After their training and a long-overdue snack, the team checked the entrances to Temple Alley’s dungeons.
By a stroke of luck, the old mansion on Sax Street was undergoing renovations, which made it possible to sabotage the entrance. The University Dungeon took refuge somewhere in the Doc’s department, so he could restrict access to it or at least quickly rescue anyone wandering close by.
The church at Rubens Crossroads, however…
“This sucks,” Matthew said from the back of the car, his jaw tightening in anger.
“I have to agree,” the Doc replied with a sigh. “This is… concerning.”
The Protestant Church on Rubens Crossroads looked fabulous since the new pastor renovated it over a year and a half ago, with its brick spires and belltower looming over the streets, its stone cherubs watching over the passersby, and its stained glass window overlooking a mighty set of wooden gates. A pity that the yellow and violet hue hovering over the place like an ominous cloud ruined the sight.
Many Dungeons picked the worst places to hunt, but a few showed good instincts. This one had wisely selected the spot that would guarantee access to many victims.
The front door.
“It can snatch any visitor at any time,” John noted grimly. “And I believe the pastor’s congregation is quite large.”
“I think he’s Sasha’s father,” Kari said. “She’s in our class. Maybe I could ask her for the service hours? See when we can sneak in?”
“Can we destroy this one first?” Matthew asked the Doc. “Pretty please?”
John snorted. “Someone is getting excited. Is it because of the Dungeon’s color?”
A fair question. Matthew usually enjoyed the weird aesthetics of Yellow Dungeons, but not this time.
“I know someone buried in the church’s graveyard,” Matthew replied, his single eye glaring at the front door. He was half tempted to exit the car and clean up the place by himself. “I don’t want a Dungeon near her tomb.”
“Oh?” Kari shifted in her seat in embarrassment. “I’m sorry to hear that, Matt.”
The Doc gave Matthew a strange look before nodding in assent. “Tackling this Dungeon first seems to be our wisest option. I will pick you up tomorrow after your match and we will go straight to it.”
That time couldn’t come any sooner.
----------------------------------------
As befitting of its expensive tuition, the Lycée Français d’Evermarsh’s dorm had individual rooms. They were also hardly big enough to fit a rat family inside.
Matthew’s own room barely reached nine square meters, with a desk, bed, a shelf filled with art supplies, and a small TV as the only amenities; though he also managed to squeeze a mini-fridge into a corner. A few video game posters and a set of Major Chicken: Tender Generation plushies helped make it cozy enough for Matthew’s tastes, though he would have traded them all for a toilet. He didn’t see how peeing together with his fellow classmates at one in the morning helped create strong bonds of brotherhood.
Matthew spent most of the late afternoon sitting behind his desk with his headphones on and brainstorming new Yellow spell ideas. His current flight of fancy—which came to him while working on his new art club project—involved animating drawings and photos so that they would move on their own. Matter manipulation usually fell under Orange and information under Blue, but Yellow was intimately linked to art. He only needed to put a conceptual spin on the process. Sound was Red, but music was Yellow.
His current attempt involved lacing ink with Yellow Flux and then drawing animals in a Japanese calligraphy style. Mr. Hazelheart asked his students to deliver illustrations of nature for his class, so Matthew could both complete the assignment and train his sorcery at the same time.
He would surely find a practical use for the animation spell in time.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Matthew wondered if a painted door spell would work too. Space fell under the Violet color, but Jesse from the Hub team could pull people into her novels with her Yellow Key. Matthew’s wormholes worked just fine as doorways too.
I should pursue that dream palace idea too, Matthew thought as he put the finishing touch on a black cat illustration. He already succeeded in taking over lucid dreams in the past, so creating a symbolic dreamspace under his control should be within the realm of possibility. I could practice sorcery in my sleep.
Spellwork helped distract him from the church.
The idea of a Dungeon setting up shop so close to Perse’s resting place bothered him to his core. She had died in one of these places. If Maggie learned of it too…
The repeated interruptions from his ringtone drew Matthew out of his thoughts. Someone—probably John—kept sending him messages. Matthew opened his phone to check the group conversation.
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
>
> TRIGGER: Dumbass.
How cute. Matthew decided to play along.
> WORMHOLE: Dumbass.exe.
The answer came quickly.
> TRIGGER: D U M B A S S.
>
> TRIGGER: Wanna play Mario Kart in my room?
>
> WORMHOLE: Can’t sleep without a turtle shell up your arse?
>
> TRIGGER: I’m bored, and I need an easy win.
>
> CRIT: Seriously, guys? They’ll turn off the lights in half an hour.
Matthew checked the time. The dorm cut the juice at ten in the evening, and they were nearing half past nine.
> WORMHOLE: I only need five minutes to kick Misfire’s ass.
>
> TRIGGER: Prove it, if you dare.
>
> CRIT: Don’t blame me if Mr. King scolds you.
Matthew exited his room, walked up to the hallway’s end, and entered John’s room without knocking. His was more barebone and lacked decoration. It made Matthew wonder where he stashed his weapons.
“I thought you had chickened out,” John said. His Switch was already set up to his TV.
“From an easy fight? Never.” Matthew sat on the floor next to his teammate. “Best of three?”
“If one defeat isn’t enough for you, then sure.”
Matthew decided to test his Lucky Star spell here. A cloud of gloom immediately fell over him the moment he grabbed the controller. His sorcery intercepted the flow of his luck, storing the good fortune and leaving only the bad.
The first race turned into an unmitigated disaster. The computer-controlled racers all targeted Matthew with their items, and he kept getting mediocre drops like coins and Piranha Plants. Matthew almost felt relieved by the time he crossed the finish line second-to-last.
“Better luck next time, Maruki,” John taunted him.
“For sure,” Matthew replied as he unleashed his stored fortune.
Two minutes and three lightning bolts later, John nearly threw his controller at a wall in annoyance. Matthew smirked from ear to ear as he claimed the top spot and his opponent ended up in the middle of the pack.
This test proved interesting. A small burst of fortune increased his odds of getting overpowered items, but didn’t make him invincible either. He still had to actively dodge the shells John sent him instead of trusting his luck to take care of them.
My spell greases the wheels but it doesn’t bribe the driver. This bothered Matthew a bit. He’d hoped Lucky Star would make him untouchable. At least it should help me gain a winning lottery ticket.
“I wanted to talk to you,” John said as the third race began. “About your pal, Maggie.”
Matthew tensed up. Of course he had an ulterior motive.
“Matsumoto didn’t want to tell you, but she hasn’t been at school this whole week,” John warned him. “The staff tried calling her home to check on her. Nobody answered.”
It didn’t surprise Matthew. Maggie’s mother was an alcoholic living on government paychecks since her husband’s death. Matt never saw her rising from her sofa in the many years he spent visiting Maggie’s house; that had been their little secret, since his own parents wouldn’t have let them hang out if they knew.
Maggie’s brother used to handle the family’s paperwork back in the day, but he left after the Mall incident too. Matt wondered how Maggie even managed to register at school.
“I see,” Matthew replied evasively. He didn’t want to discuss the subject, but John kept pushing him.
“If this continues, the disciplinary committee will need to examine her case,” he warned Matthew. “What the hell happened between the two of you?”
“That’s none of your business,” Matthew replied dryly.
“She’s a Crawler and we’re lacking in manpower. I’m pretty sure it’s my business.” John squinted at him. “That person buried at the Church–”
“Died.” Matthew glared at him. “That’s none of your business either, John.”
John took the hint this time. His quick and brutal defeat in the final round solidified his loss. As Paper Mario proved, Bowser could beat Mario in the right circumstances.
“Do you know why I always tackle a Dungeon fresh?” Matthew asked John as he put the controller aside. “Although I’m the best Crawler in town?”
John snorted. “Because you’re lazy?”
“Because when you’re tired, you get slower. You don’t pay attention to every little detail. You’ll write it off at first, telling yourself it won’t make a difference, but it will. I only goof off when I can afford to.” Matthew scratched his eyepatch. “One day, a monster will take you by surprise…. and if you’re lucky, it’ll only take your eye instead of your head.”
John didn’t answer him, and Matthew didn’t wait for a response.
He closed the door behind him without a word.