A smile grew on my face as I examined the colorful group surrounding the unassuming hole that had found its way into the cliff face of the so-called ‘Dragon Tooth’. The men and women were eager to participate in this endeavor, almost as much so as the woodcutters who were currently cleaving a path into the forest for the main workforce to use.
Even with all their enthusiasm, it would take them days to reach this place, maybe even a full week - time neither the head priest nor I were willing to waste. If even half of the things I had heard about this new dungeon were true, it was way too valuable of an asset to risk it falling into Sebasian hands. We were not currently at war with the kingdom, no, we were living in a precious time of peace and growth, one that had lasted for many decades, but the mere existence of a chosen dungeon in the forests separating Seba and Korinth could easily force a border dispute, one we were here to prevent happening.
It was only thanks to the head priest that we had found a solution to the overwhelming politics that came with the very existence of dungeons, let alone chosen ones. When both Korinth and Seba were bad options due to the risk of them escalating matters into skirmishes and possibly even war, what would happen if a third party claimed ownership over the land surrounding the dungeon in question, one neither of the kingdoms would dare toss their military might and political influence at?
The temples had their fair share of power themselves, as they were both the eyes, the ears, and the voices of the gods. Not a single king could dare to offend them, as doing so would come with the risk of their bloodline being shunned by the clergy, thus making even the poorest among the poor question the legitimacy of their rule. Of course cases like this were rare at best, as the temples were serving their deities first and foremost, caring little for mortal matters.
Of course, there were those blinded by greed, power, and even lust to be found even among the clergy from time to time, but those individuals were quickly sorted out once they revealed their true nature, being stripped of all their positions as not to risk the anger of the gods.
Beluar Telin, the current head priest, had never shown even the slightest sign of any of these heinous traits, being wholly committed to serving not only those living under his care and his chosen goddess Zaleria, goddess of forests and patron goddess of the elves, but also all of those reaching their hands out to him in need of help. He was a saintly figure, one most of us were looking up to. So when this man decided to throw most of the temple’s vast wealth and manpower at the matter of the newly appeared dungeon, all of us were more than willing to follow his wish.
This very wish or rather dream had not only sparked the construction of a long-sought-after road leading through Abervale Forest, a matter the king had failed to address for many years but had also brought me and my most trusted men and friends all the way to this remote place, having forced our way through the thick underwood while dispatching monsters left and right.
Beluar himself was dreaming of Abervale Forest soon becoming home to a town of pilgrimage and progress, one that would easily lure in adventurers, believers, and scholars alike, not only giving them a future but also a place they would hopefully be able to call their home. It went without saying that all of this was far in the future and it was unlikely the head priest himself would be there to see it all happening, given his old age and weakening body.
The king, on the other hand, would be rather unhappy over this development. It took three days for a fast horse to reach Korinth’s capital and a whole week to reach the one of Seba, and even though a mage could send short messages even over this distance, it was very unlikely the news of the new dungeon appearing had already spread that far. So the royality of the two neighbouring kingdoms would very obviously be late to the party, forcing them to send ambassadors and negotiators rather than an army.
That much could still be considered a risk, all things considered. Even with us claiming land in Abervale to allow for workers to create the town of Beluar’s dreams, we couldn’t hinder peaceful men and women from entering the dungeon to meet its avatar. And who knew what kinds of gifts and promises they would bring with them?
Depending on its character, the soul residing in this mountain could easily be swayed by that much alone, changing the dungeon’s whole appearance and even the treasures hiding in its depths to fit the needs of its new partners rather than those of the deities that had given birth to them in the first place. Quite a few dungeons had become corrupted in such a matter, and it wouldn’t be the first dungeon either that would be lost due to it straying too far from its deities’ wishes. There was a reason for champions to exist, after all.
Marisa herself was already performing her duty as such a champion, despite only having been anointed hours prior. She was currently on her way through the dungeon after having made me promise I would give her some time to talk to its avatar in peace and quiet. It seemed she was going to talk to the dungeon avatar and explain to it what was going to happen today and in the near future.
Naturally, I helped her make this happen, wanting to be on good terms with both Cilia’s champion and her chosen dungeon. So we found ourselves waiting for our turn to enter the dungeon, the men and women under my command quickly growing restless as they stood there doing nothing. All of them knew exactly why they were here, knowing both the importance of the delve that lay ahead of us and the risks it involved. Sure, as a raid we had a better chance against the monsters the dungeon would throw at us, but it certainly had the element of surprise on its side, having never been explored before - at least not officially.
Both Marisa and the ratkin she had brought back with her would easily have told us everything they knew about the dungeon if only we had asked often enough, but none of us had done so, instead wanting to explore the dungeon on our own terms.
For delvers, doing this much was a matter of pride or at least practicality, as the main purpose of a dungeon was not to exploit the riches they offered but rather them being tools for the gods, used to strengthen mortals for dangers to come. Exactly this process required those delving them to face real hazards in order to gain the most out of it, which was also why accepting hints and maps was heavily frowned upon; it was an obvious sign of weakness and fear of the unknown.
Still, we would be drawing a map, a highly detailed one even; one showing the types and locations of traps as well as as the remarkable features in each room that we encounter. The resulting map would be the combined work of all twenty-five men and women at my side, most of them contributing details and information from their own fields of knowledge to complete it. It will easily take us days to finish the first rough version of such a map and even more to draw one pleasing to the eye, only for it to be forever hidden away in the temple’s treasury, where only a select few could enter.
Maps created by the various temple’s exploration raids were solely used to check on the growth of a dungeon and predict important changes to it as well as help champions perform their various duties. Kings and noblemen on the other hand may send similar groups, though more motiviated by ambition or greed than simply keeping tabs on the dungeon's development.
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Though both groups would generally assign a name and difficulty rating to both the dungeon as a whole and it's individual rooms which would be made available to any who were interested, as prevent unnecessary loss of life: this level of assiatance was accepted by almost everyone. As for what this dungeon was going to be called, only time would tell, with its favorite type of monsters, its deity, or its location being the most frequent inspirations.
The sound of steps closing in tore me out of my thoughts. One of the two earth mages, a man named Pilt, was walking up to me, asking for my attention with a simple nod.
“I think we've waited long enough,” the man said. “Time to explore a dungeon.”
“It hasn't even been five minutes Pilt.”
“That girl is on her way to the core room anyway. She will be much faster than us with us mapping out the rooms.”
He was right. It was highly likely the dungeon’s avatar was waiting in the very last room of the dungeon, meaning we wouldn’t see anything of either of them for hours at least. As for how she would even make her way there I couldn’t say. There could easily be hundreds of hostile monsters blocking her way, after all, and traps wouldn’t differentiate between champions and mere adventurers.
“I guess you are right,” I decided, “Let’s go before they run into danger.”
Pilt nodded, satisfied, before following me to the rest of the group. Before long I had made my way in front of the entrance where I once again made sure every single one of the mages, fighters, healers, and paladins knew what exactly their role would be going into this raid. I then led the group into the mountain, where awaiting us was a long, pitch-black tunnel.
“Sibel,” I addressed one of the healers, “Some light please.”
The priestess quickly summoned several wisps of holy light, each of which sprouted tiny wings, before spreading out amongst the group. The magic, which was nicknamed ‘Little Fat Spirit’ due to its appearance, was a popular staple among delvers as it barely drained any mana while being a massive boon in many situations; and it was once again proving its worth.
The tunnel itself was rather smooth and artificial looking, with no source of light to be found anywhere. Due to its lack of features, it didn’t look beautiful or interesting in the least, making me regret not having brought some glowing moss, shrooms, or crystals with me.
“Oliver,” I called out to my aide, “make sure to add something to light this place up to the list.”
The man in question nodded to my request before quickly placing down his backpack, opening it, and pulling forth a small wooden board that had several sheets of paper already pinned to it. He then walked over to one of the men who had a wisp following him before beginning to write down the required offering.
The list would sooner or later find its way to the adventurer’s guild, where it would be hung up for everyone to see. It was somewhat of a tradition and question of honor to spread popular items, ores, and plant material between dungeons, encouraging beneficial growth for all of them. Naturally, doing so also came with the possibility of making it much easier to gain the submitted loot much easier in the future, so it was by no means a mere gift to the deities and their dungeons.
I, too, had brought something valuable to sacrifice, a small dagger that had already accompanied me for tens of years. It was somewhat of a family heirloom, albeit one that had never been used for its intended purpose. So why not give it to someone or rather something that could make far better use of it? I couldn’t wait to see what the dungeon would make from its material.
Every single member of the raid had brought such a sacrifice, some choosing precious items, others instead bringing something more symbolic in nature, such as a flower or fruits they like. Whatever they would hand out, nobody would judge them for it, as doing so was considered bad manners; so as long as they didn’t present a hand of dirt, that was.
I reached for the dagger, making sure it was still there, before staring into the depths of the tunnel. I could now see light in the distance, meaning there was a room ahead. Still, I stayed vigilant, fearing there might still be a trap lying in wait for us; not that it would be efficient with the lack of features that could be used to hide it.
It was when I had almost reached the room that I suddenly heard voices. Somebody was talking in the room!
“...invade my home, kill all of my children, and then tell others how easy it is to do so, just so that more of them can come and do the same,” a young, foreign-to-me female voice said.
A shiver ran down my back as I heard what I could only assume was the cruel summary of what a raid looked like from a dungeon’s perspective. “The avatar is here?!”
It only took me a few more steps to confirm my guess. Both Marisa and Alfred could be seen in the middle of the room, where they were accompanied by a girl who shared the newly acquired features of the former priestess, albeit her hair was red and black rather than blonde and white. The supposed dungeon avatar, too, had a long, bushy tail, one that ended in a pure white just like Marisa’s did.
“That is one way to view it,” I heard Alfred reply to her harsh words.
“So it is my job to send them to hell for trying it,” the girl almost immediately answered, her tail slowly waving from one side to the other as she did so.
I couldn’t help but laugh at her words, making all three of them turn around in shock. “I like you,” I decided as I made my way towards the group before reaching out my hand to greet the dungeon’s avatar. “Aspen Lowee, son of Richard ‘the Dragon’.”
“Kiomi,” she shyly answered before shaking my hand, “D- daughter of Cilia, Light of Life.”
I couldn’t help but be impressed by her introduction, I have been told I would be raiding a chosen dungeon, but for the dungeon avatar itself to claim it was related to the goddess? That one certainly was a surprise. Luckily, there was an easy way to confirm her claim. I simply turned around to Deluc, who was a mind mage who could easily dispel most lies by using an array of artifacts he always seemed to be carrying around with him. This time as well, he presented a shiny silver orb the size of his fist
“What do you say, Deluc?”
The wrinkly old man took a single glance at his artifact before his eyes widened in shock, “She is telling the truth.”
The rest of the raid was shocked by Deluc's words. They seemed unwilling to believe him at first, but soon thought better of it, knowing that the man wasn’t one to make up fairytales. One by one, the men and women bowed or knelt, silently urging me to do the same; so I did.
“I greet you, Kiomi, Daughter of Cilia,” I addressed her after bowing.
“Tha- thank you.”
“So you are the dungeon’s avatar,” he asked.
“Yes.”
I didn’t need Deluc to confirm this one. The girl had made it more than obvious just who she was.
“So it is all true…”
Only now did I take a quick look around the room, finding it devoid of any monsters, traps, or other sources of danger. There were only statues to be seen, most of them animal-shaped and made of shiny metal and stone, with only one being different. It showed two women carved out of white marble and decorated with clothing made out of various colors of metal. One was kneeling and had a number of tails fanning out behind her; the other one was sleeping instead. It was this resting figure that made me look twice, as it seemed more than just familiar to the girl in front of me. The statue even had the same clothes!
I pushed the matter aside, deciding to deal with the whole idea of me being surrounded by both a champion and a deity’s own blood a little later. Instead, I once again faced the avatar, asking for her permission for our planned endeavor.
“Will you grant us the honor of exploring your dungeon?”
The girl hesitated at first, but before she could deny my request, Marisa embraced her in a gentle hug. “She will,” the former priestess said, before adding. “I will make sure she doesn’t interfere with your work.”
I immediately ordered the raid to swarm out to do the job at hand. The men and women were happy to oblige, and soon they were spread out everywhere, some of them examining the statues, others taking notes, casting magic, or drawing first sketches of the room's features. I was just about to check out the statue myself when the dungeon’s avatar called out after me.
“Don’t touch the nursery!”
“A nursery,” I couldn’t help but ask. “In a dungeon? Don’t you just… summon your monsters?”
The girl shook her head. “Those two are special.”
I couldn’t help but nod, unsure what to think about the matter, before once again turning to the statue of what must be Cilia. “Light of Life, huh? Must be her work…”