Inke stepped into the dungeon. “Status: Active Effects,” she said.
In front of her, the translucent screen appeared.
Active Effects
Dungeon: The Prismatic Tower
EXP Drain: 75/minute
Grimacing, she clicked her tongue. “This is why no one is entering you,” Inke called out. No response was forthcoming, but she knew it had heard her.
She sighed, placing a hand on her sword. “Two minutes to clear based on the maps and relative level, best estimate. That should be how much time you have to think over your life choices.”
Actually, it was probably closer to thirty seconds, if that, considering reports of the dungeon removing all of its monsters to reabsorb their EXP, but lulling the dungeon into believing it had more time than it did never hurt.
Inke walked forward, pushing open the crystalline door and entering an open, cavernous space. She took a moment to blink at the unexpected room before glancing down into the darkness. Below, a solitary pinprick of silver light rested in the center.
Inhaling deeply, she jumped. “Activate Bond: Soar,” Inke said clearly. A blue screen coalesced in front of her, but she dismissed it. As she fell, her descent slowed to a halt and stopped in midair. With a mental nudge, she floated slowly towards the dungeon core.
She hit the ground. From her current position, she could finally see the core properly as it illuminated its surroundings with a soft silver light. It was only the size of her fist, if that, still a young dungeon. Which made sense, considering that its maximum drain was a measly seventy-five EXP per minute, but this was the sort of thing that dungeon fairies were supposed to prevent.
Not that a dungeon fairy was anywhere in sight.
By regulations, Inke was supposed to immediately proceed without engaging with the dungeon. At this range, though, the core couldn’t generate anything to attack her, and she was allowed to use her best judgment in unusual situations.
This probably qualified.
Stepping closer, she placed a hand on the core. “Where did your fairy go?”
It pulsed threateningly. [Leave-leave-leave-leave-leave-now.] Waves of silver light flowed off it.
With a smirk, Inke said, “Not happening.”
[Will Absorb you, your gear, ev-ery-thi-ng-]
Warning
Dungeon Core [???] attempted to Absorb Bonded Object [Ignari] and Bonded Object [Soar].
Absorb failed due to insufficient Mana of Dungeon Core [???].
“Just for that, I’m rather tempted to forget finding answers. But, then again, that’s probably your first instinct to just about everything. That’s why you made this cavern, after all.”
How-how could you know-I will succeed-Absorb you, Absorb and I will have everything.] Shining sparks popped off the surface of the dungeon core, sizzling in midair before fading into nothing.
Slowly, she raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you Absorbed your dungeon fairy.”
[Useless, useless-wanted to stop me-power is within my grasp-everyone will obey, bow down-I am all-powerful there is no-one-nothing to stop me from achieving omnipotence-power-rule-power-wealth-power-power-power.]
Inke stared and deliberately removed her hand. “I’ve seen some weird things doing my job. I even met a core, once, who was convinced that if they could generate a body and fall asleep, they would become a person. Or that one obsessed with trying to harness lightning. But out of all of them, you, you, who ate your own dungeon fairy…”
She shrugged. “Top fifty, maybe? It’s not exactly uncommon. Actually, you’re only odd insofar as the circumstances.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The dungeon core flashed brightly before dimming down to almost nothing. It was probably saying something, but without touching it, Inke couldn’t understand it.
“Waste of my time.”
Inke pulled Ignari from the sword’s sheath and slammed the blade into the dungeon core.
It shattered, sending silver shards cascading across the cavern floor.
EXP Gained
Dungeon Core [???] shattered: 15,698 EXP
Total: 15,698 EXP
----------------------------------------
Yawning as she stepped into the sunlight, Inke handed over a pouch to the local noble, who was frantically wringing her hands.
“No need to thank me, just doing my job, the remnants of the core are in the pouch, any and all complaints can and should be submitted to the local Scribes’ Guild, who will send it onto whoever’s in charge of paperwork, who will look over it and inform their Guildmaster if it’s important enough…” she trailed off. With a wave of her hand, Inke added, “Come to think of it, don’t bother. No one will notice.”
The noble’s face twisted. “Get off my land.”
“With pleasure, my lady,” Inke said seriously.
A crowd had gathered around the former entrance to the dungeon, dedicated adventurers interspersed with merchants and farmers. An air of general unease had settled over them, and the anxiety was palpable. Without the dungeon, the only way for anyone to raise their level within any reasonable time frame would be traveling to the nearest city or town with a dungeon of its own.
Inke had it on good authority that any such locale was at least a week on feet.
And since dungeon cores only generated over ley line nexuses, the surrounding area was about to become much more dangerous with the sudden addition of ambient EXP flowing into the ecology, further compounding the issue by making it almost impossible to leave safely unless one of the citizens happened to be an unusually high level compared to what the dungeon had been.
If the soon-to-develop monsters became desperate enough, they could even begin to attack the town in hopes of… something. Food, possibly, depending on the local conditions. Or Experience in order to evolve, she thought, though she didn’t understand the life cycles and evolution of monsters.
Inke wasn’t a researcher, and it showed.
It would likely be a year or more until a new dungeon core developed with how small the nexus here was. Only two ley lines intersected, and they were both small ones, at that. None of the local adventurers seemed strong enough to clear out monsters at a fast enough rate to create a core faster, either. The largest dungeon it would ever support would probably be a Silver, if she was going to be generous.
Until even a small core generated, however, the town and its outlying villages and lands would be in trouble.
Not that any of those were Inke’s problems.
Attitudes like that were probably why people, in general, disliked Inke and others who worked in the same field as her.
Or maybe the fact that they caused those problems in the first place was a greater factor behind the prevalent dislike.
Still, though, she had better things to do with her time than slaughter monsters for some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town.
They might be destroyed in a year’s time without aid, and any aid wasn’t likely for such an unimportant place.
…They’d probably be fine.
Again, not Inke’s problem.
“Activate Bond: Soar,” she said and flew into the sky.
The grim faces of the villagers watched her depart.
----------------------------------------
“Repeat that for me again?” Inke asked.
The Guildmaster opened his mouth and began to speak, but Inke was faster. “I was being sarcastic. Please don’t. Your voice irritates me deeply.”
It didn’t, actually, but the Guildmaster was one of the few people Inke enjoyed being flippant with.
The only one, if she were to be honest.
“Luckily for you, I happen to be extremely skilled at utilizing unsophisticated language and minimal amounts of verbiage in order to properly communicate my knowledge to lesser minds such as yourself who are discomforted by their non-understanding of my superior intellect.” He held a stoic face for a moment before breaking out into a laugh, pushing his glasses up from where they had slipped down his nose. “Wonderful to see you, Inke.”
She offered him a slight smile. Guildmaster Shatter knew her well enough to avoid taking offense at her minimal reaction. “I wish I could say the same, but this is one of the most ridiculous assignments I have ever seen.”
“Even-”
Cutting him off, Inke added, “Even including the mold dungeon. And the puppy one.”
With a look of slight surprise on his face, the Guildmaster leaned back in his seat. The sun glinted off the silver bands ringing each finger as he folded his bronzed hands in his lap. “I did not realize it was such an offensive task that I require of you.” He raised a singular, pointed brow.
Inke took a moment to let her gaze slowly wander over the room, ensuring that the Guildmaster saw her do it. There was a particularly fine-looking necklace resting on one of the shelves that she was surprised to notice he wasn’t wearing. She would have to make an attempt some time to cajole the information out of him as to what dungeon he had procured it from, or possibly a craftsperson who had made it.
And the curtains were new. She said as much to the Guildmaster, who simply sighed and buried his head in his hands.
She smirked at him when he looked up. With a sigh, the Guildmaster said, “You are the only one who I believed would accept the assignment. Satisfied?”
“When am I not?” Inke asked rhetorically. “I can do it. Where is it, anyway?”
He smiled. That certainly presaged nothing good. “I cannot tell you. Take this teleportation sigil, instead.”
Blinking, she thought about that for a moment. Using an expensive, one-use teleportation sigil for some backwater, newborn dungeon was far beyond unusual.
Abnormal, perhaps.
In any case, the entire assignment in and of itself was unusual to begin with, even precluding this additional teleportation. Why anyone would assign this task to a Shatter of all people was beyond her, but her job wasn’t to ask questions.
Even if she did, occasionally. Or rather often.
Inke just followed instructions.
She reached out and accepted the crystal token from the Guildmaster’s outstretched hand.
“Just remember-” he began.
“-Observation only,” Inke finished.
Guildmaster Shatter hesitated. “Inke, listen to me, I-”
Before he could add anything else, she snapped it in half, and the world around her dissolved in a swirl of light.