The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon

“I don’t need your entire core,” Switches insisted. Ever since being sealed off in one of Theo’s tunnels, the gnome had spent the time patiently explaining what he intended to attempt—mostly by scribbling complex formulas and sketches on the walls.

Most of them went way over the dungeon’s head—if he even had a head—but with time he was starting to warm up to the notion, largely because the situation with his avatar was getting more and more dire.

“Just a bit,” the gnome continued, showing how much by extending his thumb and index finger. “A tiny, tiny bit.” He brought the tips of both fingers closer to one another.

“So, you need just a part of my core?” Theo pondered. “Spok, what will happen if I lose part of my core?” he asked elsewhere in his main body.

“Other than losing a bit of core points, nothing,” the spirit guide replied, still trying to get over the fact that he was facing an abomination.

Despite all their previous discussions, Spok had kept on thinking—or hoping, rather—that it would never come to that. To her fault, she had gone along the line of least resistance, encouraging him in all the follies he went through. In retrospect, that had been a bad move, and she regretted it. If he managed to overcome the fight intact, she’d need to have a stern conversation with him.

“All it takes is a bit of effort to detach part of your core. Some dungeons frequently use the method to place minute fragments of their core into prized minions, elevating them to dungeon bosses.”

“Why’s it the first time I’m hearing of this?!”

“You hate minions, sir,” the spirit guide said in a level tone of voice. “Or maybe you wish to grant Cmyk even more independence?”

Spok’s suggestion quickly ended that line of reasoning, causing it to take a sharp turn.

“Then why don’t I just give one to you? That will solve the problem.”

“That’s what Switches has been explaining, sir.” The spirit guide tried her best not to sigh. “There’s a good chance that might work, although it can’t happen directly. Although I’m an avatar, I’m not a minion, thus am subject to certain additional limitations. On the other hand, I grow as you grow, constantly sharing part of your strength.”

The explanation made just enough sense for the dungeon to consider it true and not delve further. Giving part of his core to Switches still remained highly unappealing.

“Just a small part?” he asked the gnome.

“Yep, yep!” Switches wiggled his ears. “A tiny part! Just enough for there to be something.”

“Fine! I’ll give you a part, but you’re not coming near my core chamber!”

“Great!” The gnome beamed with joy. “I’ll also need some equipment. If you could…”

“Yeah, yeah.” The corridor extended, transforming into a makeshift workshop. The sudden corridor plug ruined the dungeon’s symmetry, but since it was a temporary measure, he could live with it. It wasn’t like there were scores of minions—or any, for that matter—moving about his corridors.

“And a bit of mana…”

“Why not,” Theo rumbled.

“I knew you’d make the right decision. That’s why you’re the boss, boss!”

“Fine, let’s go with that. Just sketch the stuff you want and I’ll build them for you.”

“Err, it might be faster if your minion just brought them from my other workshop? Most of them are already built. Just small things,” the gnome quickly added. “You won’t even notice they’re here.”

Getting Cmyk to do anything was a challenge in itself. At the same time, the thought that he’d make the lazy skeleton miserable for an hour or two filled him with a surprising amount of glee. Even better, he had the perfect means to blackmail the minion: both his friend and his mentee were in a rather perilous situation.

“Of course,” the dungeon said in an exceedingly cheerful tone. “I’ll send him right away. We can’t keep you waiting, right?”

“That’s another thing I like about you—strict, but fair, and always punctual. I’m sure we’ll get along great together! You’ll see.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” the dungeon lied.

“Oh, and how are things in the cursed place going? I’ll need some time to make your attack fleet.”

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is well under control.”

As far as lies went, that had to be the biggest one yet.

“Run faster!” Theo’s avatar yelled as he kept freezing Liandra’s deformed sword.

The new entity was not only determined to catch up to the members of the party, but was getting better at adapting to the avatar’s ice spells. Also, it was getting more and more devious in its approach.

At the same time, the titanic fight between the two giants continued in the center of the chamber. Occasionally one side would gain an advantage, pushing the other towards the wall—and forcing the baron and his group to rush away to safety—before the balance of power was restored.

“Is… this… how… you… fight… monsters?” Amelia asked amid gasping for breath. The duke’s daughter clearly wasn’t used to running for prolonged periods of time. Avid wasn’t much better, though he did so in silence.

“We do what we need to in order to survive!” the baron snapped at her. Of course, he couldn’t get tired, not to mention he had consistently been using a flight spell.

“Octavian!” Avid shouted, then, to everyone’s surprise, went behind Amelia, grabbed her beneath the armpits and lifted her up.

The griffin, to its credit, immediately swooped down, carefully grabbing the girl with his talons.

“What are—?” Amelia asked, more in shock than in protest, only to be tossed up, to then land on Octavian’s back.

Even Theo couldn’t deny that was a good idea. Unfortunately, there was no way that the bird could carry all three adventurers. Although, there was a chance it could manage two.

Flying close to Earl Rosewind’s son, the avatar cast a flight spell on him, then used telekinesis to whisk him through the air and onto the griffin’s back right behind Amelia.

“Squawk!” Octavian cried at the sudden increase in weight.

“Stop being a baby!” The baron grumbled. “You’re a royal griffin, show some pride!”

There could be no guarantee Octavian would take heart to the criticism, but as long as he kept the pair out of the way, it didn’t matter. With that, there was only one thing left to do.

“Ulf, Liandra!” The avatar used his magic to create two shards of ice. In the eyes of a modern art critic, they could possibly pass as swords, provided one squinted enough. “You deal with the sword.” He floated the “weapons” to them using telekinesis. “I’ll find a way to deal with the big one.”

“Not even you can manage that!” Liandra shouted.

The truth was that the dungeon didn’t intend to fight at all, just be there to claim the spoils. Given how evenly the abomination and the ice elemental were matched, it was inevitable that they would chip at each other's strength until ultimately crumbling down together. In a worst-case scenario, the marble figure would be weakened to the extent that the avatar could finish it off with an ice shield in the head.

“We don’t have a lot of options and you can’t fly,” Theo said, quickly coming up with an excuse. “Keep the annoying critter at bay and let me worry about the big one.”

“When I finish, I’m joining you.” The heroine nodded, then snatched the ice shard from the air.

That took care of everyone, leaving Theo enough time to consider his options. As every good manager, he first went through all options at his disposal.

Room creation, although useful, had no effect in Memoria’s tomb. The same could be said about the minor bless ability. Fireballs and ice attacks had proved to have little effect, and the vast array of sword strikes and chops risked corrupting him, his weapon, or both.

The more the dungeon thought about it, the more irritated it got with the entire situation. That was until a thought suddenly came to mind.

The baron looked at the giant entities fighting. The ice elemental was encasing the abomination’s right arm in ice, while simultaneously trying to tear it off. Not a bad strategy and one that was worthy of further investigation. For the purpose, he had to test it on something cheap.

“You, stupid kids!” he shouted at Avid and Amelia. “Do you have any daggers with you?”

“You told us to leave all our gear before setting off on the noble quest,” Avid shouted back.

“Why did you listen to me?!”

So much for them being useful. The problem with rebelliousness was that you could rely on it for anything. Since no daggers were available, Theo was left with one other option. Circling ten feet above his ice elemental, the avatar took off one of his boots. None of the large entities paid any attention, which was as reassuring as it was insulting. Nonetheless, it allowed him to cover the boot in a thick layer of ice, then throw it straight at the abomination’s triangular head.

Like a frozen pea, the boot bounced off, falling all the way to the floor. None of the giant entities even noticed it, but Theo did. Rather, he noticed what hadn’t happened; the boot had come into direct contact with the abomination and not gotten corrupted. Apparently, ice proved to be an effective insulator against curses. Who knew?

A loud shattering sound resounded throughout the chamber. The ice elemental had pulled the abomination’s arm off. It was tempting to see that as a victory on the icy giant’s part, but as Theo knew from personal experience, nothing was over until it was over. Just as the elemental was about to toss the arm away, the elements composing the appendage rearranged, transforming into a marble caterpillar—or possibly a snake—which, without delay, twisted around the entire body of ice.

The attack didn’t end there. Both sides of the caterpillar merged with one another, uniting into one whole again. Now, all of a sudden, it was the elemental who was caught in a cage of the other’s making. The frozen entity quickly tried to pull off the stone ring, but it was too late. Sharp marble chunks dug into the living ice, tightening their grip as they did.

“Don’t pick on my minion!” the baron shouted.

Aether spheres large enough to hold an entire person appeared in the air and quickly filled up with solid ice. Doubling his amount of energy consumption, the avatar then propelled them right at the abomination’s right side. One after the other, the balls of ice shattered into the large form, pushing it one giant step each time.

“Spok,” the dungeon hastily said in its main body. “What was an abomination’s weakness again?”

“That—” The spirit guide adjusted her glasses. “—would depend on the specific type of—”

“This one!” Doors and windows slammed within half the city as miniature statues depicting approximations of the monstrosity filled up Spok’s room.

“Abominations are unlike other entities, sir. You don’t defeat them through physical means alone. You must defeat their nature, which is precisely why they are so difficult to destroy. Imprisoning them is a far more preferable solution.”

The creators of Memoria’s Tomb clearly shared the spirit’s guide reasoning. They had created this crazy maze to keep the abomination imprisoned for all eternity. Yet, that wasn’t at all useful to Theo. Ice wasn’t a solution, and he didn’t know any imprisoning spells.

The nature of the abomination, the dungeon thought.

Spok wasn’t known for her philosophical nature. Everything she said was a direct explanation of events, just like a living manual. On the negative side, she could only tell him as much as the information within her allowed.

What could the nature of this abomination be? It was made entirely out of geometrical objects made of marble...

Back when Theo used to go to school, in his previous life, the common perception was that writing was the opposite of maths. It was a childish notion, but it somehow made sense. The two subjects were the first that had come into contact with. It was natural to consider them opposites.

Assuming geometry was the nature of this entity, how should he defeat it? Talk to it? Scribble poems all over it?

Across the chamber, Ulf and Liandra were dealing with a problem of their own. Unrestricted by Theo and his ice, it focused entirely on corrupting the two of them. The mini-entity moved about like a normal sword—every motion was a slash or a ricochet. One might assume that it was driven by some sort of telekinetic spell, but they would be wrong. In truth, it was the segments that provided its power. While seemingly attached, they also had the ability to vibrate intensely in short bursts, producing more than sufficient power in a fraction of a second.

It had taken Liandra a while, but ultimately, she had noticed, and in doing so she found a potential weakness. The issue was that the weapon given to her by Theo wasn’t built to take full advantage of it. Without a doubt, it was incorruptible, but also uncomfortable to hold and as thick as a club. So far, each hit merely threw the abominable sword back, forcing it to restart its attacks.

“Watch out!” The heroine lunged forward, blocking an attack meant for Ulf. Minuscule marble fragments formed on her shard of ice only to fall lifelessly onto the floor while the sword was pushed back again.

“Thanks,” the adventurer said, leaping back. “I got distracted there.”

Losing one’s concentration wasn’t new even for veterans. For some reason, Liandra didn’t feel that was the only reason. Fatigue was having its toll. So far, Ulf had managed to keep up with her and Theo, seemingly without effort. That had come at a cost, and now he was nearing his limits.

“Get ready,” Liandra whispered. “Strike from the left.”

“Got it.”

Regaining its momentum, the blade darted forward. It had determined the greater threat of the two, flying straight at Liandra. The heroine waited till the last possible moment, then parried with the shard of ice. A second later, Ulf struck as well.

There was a lot to be desired when it came to timing. Even so, the strength of both attacks proved more than enough to snap the blade in two.

Thinking on her feet, Liandra performed another attack, aimed at the chunk that was in contact with Ulf’s ice shard. A strike faster than the eye could see struck off the top fragment, sending it straight to the wall.

“Careful!” She dashed forward, grabbing Ulf as she did so.

Seeing an athletic woman drag a mass of muscles could definitely be described as amusing, but that wasn’t what Theo was focusing on. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it, something in the exchange of strikes felt off.

Maintaining their eagerness to attack, both segments of the former blade hopped after the heroine and the adventurer, propelling themselves off the floor and walls. It was at that precise moment that the dungeon realized what was bothering him. In several instances, when large segments were detached from the abomination, or something corrupted by it, the new piece obtained a will of its own. Yet, that wasn’t always the case. The very first time a part had chipped off, it had flown all the way into the chamber wall, where it had remained. The same held true for the fragment Liandra had chopped off.

That had to be it! As long as an element remained isolated from the rest, it somehow lost its abomination characteristics. Thus, the solution to defeating the monster was to break it up one piece at a time. Such was the current hypothesis, at least.

The avatar drew his legendary sword again, then covered it with a thick layer of ice. To be on the safe side, he then covered that layer with a second one.

The battle between the titans had already turned in the abomination’s favor. Cracks had spread through the ice elemental, which was attempting to freeze its opponent in a final act of desperation. It was a futile notion, but gave Theo enough of a distraction to fly past the abomination’s head and chop off a large element from its possible ear.

No immediate reaction followed. The chunk of marble fell to the ground with a loud slam, remaining there as a piece of junk. The humanoid creature didn’t even bend down to pick it up, shoving it to the side as if it was unwanted.

“Interesting,” the avatar muttered beneath his breath. Apparently, once a single piece was detached, it couldn’t be reattached to the whole again. “Lia!” the baron shouted as he increased the distance between him and the abomination again. “Cut off the pieces one at a time! As long as a chunk isn’t connected to another, it loses its power.”

The advice came at the best possible moment. One of the abominated sword pieces had caught up to the heroine and Ulf. Liandra was just considering slamming it away with an indiscriminate strike when she changed her approach.

Releasing the adventurer, she swung with the ice shard, aiming for the topmost piece. The crude weapon split the air, leaving a line as it did. At this speed, bluntness stopped being an issue, punching off the top piece of the entity like a bullet knocking off a block of Jenga.

Liandra didn’t end there. Sidestepping in the direction opposite of the strike, she immediately followed up with a reverse strike, knocking off the next fragment in turn. A split second later, she did it again, and again, and again…

Marble pieces flew left and right, systematically decreasing the size of the creature until there was nothing left. Calling the series of attacks impressive would do a disservice to what had occurred. One glance was enough to point out the difference between heroic and adventurer’s skills. The other half of the abomination sword probably thought the same, for it quickly ceased its approach, then hopped away in the other direction.

“Thanks!” The heroine waved to the dungeon’s avatar.

“No worries. I knew you’d be able to handle it with some help!” he shouted back, without an ounce of shame. “Finish it off and guard the kids. I’ll try to be quick.”

Theo’s cunning plan was to disassemble the abomination’s head while it was still occupied with the ice elemental. After that, it would be a simple matter to use ice filled aether spheres to chip off the remaining pieces using brute strength.

A series of earth-shattering cracks erupted. The marble ring had tigheted to the point that the ice elemental could no longer sustain its integrity. The blue glow within the massive minion’s eyes faded as massive chunks of ice fell to the floor.

“Crap!” the baron grumbled. “Couldn’t you have lasted a few seconds longer?!”

The elemental’s weakness was going to cost him another thousand energy—not the end of the world since he no longer felt hunger for the day, but still a useless waste. When he attempted to cast the spell, another surprise awaited him.

SPELL NEGATED

In your current state, you’re only able to create one Ice Elemental per day.

“What?” both the avatar and the dungeon’s main mansion shouted. “Spok!” only the dungeon continued. “Why can’t I cast more than a spell per day?!”

“That would depend on the specific spell, sir,” the spirit guide explained, her concern subtly rising. “Occasionally limits are imposed in order to—”

“I wasn’t told of any limits when I got the skill!” Technically, it was a skill state, though Theo chose to ignore the distinction. “Who do I complain to about this?”

Spok felt increasingly unwell. As a rule, the deities were the arbiters of everything, but if she were to remind Theo of that fact, there was no telling what might follow. It wasn’t beneath him to “modify” Paris’ temple in a fit of pettiness to attract her attention and make another demand.

“Keep in mind that you remain a dungeon, sir,” she said, tiptoeing around the topic. “If your avatar had no restrictions, there would be nothing stopping you from taking over the world.”

“Spok, a four-foot gnome nearly took over the world! Restricting a spell to a daily use won’t change a thing!”

In his mind, the dungeon tried to imagine what would happen if he summoned an ice elemental every day for a whole year. Such an ice army would certainly be enough to scare a kingdom or two. With a bit of luck, he might even intimidate them enough to surrender. On the other hand, Switches had attempted to do the same, and it hadn’t worked out.

Crunching chunks of ice beneath its feet, the abomination in Memoria’s tomb took a few steps forward, then retrieved its missing arm from the ice elemental’s remains. The elements promptly transformed, changing back into a giant arm which reattached itself to the rest of the torso.

Seething with rage, the avatar darted towards the being’s head all the same. Attempting to recreate Liandra’s attack, he combined his legendary swashbuckling with the cleave and chop skills to slice off as many fragments as he could.

“Theo!” Landra shouted as parts of the abomination’s face started to find their way to the floor. “Get back!”

“What?” The baron turned around to look. The only thing he saw was a wave of marble segments rising up from the abomination’s body in an attempt to surround him.

That wasn’t foreseen. To make things worse, the rest of the head was also in a state of transformation, blocking the avatar’s escape route. It seemed that anger and overconfidence had made him a sitting duck. Anyone with a bit of sense would have seen that with the ice elemental gone, the greatest threat from the point of view of the abomination would be the person who was inflicting damage. Theo hadn’t. Now, there was only one thing and a half he could do.

“Aether sphere! Entangle!” the avatar shouted.