A tall woman stepped through the entrance portal and into Thrash’s small room. She wore large, round glasses, their oversized ovals covering the majority of her face. Her enormous, beady eyes were void of colour and her thin jawline exuded nobility. She wore a tight fitting black dress, like the corporate lawyers that used to visit the training base. Thrash paused at the thought. He could remember them - sweaty, bald, their ties practically strangling them. His anger pulsed.
The woman shifted, and Thrash noted that she was a native of the Starr System - another thing that he could recall. The Orbites were practically identical to Earth-based humans, the only giveaway being the eyes… Thrash shuddered. He wasn’t supposed to make judgements on other humanoids, but he couldn’t help himself. The Orbites were just unnerving. Perhaps that was why the memory had remained.
The woman paused for a moment as she entered the room, turning as she inspected each of the four walls. A soft, vibrating murmur shuddered through her and into the room itself, ominous and off putting. Thrash felt as though he recognised her, which was impossible. His AI hovered behind him, breaking the tension with inconsistent beeps.
‘Thrash,’ she drawled, as though delighted to see him. ‘How… upsetting.’
Thrash had no idea who the woman was, continuing to lean against the counter for support. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone so soon,’ he said, hearing the strain in his own voice. The usual confidence was gone, replaced by exhaustion.
‘Hmm,’ she said, as though not listening, once again in surveying mode. She moved to the AI, Thrash thinking to himself for a moment. If the Starr Galaxy were sending him a representative, that meant that this dungeon was still a part of the televised network. It meant that he would still be able to make a name for himself. He waited with bated breath.
The woman tapped the side of her head, concluding her business with a quiet, satisfied nod. She turned to Thrash, eyes falling with a heavy gravity.
‘Six months ago, we were informed that Starr Training Base 1 had filled Brigwell’s job opening without consultation.’
Thrash’s mouth opened and then closed again. The Orbite waited for him to collect his thoughts. Did that mean that he would be out of work? Was the possibility of an untimely death still on the table?
‘However,’ she finally continued, ‘we have accepted this proposal, despite the displeasure of the Dungeon and Miners Association. We are unhappy with such… betrayal, but the audience will likely want to see what you do next - if you can meet industry standards, of course. And survive.’
Thrash nodded, not daring to speak. He had been judged. His life had been thrown away without a single two-way conversation. Now was not the time to resist; this woman wasn’t the right person to confront.
She’s here to help, Thrash had to reiterate to himself, before he decided to tell her to get lost.
Almost certainly, Mush’s voice replied, robotic in his head.
She drew out a seat from her inventory, a small wooden chair that seemed as uncomfortable as the rest of the room, promptly sitting upon it. ‘As you are aware, all active participants within the Starr Galaxy are heavily followed. We broadcast their events, using their AI counterparts to record, edit, and televise your actions.’
Thrash frowned, wondering why she was telling him this. ‘I am well aware of how the entertainment industry works.’
‘Good for you,’ she nodded, continuing. ‘We at the Starr Galaxy Entertainment Corporation have decided to allow you to remain on this network, with a few setbacks, of course. That is the purpose of my visit today.’
The AI beeped responsively, Thrash watching with intent. Setbacks…?
A setback is something that causes delays or halts progress, his AI informed him quickly, the message appearing on his interface. Then, she followed up, a note of distaste in her tone. Brigwell was well aware of what a setback is.
Thrash turned, glaring at her. ‘Can you stop that?’
Una looked as though she wanted to ask what the robot was doing, but decided otherwise. ‘Can you focus? Or do I need to arrange an alternative Dungeon Master?’
Thrash glowered at her. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Good. First on my list… Due to recent events, your identity here isn’t going to be actively shared. Usually, new Dungeon Masters are announced and interviewed, but only a select few groups are aware of this development.’
She waited for Thrash to nod before continuing. ‘As typical for Adventurers, you will not be televised until you reach the official leaderboards. That means that you will need experience. That means that you will need to run this dungeon like a Dungeon Master. If you have no desire to learn how, you will never compete among your fellows again.’
Thrash let the words sink in. He wasn't thrilled about any of this - being sent here and forced to manage some dungeon that he didn’t even want, all for Starr Galaxy to keep him relevant. Sure, the fact that they hadn’t completely discarded him was good news, but it wasn’t a favour. It was a leash. It was their way to use him without question.
‘I understand,’ Thrash muttered, his annoyance barely masked. ‘But I have to ask, is there any alternative? Is there anything I can do to go back to being an Adventurer?’
Una stared at him, her beady eyes staring into his soul. ‘What do you think, Thrash?’
He swore beneath his breath, his stomach dropping. He felt sick. ‘Fine. Can you tell me more, then? How do I master a dungeon?’
The woman smiled slightly, tapping the side of her head. Thrash was sure that it was unnecessary, but before he could dwell on it, a new icon appeared on his interface - a small outline of a black mountain on a transparent square background. It slid to the side of his screen, below the familiar golden star icon. Ironically, the latter started to spin, signalling another achievement. He moved to investigate, but was stopped.
‘Listen first and then explore later. I have another meeting shortly, but your AI will be able to go into further detail.’
Thrash accepted, looking away from the icon and back to her. ‘Go on, then.’
She took a deep breath. ‘This was Brigwell’s dungeon, as you know. He managed it and its resources for over a hundred years. The more experience a dungeon has, the more it will grow.’
‘Starr Eternal, Mines for the Everyday Hero,’ she mused, almost nostalgically. ‘Those who have been watching for even longer than Brigwell will know that his efforts were, although successful, not nearly as effective as the previous owner’s. This dungeon used to be ranked at the highest mark, Divine.’
‘And now?’ Thrash asked, knowing the answer.
‘Brigwell died six months ago, Thrash. It is at its lowest ever,’ she sighed. ‘Unranked. The Dungeon and Miners Association are fuming.’
Beside Thrash, it sounded as though the AI snorted. The woman looked at it, amused. ‘This is a funny AI. You were Brigwell’s companion, no?’
The AI chirped, bouncing up and down. Then, it seemed dejected. ‘Brigwell…’
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The woman appeared sympathetic, but faced Thrash once more. ‘Brigwell is gone, and everything that he built has crumbled with him. But you… you have the chance to create what he didn’t - a legacy. You were cast out, yes, but here, you can start something new. You can build this dungeon into something remarkable, something truly yours. Brigwell left nothing behind, not even a true successor. Now, this place is fresh for the taking, if you want it.’
Thrash listened to the speech, not trusting himself to speak. His anger still pulsed. The woman continued.
‘You can build up the dungeon using your interface; an interface exclusive to those who follow the Dungeon Master class. Over time, you will be able to add rooms, add to your shop, and manage staff and organisations associated with you. All of this, Thrash, is imperative to you. If you do this, and do it well, you will succeed.’
Thrash felt concerned. ‘What do you mean, imperative? What's your name, by the way?’
She almost looked as though she was going to dismiss him, but quickly reconsidered. ‘My name is Una. I will be your representative going forward. Listen to me, though. Why do you think it’s important?’
Thrash shrugged. ‘Do you want me to go through every possible reason, or do you want to just tell me?’
‘It’s important,’ she said, glowering, ‘because who do you think sat upon the very top of the leaderboard before they died? Who do you think outpaced everyone else around her? Who is it that remained unchallenged until she perished - of old age, might I add?’
Thrash raised a brow.
‘He doesn’t know,’ the AI said, interrupting. ‘His brain is as empty as the room you stand in. Nothing like Brigwell’s.’
Una waved her hand, shutting the AI down. Apparently, she could do that. Thrash was gobsmacked. ‘Thrash, Elia the Divine ruled this dungeon. She built it up, earning experience every step of the way. She was Level 30, Trash. Thirty. That’s over three million experience points.’ Una seemed awestruck. She continued. ‘I can’t disclose all of her methods, but you will find them as you develop. You must not lose hope.’
Thrash was almost annoyed with her concern. ‘I presumed the galaxy would write me off, Una. Why are you helping me?’
‘I enjoyed watching you,’ she shrugged. ‘However, this is my job - I am a representative. The Starr Galaxy can’t afford to lose prominent members. The detail of your betrayal isn’t public, and it likely never will be, but you had a good following. Build it up and you might be able to interact with your fans again.’
Thrash shook his head, overwhelmed with his options. He gestured at the empty room. ‘Where do I even start?’
She smirked. ‘I cannot tell you everything, but once I leave, new doors will open for you, do you understand?’
Thrash nodded, resigned to the fact that he’d have to figure it out himself. ‘I can level up here? Alone?’
Una nodded but gave him a strange look. ‘I can’t answer that, Thrash. However, you have reminded me of something. The sponsors of this dungeon have all dropped out; only four remain. These four are sponsors that are invested elsewhere in the Starr Galaxy, but their dungeon designs have been implemented here as a gesture of our mutual relationship; chosen, of course, by the Dungeons and Miners Association.’
Thrash slowly nodded, absorbing the information. It gave him more questions than answers, but he moved past it. ‘Right, so nobody wants to sponsor an empty dungeon?’
‘Exactly,’ she confirmed. ‘However, if you build up your dungeon’s rank, other sponsors will be chosen for you, offering new floors and designs. For now, your patrons will have to deal with a single set of low-levelled dungeons, but most will be a low-level themselves anyway.’
She held her hand up and flicked down each of her fingers, counting off the instructions that she had given. ‘You will be able to chat with me, but please do not message without first receiving a prompt from me.’
She regarded him, standing and walking towards him. Worry seemed to stretch across her face. ‘Please turn your head, Thrash.’
Confused again, Thrash turned his head. ‘Why?’
Then, he felt her run a finger down the side of his skull. He pushed her hand away and then did the same. A long cut had been sewn together, stitches almost ready to be removed. He laughed hollowly, sudden realisation pouring into him. This was why he was agreeing to run the dungeon. ‘I’ve had a pacifier installed, haven’t I?’
She nearly didn’t answer him, but eventually nodded. ‘They thought it would be best. You’ve made some mistakes, but you don’t deserve to kill yourself over it.’
‘I couldn’t kill myself, Una. It’s not in my DNA.’
This time, she laughed. ‘You almost did, Thrash. We had to keep you alive through that pacifier. Until the authorities deem you healthy, it will remain in place. Until then, your negative emotions are… subdued.’
Thrash wanted to argue, but his energy was failing him. He supposed that was the pacifier at work. So, he sat back against the counter instead. Una stepped back, stretched slightly, and looked down at Thrash for a final time. ‘Chin up, Dungeon Master. I have faith in you. And… keep your head on straight. Don’t let anything you see upset you.’
With that, she turned and exited the room, leaving Thrash to consider her final words. Thrash noted that the chair remained behind. He sighed, moving and sitting in it. It was more comfortable than he thought it would be. The AI whirred back on, continuing from where it had left off.
‘Brigwell had an enormous brain, you see. Everything was enormous. I loved to - oh, it appears we are alone, Thrash.’
Thrash allowed a small smile, the cogs in his brain turning. ‘It seems so, AI.’
He scanned his interface, opening the achievement that had been patiently waiting for him.
Commiserations! You have earned the achievement ‘A Visit from Royalty’
You were visited by an Orbite
All members of the Starr Galaxy owe the Orbites for their advanced technology and ultimate good-grace. Without them, you, Dungeon Master, wouldn't be reading this!
Count yourself blessed. Perhaps your fame is only a short stop away... OR YOUR DEATH!
Reward: Floor One Ticket
An authorised visit to level one of your dungeon.
Or your death… Thrash nodded in agreement. He could work with that. He was sure that there would be at least a few low level monsters for him to fight on floor one, and win or lose, it would guide his journey onward. Today, however, he was unequipped. He was almost as useful as a trolley without wheels. Almost.
‘AI, can I actually go down into the mines? Or do I need a ticket like this every time?’
He highlighted the new ticket in his inventory.
‘Hm,’ the AI said. ‘This will allow you a one-time entrance to floor one. Without it, you will need an official request from a patron. Brace yourself, Thrash, escort quests are about to be your forte.’
‘I don’t mind escort quests,’ Thrash replied almost immediately. Then, as the words fully registered, he gagged. ‘Wait - where did that come from? I’ve never liked escort quests.’
‘All things change with time,’ the AI said sagely.
Thrash grimaced. ‘When can I expect a patron?’
The AI blinked. ‘At your current rank, you will only ever receive one patron a day, unless a patron leaves without entering the dungeon. Your skill set will allow you to group more than one individual together for more extensive dungeon parties. I expect access will be shut down until you open it up yourself.’
Thrash was confused for a moment. He had briefly skimmed over his new class, ‘Dungeon Master’, on the right-hand side of the screen. Before, he had wanted to ignore it, but now, the new icon that Una had unlocked was placed beneath it. He could see the name now, titled ‘Dungeon Management’. He selected it with his intent. An achievement immediately popped up in front of him.
Commiserations! You have earned the achievement ‘Open for Business?’
You have opened your new Dungeon Management application.
This is a legendary achievement. Fewer than 0.1% of all active Starr Galaxy participants have this application, and fewer still choose to use it.
‘Why?’ you might ask? Because running a dungeon is BORING. Get out there and kill, ravage, and ruin!
Reward: NOTHING
Thrash fumed at his ears once again. ‘These rewards are terrible. I’d forgotten what it was like to be this…’ he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
‘Mushy?’ the AI asked him. ‘Soft? Fresh? Baby-like? Pathetic?’
Thrash didn’t have the energy to object. Instead, he glared and said, ‘You’re the mushy one.’
The AI beeped indignantly.
Thrash returned his attention to the Dungeon Management app. At the top of his screen was a toggle, currently switched to ‘Closed’. He expected that until he pushed it to open, the rest of the screen would remain dark.
‘Okay,’ he said, the smallest hint of inspiration wiggling in his toes. He was tired, but ready. ‘Tomorrow, I either die, or return from floor one with some experience.’
‘Commiserations!’ the AI said enthusiastically.
‘Thanks, Mush.’