"You could just take the ones that are unconscious?"
"Rena, I feel for you, but lugging around giant rats is a step too far even for me. Sorry."
I stared out over the strewn battlefield with increasing dismay. The slightest lessening of my Empathy suppression confirmed Duni wasn't doing any better. And the mana situation was growing -- sinking? -- even worse; I'd forgotten the dungeon should actually have been gaining mana during the battle. It was a marker of how much mana dungeons had that Duni was still over half full; I'd have already drained myself dry a hundred times over.
If this continued...
It couldn't continue.
Had we made a horrible mistake? No, normally the dungeon would be exhausted from defending itself -- themselves? -- before anybody reached the Core, so they'd be quickly forced into sleep. Duni would probably just fall asleep as well if they ran out of mana here.
"What's wrong?" I heard Bessie asking. Hannah replied in low tones that I couldn't hear clearly over my tumultuous thoughts. "Oh! Why not use... [Magic Hand]! Well, Rena?"
I glanced over to see Bessie directing her spell to drag a dire rat up the stairs. The process looked slow and painful, but...
"[Magic Hand]." I followed her example.
"I'm still waiting out my cooldown, but [Mana Barrier] might help too."
It did. We still only saved three rats each -- to my surprise, Tom took another, hoisting it bodily -- before the rest dissolved, though this at least restored some much-needed mana to the dungeon... albeit a fraction of the cost of replacing them.
Duni was still losing mana.
"They're an Empath like you, right?" Bessie said; I'd explained the situation while we were working. "And you're affected by everyone around you, you said. So now that the equally scared rats are out, maybe the five of us together can get Duni to loosen up?"
"Let's try it," I said. I bit back a warning that I'd have to return the Core to its original place if this didn't work. Or if it took too long.
"Who's the calmest of us right now?" Bessie asked, taking the Core from me.
I loosened my grip over my Empathy briefly and answered: "Tom."
"Ta-da!" She presented him the Core, which he took. "Congrats! All right, let's all gather around and... Forgot to ask, does feeling the same thing help? Or anything good goes?"
"The same."
"Fine then, what should we aim for? Peace? Excitement? Worry?"
"I can feel excited or worried," Hannah said. "Not so sure about peaceful."
"Worry works," Blake said. "Rena looks pale enough to faint. I think something's seriously wrong with Duni. If the dungeon bites it..."
We all exchanged horrified looks. "No, no, not fear, worry," Bessie said. "Like, we're concerned for our friend. Maybe-friend? Future friend? This poor little thing we are trying to help here."
Tom grunted. "Worry's too close to fear."
"Duni will be fine," I said. "We are putting the Core right back if the mana dips too low. We'll only have wasted our time and a Scroll, but we can try again. More worrisome is what else we can try." I looked around at my friends' concerned faces, or what I imagined was concern; I still hadn't let up on my Empathy. "Personally, I am worried for Duni... I am worried we will try our hardest and be unable to help them."
"I am worried for you," Hannah said. "I worry you'll keep trying to help others, and what that'll do to you when you fail. Or when you succeed at a cost."
I stared at her, but Bessie continued, "I worry I'll fail my resolve. We aren't getting enough useful practice as a team and definitely not against other people. I worry we'll be old and gray before we have a chance at Gold."
"I worry we'll make Gold and retire," Tom said. "And then drift apart. And barely ever see each other again."
"I worry you'll all die before me," Blake said.
All right, that was enough. Deciding I'd rather take another chance with Duni's panic than wallow deeper in increasing worry, I let the floodgates loose on my Empathy.
I felt my chest tighten with terror, but simultaneously I was blasted on all sides with worry that added fuel to my own. I deliberately stoked this even higher -- which wasn't hard, honestly, I was such a natural worrywart -- thinking of my worry I was a failed Scholar, that I wasn't really part of the team, that I wouldn't be able to help Nailla, that I shouldn't, and so much more, a whole world of worries, and then I reached out and grabbed onto the Core.
Panic and worry flared; they weren't mutually exclusive, far from it, but I felt when the new emotion registered with Duni. It was a break in what had previously been a monolith of pure panic, a crack in what had seemed unrelenting terror.
Worry was slower and softer compared to mind-numbing fear.
Most importantly, Duni latched onto it like a lifeline. They probably would have clung to fury, grief, or despair. Even dying could seem preferable compared to the fear of it.
Thankfully, the broken cycle seemed to work on itself, like a single shifted stone causing the entire pile to tumble down. I wouldn't have known how to lead them through the dungeon equivalent of breathing exercises, but they calmed down and even stopped losing mana on their own. Then they started to feel annoyed, uncomfortable, embarrassed...
"That worked!" I said. "Duni is no longer leaking mana like a broken bucket. Shall we try moving the Core now?"
"Now?" Hannah said. "Shouldn't we wait for them to recover first?"
"They really don't like this," I tried to explain. "Imagine if someone was shoving a hand down your throat..."
"All right!" Bessie clapped her hands together. "Up the stairs we go!"
For once Tom was in the back, carrying the Core, since we didn't want to risk it changing hands and startling the dungeon again. I tried to keep calm, reminding myself plenty of people had moved the Core all the way out of the dungeon, this was just one floor...
And then I felt it. "Watch out!"
Blake had already grabbed and thrown Queen Rat. From his unexcited emotions, I guessed the boss hadn't even triggered his [Danger Sense].
It didn't try to attack again, simply crouched and watched us with its pink eyes, looking decidedly less cute. I could feel its hostility increase as Tom emerged last into the room, the glowing Core causing the shadows to darken.
We all paused, eyeing the apparently second-floor Core.
"So," Hannah said, "That basically worked?"
"No it hasn't," Blake said. We all looked at him and then to where he was pointing. "How are we supposed to hide that?"
The stairwell entrance looked even darker and scarier than normal, like an open maw waiting to devour everybody above. Without needing to talk, we started towards the next room... where I was surprised to find the rats we'd saved cluttering the hallway. Either they'd recovered enough to move themselves, or Queen Rat must have moved them. Bessie and I both cast [Mana Barrier] and shoved them along ahead of us.
Behind me, I heard Queen Rat emit a primal scream, leaping at us; that abruptly cut off, the boss disappearing. I looked back, but Tom had only hurried into the hallway, still carrying the Core.
"She's gone," Hannah said. "That whole room just went dark."
We all paused to digest this before moving on. "Good thing this floor's already mostly cleared then," Blake said grimly. "If we can hide that depth-cursed hole."
Tom had just entered, plunging the hallway behind him into darkness. In my imagination, I could almost feel a cold and lonely wind whistle past, sucked into that nightmarish doorway that bore an uncanny resemblance to another gaping maw. A black hole contrasted against the Core's glowing whiteness.
It couldn't possibly have stuck out more in the otherwise featureless room.
"Right, then," Bessie said. "So back to trickery and deception?"