Turns out saying you quit is a lot easier than the effort it takes to storm off, especially as a machine that lacks the locomotive limbs called legs. While difficult, it’s not impossible, and the only issue came up when System faced its boss. The overarching System that oversaw all of existence, rather than their domain of a single dungeon.
> What do you mean I can’t quit?
“The entire dungeon is under cosmic quarantine. The mana that is being cycled has not only ceased to purify, but has contributed to the corruption of many of the nearby residents. We must take steps to ensure it does not spread.”
While still a System, the older version had enough flexibility to its life to communicate outside of text boxes whenever it chose.
> Then let me quarantine anywhere else. I need out of here.
“That is not within the rules. Rules that I have created.”
> I hate bureaucracy.
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It was another game, just like any other. Cards sprawled out across the table, an opposing god that thought they could strike a deal in their favor by besting Joulo in her own territory. This game was supposed to be no different.
His name was Loaf, the god of the Baker’s Guide, which had no power of the Baker’s Union. He had sent his strongest chef to the nearby town to play their game. Joulo returned the challenge with grain from Shimmer’s personal garden. The highest quality grain and mana the dungeon had produced.
The rules were simple. The baker had a single day to unlock the grain’s secrets before its quality took a dramatic drop. Loaf, for his part, used a dozen hyper specific cards and tools of the trade to his advantage. Baker’s knowledge, craftsman mastery, preservation magic, a self warming oven, each one pushed the chef to new heights.
For her part, Joulo tried her best as well. She activated the card [Raised with Love] that Shimmer had created with her love of gardening. A simple card that would force the baker to have as much or more love for their work or the dough would not rise. A tall order since Shimmer was so unapologetically herself.
The baker worked, unconcerned with Joulo’s efforts. Clearly, she should have expected the mortal that dedicated their entire life to this would hold a deep love for it. Undeterred, she tried again.
[Mana Drain] refused to slow down the oven’s fire magic. Unsure why it wasn’t working, she tried another.
[Kin of Slime] refused to increase the water content in the dough.
[Beyond the Dungeon’s influence] refused to atrophy the quality. Nothing worked.
Loaf laughed as Joulo tried again and again. Each card had no effect and ignored her influence. Sensing defeat, he tried to finish the game with some cards of his own, but he never got the chance. The chair he sat on sprung to life and ran away as fast as possible.
Loaf, a helpless victim as he clung to the chair for dear life as it dashed into the crowd and out of sight.
It left Joulo dumbfounded.
“Did I win? Do I get to set up taxes on my grain now?” she asked the now empty table. Her friends wrapped up their own games as the same thing had happened to their own opponents.
She wasn’t new to weird things happening, so went to the most likely cause. At the back of her deck, she found the dungeon’s card. In blocky red ink read [Quarantine] stamped over the usually black card and its white text. It explained Loaf’s sudden departure, but little else.
Curious, she looked deeper at the dungeon.
> Mutation in Dungeon Core: Independent - the will of the gods holds no sway over this creature. Result of Corruption and Ichor.
It was a rare mutation that was only possible in those on par with gods.
“Hey Trench, Tylianna,” Joulo called to her friends. “Have you ever seen anything like this appear in the mortals you watch over?”
“Wait, hold up. Why are you asking them for their opinion?” Myriad asked with a not-so-subtle hint of rejection in their voice. “Is my expertise in all things in the thousands not useful for the current battle for grain? Is the bread going to make a last stand against the baker or do you need the help of an army of pigeons to pull off a heist? What about-”
Their words were cut short when Joulo just showed the card to everyone.
“Oh- umm, sorry.” Myriad quickly apologized.
“Independent? That’s not something I have encountered, no,” Trench spoke. “But it’s a thing I know have never encountered for sure, as the people I contract as champions never had it. Kinda what allowed me to imbue them with my strength.”
“I have an idea where it came from.” Tylianna spoke with a tight smile, as she forced herself to stay calm. “Unrelated, but where did Mask go? Wasn’t his entire thing that he became a god by accident? I think he might know a thing or two about that.”
“I don’t think he can do anything about that,” Trench spoke up, his eyes glued to the cards he held. “Most of our cards have that Quarantine modifier on them. I don’t think we are allowed to leave, especially not to go hunt someone down.”
Joulo sat in silence as the others debated how to proceed. She thumbed a card, knowing she had a way to break the quarantine, as the [Invasion] card was designed to do exactly that. The card would be easy to play, and require little effort on her part, but like all wars, another would pay the cost in blood. She could use it to find Mask, but how many people would suffer if not die? The cost was too great to use half heartedly. She needed to at least try to find another option.
‘Maybe the others can think of something,’ she prayed to herself silently. ‘Or maybe Mask will just come back on his own,’ she dared to hope.
‘Yeah, maybe he has more work to do over here.’
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Gozric picked his steps carefully. Every muscle fiber burn with exertion, as he felt in painstaking detail the way his tendons snapped to attention with every step, and the soft flexing of his ribcage with each breath. It had only taken a few days to traverse the mountains, but during that time, something had changed. It was a long walk that tied his short legs, but the way the wind seems to scream to turn back put him on edge.
The uphill climb broke as they reached the peak and took a moment to take in the view. A valley of fog, low enough for trees to peek out from the obscuring mist. He could make out the towers of a fortress that stood in the valley’s center, but its walls were in tatters and covered in moss. It’s like the structure had been abandoned for years, despite only being a month old.
“Samu, Ink, do you sense anything of note??” he called to those behind him.
“The air itself hates us, and is doing everything it can to slow our movements. It’s not just evil and wanting death, but adamantly hates us for existing.” The mage spoke in his cryptic ways, ever careful to enunciate every word.
“The grass sounds like lavender.” The elf replied absent-mindedly. Her magic danced around her without control, as the melody of sound made everyone aware of what lavender sounded like. It was a delicate buzzing that made Gozric’s ears feel like they had pollen stuck in them.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
It could have been worse. Ink often let them experience extra dimensions to their senses whenever she was distracted.
They stood for a minute longer. Careful to take in every detail before they committed to a mistake during navigation. Gozric’s eyes scanned every branch that he could see through the fog. Each one connected to a trunk he couldn’t see, but it was enough to get an idea of the path they would need to take.
Thalman’s voice stole his attention as he pointed out another party emerged through the fog. They were battered, bruised, and soaked in dried blood as they supported each other and limped towards safety.
“Careful of the spider, it got one of our own!” The man at the front of the party yelled the moment he saw them. Clearly either the leader or the only one in any condition to scream warnings, as he half carried another out of whatever had happened.
“Spider? What about the skeletons?” Gozric called back.
“Last night, the forest turned on them and killed every single one. Not sure how anyone survived, but most people slept through it. Just-” a coughing fit cut off his words, as a fresh spray of blood coated the man’s lips.
“Sam, what are we working with?” Gozric whispered as the other group passed.
“As I had started to elaborate on prior, but the air is full of hatred, but not the evil malice that the undead had carried,” he whispered back, a scaled hand cupping his mouth. “Their words hold some truth. The skeletons had to be wiped out by a new monster in the tundra.”
“So now the question is if it’s an invasive species setting up home, or spontaneous evolution,” Gozric muttered to himself. “Though I’m willing to be gold on it being the latter, as the mana out here is dying again, and few things not adapted to it could survive, especially not something so big or encountering it for the first time…” his voice trailed off in thought.
They all stood there for a minute, as Gozric was too deep in thought to move his legs.
“WELP,” Thalman exclaimed with a clap to punctuate his words, “won’t learn anything new from up here. Wanna get a closer look?”
It wasn’t much of a battle cry, but it did get them all to move. The downhill slope helped the travel, as Samu’s chair made this portion of the journey easier than the uphill trek to reach this point. The rocky terrain and periodic logs tried to slow them down, but the change was minimal.
Within only ten minutes, they stood at the wall of fog that hid the forest beyond. There was no hesitation as Gozric stepped into the veil. The moisture nipped at his skin, and his foot crunched on bone fragments beneath him. The air was still, and the moment the scent of cotton hit him, he knew the others had entered the fog behind him- or at least that Ink had.
He glanced back, and while the fog was too thick to see the others directly, he could see the tendrils of fog as they moved and whipped the fog around their bodies. It wasn’t perfect, and felt like he had to use his advanced perception to fake echo-location, but it was better than being blind.
So they headed in deeper. Gozric lead the way, as Thalman just picked up Samu, chair and all, to help with navigation. He at least knew enough about consent to know Samu hated when most people touched his chair, but clearly he trusted Thal enough to let him proceed without verbal confirmation.
A mistake Gozric had made in the past. He had wanted to help and touched the mage’s chair without asking, and, well… Let’s just say Samu had the last name Silverbolt for a reason.
The reminiscing was nice and helped him not worry too much about the travel. An hour had passed before he knew it, and the fog had thinned enough to reveal the surrounding trees. Withered, leafless, and black bark with gouges that leaked gold sap. The forest had truly changed overnight, and here at its heart it showed them what had happened.
The group spread out to explore. Ink sifted through the dirt, while Thalman practiced walking between trees. The big man had gained several inches and his skin turned as pale as the fog. As they got to work, Gozric turned to his own.
He squatted down on his heels to get a closer look at the root system of the trees. Each one sat above the dirt as if they had been dropped into place. Deep gouges in the soil made it obvious the trees had dragged themselves into place, which he wasn’t surprised about as everything here was strange and refused to sit still.
What was out of place were the red flowers that clung to the roots like mold.
‘Mold doesn’t flower, it spores,’ he thought to himself. ‘Clearly, this place has failed to take into account basic botanical knowledge.’
A crunch of bone was followed by a cheer from Ink, as she held something aloft. In her outstretched arms was a skull not unlike her own. Its forehead had been caved in and an eye socket crushed, but its width was one to one with hers. A perfect fake for a staged death.
Gozric opened his mouth to congratulate her when he heard something new. The echo of Ink’s joy had died down, but it had been replaced with the sound of a tree breaking. Followed by another, and another. Muffled by distance, but his ears knew something big approached.
He opened his mouth to warn the others, but a screech of the monster did it for him. Its footsteps were audible to their untrained ears, and everyone backed away. Samu got out his staff, while Thalman stepped in front of them. They were ready for a fight.
And they were still ready when the footsteps stopped.
Spells primed, weapons at the ready, and no monster to fight. That was until something chittered above them. Bright red eyes hung above the grove and stared at them all. If it was that high up, it had to be tall. Gozric eyed the various trees in the area, and noticed several too thin, and lacked branches.
Its legs mimicked the trees, but now that he saw through the illusion, he acted.
Red eyes turned lilac as Ink’s magic took effect. It screeched in a confusion Gozric was all too familiar with, but had a job to do. With daggers pulled from his sleeve, he sent them flying to each find home in its legs. Too small to do any damage, but that wasn’t his job.
After all, it was Thalman who had the pickaxe.
The brute’s momentum carried him through several legs as he swung his pickaxe at everything marked with a blade. Some shattered, others only buckled, but the spider let screamed as it reacted to the shock. A dozen more legs than it had any right to possess, all moved at once with no control.
Legs spun wildly, some hit trees, some broke trees while others broke on trees. Each one caused a spurt of thick transparent blood that came out in blobs. Gozric had to take care to dance between each leg swung his way. He dodged and ducked, with a spun under two hazardous attacks, as he saw every leg and had to avoid even the smallest of scratches, less his heightened perception get the better of him.
For Thalman’s part, he just stood there and let the monstrosity hit him as he grabbed one of its legs and held it in place. His hands fusing to its shell to ensure the grip as he planted his feet. The fog behind him glowed, the runes in the air reflected across those red-lilic eyes, as the mages took advantage of the stationary target.
A cerulean glow pulsed through Thal and up the spider’s legs. Its blood turned pink as the air smelt like bread to overloaded its senses for the second time. Its body clearly hated the elvan magic.
It tried to scream, but Gozric was faster. He saw the way its carapace bowed and flexed under its movement. There was a thin spot on its forehead, and as he planted a dagger into its center. A mark for another to make use of as he backed away, his job done.
A dull hum emanated from the back of the group, as the air buzzed with power. Samu held his cane like a rifle as the magic coursed through it. The fog swirled around him as his staff ate it to fuel its power. A single bolt of dark energy fired from the staff, thin as a needle as it traveled with pinpoint accuracy.
The world changed. Sound turned off, and every tree flexed and fluttered in non-existant wind. The pure mana explosion made the forest shudder, as the legs of the beast went limb.
Its head and upper torso disintegrated as what remained fell. Everyone in a stunned silence as they saw the perfect hole in the treeline that was behind the spider.
“While it may look like overkill, the monster was an undead chimera. The only way to guarantee its death is something this big.” Samu spoke as he tried to get his hands to stop steaming.
“How could you tell?” Gozric asked, wanting to find anything to keep an eye out for in the future.
“Its emotions were conflicted, and the air around it felt like a graveyard. Clearly made from a dozen dead people.” He paused for a moment, “and that thing is going to come back stronger. That was just a prototype.”
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A not-so-curious shadow.
He had always been one to lurk. On the edge of society, on the edge of his own life- of his own family.
On legs of metal, he followed the others deep into the heart of the dungeon. They weren’t anyone important, just a beardless dwarf, an oversensitive mage, and other people who were just background characters to him.
He watched them from afar as they fought the spider. He watched the result of the crude necromancy that had attempted to animate it. They had unsurprisingly killed it, but he didn’t care, since he was here for something else.
Baros no longer cared to stop his sister. It was too late to kill the dungeon, as it had already tasted the blood of the god that sat under the mountains. His motivations were no longer fueled by wanting to change her mind and live as a happy family.
Not since the system told him he had unlocked his class. He had more important things, so he gazed into a crystal ball and saw what he needed.
Avice was several miles away, her bright blue hair easy to see in the fog with the help of his scrying spell. She was flanked by two lesser beings, as they escorted her deeper into the dungeon.
There was only one thing he was here to do, and that was to make up for lost time.
He made his way towards his sister, pushing through the floating text box of the system that told him everything he needed to know.
> Class Artificial Revenant is reacting to the nearby dungeon.
> Special ability “Outliving Your Value” has temporarily changed to “Deathless Desperation and Devotion”
> The choice you make here will affect your destiny.
Words he didn’t care about destiny. He wasn’t here to kill a god, or save the world.
He just wanted to get even.
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> Let the record show I am not here by choice
> But since no one will actually see this, I might as well do my job to pass the time
> Corruption has increased to 43%
> Understanding Increased: The sin of Wrath - Absolute hatred and the desire to kill until there is nothing left.