After weeks with no contact, it was a relief to hear from Vow again and know she was alright. And, of course, Archimedes was excited to see what sort of thing she had managed to make. Given the nature of their interactions so far, he didn’t expect it to be something physical. Frankly, he didn’t know what to expect.

He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not when the thing took the shape of another faded alert window following shortly behind the first one.

< □- □_| □ ^□ \ □ □ =□ |□ □ ‘□ >

“…”

Archimedes wondered if the thing Vow had spent two weeks making was broken.

The material itself was full of holes and covered in random dark scratches. He tried running the patterns through a few different algorithms in case it was an encoded message of some kind, but every attempt only produced further nonsense.

Archimedes mentally scratched his head. Vow isn’t saying anything. Is she waiting for me to figure out how to use her gift? Or is she too embarrassed to speak after seeing what happened to all of her hard work?

Was it destroyed when she tried to bring it here from… wherever she was?

Archimedes mentally shook his head and tried to avoid defeatist trains of thought. If, by any chance, this thing had arrived as intended, he would never figure out what it was by thinking that way.

While examining the strange window closely, turning it to a variety of angles, Archimedes caught sight of the window that had arrived right before it through the holes.

Wait a minute—this isn’t broken or encoded. It’s a stencil key for a cipher!

After a little experimenting, Archimedes found a position and orientation that revealed a small message hiding in the first window.

< T ad A ! >

Archimedes snorted a laugh and moved the stencil away again.

“I see. I’m not sure how harsh your restrictions are, but if you think this is safe, consider me intrigued.”

Archimedes tested the stencil again on that window. “Safe.”

He could already foresee that longer messages might arrive in shorthand or split between multiple windows in order to fit within the stencil’s boundaries. It was also likely that not every window would be meant to contain a secret message. And given the nature of stencil ciphers, false positives were definitely a concern. But this was still an incredible opportunity.

“I understand,” he said. “And thank you.”

Archimedes pondered what to ask now that, in theory, Vow could give him answers. Just in case this ended up failing to bypass her restrictions, hurting her and putting her out of commission again for a while, what information was most important right now?

While considering it, a recent memory bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts, giving the dungeon pause and causing him to think in another direction.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

There was a gap of several seconds before her reply came.

Archimedes cleared his throat awkwardly, “He isn’t a bad person to copy, is he? But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Then we can talk about it. Somehow, talking about things… makes them a little easier to handle. And maybe we can figure out a solution together if there’s something wrong.”

Because he was paranoid, Archimedes was using the stencil on every message Vow sent, though she had adjusted the kerning between the letters so that there weren’t even false positives.

Again, it took some time for Vow to respond again. Long enough that Archimedes assumed she had run out of stamina for the day and moved on to weaving his new Mananite tank.

“Scared of what?”

Archimedes was caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, but he was putting forth an effort to be attentive to Vow’s feelings, so he adjusted.

“They were things I couldn’t make myself. They were interesting: the only things that came in from outside that weren’t hostile and that I couldn’t recreate.” He pondered it a bit. “It was fun to read them back from time to time, like a window to the past—more engaging than just remembering. I’m a little regretful that I lost my old collection when I died.”

The sickly gray color of the window made it look somehow regretful.

“… I see. I was curious what that channel you talked about was. I don’t need anything from my old life anyway, so it’s fine that you took them.”

He didn’t ask directly, but it was heavily implied. Surprisingly, Vow actually gave him an answer at last.

It was a difficult thing to understand, and rather morbid. “That sounds unpleasant. I’m sorry. So then, under what circumstances are you…?”

“A literal body of information,” Archimedes mused.

Vow’s circumstances were more precarious than he had imagined. After all, according to what she was saying, her existence was entirely dependent on other people, and those people didn’t even know it. Even he was just finding out about this now.

“Then, keeping those old windows and reading them back—”

No, Vow only learned how to send her own messages during the moments of Archimedes death. She learned it spontaneously out of sheer desperation.

Hearing that they had effectively grown up together, Archimedes’ impression of Vow shifted slightly in his subconscious: from his friend to his sibling; a twin sister of a different species.

The dungeon’s core sank. If, for whatever reason, anybody out there thought negatively about Vow, wouldn’t that affect her like a wound or an illness?

Then those people don’t deserve to think at all.

He briefly fantasized about sending Theoria and Thesia out to bite and suffocate those people to death, but pushed the image away in case his anger also affected Vow. Archimedes assigned a small section of his second core layer (the one typically doing the least) to permanently do nothing but reminisce about Vow, particularly his more pleasant memories of her. He deliberately took her request as literally and seriously as possible.

“Was it that hard to talk about?” Archimedes wondered aloud. Even if he was trying to be more sensitive… he wasn’t by nature. And he was curious why it had taken her so long to tell him about herself. Still, his rude question got a reply. The window was fainter than the others, indicating Vow’s growing fatigue. It would probably be the last one for the day, and it was a real gut-punch.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

***

Archimedes was reflecting sincerely on his past behavior. As usual, it was likely that improvements would be minimal and the same mistakes would continue to be repeated, but hey, baby steps. Some improvement was better than no improvement.

He was very upset to realize that he had accidentally hurt someone important to him. On a fundamental scale, Vow was as much a parasite as his dungeon monsters were. They both depended on other beings to survive. Though he was accepting that such a thing as symbiosis existed and that those parasites had their own thoughts and feelings… and didn’t like to be called parasites.

Thesia, who currently had her gelatinous body curled around Archimedes’ core to comfort him, had said it once: what was the difference between a parasitic relationship and a parent-child relationship? The first answer Archimedes had come to was that the latter was temporary—a child would eventually become independent of its parent. But that may or may not apply to the dungeon monsters and Vow.

A more immediately helpful view of the difference between the kind of parasite Archimedes hated and… anything else, was that bad parasites did nothing but steal from their host. Vow and his dungeon monsters weren’t like that. They gave something back to him. Something important.

Archimedes had apologized profusely already and insisted he never meant for his old views to sadden her, but it would be hours before Vow had rested enough to give a reply. He had no idea if his apologies had been accepted or not.

Oh, but of course, Archimedes was a three-floor dungeon already: he effectively had three highly efficient brains, so of course he was multitasking. While reflecting on his past mistakes, he was also weaving a new Mananite tank and supervising Helios’s training of Oceanis, Umbra, and Cumulus. They were picking up their natural magical talent quite fast with Helios’s help.

Ah, Zemnes had tried discussing plans for the fourth floor with him as well, but Thesia had shushed him until he gave up.

Archimedes glanced at the stencil Vow had given him, next to a stack of every other window he had received from her in this life.

I missed my chance to use this thing the way it was meant to be used.

There would be time to learn the secrets of the universe tomorrow. However, today, Vow was resting, Archimedes was moping, and Lilith had finally returned with Anther and his family.

***

“It’s the middle of the night,” Anniil complained. She was dressed in soft pastel-colored robes, tied loosely at the waist, and boots suitable for hiking. Her long hair was tied away from her face with a soft ribbon.

The other three were in a similar state, as if they had come here right after rolling out of bed. Anther himself was unsteady on his feet, his father occasionally catching his shoulder to keep him upright. Archimedes was amazed that Lilith actually convinced them to come over in this state.

He spoke through a speaker mounted above the entrance.

“Well… why don’t you come inside for now? We can speak comfortably in private.”

The front door opened welcomingly.

Anther’s grand aunt grumbled as she passed into the cave mouth, “I never pictured my first foray into a dungeon would be in my pajamas.”

Her words didn’t help the uncomfortable stirrings of guilt Archimedes was now feeling.

Is this… good? I wouldn’t have cared just a few months ago.

Empathy was a double-edged sword, but it was already too late for him to stop feeling it for the outsiders even if he decided he didn’t like it.

And he didn’t hate it. There were worse feelings.

So, that blossom by the entrance…? Archimedes sensed Lilith projecting her thoughts to him.

“A new Nymph to act as a guard instead of letting outsiders do it,” he told her, and she nodded.

Demeter had sensed she wasn’t needed to welcome or obstruct these guests, so she hadn’t revealed her illusion, planted unnoticed next to the entrance while the elves passed her by.

Since Elves tended to like the environment on the first floor, Archimedes prepared a sitting area for them there. Lilith led his guests to the center of the floor where sunlight streamed down. He made a set of wicker furniture and cushions that would be culturally familiar to them, as well as some snacks and drinks.

Biologically, he expected calories, sunlight, and caffeine would help them wake up enough to think clearly. Well, doing so was likely to mess up their sleep cycle for the night, but the discussion came first. And it was probably already too late to worry about that.

I do know some blueprints for sedative herbs. I can send some with them when they leave.

He allowed the elves a few moments to settle in and try out the snacks. Considering they were copies of what the locals brought him, he would be quite surprised if they didn’t like them.

“So, this must be about something important, right?” Anniil said, sampling a biscuit and some tea.

“You’ve been monitoring the boy’s condition for a few weeks now,” Januiil stated. “Has it worsened?”

Archimedes mounted a speaker in the middle of the table where the snacks were piled up and refuted the old woman’s worry.

“No, there have been no notable changes. I did however find a way to prevent his episodes before they happen—as long as he’s within my reach.”

“That’s an improvement,” Yinether smiled tentatively. “Can you start his treatment soon then?”

“I’ve had a method ready from the—”

“I gave you two conditions,” Anniil interrupted him. “I don’t think they were that hard. You just needed to get approval from the Explorers Guild and let us watch the procedure.” She sipped her tea and raised a brow at the speaker where the dungeon’s voice had come to a sudden, jarring halt. “I haven’t heard anything from the Guild but endless arguing.”

The method Archimedes used to produce sound prepared statements in their entirety, so he had to forcibly cut off the vibrations when Anther’s mother started to talk over him. He wasn’t pleased to have to spend twice the mana just to say half as much.

“Please don’t interrupt me,” he said coolly. “I was about to say that we’ll have to give up on that method.”

“Was there a problem with it?” Yinether asked worriedly.

“Scientifically, no, but politically, yes. Would you like the full explanation or a shortened version?”

Anniil set down her teacup and folded her arms. “All of it.”

Archimedes patiently explained to them everything he knew about the situation with the guild from what he’d heard from Ulbert, as well as his own suspicious about mind stones and a possible problem relating to the resurrection process.

Januiil frowned. “Resurrection is considered to be safe. I’ve heard that in larger cities hundreds of people are brought back from accidental deaths daily. Could there really be anything sinister involved?”

“I can’t say for certain yet,” Archimedes admitted. “But regardless, at this rate, the Guild will continue to deliberately drag things out.”

“For how long?” Yinether worried, gently shaking Anther awake beside him. “They have to come to a decision eventually, don’t they?”

“And maybe that decision will be no,” Anniil stated. There was an unhappy, contemplative look on her face. “Have you considered a response? If you’re right about this, what should we do about it?”

“I plan on doing some investigation first,” Archimedes told them. “First, I’ll try to confirm if there really is something wrong with their resurrection process. Frankly, unless I can prove definitively that there isn’t, I’ll look to developing other methods that won’t require resurrection in the first place.”

“That would be preferable in general, I think,” Anniil agreed. “I do still want an expert’s opinion on whether your method will work… but it doesn’t have to be from the Explorers Guild this time.”

“Agreed,” Januiil nodded. “I don’t know if your fears are founded, but those so-called experts haven’t been very helpful so far. The Surgeons Guild on its own or the Dungeon Research Institute might be more responsive.”

“I trust Archimedes,” Anther insisted while drowsily clutching a pillow to his chest. “He’s smarter than a surgeon.”

“You’ve never met a surgeon, boy,” Januiil chided him.

The boy pouted, too tired to think of a proper retort. Archimedes chuckled to himself.

Anniil still didn’t reach for her teacup, clasping her hands in her lap and leaning toward the speaker. “There’s more, right? If this was all, you could have just had Lilith talk to us like last time.”

“There were two more reasons,” Archimedes acknowledged. “First, I thought we should meet each other. I don’t think staying distant has helped the trust between us. Second, I wanted to offer to let Anther stay here until he’s been cured. Since I can prevent his episodes, it would be safer for him if he didn’t leave for now.”

Anniil chewed her lip and thought hard about it. She spared a few glances Anther’s way, seeing that he was a little more awake and excited now at the prospect of a sleepover. He was visibly enthused, but didn’t verbally press for permission. Not verbally. But he sat there making puppy dog eyes at her.

She sighed. “I have a few conditions.”

“Of course.”

“He needs to sleep in a proper bed at night and eat three meals a day. If he wants to leave for any reason, you let him go. I want to get daily updates about how he’s doing, and you need to let me see him if I come by.”

It was hard to tell if she was just very protective of her child, very distrustful of the dungeon, or both.

“I understand. I can abide by those conditions.”

Yinether raised a hand, “I have a condition too.” After a moment of silence with many eyes on him, he realized he had freedom to speak. “I want to stay here with him. That’s fine right?”

“Yes.”

A part of Archimedes was still wary against allowing outsiders to stay in his dungeon for extended periods of time. He had foreknowledge that some gods took such things poorly. But with just a couple of them and only on a temporary basis, he was reasonably sure there would be no issues.

Calipso had accumulated permanent cities of thousands of humans before the gods went to war with her.

“Yay! Sleep over!” Anther cheered, excited to go on “vacation” with his dad. Yinether tousled his hair and smiled.

Anniil looked at them both and relaxed somewhat. “Okay.” She nodded.

Sensing that their talk was just about over, Archimedes created a few clusters of fresh, small leaves, dark green in hue, thick and somewhat waxy.

“I hadn't fully considered the interruption my invitation would cause to your sleep. This should help you return to it.”

Januiil nodded immediately upon recognizing the herb, so he didn’t feel the need to explain further about how to use it.

“If you want to stay here tonight, I can make anything you need. That goes for all of you, if you’re tired and want to postpone the return trip.”

“I’d rather sleep in my own bed, thank you,” Januiil declared, standing up. She picked up a handful of the medicinal leaves to take with her. “Come, Anniil. We’ll share some tea and chat a little before bed.”

Anniil chuckled. “Alright. Yinether, will you stay here tonight?”

“I’d rather not have to carry him back to town,” he chuckled, nodding at their son. Anther was slumped against him, asleep despite his brief burst of excitement.

“Alright then.” She came a step closer and bent down to kiss her son’s tan forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”