Cultivation was an ancient art that preceded both the Ancient System (sometimes referred to as the Level System) and the Modern System (usually referred to as the System or the Skill System). Cultivation was, in many ways, a combination of the three powers we use today through the system. However, without the guidance of the gods, cultivation was unreliable and people had no objective way to compare their powers. This led to a greater amount of conflict, even amongst those at the same rank of power.

The remnants of ancient cultivation that remain today mostly reside in Cultivation Skills, which are methods to refine one’s body, spirit, mind, and/or energies. The most common of these is Body Cultivation, as refining the body is the simplest – if not the easiest – Cultivation Skill type to obtain. There are many variants, such as physically abusing one’s body using force while circulating qi to heal, taking in refined elemental energies to refine specific systems, and channeling the power of a god through one’s body. The purpose of all of these methods is the same… to remove the flawed parts of the body while replacing them with more perfect versions.

Completing this process properly grants access to a Cultivation Skill. The primary reason why someone might seek a Cultivation Skill is the qualitative difference it shows between Tiers, while a secondary would be the resistances and extra abilities often granted as a result of the process. In addition, if one takes the Trial of the Masters without a Cultivation Skill, it becomes impossible to ever gain one again.

Why this is is unknown, but it is a fact known by all those who have reached the heights necessary to become a Master. I myself have benefited from repeated refinements of the body and mind, and I find my peers who failed to do so to be… pale imitations of those I consider my equal. I sometimes wonder how much power I might have achieved had I but waited to refine my spirit before ascending to my current rank of power…

~From the Journal of an Unknown Master

Phara drove her katana through the throat of her oldest half-brother from behind without a hint of hesitation, twisting the blade and removing his head with a jerk of her wrists. She sent five sixth-tier Firebirds into his personal guardsmen, turning them into ash in an instant. On her face was a gentle and benevolent smile, unmarred by her siblings’ blood staining her cheeks or the ashes staining her dark indigo kimono.

Her father and uncle both lay dead behind her, taken from surprise from behind just like all the others, and their guards lay dead at the feet of her followers, killed in perfect silence at just the right moment. Her mother, Chiyome, lay in a pool of blood, face down with a dozen large arrows penetrating her back, all of them gleaming green with poisons fit to kill a Master.

Chaos danced in Phara’s beautiful golden eyes as she turned and knelt, caressing her mother’s hair with a smile devoid of malice.

“… why?” Chiyome asked of her daughter, looking up from the pool of blood in which she lay, pink froth with black flecks of necrotic tissue streaming from her mouth.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any use for the Clan and its loyalists, Mother,” She explained kindly. The utter lack of negative emotions was far more frightening than the malice and hatred Chiyome would have expected from her daughter.

“I thought about sparing you, but you refused to cast Father aside and free me from this Clan’s madness. You sent me to your brother for a time, but then you fell for Father’s blandishments all over again. I had no choice but to make my own arrangements,” She replied to the unspoken question in Chiyome’s eyes.

Chiyome had managed to become a Master in the years since Iryun and Vianara’s departure, but the toxin coating the arrows in her back was meant to kill beasts at the Divine rank. There was no possibility of her surviving without a specific antidote, and even if she were to receive it, she would be crippled, unable to use the three powers, her body’s strength less than half of what it was.

It saddened her that she had failed to notice the quiet madness in her daughter’s gaze. She had no idea what had caused it, so it only made her despair all the deeper.

“Ah, Mother… worry not, though the Clan as it is has died here, I have already made the arrangements for the succession. We will lose some of our lands to the Emperor, but I have been assured that the survivors will not be destitute,” She reassured her mother, utterly unaffected by the coming death of the woman who loved her most in the world.

Phara’s world was a very simple one, in contrast to the complexity of her political machinations. She wanted her brother, Iryun. She wanted him more than anything else. She wanted to lock him up in a room and have him to herself forever. She wanted to bear his children and see them grow as a legacy for a newborn Clan.

… and so her other siblings – save for the sisters who had aided her in her work today – all lay dead on the field, along with the few warriors who remained loyal to her deceased father. They were all obstacles to what she wanted most, so she didn’t hesitate in the least to take advantage of the invasion by the werewolf tribes in the Surasian Forest to eliminate them.

To her mind, Chiyome was an unfortunate bit of collateral damage. Phara couldn’t be bothered with trying to find an opportunity that wouldn’t also force her to take her mother out, so she had instead plotted to make certain of the clan’s single remaining Master.

Her half-sisters and cousins were another matter. They had fallen easily into her hands due to the disregard from her parents and the fates of their mothers, which were unfortunate, to say the least. Chiyome had always been apathetic toward Kudan’s other women, and Kudan shared some of the worst qualities of the nobility when it came to his women, using them up and tossing them away when he no longer wanted them.

It had been all too easy to guide her half-sisters to join in her plotting, and the only difficult part had been getting them the training and equipment to prepare for this day. Thankfully, her father had failed – incompetent as always – to root out the dissidents after the incident where Iryun and his mother were forced to depart. This had allowed her to make up the difference in numbers between her faction and her father’s with more ease than she had anticipated.

Now all she had to do was lead the clan’s militia to a hard-earned victory against the barbarians, and the future of her children with Iryun would be secured.

There was no doubt whatsoever in Phara’s mind that she would find her brother and claim him for her own. Why would there be? There was no room in her worldview for failure, and she had absolute faith that her brother would become a powerful Master with the long lifespan of such creatures.

As her mother lay dying behind her, she directed her loyal warriors to back up the militia holding off the barbarians at the walls of the fortress, her faint smile never wavering once, even as Chiyome breathed her last.

As she died, Chiyome’s soul was consumed by regret that she hadn’t followed Vianara into exile, prioritizing the Clan and Kudan over her role as a mother.

Name: Phara Liodosia

Age: 16

Race: Spirit Fox

Common Skills: Qigong 5, Sage Arts 9, Magic 7, Etiquette 9, Short Blades 8, Unarmed 7, Long Blades 7

Passive Skills: Charm Resistance 6, Mental Contamination 7 (Hidden), Pain Resistance 5, Poison Immunity, Mental Resistance 6, Precognition 4

Unique Skills: Grace of the Fox Lord, Blessing: Mischief’s Soul Hand 4, Blessing: Touch of Madness 5, Blessing: Shadow Mistress 7 (Blessing of Deception)

Cultivation Skills: Special Constitution (Poison Soul)

___________________________________________________________________

I snarled as I leapt over a pitfall, slamming my knee into the throat of the nine foot tall High Orc on the other side, driving a cheap iron dagger into its spine and leaving it there as I sprayed the three common orcs behind it with the tier-four spell, Acid Blast. The orcs shrieked in agony, but I didn’t have time to wait for them to die, as the twelve-foot tall Demonic Ogre following me through the tunnels made it impossible to stop.

Nothing below the seventh tier in magic or qigong could even scratch the damned thing, and it regenerated at a fantastic rate. As a result, my experiences on the fifth floor of the dungeon had quickly come to consist of fleeing from the giant creature as I slaughtered his way through the orcs and gnolls scattered throughout its corridors.

Thankfully, it seemed to enjoy slaughtering the wounded creatures I left behind, so I rarely needed to finish the creatures myself. Instead, it was of more benefit to wound them badly enough they couldn’t follow, so it would become occupied – if only for a few seconds – crushing them to a pulp.

I ran onward, dodging past a lunging nine-foot long Stone Viper, and casting a force strike to accelerate it in the direction it was already going. A dozen steel spears plunged from above, but I just accelerated, firing force strikes from my feet and reinforcing my body with qi to keep myself moving at top speed.

My armor was in pieces, having been burned, cut, smashed, and ripped in a dozens of places since I reached the current floor. Given the impossibility of anyone below Master actually killing a Demonic Ogre and the relative weakness of the other monsters, I was at least reasonably sure the floor was meant to display how smart and fast the challenger was, rather than being a more straightforward challenge like the previous floors.

I turned to the left at the next crossroads, using a wind spell to erase my scent and send the remnants of it in the opposite direction. At the same time, I used a Draconic Arts technique to conceal my essence as he ran.

This slowed me down, but the longer I maintained it, the more distance I could earn before the creature picked up my trail again… and it would pick it up. The creature could be distracted and misdirected, but it was locked onto my personal aura created by my essence in the form of the three powers. I’d confirmed that when I first used this technique and actually managed to lose it until I had to fight and release the technique… only to find the damned thing barreling through the corridors after me, enraged that it had been tricked.

I guess Tatha was right. I should have learned how to use this technique while fighting… guess I’ll have to start practicing that in my free time after I get out of Gaveria, I thought.

I ran through the corridor, evading the traps as best as I could (I couldn’t extent my senses too far beyond my body without canceling the technique), slipping past monsters who were too occupied with eating or screwing to hear my nearly-silent steps. Most monsters were more sensitive to aura and scent than sight, and the creatures in this dungeon were no different. As long as I kept to their peripheral vision and used what little magic I could afford to keep my scent from leaking, I could make it past them with little trouble.

I managed to make it around seven kilometers before a Rock Viper lunged from the ceiling and I had to release the technique to blast it out of the way.

The enraged roar of the Demonic Ogre as it caught my scent once again in the distance scent a chill down my spine, just as it had the other three times I’d lost it. However, I didn’t let it slow me down as I froze the serpent’s head and ran on, now not bothering to hold back on acceleration spells and techniques.

Despite the current situation, there was a lot to enjoy about this disaster of an escape. I thrilled at the danger and the need to calculate every move to avoid slowing down as much as possible. Every strike, every step was thought out to serve my purpose, and every time one of my ploys delayed the creature even slightly, I felt a rush of triumph and an overwhelming desire to giggle hysterically.

I was having more fun now than I had since I’d been born from the ashes of Iryun and Tajiri.

Not to say that playing games with the girls hadn’t been fun. Hell, even the flirting had been enjoyable, in a way. However, my soul – as weird as it was – sought adventure and thrills to a degree that I hadn’t felt satisfied even once in my life so far. The battlefield was thrilling in a way, but it wasn’t fun. It wore me down, whereas this dungeon was making me feel alive, revitalized in a way I found hard to define.

I slammed a crude iron axe into the skull of the gnoll in front of me and blasted the remaining ones away with a force wave before continuing past them, laughing hysterically. Their howls of rage didn’t bother me in the least. I was having way too much fun to care about the feelings of a bunch of monsters that would just be replicated after I left the dungeon.

Third-tier explosive bolts surged out and slammed into a patrol of orcs blocking my way, incidentally knocking them into the pitfall behind them. They screamed briefly after being pierced by the spikes at the bottom, but I ignored that, leaping over the pitfall, skidding on the gravel on the other side before regaining my stride and continuing onward.

If I had been trying to kill everything, this floor would have been impossible. The creatures here would have worn me down in no time. However, since I only needed to get past them, I could afford to hold back most of my energies as I fought and ran. Moreover, the monsters seemed slower than their racial evolutions would have indicated.

That was why I was absolutely sure that delvers weren’t meant to fight their way through this floor. Fighting would only delay me and use up my energies, since most of the creatures were of the type that took a while to die. I occasionally got lucky with the traps and managed to pull patrols into them, but for the most part, I only managed to kill one or two in passing, leaving most of the rest with relatively light wounds.

The corridors of this level were incredibly varied. Some were brick with wooden floors, others caverns of rough stone, and yet others had the feeling of a marble-walled temple, like the first level.

What they shared were large numbers of humanoid monsters, the occasional serpent, and numerous traps. Everything was put in place to wear the delver down, and a delver who wasn’t capable of adapting to a constantly-changing situation would die early on, either worn down by the obstacles or eaten by the Demonic Ogre.

I could see why Change had put this floor here. The fourth floor had been simple, almost identical to the first floor. The third had been an exercise in enduring heat while fighting fire-based monsters. If one attempted to pass through the third floor without getting Fire Immunity, they would die in short order.

The likely intention of the fourth floor had been to present a conventional threat to rest the delver before the challenge of the next floor. However, those who let down their guard when reaching the fifth floor would be killed in short order.

I blasted through a wooden barricade, my body shining crimson as I enveloped myself in qi. I punched the orc behind the barrier in the nuts, causing an explosion of crimson to splatter the floor around it, and a high-pitched shriek to emerge from its piggish lips.

I ignored its suffering as I ran up its belly and jumped over its head, kicking off the back of its skull as I launched myself past. I could feel that the floor was coming close to its end, and I had a bad feeling the last obstacle was not going to be so easy to get past as the orcs.

I was right.

_______________________________________________________

The moment I entered the final room of the floor, a stone wall filled in the entrance and I found myself facing off with a nine-foot tall humanoid with cloven hooves, a cow-like face, and a humanlike body covered in layers of thick muscle. In its right hand was a five-foot long rapier, in its left a buckler made for its size. Two massive horns emerged from its temples, and it had a rather massive thing dangling between its legs. Apparently, minotaurs in dungeons didn’t bother with loincloths.

So… three or four tiers below the Demonic Ogre, but still a bit much for someone at my tier, I mused as I drew two adamantine blades out of my storage. Both had kukri-like blades meant for lopping and chopping more than anything else, which was precisely what I needed them here.

My eyes widened and I had to leap to the side to evade the thrust that punched into the wall behind me a moment later. The ‘rapier’ in the massive bull-man’s hand would have pulverized my chest if I hadn’t evaded. Moreover, it was at least three times as swift a thrust as I’d anticipated.

With a roar, the creature tried to bash me with the buckler, withdrawing the rapier for a second thrust. Its fist was about half the size of my body, and if it were to hit me the wrong way, it would shatter every bone in my body.

I managed to get under the fist, chopping one of my blades into the wrist from behind as it went past, but I was unable to put much force behind it, so it barely split the creature’s skin. Still, it roared in anger and thrust the rapier forward once more. I rolled forward under the thrust, feeling it scrape along the back of my ruined armor, jerking me slightly backward as it plunged into the floor.

Desperate, I fired off a series of fifth-tier lightning spells, and blue bolts of lightning slammed into the creature’s head, dazing it. I focused my qi and used it to enhance my strength as I brought both blades down on the creature’s wrist. The kukri-like blades chopped halfway through the bone of its wrist before getting stuck, and I reluctantly released them, summoning my scimitar and shooting myself backward with a generalized way of pure force.

It tried to pull at the rapier with its injured right hand, but that just caused blood to spurt from the wound. It was far tougher than even its appearance would have indicated, and it was highly resistant to both qigong and magic strikes. Most monsters its size would have lost the hand entirely to that strike.

… no wonder they say dungeon bosses are… ‘different’. This is on another level than what I’d expect from a minotaur, I thought.

For one thing, minotaurs were known for being slow but incredibly strong, as well as resistant to qi but weak to magic. However, my lightning strikes had only stunned it for a few seconds, and they didn’t even leave burn marks on the skin. Moreover, while minotaurs were known for being tough against physical strikes, the kukri-like swords should have been able to take off the hand with all my qi and physical strength behind them.

For another, the minotaur had the finesse to use a rapier as it was meant to be used, and it was as fast or faster than a member of the ‘enlightened’ races at the same tier. It also showed the skill and intellect to use the buckler properly in concert with the thrusting sword.

I grimaced as I avoided another lightning-swift thrust, followed by two more in rapid succession. It had stopped putting all its strength behind the blows. Instead, it was jabbing, trying to wound me and slow me down enough to let it finish the battle.

It’s too smart. Minotaurs are only supposed to be around as smart as an ogre, and there is no way an ogre would be able to use feints or hold back its strength to use a rapier like this.

Just how much could a dungeon change a monster…? Wait, ‘change’? Oh… I forgot whose dungeon I was in.

I smiled grimly as I pulled out of my own thoughts, parrying another thrust with my scimitar before ducking under another and shifting to the right to evade the third.

The scimitar’s hilt held in both hands, I waited for the boss to fully commit to a thrust, and when it did, I stepped to the side and slammed the scimitar down on it near the hilt, snapping the weapon off just above it.

The rage in the minotaur’s eyes grew stronger, and it lowered its head, charging me. I cast a wave of force and wind, blasting myself out of the way of the charge, before following it with a second, bringing me up behind the creature. I would only have once chance at this.

I focused an immense amount of chi into my body-strengthening technique and sent even more to enhance the edge of my scimitar as I brought it down on the back of the minotaur’s right leg above the hoof. The blade severed the tendons there, and the monster fell to one knee, unable to support its huge body.

I managed to pull the blade free and stepped well back from the monster before beginning the casting of a seventh-tier spell.

“Vuragath naiat, urava. Vuragath naiat, urava. Leguro, vuran, ayagaro!” In this spell’s case, the verbal pattern and intonation of the spell resonated with its structure, instead of the meaning of the words themselves providing power.

Three lances of golden light appeared in the air above my head, spinning at an incredible speed as lightning, fire, and the white energy of the ‘piercing’ aspect formed a spiral at their tips. As the creature turned back toward me slowly, I unleashed the spell, feeling all my refined mana vanish from my body as it sped forward.

The creature roared briefly before the lances punched through its right arm, left chest, and throat in a spray of dark crimson blood that rained across the room, staining much of it red, including me.

Still it tried to struggle to its knees, the force of its will burning in its eyes, but I pulled a real javelin with an iron tip out of my inventory and threw it, causing it to plunge deep into the creature’s already pulped throat. A moment later, its eyes dulled and it went still.

Golden light seeped from its body as it disintegrated, far more slowly than the other dungeon creatures, and left a large chest of mithril behind.

I was immediately excited, though I wasn’t stupid enough to approach the chest without hitting it with a tier-one ice shard to test for a potential mimic. When I was sure it wasn’t a mimic, I pulled a long metal rod with a flat-headed hook on the end, meant for opening treasure chests from a distance. At the same time, I created a thick shield of ice slanted upward and toward me, with the hopes of deflecting any arrows or poison dart traps.

I circulated my qi and strengthened my liver and kidney functions while reinforcing my heart and lungs. I slipped the rod through a hole in the ice shield and used it to tip the chest open.

Sure enough, a stream of darts slammed into the shield, chipping its surface, while a toxic cloud of green gas wafted toward me. I coughed slightly, pink phlegm emerging from my lips. However, a moment later, my body repaired itself, my preparations paying off. I felt that toxins in the same vein would be less effective on me next time.

Once the poison cloud was gone, I approached the chest from the side and peered over its edge at its contents, my eyes widening in delight and surprise.

Inside was a weapon, a set of green lamellar armor, and four potions in crystal phials… oh and five platinum coins (the equivalent of fifty gold coins). Beside them was a sheet of paper that listed each item and a description.

The weapon was a katana-like weapon with a slightly wider body and a longer hilt. It was made of the same green metal as the lamellar armor, a metal I didn’t recognize. The sheath was made of lacquered black wood with a silver cap at the end and a silver rim at the mouth. The guard of the blade was an oblong oval of mithril, and the hilt was wrapped with black pebbly leather of some sort, with an unadorned mithril cap at the end.

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Doutanuki of Severing- A doutanuki made of an alloy of elementium and fae silver. It has been imbued with the higher concept of severing and enchanted to self-repair over time if provided with spiritual energy. It’s strikes ignore natural resistances below the ninth tier and can nullify physical resistances up to level 9. If broken, it will restore itself over a period of two weeks if placed within its sheath. Aspects: Metal, Severing. Enchantments: Greater Resistance Nullification, Self-Repair, Weapon Regeneration (in sheath only).

The next on the list was the armor, which was a Japanese-style cuirass made of plates sewn together, with two shoulder pads tied to it with red silk rope. A skirt of similar armor protected the legs, flaring outward for ease of movement, and two flexible vambraces with a protective plate extending over the back of the hand and a black leather fingerless glove attached to the underside. A pair of armored boots with a metal plate with cleats accompanied it.

It was a replacement for the armor this floor had destroyed.

Armor of the Jade Fox- Once worn by the spirit fox general known as the Jade Fox, this armor has seen hundreds of battlefields, soaked in the blood of tens of thousands, and has shielded its wearer from the curses of countless innocent souls. As a result, it has become an artifact that seeks out souls whose destinies are touched by Chaos, to walk the battlefields and dungeons of the world once again. Aspects: Chaos, Protection. Enchantments: Curse Nullification, Perfect Self-Repair, Blood-Drinker.

I shuddered a little at the colorful description before moving onto the potions. The first one was a purple potion in a crystal bottle about the size of a wine bottle.

Potion of Essence- Made by infusing large amounts of untainted essence into a power-neutral alchemical liquid. When consumed, it restores internal reserves of mana, qi, and spiritual energy in proportion to the essence contained within.

Definitely a useful potion, I thought as I vanished it into my inventory.

The second potion was a black liquid in a crystal vial the size of my thumb.

Elixir of Inspiration- Can be consumed to forcibly induce a state of enlightenment when refining one’s image of their path as a qigong artist. Effects both positive and negative possible.

That was… vague. I shrugged and tossed it into my inventory. At present, I had no use for it, as I was nowhere close to solidifying my qigong image.

The third bottle was green and roughly the size of my palm, made out of smooth glass with a cork stopper.

Potion of Skill Creation- A rare potion designed to allow the one who consumes it to create a Unique Skill. Results vary. High risk of death or crippling of one’s energy channels if consumed without a clear image and a proper sacrifice to pay the price of the skill creation.

I felt a chill go up my spine when I saw the description for that one… this would have been enough reward for the floor by itself.

I saw a small note at the bottom of the box after I lifted the last potion free.

You are probably wondering if you are being rewarded excessively for surviving this floor. However, the compensation includes the loss of the magistones and other drops from the monsters along the way. This includes those killed by the Demonic Ogre. It also includes the reward for successfully escaping from the Ogre and another reward for killing the floor boss. The sword is the reward for the floor boss, whereas the armor is the reward for escaping the Demonic Ogre. The potions are collectively the reward for all the magistones and drops along the way. The powerful effects of the potions are offset in value by the demerits of two of the three, which are severe if the potions are misused.

~Change

Well… that is a surprise, but it makes sense, I suppose, I couldn’t help but be suspicious, but when I considered the origins of the armor, as well as the potential downsides of the potions, the risk/reward ratio seemed like it might fit.

I put a new gambeson on, replacing the blood-stained and damaged one I had been wearing. I then replaced my pants (again) and put the armor on. Once all the pieces were on, they adjusted, tightening in places, loosening in others until they fit me perfectly. The vambraces shortened slightly to match the length of my forearms, whereas the tail hole between the cuirass and armored skirt widened slightly.

To my embarrassment, I noted that my tail had several patches of missing fur from where the minotaur’s strikes had come close to hurting it. I chose not to restore the fur, as I judged my body was too exhausted to withstand the atavism that occurred when I stimulated it to regenerate itself rapidly.

I sheathed the doutanuki and thrust it through the red sash that came with the armor. The armor had no helmet, so I was bare-headed, but I supposed it made sense. Even the most well-designed of helmets always felt wrong when I wore them.

Instead, I removed a black linen headband with an iron plate sewn into it and tided it around my forehead.

I then put my against the wall of the boss room, slid downward into a sitting position, and closed my eyes, going to sleep.

_________________________________________________________________________

After awakening, I headed down to the next floor, and to my amazement, I saw a small town, populated by what looked to be some kind of purple-skinned humanoids. They weren’t like the mystics I’d met previously, as they lacked the pronounced fangs and lingering features from their original species. It was more like someone had put purple skin on a bunch of humans and set them down in the town.

As I approached, a young man came walking up to me with a smile, “Ah, you must be the challenger. This floor is one of several designed to be a rest and resupply spot for those seeking to complete our divine lord’s challenges.”

His explanation made sense, as everything needed to support a group of adventurers seemed to be present inside. There was an inn, a smithy, and a general store within sight of the gate, and a brothel stood across from them, beautiful (if purple-skinned) men and women sitting on windowsills with eager smiles on their faces.

“What are you?” I asked curiously.

“We are dungeonborn. In our previous lives, we were humans who offered up ourselves in service to a dungeon for eternity in exchange for shelter from the wrath of the gods. Not that I remember any of that. We get ‘reset’ every few centuries, and I only remember the last two or three years,” He explained cheerfully.

That… sounded like a rather unpleasant fate. However, I could see how erasing your memories could be a mercy if you were destined to serve for eternity in an underground space with nothing to do except wait for dungeon delving adventurers.

I wasn’t particularly wary of him and his fellows. There were certain rules that dungeons followed, and one of them was that challenges of the mind and spirit (such as seeing through deception) required warnings in advance. This floor truly was a safe spot, since no such warnings were presented before I entered the floor.

“What happens if an adventurer harms one of you, by the way?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged, “It happens, from what I’ve heard from those who remember our last dungeon. However, it results in a curse on the adventurer in question that can only be relieved by surviving an enhanced challenge inside the dungeon. I don’t know the details, but it apparently makes the likelihood of good rewards go down and the likelihood of traps and powerful rare monsters appearing higher.”

“Sounds nasty… Any advice on what I should look into here?” I asked.

He smiled mysteriously“Try asking the general store owner about the hidden menu. I think you’ll be pleased.”

We parted after he finished introducing me to the village facilities. There were no homes that were not attached to a ‘shop’, whether it was the brothel or the general store. There were only just enough people to run each of the shops, which meant that every construction within the village was both business and home for those within.

I entered the general store first, seeing a beautiful young woman sitting behind the counter. The walls were lined with potions, preserved food, accessories, and various nick-knacks. The inner walls were paneled with golden wood, and the floor was perfectly cleaned of dust. The counter she sat behind was made out of a mahogany-like wood, and she sat in a leather-upholstered wooden chair behind it.

The young woman’s features were perfectly symmetrical, and her face was round and her cheeks soft-looking. Long silver hair was bound in a tail that fell to just below her shoulders, and her eyes were a faded yellow, observing me with a glint of interest.

“Well, this is a first. It’s been four hundred years since the last time someone made it into one of the dungeons I’m stationed in,” She remarked.

I tilted my head to the side questioningly, my ears twitching curiously, “’Dungeons’?”

She laughed throatily, “You didn’t think we were all the only versions of ourselves, did you? There is no way enough humans would have gotten the idea to sell themselves off to the dungeons before we ended up as a slave race. It happened too quickly, too suddenly. You’ll find there are only about fifty variations of ‘dungeon villager’, most of whom are like the idiot who does the greetings out front.”

“So… are you some kind of gestalt?” I asked with interest.

“You could say that. We share knowledge but not memories, so all I know is that no one has reached the floors where my other selves operate a shop in that long. To be honest, if I wasn’t addicted to board games, I would have erased my memories centuries ago, like the others. As it is, the idiots outside have new personalities and styles every few decades, so the boredom never gets to be too much,” She replied with a shrug.

“Are ‘dungeon towns’ like this normal?” I asked.

“The deeper dungeons usually have a town like this somewhere in their depths. Only the dungeons owned by a god have former human dungeonborn, though. The cost in Dungeon Points is too high for a naturally-formed dungeon,” She explained.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” I said with gratitude.

She waved a hand in front of her face dismissively, “Nothing better to do, and I’m not an information broker. No reason to charge for this kind of thing, since it all goes straight to the dungeon.”

I didn’t know what Dungeon Points meant, but the shift in her expression when she mentioned them made me think she wouldn’t answer if I asked.

“I was told it would be a good idea to ask about the hidden menu…?” I said after looking through her regular inventory. Most of it was common potions and supplies that any adventurer would stock up on before going dungeon diving. It was all marked up by about 1.4 to 1.6, but considering the convenience, it wasn’t really an issue.

“Ah, that thing. You must have done well on that last floor, or the dungeon wouldn’t have let him recommend it,” She commented, and a screen similar to my status appeared in front of my eyes, listing nine items, all with a price of at least two platinum coins.

Pill of Metal Tempering (3 platinum coins)- Tempers the nervous system using metal mana, results in enhanced reaction speed, as well as flow and control of refined mana. If the full process is endured to the end then has the possibility of granting a Cultivation Skill related to the metal element. Can only be used once in a lifetime. If the individual fails to endure the process of tempering, permanent damage can be done to the nervous system and mana flow.

Amulet of Substitution (4 platinum coins)- Amulet made by the Priests of Death. If activated within one minute of the death of the wearer (beforehand or after) will shatter and resurrect the wearer at full health, removing all curses and illnesses. Can only be used once in a lifetime.

Portable Smithing Station (8 platinum coins)- A crystal orb containing a full smith’s workshop that can be set up anywhere where at least five square meters of flat ground can be found. Contains an elemental furnace, one adamantine smithing hammer, a full set of adamantine smithing tools, and an adamantine anvil. Soulbound, cannot be sold or transferred. If the user dies or cuts the soul bond, the smithing station will crumble to dust. Is bound upon purchase.

Full Repair Kit (2 platinum coins)- A limited use orb that will repair any weapon or armor of mortal make. Uses: 35

Maker Skill Orb (4 platinum coins)- A specialized skill orb designed to grant a random crafting skill to individuals who are prevented from gaining crafting skills by possession of a divine-origin unique skill. Can only be used once in a lifetime. Can only be used by a possessor of a divine-origin unique skill.

Lesser Chaotic Unique Skill Orb (10 platinum coins)- A skill orb designed to grant a random unique skill in exchange for one third of the user’s base lifespan. Skill will be influenced by Chaos.

Monster Egg (1 platinum coin)- An egg containing an unborn and undetermined monster. If fed the owner’s energies, it will hatch a monster whose nature is close to that of the owner. Can sacrifice a skill level to allow the monster to start out with a unique skill related to the skill in question. If the owner dies, so will the monster. Will soulbind with the owner upon hatching. Cannot be transferred. Chaos-alignment limited. Prevents the obtainment of crafting skills (including Maker Skill Orb granted ones).

The Living Silver (10 platinum coins)- A unique metal-based symbiote that dwells within the blood of its master. Feeds off the life-energy of its master’s enemies and its master’s qi and spiritual energy. Prevents all other forms of binding with life-forms and is cursed to bind its owner to a life of conflict and danger. Grants the skills ‘Toxic Blood’ and ‘Symbiotic Manifestation’. Donated by x%@#!6k to her boon companion Change after he beat her at cards.

Chaotic Dragon Egg (180 Platinum Coins)- The egg of a high-ranking dragon donated by the Chaos Dragon Umfirdir to his master, the God of Change. Will soul bond with the individual who hatches it. Permanently binds the owner’s soul to the Path of Chaos. Warning: Individuals below Tier 15 cannot survive the bonding process with this egg.

I felt my facial expression freeze as I read the last two. The Dragon Egg’s price made sense (even if I wasn’t insane enough to actually want to bond with a dragon given Tatha’s possessive nature). The Living Silver though… the blanked out name gave me a horrible feeling of dread that far surpassed that given off by Change or my ‘patron’… to the point that it was incomparable.

To give you an idea of what it felt like being before a god in the flesh (as opposed to the spirit) it was like their presence increased the gravity in the area by four or five times, in addition to spewing a mild neurotoxin that ate away at your sanity.

However, the feeling I got just from the obscured name of the Living Silver’s original owner made me want to fall to the ground in a gibbering panic. What made it worse was that I knew the moment I saw that entry that whoever… whatever it was knew I was looking at that obscured name, and I had the smallest portion of a portion of its attention for that moment.

I didn’t even want to think about how horrible the experience would have been in person.

“I guess I should have warned you about that. Those last two entries tend to have that effect on mortals that haven’t reached Master. I don’t recommend picking either of those, even if you have the coin. Everything on the list has a risk to it, but the risk in those two cases is far out of proportion with their value,” The shop owner said, giving me a pitying glance.

It took me the better part of a day to pull myself together, and at some point, the shop owner had put me in her bed, while she smoked a cigarette on a plush purple couch next to it.

“Thank… you,” I said gratefully as I pulled myself upright. I felt a dizzy spell hit me, and I fell back into the bed.

“Don’t bother, kid. I once had the… pleasure of meeting the owner of the Living Silver when I was a @##%$@!1 before the curse hit humanity. My reaction was similar. Fortunately, she rarely bothers with a low-ranking world like this one, so you aren’t likely to have to deal with her actual presence anytime soon, if ever,” She said comfortingly.

“Before you ask, I don’t recommend either of the skill orbs for you. You already have a unique skill, and crafting skills are a bad fit with your existing ones. At some point, I’d suggest getting something to remove the Farming skill from your stat page, as it is causing an imbalance in your energies,” She continued.

“Why…?” He tried to ask why she was being so helpful.

“Ah… you seeing that name was enough to be considered an illegal attack by the dungeon core, so I was given more leeway in dealing with you than is usual. I keep telling it to just erase the description or take it off the menu, but dungeon cores are pretty stubborn about that sort of thing,” She said, taking a long drag on her cigarette before blowing the resulting thick green smoke out of her nose.

“Why… are all the things on that menu so risky?” I asked, finally managing to put myself together enough to ask the question that was bothering me.

“Why do you think? Do you really think stuff that valuable could be offered that cheaply if it didn’t have any risks? The tempering pill is pretty much what you’d expect with that kind of thing, but the rest are all made with flaws or dangers to offset their value enough that adventurers that make it this far could actually pay for something,” She replied.

“What is your recommendation then?” I asked after thinking over her words for a few moments.

“I’d suggest you use your coin on the tempering pill and the monster egg. There isn’t much risk with the egg, and you just have to endure the pain and hold on until the tempering is done with the pill. Since you’ve come this far, you’ve already felt worse, in any case,” She replied, green smoke obscuring her expression entirely.

“The repair kit?” I asked, given that it seemed to have no apparent risks.

“Too expensive for what it does. You are at the seventh tier in magic, so you should be able to learn a spell that does something similar if you look hard enough. Also, the Amulet might sound great, but I can guarantee you it will end up buried with your corpse if you buy it. Death absolutely loves cursing those things in ways that are hard to detect and result in the wearer’s permanent demise,” She replied.

After a few minutes of consideration, I selected the tempering pill and the monster egg, tossing the former into my inventory before examining the latter.

The monster egg was a white egg the size of both my fists together, and when I examined it with my spiritual senses, I got the feeling that it was alive but in stasis.

“How do I use this?” I asked.

“Pour your energies – all three of them, mind you – into the egg until you are almost dry, then select a skill level to sacrifice. I don’t recommend using the three powers. Once you lose a level in one of those, it cripples you. Pick something that isn’t important to you. The concept of the skill in question will be used to grant the monster its unique skill,” She replied.

“I’ll be blunt… the monster that appears from that egg will be a mirror of some aspect of your soul. There is no telling what it will be beforehand. The monster will love and be utterly devoted to you, but it will still be an individual being with its own soul and mind. Too many idiots who buy those eggs think they are familiars or servants…” She grumbled.

“I really suggest you head for the inn and take a room before you start. The guest suite is large enough that just about any monster can fit into it without a problem,” She suggested.

I nodded and left, dropping a handful of black sugar candies on the counter in thanks. I figured that it would be harder to get sweets than gold or silver in a dungeon.

__________________________________________________________________________

The shopkeeper sighed in relief once he was gone and coughed up green blood, feeling the admonishment of the dungeon core threatening her soul.

“You know very well I followed the rules to the letter, you silly gem,” She grumbled.

:Change didn’t give permission for you to explain that much, Mya-sim. The voice of the dungeon core said reprovingly.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, burning silver, her figure growing and losing its purple cast, ivory skin overtaking the curse of the vessel she currently wore, “You should know better by now. I may be only a shard of Lady Mya, but that doesn’t mean a mere spiritual construct can dictate to me outside the rules the original agreed to.”

The dungeon core shrieked in agony as she punished it, surges of a power that was neither mana, nor qi, nor spiritual energy blasted into its center using the link they shared between them.

There was no longer any possibility of mistaking the shopkeeper – called Mya-sim – for a purple-skinned human. Instead, a nine-foot tall, elegant female with pointed ears, raven-black hair, and quicksilver eyes devoid of whites or pupils stood in the back room. The force of her presence caused the structure of the dungeon around her to fall to dust.

What made it worse was that this was only the equivalent of her original tapping at the edges of reality. If her original was actually present, her vessel would disintegrate in an instant, along with the world itself. There were good reasons why gods of higher-ranking worlds avoided coming down to lesser worlds whenever they could.

Her original, sometimes called Lady Mya, other times called the Abdicated Empress of Ten Thousand Worlds, and at others by names that could not be spoken verbally in a lesser realm, was simply too… different for this universe’s laws to contain. Like most such forces, there needn’t be malice for her presence to be malevolent to the world in general.

After a few moments, Mya-sim returned to her original form and sat behind the ruins of her shop’s counter, “Don’t forget yourself, gem. My original gave me to you as a favor to him, and you lack the power to harm me even if I did break the rules. You asked for a completely sentient simulacrum, and you got it. Don’t test my patience.”

:You didn’t have to get Lady Mya’s attention… now Lord Change is screaming in my ears about how ‘stupid’, ‘arrogant’, and ‘insane’ I am… The dungeon core said in a pained voice.

“It’s common sense amongst the gods to avoid angering gods and similar beings from higher dimensions. I would have expected Change to have explained to you that I am on loan,” She replied, her expression languid as she took a drag on a cigar that had mysteriously appeared in her hand.

:… what do you think of that challenger, anyway? The core asked, curious because the Mya-sim had never bothered to take an interest in challengers to one of its dungeons in the past.

She took a long drag on the cigar and blew vermilion smoke out of her nose thoughtfully, “My original probably would like him. To be honest, I think Mischief made a huge mistake when he arranged for a soul from a higher universe to be fused with one from this one. The skill system is containing the power born of the synergy from when the two souls fused, but that won’t last forever. If it weren’t for those three unique skills sucking off the extra energy coming from his soul, his body would have collapsed before it could be strengthened.”

:Will not the tempering from the lava lake help? It asked.

“It will buy him some time. If he reforges all his systems with the elements, he will have a foundation that will allow him to survive to higher tiers without ‘popping’. I wouldn’t advise Mischief to have him take the Master Trial anytime soon, though. If he takes it, he’ll probably break something important… if he doesn’t explode in the process,” She replied unconcernedly.

:So THAT’s why you went into detail on the tempering pill from the store… The dungeon core said thoughtfully.

“Given his personality, he’ll go all in on the pill and get the tempering skill. That will protect his brain from the long-term effects of the excess pure essence coming from his soul. After that, I’d suggest water to temper his muscles, wood to temper his skin, and earth to temper his bones. The order doesn’t really matter, but he needs to get it out of the way. It’s inconvenient fire entered his blood instead of reforging his bones or organs, but there are worse possible results… if fire had resonated with his mana instead of his qi…” She made a moue of distaste at the thought.

:… yes, that would be a problem. Fire refinements of the brain don’t mix with the use of magic… or sane behavior.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The dungeon town’s inn was something of an oddity. It looked like there could only be two or three rooms other than a small lobby, based on the size of the wood construction. However, when I stepped inside, I found myself in a marble-floored lobby that looked like it was about ten times the size of the place I just entered.

Stairwells led both downward and upward, and I could see over a dozen doors to different rooms on the upper floor from the entrance. Two beautiful women with dusky skin and bat-like wings sat, looking bored, behind a desk opposite the entrance. Their expressions brightened as I approached, and both of them leaned forward so that their breasts rested atop the desk in a way that emphasized their size.

Both were dressed in a dress that was tight around the chest, so I had to look away to avoid visions of Tatha, Ris and the twins coming after me with kitchen knives popping into my head.

They pouted, looking disappointed at my reaction, but the greeting that came next was bright and cheerful (and in unison), “Welcome to the Dungeon Inn, we are Dantalian Nephriphore. Would you like a room?”

Dantalian? I thought, putting together scraps of knowledge that came from Tajiri’s previous life and the appearance of the… twins?

“Demon?” I muttered.

Their eyes brightened, “You recognize what we are?!”

“A-ah… yes?” I replied, trying to back away from the twin faces that suddenly appeared right in front of me as fast as possible.

“Your soul must be from a higher dimension if you know about demons… Earth maybe? You are from Earth, aren’t you? The last time we used this name was on Earth, so it has to be that!” They said brightly in unison, speaking so quickly it was almost impossible to make out the individual words.

Despite myself, I answered them, “In a way, you could say that.”

“Wow, it’s been a long time… this world doesn’t really appreciate the value of books, so we ended up running a bunch of dungeon inns for this world’s gods instead of running their libraries. Do you like books? Please tell us you do! If you do, we’ll gladly gather a library and run it for you!” Their eyes were gleaming with desperate hunger, a hunger that reminded me of drug addicts looking for their next fix.

Suddenly, the girls coughed out black blood and collapsed to the ground, moaning.

I looked down at them in shock, but the grins on their identical faces made me take a step back.

“We guess the core didn’t like us asking those questions… or was it Change? We almost wish %342^&$% didn’t sell us to this world’s gods, though it is still better than Hell,” They murmured.

I winced at the pressure placed on my spirit by their verbalization of that… name I could not comprehend. Was there something about this dungeon that attracted people who were trying to shave away my SAN points?

I tilted my head to the side quizzically, Where did that thought come from?

I searched my memories, until I came upon the reference in question and sighed, Of all the games in question for Tajiri to get addicted to… why horror?

I shook my head in irritation and turned my attention back to Dantalian, who were waiting for me to return to reality with a patience one wouldn’t have expected from their somewhat ditzy appearance and manner.

“Ooh, so that’s it! No wonder Change didn’t want us asking those questions!” They suddenly said, nodding to themselves in eerie unison, apparently unconcerned about the blood vomit that splattered their clothing.

“Sorry about that! Please take the key to Suite S on the second floor for free as recompense for us speaking out of turn!” They said cheerfully, handing me a heavy brass key that resonated heavily with spiritual energy, to the point where I almost wanted to drop it the moment it rested upon my palm.

Wearily, I headed to the stairs they pointed to, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and forget about the last few hours.

_________________________________________________________________________

Change’s avatar materialized behind Dantalian with an exasperated expression on his face, “Sometimes I wonder if it was worth buying two of your avatars to run this inn, Dantalian. You always drop some forbidden knowledge or a name that has no place on this plane in your excitement… no wonder he dumped you on us the first chance he got.”

“What can we say? We are a demon that loves spreading knowledge. Is it our fault if you have way too many restrictions on what the mortals of this plane are allowed to know?” Dantalian answered cheerfully, their manner unaffected by their punishment earlier. Their clothing burned away and was replaced by a tight-fitting pantsuit in red silk that contrasted perfectly with their browned skin.

Change gave them the fish eye, “You are almost as bad as Mischief and Madness sometimes… It took me fifty years to find all the copies of that grimoire you handed over to that S-Rank adventurer last century. Please don’t make me erase this version of you… the core has its DP invested in more important things than a pair of mischievous demons who make the Serpent look simple and straightforward!”

Change looked more like an aggrieved middle manager scolding the mischievous daughter of the company’s owner than one of the most powerful deities in the world at that moment. No matter how high one rose, it seemed there were always those above.

Dantalian’s malevolent mischief was nothing new to him, but he had little choice but to use them, given the power of the being that had ‘sold’ them to the pantheons. In a world where people had no business having certain knowledge, a demon that existed to spread knowledge – no matter how forbidden – to anyone who seemed to want or need it, was a disaster in the making. Thankfully, cleaning up after her didn’t require Intervention Points, but the messes she created were always time-consuming to wipe away.

If he were honest, Change wasn’t really in line with the decision to restrict so much knowledge. His aegis was what it was, so he couldn’t help but find it frustrating. However, even Chaos had to pay attention when nine-tenths of all the gods agreed on something.

Dantalian was, ironically, one of the creatures that watched the gods to see if they were breaking those rules themselves. Dungeons were one of the easiest ways to hand rewards to a champion or pawn, so Dantalian’s job was to keep a watch over the dungeon core, to ensure it didn’t cross the line when rewarding those challenging its depths.

When a god wanted to gift their champion with something that exceeded the dungeon’s ability to reward them, the god in question would kill Dantalian’s incarnation, gift the champion their ‘reward’, then use a massive amount of Dungeon Points to revive the demon’s avatars. If a god left a dungeon without an incarnation of Dantalian for too long, the core would automatically self-destruct, so it wasn’t an action taken lightly.

Why couldn’t it have been Lucifuge or Balor? That bastard went out of his way to foist a problem child on us, He thought sourly as he seriously considered just destroying the dungeon along with the avatars in annoyance.