[The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon] - Book 4 - Chapter 30

The colossus of an armored knight emerged from the flame-covered ground. Unlike the previous one, it was a lot better defined to the point that no individual buildings were visible. Anyone would say that a team of expert laborers had chiseled down a mountain to create this magnificent monument. In truth, beneath the stone and metal armor, there were hundreds of mutually connected corridors and chambers, allowing Theo to move the new monstrosity about.

Nearly all of his energy reserves had been exhausted in the process, forcing him to resort to hollowing and other forms of cannibalism. However, against such opponents, he had to give the appearance of being strong.

One by one, all buildings at the edge of the city sunk beneath the ground. It part, it was for the safety of the local inhabitants, unicorns and griffins included. A more practical reason was that Theo didn’t want anyone to witness the conversation that he was about to have.

“You are the leader of the council?” the colossus asked, casually holding a two-and-a-half handed sword the size of a mage tower.

“I am the council,” the dragon replied, fire bursting out of its mouth with every word. “And you are the anomaly.”

Theo wasn’t sure how to react to that. There was a time in his previous life, when he dreamed of being acknowledged as special or even different. Judging by the dragon’s tone, though, that was far from a compliment.

“Maybe,” Theo continued his bluff. “Does that mean you’ve come to a decision?”

This was the moment of truth. Depending on the answer, the colossus would have to charge at the dragon and strike him in the eyes, or continue with the bunny bashing.

“No,” the dragon said.

Crap! As much as Theo feared such a response, hearing it out loud felt like being crushed by a massive block of ice.

“I cannot make a decision at this point,” the dragon continued. “Now with the threat of a Demon Lord returning.”

“He knows,” the ghost of Lord Maximillian whispered within Theo’s halls.

“Knows what?” the dungeon whispered back.

“He’s lived through this before. Maybe more than once.”

Pausing for a moment, Theo quickly went through all the knowledge he had consumed. If the historical sagas and poems were to be believed, the last Demon Lord had been around millennia ago. For the dungeon to have survived through that, he must have been a rank nine even before that had happened. For all Theo knew, he could have lived through several Demon Lords, which potentially made him the oldest dungeon in existence.

“You know how to defeat him?” Theo asked in hope.

“Yes, but it’s not something I can achieve.” The dragon snarled. “No dungeon can kill a demon. The only ones capable of that are deities, elves, and heroes. That—” the dragon widened his wings “—is why you have half a chance.”

Just half? Theo thought.

That wasn’t particularly encouraging. Yet, it paled in comparison with the other conclusion the comment had made him reach. If Theo was said to have half a chance, it meant that the dragon was fully aware of the heroic aspect of the dungeon.

“What happens after we defeat the Demon Lord?” Theo dared to ask.

“We survive,” First replied in a fashion that didn’t exclude Theo’s destruction.

In fact, it almost ensured such an outcome. If there was any exception to be made, it would have been mentioned now. Still, faced with the prospect of getting destroyed now and later, Theo preferred the latter. That way at least he had time to think of a potential way out.

Maybe I can get the hero guild and the dungeon council to fight amongst themselves? He wondered.

It wasn’t an ideal option; the winner would definitely have it in for him. Another alternative was to call in all the favors he had with the Feline Tower. Normally that wouldn’t work, but given that he was the only person with a memory of events within Gregord’s tower, not to mention a constant source of gold, they could well make an exception.

“You’re in the wrong spot if you want to fight the Demon Lord,” Theo said, reluctantly accepting the temporary alliance. “Or will you just focus on beating up the rabbit?”

If there was such a thing as a dragon smirk, Theo got to witness it now. It was more a feeling than a real smirk and had he not obtained the hero’s gift of observation, the dungeon would have completely missed it.

“For an infant, you’re incredibly smart,” the dragon said. “The more we force the minion to use up energy to regenerate itself, the less remains for the Demon Lord. If we deal enough damage, we can even reverse the flow.”

“See?!” Theo shouted victoriously within the underground tunnels. “I knew what I was doing all the time!”

“Beginner’s luck.” Max crossed his arms, floating through walls in a grumpy mood. He himself had never heard of the reversal. Maybe there was a thing or two that could be learned from an ancient dungeon after all.

“Let’s do this!” The colossus raised the sword above its head in the best Conan pose that Theo could muster.

Sadly, it was largely wasted. With all city buildings safely driven underground, there was nearly no one left to witness the scene. Switches and his group of merry adventurers remained within sight, but it wasn’t the same. If anything, the sight was certain to give the gnome a ton of bad ideas.

“Spok, give me the other gem,” he ordered.

“Are you certain, sir?” The spirit guide hesitated. “As Ninth explained, increasing your rank might complicate negotiations once the Demon Lord is defeated.” She adjusted her glasses.

“How?” the dungeon asked. “It’s practically certain that they’ll try to kill me the moment the fight is over… one way or another. What’s the point in handicapping myself even further?”

A single sensation resonated in Spok’s consciousness—achievement. With a bit of assistance and a lot of luck, the dungeon had finally attained the point which every spirit guide simultaneously feared and strived for—self-determination. Theo had been progressively relying less and less on her, and with this decision he had shown that he didn’t need her anymore. Normally, this marked the destruction of the spirit guide. Some were erased in a flash by the dungeon; others slowly withered away into nothingness, no longer having any purpose. Spok was different. She had her own avatar, a life, a husband, a city, and all the problems that came with them. Not once had she considered Theo her child, but there was a sense of relief mixed with parental pride now that her job seemed done.

“Of course, sir,” she said, gently placing the mana gem into the dungeon’s core.

 

YOU HAVE ADVANCED TO RANK 8!

 

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have reached the pinnacle in dungeon development.

All remaining core points have been transformed into energy.

 

Possibilities swept through Theo’s mind. Dozens of new building options became available to him, including the construction of a dragon's den, should he so desire. In the past, such structures were only achievable through vast amounts of core points. Now, the dungeon had the knowledge to create them using energy alone. That was what it meant to become a true rank nine dungeon—freedom verging on magic.

Theo’s initial thought was to try out some of the rather ominous sounding traps on the rabbit. However, he held himself back. There was no excusing the energy expense. That’s what the dungeon council was here for. If they wanted to take advantage of him, he intended to do the same. And, if push came to shove, he had the means to transport himself, along with all inhabitants, to a completely new location.

“Since you won’t be needing me anymore, I’d like to spend the rest of the fight with Cecil, if you don’t mind, sir,” Spok said.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the dungeon mentally waved the request away, focusing on other matters.

“I appreciate it.” The spirit guide nodded. “I’ll give him your best.”

The dungeon didn’t even bother to reply. All that mattered now was to balance things so that the red dragon and the demonic bunny drained each other’s strength with minor involvement on Theo’s part. He didn’t even notice Spok leave the dungeon and make her way into the vastly damaged castle of the duke.

The building had suffered quite a bit of damage after Switches’ rescue of people in the castle, and the subsequent “assistance” in the fight against the demonic rabbit. The entrance hall was practically an open courtyard, and the entire castle seemed lopsided with one of its main towers missing. If Spok survived this, she’d have words with the gnome.

Calmly making her way through the debris, Spok made her way up the stairs. Given the number of secure secret chambers, upstairs was the last place any sane person would go to. Yet, the spirit guide had a reason for doing so. She had used some of the dungeon’s abilities to locate the sole remaining inhabitant and was on her way to join him.

The second and third floors seemed in rather good condition, if completely deserted. The sense of abandonment reeked from every stone, carpet, and painting along the way. Not even pausing for a glance, Spok continued on, ascending the winding staircase to the top of the main structure. She was very careful not to make any noise or cause even the slightest disturbance. Even so, the moment she stepped out into the open, she found that she was expected.

“I was sure you’d join me,” Duke Rosewind said, seated comfortably on a large cushioned chair.

Next to him, a small table with two glasses and a few unopened bottles of wine were present. Spok adjusted her glasses, then went up to the table. Her favorite chair was also placed there, offering a perfect view of all three giant entities in the city.

“Quite the spectacle you missed,” the noble continued as he reached for one of the bottles. “I particularly enjoyed the dragon’s entrance. You don’t see that every day.” He turned around, holding the bottle at an angle so that Spok could see the brand. “Some light, I take it?”

The spirit guide studied the label. It was one of the duke’s personal reserves. From what he had claimed, it had belonged to his father, costing a small fortune. The price didn’t matter, and neither did the quality of the liquid. Taste was something that Spok didn’t particularly mind, even now. It was the gesture that meant everything, and the duke, as usual, didn’t disappoint.

“It would be wonderful,” she said, taking her seat across from him at the small table. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not long,” Duke Rosewind replied, uncorking the wine. Anyone could tell it was an obvious lie, yet said in such a way that no one would care. “I came up barely a few minutes before you arrived.” He poured a glass and handed it to his wife. “Did the gems help?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” Now it was Spok’s turn to misuse the truth. “Exactly what was needed.”

The duke nodded, then poured himself a glass and returned the bottle to the table.

“Here’s to us,” he said, raising his glass. “May we survive yet another day.”

The toast was made in jest, though not entirely. This wasn’t the first time the city had been on the brink of destruction. In the past, Cmyk had emerged in the final moment miraculously saving the day, yet after so many times one couldn’t help but wonder whether this would be the day he fails.

A short distance away, the fight restarted. The colossus knight charged at the rabbit, thrusting his sword into its face. Twisting it twice, then leaped back, just in time for a torrent of flame to pour onto the demon.

Glass in hand, Duke Rosewind observed the fight with the same mix of calm amusement and serious concentration as reserved for betters at jousting tournaments.

“I promised I’d give you an explanation,” Spok said, holding her own glass, though not drinking any of it.

“Explanation, dear?” The duke looked at her.

“We both know certain things cannot be explained away by magic.” Echoes of fear still lingered within Spok’s mind. Not too long ago, she dreaded the prospect of the duke uncovering her true nature. Now that Theo had reached his peak, and the world had a non-zero chance of being conquered by a Demon Lord, the spirit guide’s concerns didn’t feel so immediate. “The truth is that—”

“You are the most exceptional person I have met since the passing of my first wife,” the duke interrupted her. “It’s rather obvious, if you ask me. I’m still getting angry letters that I don’t deserve you, or my dukedom, for that matter.”

“I’m being serious, Cecil,” Spok remained un-swayed.

“I know. And so am I.” He took a sip of his glass. “Despite it seeming so, I didn’t ask for your hand on the spur of the moment. I was going to do so eventually, even without the attack of the cursed letters. They just provided a much better excuse.”

It was impossible to know whether that was the truth. Duke Rosewind wasn’t the sort of person who did things at random; though he rarely delayed, either. Most people viewed him as a polite buffoon with excellent oratory skills and the ability to take advantage of others. Those who knew him better saw a lot more. Every word, every action was part of a grander scheme that took days, weeks, or sometimes even years to materialize. Theo’s transformation from a reluctant recluse to a celebrated hero was just one such example. To this day, Spok couldn’t be sure whether that had occurred by chance or the duke had something to do with it.

“You were the one who asked, Cecil,” Spok reminded him.

“And I did.” The noble nodded. “However, the truth was that I had a very different and more important question to ask.” He glanced at the fight again. The rabbit had transformed into a cross between a porcupine and an octopus, lashing out at everything around it with sharpened tentacles. “Maybe it’s egotistical on my part, but once this is over, would you be able to give yourself some rest?”

“Rest?” That wasn’t a question the spirit guide expected. “What do you mean?”

“You and the baron had put in a lot of work to make the city into what it is. I won’t share my suspicions on who did most of the work,” he added with a sly smile. “What’s important is that Rosewind has become one of the brightest gems in the kingdom, possibly the continent itself. If reports are to be believed, we’re the city with the third-greatest number of adventurers.”

Internally, Spok couldn’t help but feel amused. The entire purpose of her dungeon moving here was to find an insignificant, quiet spot in the middle of nowhere, to hide from exactly the type of people the city now attracted.

“If we had access to the sea, we’d already be one of the major trade hubs. And, best of all, thanks to the baron and his gnome engineer, the city mostly runs itself.”

“There are things to be said on that topic.” Spok turned around to glance at the remains of the destroyed tower. The fireworks blast had been strong enough to char an entire section of the walls. Coincidentally, or maybe not so, no harm whatsoever had been done to the section of the roof Cecil had set up the chairs and table.

“I’m sure he’ll fix everything at the first opportunity,” Duke Rosewind said without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m certain that someone of his esteem and character would do anything to uphold his stellar reputation, especially since he’s such a good friend of ours, after all.”

“Indeed.” The duchess raised her glass in agreement. “A very good friend.”

The duke picked up his glass and took another sip.

“Going back to matters at hand, I think it’s time for us to take it easy for a bit. With the world saved and the city in one piece again, both of us have deserved some well-earned rest. Let others take the reins for a chance. With polite supervision, of course.”

Polite supervision was a weirdly pleasant-sounding description. Spok could see herself taking on such a role.

“You’re rather confident in the outcome,” she said after a while. “Both here and in the Demon Lord’s castle. What if things end up differently?”

“Oh, that’s simple, my dear.” The duke leaned in Spok’s direction. “I’ll tell you a little family secret of y own that has been handed down to me for over five generations,” he lowered his voice. “If things don’t end up differently that what I’m imagining them, we’ll never know.” He learned back.

“That’s it?” The duchess looked at him over her glasses.

“Words to live by,” Duke Rosewind replied. “They served many of my ancestors well, even those that didn’t get their way.”

There was a lot that Spok could object to. Thinking it over for a few moments, though, she found a certain philosophical serenity to the concept. Both of them had already done everything in their power to help Theo reach a positive resolution. At this point, there was nothing they could do to affect the outcome one way or another.

“There’s only one thing that has me wondering.” The duke focused on the fight once more. “Do you think Sir Myk will make a triumphant appearance this time as well?”

A more difficult question could never have been asked. Spok knew better than anyone how underserved Cmyk’s fame was. The only thing the former skeletal minion had done was be in the right place at the right time. At the same time, she also knew what the city thought of him. Cmyk was the idol of every boy and adventurer in Rosewind and beyond; and despite all his other qualities, Duke Rosewind remained a boy and adventurer at heart.

“It’s possible,” she replied. “He is the city’s champion, after all.”

As the fight against the bunny minion continued in full force, Theo was focusing on the main battle of the day. With First’s assistance, he had a lot more mental capacity to concentrate on his actions against the Demon Lord. The avatar’s style of combat had noticeably changed. No longer as chaotic and reckless as before, the baron had suddenly become strict and precise in his actions, saving energy and mana for when they were needed. Each strike was no longer a simple slash, but a barrage of blocks and counterattacks that ended any of the Demon Lord’s attacks, while inflicting small, but consistent wounds.

“Focus on the third eye!” the avatar said with full confidence, while performing a series of thrusts with the elf rapier in the lowest of the demon’s eyes. “That’s his weak spot.”

The royal didn’t react. He was gathering strength to perform another of his slow, yet devastating attacks. In different circumstances, the hero wouldn’t have had any hope of succeeding in such extravagancies, yet thanks to Baron d’Argent’s transformation, the Demon Lord was effectively ignoring everything else.

“Divine lance!” the prince charged forward. Faster than a human blink, his massive weapon struck the Demon Lord’s head, evaporating most of its face, including the so-called third eye.

The demon shrieked. Leaping back, it attempted to cover itself in a cocoon of black threads, only to have them get sliced apart by the baron.

Half of the forming black cocoon fell to the ground, shattering into smoke. Unfortunately, the other hand remained, covering the creature’s eyes.

“Idiot!” Max the ghost shouted, looking at a table holding several finely sculpted figurines in Theo’s main body. “The strike should have been at a thirty percent angle! You’ve missed another opportunity.”

“You could have said sooner!” the dungeon shouted back. “How am I to know what you’re thinking?”

“Any idiot knows that you always cut up demons at an angle. Why do I even bother?”

For the last fifteen minutes, the former Lord Maximilian and Theo had joined forces in the fight against the Demon Lord. Taking full advantage of the time dilation, the dungeon would describe the scene in great detail, and Max would tell him what action to take and how to perform it.

When Theo had initially come up with the plan, it had seemed genius. Using his dungeon powers, he’d recreate a representation of the battle creating lifelike figurines at a one-twentieth scale. That allowed the hero’s ghost to better grasp the situation and share his vast experience. The issue was that despite having successfully killed a vast number of monsters, archdemons included, Max relied heavily on feeling rather than precise logic. As a result, most of Theo’s actions remained flawed—an aspect the ghost didn’t let him forget.

“How did you survive this long, I really don’t know.” Max grumbled.

“At least I survived! Unlike you!” the dungeon shouted back. “Now what? A horizontal chop?”

“Don’t bother. The cocoon has hardened, so you won’t be able to do anything… which you would have known if you were a proper hero.”

“Or maybe if you were a proper teacher!” Even after reaching rank nine, Theo felt like he had reached rock-bottom. All these skills and power, and now he was relying on the instructions of a teaching-challenged hero. “What if I attack from the other side? That should work.”

The ghost looked up from the table with the expression of someone forced to drink sour milk.

“It’ll take me a week to tell you how to pull off such a strike,” he said. “Stick to simple strikes.”

The dungeon trembled in anger. Max’s inability to explain aside, the strikes he knew were rather complicated. If it wasn’t for Theo’s legendary swashbuckling, he wouldn’t have been able to perform even a single of the old hero’s attacks in a million years. That said, everything “slightly more difficult” extended well beyond his means even when the ghost bothered to demonstrate.

“What if I circle around and attack from here?” The figurine representing Baron d’Argent slid along the table, moving behind the Demon Lord. “Like this.”

“Sloppy.” Max shook his head. “All that you’ll do with that is tickle him a bit. A strike that misses a vital spot is a wasted strike.”

“You’re not even sure that’s a vital spot,” the dungeon countered.

“I’m damned sure what isn’t!” the ghost snapped back. “If you don’t take this seriously, you might as well drop your swords and surrender.”

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

“You’re trying to look like someone who’s taking it seriously!”

To this, there was no response. As much as Theo didn’t like it, he knew that the ghost was right. So far, the Demon Lord had received dozens, possibly hundreds, of wounds, and none of them had slowed him down in the least. Now and again, there would be the occasional shriek—a sign that a strike had come close to its mark—and still, the monster remained standing.

“This isn’t working,” Lord Maximillian admitted. “It was a good plan, but even if you slow down time a hundred times more, there’s no way I can teach you everything I know. Some attacks only come to mind when on the spot. Heroes spend their entire lives acquiring that experience, not just consuming monster cores that raise you a level or two.”

Theo remained silent.

“Maybe if you were Lia, you might get close to pulling off some of the better attacks, but as you are…”

“Then you do it,” Theo said.

“Beg your pardon?”

“You said you’ve been part of me ever since you died. Just possess my avatar.”

The ghost’s jaw dropped.

“Possess your avatar?” he repeated, while his mind desperately tried to come up with an excuse—any excuse. “That’s hardly proper.”

“I’m not thrilled with it, but I don’t see another way. If teaching me won’t work, how about putting your sword where your mouth is?”

The ghost squinted in disgust. Even Theo had to admit that the metaphor could have been used more appropriately. Regardless, the point remained.

“You said you can enter any part of the dungeon, so why not my avatar? He’s also part of me.”

“Technically… maybe… This has never been done before! I haven’t even heard of anyone having an idea as absurd as this!”

“What else is new? My chrono spell won’t last forever. Once it’s gone, I’m sure the demon will come up with a way to prevent me from recasting it. If we’re going to do this, this is our only chance. After that… I’ll lose my avatar, the Demon Lord will win, and we’ll both lose Liandra.”

The last statement was mainly added to prod Max into action, though Theo would be lying if he wasn’t concerned as well. After saving the heroine several times, he didn’t want his efforts to be wasted, or at least that’s what he told himself.

“So, Max, are you in?” the dungeon asked.

By then, the ghost was no longer there.

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