Dungeons and Dalliances

“That wasn’t so bad,” Liz said.

Natalie didn’t disagree, though she’d taken more hits—even if just glancing—than she’d have preferred. And, intense as it’d been, she’d forgone her use of [Illusion]. She’d made strides with the past week’s training, but in the moment, she’d been focused on performing her role in the traditional manner, using methods she was most comfortable with.

A smart choice, clearly, because even without pushing out of her comfort zone and trying to weave some illusions in, Natalie had taken blows. Her armor was still knitting itself together from where the kobold’s spear had punctured. One of the benefits to dungeon-linked loot; the gear shared life force with her. It would be rather inconvenient if each exchange left her armor more and more degraded. At least, as quickly as mundane armor; gear did degrade, eventually.

“Not so bad,” Natalie said. “Yeah.”

Sofia leaned forward and plucked the monster core from the ground. She inspected it between two fingers.

Natalie did so, too.

***

Monster Core - Tier 1

***

Not much of interest. Just a monster core. Beyond their ranking, the orbs didn’t vary much, not unless they had something stored inside them.

“Got lucky,” Jordan said. “One in three odds. Good start.”

Monster core drop rates varied, but one in three was the simplified average. It depended on the strength of the monster, location, and some other factors. Obviously a swarm of tiny monsters wouldn’t drop one-in-three cores.

Tenet had loaned them each ten first-tiers to pay for starter equipment, and it hadn’t gone far. From that perspective, it would be a while before Natalie was geared out, much less geared out well.

Then again, brutal as the fight had been, it’d lasted all of a minute, if not less. Not a bad pace for earning cores, even split five ways, if they kept the pace up. Speaking logistically, at an encounter every few minutes—say three—and a monster core every third monster, that would make six to seven cores an hour. And that was sticking to floor one, near the entrance, where payouts were lowest.

Natalie rested her hammer on her shoulder, still breathing heavily, as most of her teammates were. Even Ana and Liz. While the backline casters weren’t as physically involved, spells were tiring in a different, but equally intense, way. Natalie would know, for all she hadn’t used her own spells in the brutal exchange.

There was a lull as everyone glanced at each other, appraising conditions. Then, as one, eyes fell to Natalie. Though not a leader in a literal sense, she was the vanguard. The one who set the pace.

Though tired, and still coming down from her adrenaline rush, she nodded. “Let’s keep going.” Momentum was important. If she needed to rest, she would of course ask, not risking her team’s wellbeing for the sake of her ego. But as things stood, she was fine. Ready for another fight.

And, though she wouldn’t sabotage herself, and thus her team, she did itch for more. She’d always found the thrill of the fight intoxicating. There’d been a reason Natalie had pursued a career in delving with so much enthusiasm.

Setting forward, she continued down the stretching cavern tunnel.

***

Several encounters later, fighting their way through a variety of snarling monsters, Natalie and her team found themselves entering a larger room, no longer constricted by the tight tunnel hallways they’d spawned in. They kept track of each turn they made. Liz, specifically, had been tasked to do so. The easiest way out of the dungeon was to backtrack and exit through their original portal. It was unlikely they’d be finding a second natural one, or encountering a boss.

The larger room, on a brief scan, presented no visible threats. It seemed empty. Not that Natalie let herself take that at face value. Just because something in the dungeon seemed safe, didn’t mean it was.

“Any traps?” Jordan asked, eying the room in the same way as Natalie, and the rest of the team as they trailed in behind her.

“Puzzle, I’m guessing,” Sofia said. “Look at the mural.”

Natalie had noticed the sprawling diagram on the far wall of the room, but had put it out of mind while looking for more imminent threats. Not finding any, she allowed herself to take it in.

A mural stretched across the stone, etched in bright white scratches, outlining in the gray stone a depiction of a beautifully rendered scene. The pictures were dense, difficult to make out from this distance, but in front of the diagram, seven squat pillars sprouted from the ground, each with—what seemed to be—a button sitting on top.

A puzzle room.

“What is it?” Liz asked. “It’s so detailed.”

“Clear the room first,” Natalie said. She was interested as the rest of them, but making certain they were safe came in higher priority.

A quick inspection later, the team in agreement that the puzzle room wasn’t trapped, at least in any obvious manner, they regrouped and studied the mural, finally letting their guards down.

The diagram took a second to decipher, dense as the imagery was. Though expertly drawn—or manifested from thin air by the dungeon, not actually drawn—the artwork was cramped and overly-detailed, adorned with flourishes that made identifying the relevant pieces difficult. Shortly, though, she cobbled together an understanding of the composition.

Seven figures laid, elevated above the rest of the figures in the drawing, in various poses, each of their eyes closed. One held her hands to her chest, slumbering peacefully. Another seemed distraught, seemingly stirring, distressed, from a nightmare. A third figure frowned, brow furrowed. Each of the people were distinct, with unique clothing, accessories, and builds.

Beneath the seven, a slew of others laid or stood in various poses, but also with closed eyes. None were stirring in the way the elevated seven were. Their designs were clumsier, paid less attention. Less important, comparatively?

Natalie studied the figures, interested. Even the ones without emphasis, beneath the seven, were powerful. Crafted with evocative imagery. Intimidating in a way hard to describe. And familiar, almost? She could swear she ought to be able to name some of them. Were they … ?

“The Reverie?” Ana said. “I see. Yes, I believe it is.”

Natalie looked to the girl, as the rest of the team did. “The what?” She shared a glance with Jordan and Sofia, but two respective shrugs indicated they didn’t understand, either.

Liz, though, seemed to. She tittered nervously, eyes having widened. “The Harvest, Ana?”

“Do you disagree?”

Liz looked at the mural, then back to Ana. “The Harvest isn’t real.” Then, more nervously, “And it’s pretty blasphemous, even just to talk about.”

Which, obviously, caught Natalie’s attention. Blasphemous?

Ana inspected Liz. “I’m simply stating what the mural depicts. And it is the Reverie, no?”

“It would fit,” Liz said reluctantly.

“The what?” Natalie asked, louder. Though she doubted she’d be much help in solving the puzzle, Liz’s nervousness had caught her interest.

“The Reverie-Siphon Hypothesis,” Ana said. “Or more colloquially, as Elizabeth put it, the Harvest.” She turned back to the mural, tilting her head. “I suspect this puzzle was presented for me in particular. I have an interest in religions.”

She did?

And, Natalie supposed, a suspicion of hers had been confirmed. The figures depicted on the wall were recognizable, even if she hadn’t been able to place how. The gods. Though not presented in standard Valhaurian fashion, adorned with the iconography Natalie was used to seeing.

“You still haven’t answered,” Natalie pointed out. “What is it?” She spared another look for Liz, whose anxiousness had been steadily growing. Her eyes flicked between Natalie and Ana, and she fidgeted in place.

Ana appraised Natalie. “Well,” she said, “in short, it’s a religious theory.”

“I don’t know if that’s the right word …” Liz said.

“A grouping of religious theories,” Ana corrected.

“Not what I meant.”

“But what is it?” Natalie asked, exasperated.

“That the gods were killed,” Ana said, as impassively as ever. “Specifically, by the Architect, and that He used their bodies to create the system. A Harvest, so to say.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not precisely the right terminology, in my opinion. It’s unlikely gods can truly be killed, and it’s an ongoing siphoning, not a one-time harvest. Hence, a Reverie-Siphon, as we refer to it in modern terminology.”

Natalie considered that.

“Ah,” she said.

Yeah, she could see how that was blasphemous.