The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon

It was difficult to believe that Cmyk could have a bad day. Ever since his creation, the skeletal minion hadn’t particularly exerted itself on any occasion. Part of that lay in the nature of his creator. Despite his anger and surface grumpiness, Theo wasn’t the sort of dungeon that followed through with his threats. Sure, he’d occasionally lock Cmyk up in a room or forbid him this and that, but he’d never go further. The truth was that the dungeon, despite all claims of the contrary, was a secret workaholic.

Standing in the middle of the gnome’s workshop, the massive minion looked around. The former airship was full of various devices that defied logic. Even in a half-completed state, they were more intricate than most of the things Cmyk had seen in his existence. They were also incredibly boring.

“Are those all the trinkets he gave you?” Switches asked while buzzing about like a kitten with a sugar rush.

With a sigh, Cmyk nodded. Theo had asked him to return home and bring one of two magical baubles. Supposedly, that was to be done without Spok finding out. Since that was too much effort, the minion didn’t bother. Thankfully, neither did the spirit guide. The two had formed an unofficial pact—neither would meddle in the other’s business when possible and pretend not to notice when it wasn’t.

“Okay, okay, okay.” The gnome made several circles around the large, muscular figure. “This is a classic test. Give the interviewee a task and only half the resources to complete it. Very clever, but Theo is very clever, right?”

Cmyk shrugged. He had no idea how smart the dungeon was. All he knew was that his most amusing friend, along with his training apprentice, had been sent off somewhere to do something and the town was a lot more boring without them. It didn’t help that with the earl’s latest idea, the whole of Rosewind was abuzz with new harmful ideas. Everyone was rebuilding, discussing work… it had gotten so bad that even adventurers wouldn’t spend all their time drinking in the local taverns.

“I got it!” The gnome’s ears perked up. “There are still dozens of goblin gliders on this ship. With a few modifications, I’ll be able to make a battle fleet that will show Theo the destructive power I could provide!” Switches rubbed his hands. “What do you think?”

The minion tilted its head.

“Hmm.” The gnome’s enthusiasm somewhat faded. “Yeah, you’re right. They aren’t strong enough. They’ll serve better as an escort. I need something golem-sized that can fly. Or maybe it doesn’t have to.”

Switches made his way to the giant blackboard, then took a bucket of water and splashed it all over the wooden surface. All formulas and designs were promptly washed away, leaving a blank—and very wet—blackboard.

“Something big and destructive…” the gnome hummed to himself, as he took a large multi-looking device with which he shot a single burst of flames at the blackboard. In an instant, all the water evaporated, making the surface ready to be drawn upon once more. “Fetch one of those chairs, will you?” the gnome told Cmyk.

The request was less strenuous than most, so the minion obliged, grabbing the nearest chair and walking up to the gnome with it.

“It needs to be big and powerful.” Switched pulled the chair in front of the blackboard, then climbed onto it. “With lots of armor.” He started chalking up a design that, at this point, was indistinguishable from a griffin egg. “And weapons.”

Additional components were jotted on—arms, legs, cannons… Next to each, the gnome wrote down a series of letters and numbers that didn’t appear to mean anything in particular.

“He said he wanted it to fly, right?” A series of devices on the back and legs were added along with sinusoidal sketches and calculations that would make theoretical physicists envious.

Cmyk had no idea what any of that meant, but it was a distraction from the boredom that had come over him, so he leaned closer.

“It’s a beauty, right?” Switches asked unironically. “We’ll need one heck of a power source to get all this moving. Maybe if I remove a few of the safety features, I could save up a bit.” He erased a few scribbles with his sleeve. “But it still won’t be enough.”

For several minutes more, the gnome kept on sketching. Every now and then, he’d ask the minion to move the chair to the left or right in order to add more thoughts and calculations. Once done, the entire blackboard was packed with terms, sketches, and formulas. In the middle was the outline of a rather egg-shaped construct with arms, legs, three jetpacks, and a vast number of weapons.

Carefully examining the notes, in case there were any miscalculations, the gnome then descended from the chair and crossed his arms.

“Well…” he said as he shook his head. “We’ll definitely need more mana. Think he’ll give us any?”

Slowly, Cmyk shook his head. There was a fifty-fifty chance that the dungeon would agree to the request, yet it was absolutely certain that Spok wouldn’t.

“I thought so. Then, I guess I have no choice.”

Switches went to one of the workbenches. Over a dozen large and ominous looking devices lay there. Some were larger than the gnome itself. Shoving several of them to the side—or to the floor in one or two cases—Switches cleared the space of everything, with the exception of an extremely large and menacing chainsaw blade. Originally, it had been made to help lumberjacks cut down trees in one strike. Unfortunately, the village already had several people who could do that with a normal axe, so the qualities of the device weren’t appreciated. However, what Switches hadn’t told anyone was that with a few minor adjustments, the “mechanical saw” could also cut through the thickest of armors or even stone.

“Mind giving a hand?” He looked over his shoulder towards the skeletal minion.

Cmyk tilted his head.

“It’s my mech-saw five,” the gnome explained. “Three parallel chains of reinforced anti-magic alloy powered by two independent magic cores at a speed of three hundred rotations per minute. They can cut through wood, metal, stone, and a few magic materials and have a vibration absorption system that will keep it steady as the horizon.”

The fancy words didn’t mean a thing, but from Cmyk’s experience, the longer the description of an item was, the better and more expensive it turned out to be.

“In order to build what Theo wants, we’ll have to get the mana generator of this ship.” The gnome looked around. “Which means cutting a few dozen walls or so. A shame, because I was getting fond of this place, but one has to make sacrifices.” Also, Switches was convinced that if he did the job to the dungeon’s satisfaction, he’d be rewarded with a real lab within the town itself. “So, what do you think?”

After several seconds of silence, the minion went to the workbench and picked up the device. A moment later, all three bladed chains began spinning.

Meanwhile, Theo was having revelations of his own. Being chased by a swarm of flames taking on the appearance of a giant centipede was anything but reassuring. Neither magic barriers nor ice shields seemed to particularly slow it down. Each time the avatar would block up the corridor behind him, the swarm of insects would burn through the walls near the edges, then merge together on the other side of the barrier and continue as if nothing had happened.

“I told you it was better to surrender,” the monocle said in an I-told-you-so tone of voice. “Now, you’ll be dead for sure.”

“As opposed to?” Theo asked through gritted teeth.

“Well, I…” The monocle fell silent. “It’s the principle of the matter,” he said after several seconds of thought. “You could at least have been civilized about it.”

“Turn left!” Amelia shouted from further ahead. She was first in the row of aether spheres Theo had created, making her the navigator of the group.

It would have been preferable for Theo to have taken that role, since he was the one controlling both the aether spheres and the flight spell that moved them forward. Unfortunately, he hadn’t planned on the blood spider evolving.

“Right,” the avatar said, changing the direction of the spheres one after the other at the precise moment. The maneuver was beyond masterful, though it was only thanks to his recent eavesdropping skill that he was able to time it with such precision. At the very least, he had found a temporary use for that.

“Drop me off,” Liandra said from her sphere. “I’ll get you some time, so you and the rest make it.”

“No need!” Theo shouted back.

“Even you have your limits. Plus, I’m not a heroine for nothing.”

What the woman said was true, yet there was a far more important reason for the dungeon’s reluctance—the sunk cost fallacy. He had invested too much energy in fighting the blood spider—far too much, if Spok was to have a say on the matter—to let anyone else claim the rewards of killing it.

“I started this,” the avatar said in a firm tone. “And I’ll finish it. You make sure that the kids are safe.”

With neither magic or physical attacks being a suitable deterrent for the swarm of insects, Theo decided to take a different approach. Waiting for the turn to approach, he destroyed the aether sphere around him, then gently touched the corridor floor.

A new room formed. More a pit than a room, it extended fifty feet in all directions, and was fully capable of holding the entire form of the blood spider. That wasn’t the reason Theo had created it, though. Eight royal slimes were on the ground, hungry and eager to attack anything that came into reach.

The construction had cost Theo a substantial amount of energy, causing his spirit guide to let out a critical cough in his main body. At the same time, it was the only solution he could think of at such short notice. While not impervious to fire, royal slimes were highly resistant, not to mention territorial.

“Liandra!” Theo shouted as he came to an instant halt. “I’m leaving the rest to you. Get to a safe spot and wait for me.” From here on, he wouldn’t be able to control the aether bubbles anymore.

Drawing his legendary sword, the avatar waited.

“It’s outright suicide, you know,” the monocle said. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“Shut up,” the avatar grumbled.

In the distance, the dot of light representing the blood spider got larger and larger. Sections of the corridor lit up, as if a procession of lanterns was making their way through. In a few seconds, the shining head of the fiery centipede was in the pit and with no intention of slowing down. Then it happened.

Sensing nearby prey, two slimes leaped up, going straight for the spider’s head. Relying on the power of its flames, the creature let them do it. That turned out to be a mistake. Not only did the slimes not suffer any damage, but they formed a blob of liquid around the entire head, slowing the entire creature down.

“You tell him, slimes!” Theo yelled, as if he had any role in the matter.

Flames froze, making the individual insects of the swarm look like fireflies encased in jelly. Realizing the mistake it had made, the rest of the insects poured into the blob, in an attempt to tear it apart through sheer volume.

On the slimes’ part, five of the remaining ones leaped up to join in, quickly bringing the flaming blood spider to the floor. Unfortunately, the final slime had different ideas. Seeing that there wouldn’t be much to gain by joining with the rest of the group, it focused its attention on the remaining morsel within its pit—Theo’s avatar.

“You gotta be kidding!” the dungeon grumbled.

What was left of his clothes was entirely gone, consumed by the acidic contents of the slime. Before the gear could follow a similar fate, the avatar cast an aether bubble within the being, increasing it in size until both popped.

CORE CONSUMPTION

Royal slime core converted into 50 Avatar Core Points

“Baron!” the monocle said, its voice trembling with outrage. “Show some decency, man! There might be ladies present!”

There were a dozen ways that the dungeon could have responded. Yet, the cursed marquis brought a good point. The unfortunate event had left him completely naked. Theo’s immediate instinct was to have his avatar create another wardrobe, but before that he stopped. Would there really be a point? With slimes and flaming insects all about, it was inevitable that his new set of clothes would only suffer. It would be a lot more economical to continue his fight as he was and then get a new set of clothes.

“Later,” he said, focusing his attention on the fight between the slimes and the blood spider.

“Fighting in the nude? That's outright scandalous! Outrageous! What is the world coming to when swashbuckling exhibitionists are given noble titles?” The monocle sighed. “We really are living in the end times.”

The baron looked at the block of ice he was holding in his left hand. The monocle had stopped its attempts to break out and was now remaining quietly as an observer. The magic within it was powerful enough to make his words be heard perfectly, even despite the many layers of frozen water, making him more than an annoyance.

“It would serve you right to lose the royal jewels,” the monocle went on. “That would be poetic justice! Not that—”

Having had enough, the avatar wrapped the ice with a silence spell, bringing the insults to an end. In terms of success, that could be described as a minor victory. All that remained now was to achieve the major victory.

A few dozen feet away, the blood spider was gaining the upper hand against the royal slimes. While its size had quickly shrunk to a third, that didn’t seem to be the case any longer. The insects had adapted to the acidity and now were merely prisoners within the slime.

The dots of flames moved about, merging in new ways to form a more spiderly appearance. Eight legs as sharp as swords extended, slicing through the slimes until they emerged outside.

“No, you don’t!” The avatar charged forward. Infusing his sword with a hundred points of energy, he performed a sword chop.

An elegant cut split slimes and blood spider alike, continuing through the stone floor.

CORE CONSUMPTION

7 royal slime cores converted into 350 Avatar Core Points

Losing its rubbery properties, slime matter trickled into the crack, as both halves of the blood spider kept on burning on the floor. Unfortunately, there was no reason to rejoice. The notification hadn’t mentioned anything about the creature, suggesting that it was very much alive.

Clumsily, like a drunken sailor on a rowboat, both halves propped themselves up. New sets of legs emerged from each, creating two identical, fully functional spiders of fire.

The tension in the air was palpable. Neither side was willing to back down or prolong the fight any longer. Win or lose, each side was determined to give its all.

Cautiously, one of the spiders started moving sideways in an attempt to flank the baron, while the other remained perfectly still.

Normally, in a fight, the benefit went to the one who had a number advantage. Two flaming blood spiders were more difficult to kill than one, after all. On the other hand, each of the creatures was weaker than when they had been as one.

“Spok,” Theo said within his main body. “If a blood spider is composed of thousands of individual insects, how do I get its core?”

“By killing it, sir,” the spirit guide replied. “Once you kill the last one, its core will drop, same as with any other creature.”

“But what if the last one is hiding?”

“That’s not the nature of a blood spider, sir. All of its elements keep close together. It’s possible that when there’s too few of them to present a challenge to its opponent, they might scurry away, but as long as you see one of them, rest assured that the rest are also nearby.”

“That makes sense,” the dungeon replied, as if he understood what Spok was saying. He was about to continue with a few of the standard business comments that were aimed at making someone appear smarter than he was when both of the spiders charged forward.

Not waiting until they were on either side of the avatar, they shot out a multitude of threads at each other, aiming to slice him like a thread through cheese.

“Nice try!” The swashbuckling skill Theo had had allowed his avatar to spot their plan before he was harmed. Letting go of the monocle, he grabbed the sword with both hands and did another vertical chop.

Many of the threads snapped due to the force of the attack. Alas, a few managed to withstand the blow, causing both spiders to swing towards each other.

Unwilling to be caught between them, the avatar leaped forward, then cast a flight spell to remain in the air. A split second later, both spiders slammed into each other, merging once more into one. Uncertain how to react, Theo cast an indestructible aether sphere around the spider, then a second one around that.

Now, he had ten seconds to think of something before the effect was over.

“Theo!” Liandra’s voice came from behind the corridor corner. “I’m here to h—”

The heroine froze mid-sentence. The woman wasn’t one to shy away from danger. As a heroine she had seen many things, yet the last thing she expected right now was to see the baron floating in the air wearing nothing but a sword and a few magic items.

“—help,” she said, after an awkward pause.

Being a dungeon, Theo wasn’t one to feel shame. At the same time, he also didn’t want rumors to start spreading about him. One entity had already come to the wrong conclusion, so he didn’t want it to become a frequent occurrence.

“I summoned some slimes to help me in the fight,” he said, floating back to the ground. “This was an unfortunate side effect.”

“I understand,” the woman said, in a tone of voice that left more than enough room for doubt. “I see you’ve managed to shrink it down to size.”

“As I said—slimes.” Theo forced a smile on his avatar. “Hold on a moment.”

A wardrobe emerged from the floor of the room, complete with a set of usable clothes.

“Are the kids alright?” The avatar propped his sword against the wardrobe and quickly proceeded to put something on. Since speed was an issue, he chose to go with the cliché and slip into a wizard’s robe. Naturally, he also put on a belt on which to hang pouches and other items.

“They should be fine. I left them in an empty chamber and told them to rush this way if there’s anything they can’t handle.” She paused again for a few moments. “Might be a good idea to get some boots. There might be more blood carpets further on.”

“Good point.” The avatar chose the sturdiest pairs of boots available.

They were a weird combination with the wizard’s robe, but were durable and with steel soles. Naturally, Theo didn’t forget to bless them, just in case.

“Everyone’s alive up there, by the way,” he continued. “They’ll probably have a headache when they wake up, but they’ll live.”

“As long as we defeat the abomination,” Liandra added.

“Right.” It was easy to forget that up to this point, they had only faced the creature’s minions and “children.” The actual monster had yet to be found.

In the back of the dungeon’s mind, he kept on thinking that maybe he should have taken the mage tower quest. Magic was messy and troublesome, but at least it would be easier than this. With all the eccentricity going on, probably no one would have even noticed he was a dungeon avatar. He would have gone there, defeated what he was supposed to defeat, and be done with it. Now, he was literally in the middle of a cursed quest.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have killed the Flame-Blood Spider pet to the abomination Agonia.

Half the town of Rosewind froze. While there was nothing wrong in killing the annoying swarm creature, doing so with Liandra might well make it clear that he was the same dungeon that was responsible for her grandfather’s death.

A guilty expression formed on the avatar’s face as he looked at the aether sphere. While his attention had been elsewhere, it had turned into a bubble of thick smoke. Not a single spark of light could be seen, not any movement for that matter.

As the invulnerability of the bubble came to an end, a heap of dead insects poured onto the ground along with a single crimson red marble.

“Setting it on fire only to suffocate it to death,” Liandra said, nodding. “Theo, you never cease to amaze me.”

“All part of the plan,” he lied. “I didn’t want to look like I’m carrying the kids, otherwise they’ll develop the habit of expecting others to do the work for them.”

“Right. That’s why I left them alone for a while. Still, maybe next time pick a slightly easier quest for them?” The heroine smiled.

“No promises.”

The avatar cast a telekinesis spell, pulling the spider core to him. It was a small thing, no larger than a goblin core. Consuming it, though, proved all the difference.

CORE CONSUMPTION

Flame-Blood Spider core converted into 5000 Avatar Core Points.

AVATAR LEVEL INCREASE

Your Avatar has become Level 23

+1 Speed, LEAP skill obtained

3900 Core Points required for next Avatar Level

That was a pleasant surprise. It also illustrated how Theo could increase his speed. If physical attacks increased strength and magic attacks, causing a monster to die of environment attacks seemed to boost speed. Naturally, he’d have to experiment a bit more to be certain.

LEAP -1

Allows your avatar to spend 10 energy to leap at a distance of 30 feet.

Using the skill increases its rank, increasing the leap distances.

Consuming the monster's core has satisfied your hunger.

All hunger penalties for the day have been negated.

“Wow,” both Theo and his avatar said.

“Congratulations are in order, sir,” Spok said back in his main body. “It appears that taking on that noble quest proved useful, after all. Of course, you’ll need to keep in mind that it’s only a temporary solution.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Spok.” Two floors of the Baron’s mansion creaked. “What would I do without you?”

“Honestly, I cannot say, sir. Especially since you’ve delegated all your council responsibilities to me.”

“I’m dealing with important stuff right now. I’ve no time for paperwork!”

“It’s as you say, sir.” The woman stood up, adjusted her glasses, then made her way to the mansion’s door. “I’ll be taking a one-hour break, sir. During that time, please don’t go overboard with your energy consumption and under no circumstances disturb me with questions.”

That was peculiar. The dungeon hadn’t known his spirit to take a break before. She lived for her work. It was true that he had been delegating more and more of his tasks to her, but none of it was particularly difficult. After all, he had been taking care of his own maintenance and growth for a while now.

“Err, sure…” the dungeon said, struggling with the shock. “Go have fun.”

“Thank you, sir. I intend to.”