It’s green, Tulland thought.

It’s more than that. Take a look. A real look.

Tulland did. It took a moment for a new description to pop.

Hades Briar (Cultivated)

By some incredibly unlikely confluence of circumstances, a seed of the Hades Briar plant has been sown and enriched by a farming class. Since these seeds have no way to travel from The Infinite to the outside world, this should not have been possible.

In any case, the resulting creation is an unpredictable, unknown sort of thing. In many senses, it is identical to the wild plant it descends from. In some other important ways, it may not be. The Infinite is as in the dark about that as you are.

“Why does it seem like The Infinite is the one speaking there?” Tulland asked, out loud this time. “In my system messages, I mean.”

Because it is. I’m not the System of this place. Why would you think I was?

“You gave me my class and my equipment. It seemed as if you were fulfilling your function.”

I was. That much, at least, is my obligation towards anyone this dungeon considers to be a child of my world. But most of the functions of this place are its own. I can influence, in some ways. I can advise. But only as a visitor might.

“Should you be telling me this?”

Tulland felt the System communicating what could only be described as a kind of shrug.

Why wouldn’t I? You’ll be dead soon enough. And even if you managed to delay that event, I’ll end up with your power eventually. So long as you die in The Infinite, I’ll be on the winning side of things. And humans tend to die, over a long enough time frame.

Tulland stared at the plant as the System droned on. It was greener than the rest of the briars, and looked a little something else that was hard to define. He couldn’t think of a plant that nasty as friendly, exactly. But it seemed less actively malicious, at least.

“Hard to see how this is going to help.” Tulland glanced at his status screen. “It didn’t even level the Enrich Seed skill.”

It wouldn’t. Attacks don’t level attacking skills either, at least until they do damage to their targets. This plant is not yet grown.

“I could make it grow, I guess.” Tulland considered what it would feel like to cast another agricultural spell from his already empty tanks of energy. “But it would be about the last thing I could do.”

It doesn’t seem like much of a risk. Without some level of miracle, you won’t survive anyway. It might be a mercy, in some ways, if you used the last of your energy and hastened things along.

Tulland sighed and stretched out his hand. The System was a betrayer and a murderer, but that didn’t mean it was wrong in all ways. This was the thing he could do. He thought of his Quickgrow skill, and used it.

As the energy flowed out of him, Tulland felt something go very wrong. If his soul could have made a cracking noise, he was confident it would have. A pain welled up from so deep inside him that he couldn’t begin to identify the source.

Oh my. That’s interesting in a way you don’t see very often.

As the System said its piece, Tulland blacked out once again, fully expecting it to be the last time.

—

Level up!

Level up!

Skill level up!

Skill level up!

Skill level up!

Skill level up!

Tulland’s eyes were hazy almost to the point of blindness when he blinked them open. In his cloudy vision, he could see a bit of green ahead of him, and a bit of red, mixed together into an indistinct painting that bore no meaning to him. He was dizzy, and far beyond being able to rouse himself to care about the mess of notifications waiting to be read.

Tulland.

He ignored the System as best he could. He was too tired to care.

Tulland, listen to me. Eat the damn fruit! Now. This moment.

No fruit. Sleep.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

If you sleep, you will die, you fool.

Is ok. Don’t mind. Sleep.

Then I will find your uncle first. On my return, he will be the first I will make pay.

Tulland barely remembered his uncle. To the extent Tulland did, his uncle was a source of stew. And scolding. But mostly stew. Tulland’s stomach cramped at the very thought of food.

System said something about eating, Tulland thought to himself. Where’s the food?

I already told you, you idiot! In front of you. The big red thing in front of your face.

He reached for the fruit then, missing it on his first three tries and barely catching it on his fourth. With an effort that almost killed him, Tulland managed to break it loose from whatever held it, bruising it in the process and wetting his fingers with juice. He flopped his arm back towards himself and, by some miracle, got the fruit close enough to his mouth to close his jaws around it.

It’s sweet.

Chew, you twit.

Tulland chewed, flooding his mouth with sugar as he worked his jaw back and forth. He was too weak to swallow, but some of the juice found its way down his throat anyway. His stomach growled as the faint trickle of nutrition hit it, and Tulland’s arms and legs became all pins and needles as the tiny bit of sugar hitting his bloodstream gave his circulation just enough oomph to wake them up.

“What in the hell is happening?” Tulland swallowed down the rest of the fruit and flexed his hands. They felt terrible, but they worked again. “I feel like I’m coming back from the dead.”

Close to it. Can you see?

Tulland blinked a few times. Things were still a bit fuzzy, but they were coming into focus. Above him, stretching to the sky, was a deep green plant, one that had two more fruits growing from it. He wasted no time reaching out and grabbing them, shoving them into his mouth and mashing them down to pulp before swallowing the lot of available food in one go.

It seems you can. What does the Dungeon System say of the plants?

Tulland looked. The description had changed substantially.

Hades Briar (Cultivated)

The usual Hades Briar is a thing of death. It cuts like a sword, and its fruits burn beings who are foolish enough to try to eat them. It is an entirely evil plant, one designed to do nothing but bring sorrow to those who run across it.

Yet somehow, that has changed. Drawing on the influence of the skills of a farming class, the fundamental nature of the plant has been changed as it took the first step towards domestication. The thorns grow just as sharp as they ever did, but nestled among them is a fruit of actual value, something that provides good without a more than equal amount of ill.

The identity and characteristics of this new plant are still in flux, and may change substantially as the circumstances around their creation continue to evolve.

And with that new description came an explanation for the notifications Tulland had seen. A new screen’s worth of information slipped into his mind and attempted to explain what had happened.

Cultivation Successful!

For the cultivation of a new plant unknown to this world’s agriculture, you have been granted a substantial amount of experience. The skills related to the cultivation efforts also advanced significantly.

“Huh.” Tulland looked dumbly at the notification. “What does that even mean?”

It means you live. And that you have, against expectations, managed to draw lightly on the power of The Infinite to fuel your own growth.

“Ah.” Tulland tried to stand, then sat back down heavily as his head continued to swim. But it was at least clear enough to think. “Though I don’t understand why you helped me get the fruit. You can’t touch my uncle. He’s much too far into Church territory. Why lie? You could have just left me to die. It would have come soon enough.”

Perhaps. But a difference of a day or so is short, in the way I reckon time. And you’ve piqued my curiosity.

“Oh? You aren’t afraid I’ll survive?”

No. Why would I be?

“So long as I do, you’re stuck here. I could make it to a safe zone. I could stay there.”

Ha! Is that what you were thinking, all this time? I’ve waited centuries for smaller opportunities than this. A lifetime in a safe zone makes little difference to me. And you will find The Infinite has ways of dealing with those who stall and loiter. It always compels them towards their eventual end. No, Tulland. I’ll have what I want. The only question is how much I’ll gain.

Tulland’s body was still recovering, but his mind had cleared substantially. After a day’s danger, he was beginning to realize that he had been a fool, just as the System suggested. In the heat of the moment and the shock of the change, it had never occurred to him to question whether the proven liar with access to his mind and practice in deceiving him might still be doing just that.

It seemed likely enough that the System had something to gain from bringing him here, and that it couldn’t have whatever prize it sought until later. Perhaps that was when he died, or perhaps it wasn’t. And it was possible the System got more rewards the longer he survived, with no possible way to lose out and no escape for Tulland.

But it also might not be so. Tulland might be able to find another way, somehow. Although he almost certainly wouldn’t with the System reading and poisoning every thought he had.

Just as he considered evicting the System, something new happened.

No, Tulland. I’m your only hope here. You can’t survive, but…

Tulland ignored him as he brought up a new notification that came before his eyes. This was different from the information screens that slipped into his mind. The screen was something real, or real enough as it floated in the air in front of him. And it was more than he had hoped.

Deactivate System Communications?

As a delver into The Infinite, communications with your world’s System is a voluntary thing. If it is your preference, you may choose to transfer all of the normal functions fulfilled by your world’s System to the Dungeon System in charge of the dungeon itself.

This will not completely sever your relationship with the System of your world, as it has claims on certain rewards related to your progress through The Infinite. You can, however, choose to limit your world System’s access to your thoughts and limit the amount it is allowed to speak to you.

Would you like to do so now?

You would be a fool to pass up what little help I’m willing to provide you, Tull…

The very moment Tulland gave The Infinite the go-ahead to cut off the System’s power, it did. He waited a few minutes, half expecting that the System was playing some elaborate prank. When it failed to talk, he eased the limitations enough to allow it to talk, while still restricting its access to his mind.

That was foolish, Tulland. Do you really think you can do this alone? Have I not been helpful thus far?

The minimum amount, maybe. Don’t you think? Tulland thought rather than spoke. After a ten-second wait, the System spoke into his mind again in a tone dripping with annoyance.

You know I can’t hear you. You’ve won that little victory. Congratulations. I didn’t think The Infinite would inform you of that little fact so easily.