The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon

Ulf and Liandra leaped back several dozen feet from the fountain of blood. Both the visual appearance and dark power emanating from the entity triggered their instinct for self-preservation. It was as if fear had gained physical form and had pushed them back. Only the baron remained in place, not budging an inch.

“Oh, a brave one?” the entity cackled in a screechy female voice.

Theo’s avatar kept staring right at it. Many would mistake it as bravery, but in truth, the dungeon was terrified… terrified of his glaring mistake. If anyone else had been the cause of this, Theo would have ripped him a new one several times over. Since he was the reason for the glaring failure, though, he was desperately trying to rationalize it and in such a way that would let him off the hook. After all, there was no way to tell that the marble monster wasn’t the abomination. Even Spok had failed to make the distinction! According to the definition, an abomination was a near invulnerable entity based on a single concept. The guardian seemed invulnerable—until its sudden death—and clearly had the power to corrupt everything it came into contact with. It had destroyed a full-fledged ice elemental without taking any serious damage! How was anyone to know that the real abomination was something else?

“So, you’re Theodor d’Argent?” A pair of eyes appeared on the overflowing column of blood. “You still owe me a few souls for ruining my carpet and destroying a perfectly good butler.”

“And ruining my collection, Mommy!” The traitorous ruby ring shouted all the way from Liandra’s hand. “My entire collection!”

“Hush, dear.” There was no change in the fountain’s pitch or intonation, yet the two simple words instantly made the ruby ring relax and fall back down, once again subject to gravity. “Then again, I should be thankful to you for freeing me from this memory prison. If I had to rely on my children, I’d have conquered the world before I managed to break out.”

The comment quickly snapped Theo back to reality. If there was one thing that irked him more than anything else in this life or the past, it was baseless boasting. The abomination didn’t need to mention that she’d take over the world. Most evil entities tended to do that, anyway. What really infuriated him was the humble bragging that it could do so from within Memoria’s Tomb.

Scratching his nose, the dungeon avatar cast an arcane identify.

AGONIA

(Abomination of Fulfillment)

A lesser abomination born during the war between deities and demons.

Named “The Mistress of Obsession” by Grand Cleric Triceritos II, the abomination spread chaos throughout dozens of kingdoms until it was finally defeated by the Legendary Archmage Gregord and the World Hero Leopold Ygreil. Unable to destroy it, the heroes imprisoned the entity in a Memoria’s Tomb, where it was to remain for all eternity.

Due to the overwhelming power of the entity, its corruptive ways leaked beyond its memory prison, causing several cities to become corrupted throughout the centuries.

“Abomination of fulfillment?” Theo couldn’t help himself. “What’s that?”

Instantly, the fountain of blood condensed, as though startled by the question.

“You cast identify on me?” It asked in an uneasy tone. “The only one who managed that…” It stopped mid-sentence. “I still want payment for the damage you did, but because you freed me, I’m willing to let you go, provided you return, my dear girl.”

“Don’t listen to it!” Liandra said, gripping the hilt of her sword. “It’s still weakened by the effects of Memoria’s Tomb. If we attack it now, we can destroy it!”

There was a certain degree of logic to the statement. The now destroyed guardian had kept the abomination at bay for centuries. Theo’s mind, though, continued to dwell on his failure and whether he could be blamed for it.

“Also.” The blood fountain bent, moving closer to the avatar. “I know what you really are,” it whispered. “Don’t meddle in my affairs, and I won’t meddle in yours.”

“What?” the baron snapped.

Memories flooded back to the first time he met Switches—or Lord Mandrake, as he referred to himself back then. The gnome’s single realization had started a series of events that culminated with the near destruction of Rosewind and the dungeon itself. There was no way in the universe, Theo would go through a repeat of that.

A blast of cold was instantly cast, encasing half of the blood fountain in solid ice. Before Theo could finish the job, unfortunately, the upper half leaped up, tearing off the crimson chunk, then seeped through the ceiling.

Unwilling to let it go, the avatar cast another spell, freezing the entire upper part of the chamber. The amount of energy used was substantial, but that was his least concern right now.

“Don’t,” Liandra said, rushing up to him. “It’s gone.”

“Damn it!” the baron muttered. How come every maniacal evil entity could see through his nature? Was there a special skill that allowed monsters to identify each other? Or were heroes and adventurers just dumb?

“What did it tell you?” the heroine asked.

“She offered to let me go if I settled my bill by sacrificing you three.”

“She?” Liandra gave him a skeptical look.

“Agonia, Abomination of Fulfillment,” the avatar grumbled. “Now that she’s free, she can be anywhere. Maybe even Rosewind.”

“I don’t think so. Memoria’s Tomb is still in effect. If we’re still here, so’s… she.” The last was added with a note of reluctance.

That only seemed to delay the inevitable. Even if it took a whole day for the prison spell to release them, finding an abomination in the endless maze was like finding a needle in a solar system. Even if the dungeon used all available energy and the stashed core points, he couldn’t make enough fireballs to search everywhere. And even if by some miracle he managed to find the abomination, what then? She’d only seep through the nearest wall and the process would start all over from the beginning.

“Hey!” Liandra put her hands on the baron’s shoulders. “Don’t lose hope, you hear? And don’t look down on yourself. Do you know how few survive an encounter with an abomination? Not many. I know all of them from my history lessons in hero school. You made it flee and saved us in the process. Even legendary heroes have done worse.”

“Yes, but—” Theo started instinctively, then stopped.

Due to his past life, he had become expected to be blamed for all problems that occurred whether they had been caused by him or not. As a result, he had become rather skilled in the art of excuses. Being consoled and reassured was a relatively unusual experience.

Maybe not all heroes are that bad, the dungeon thought to himself.

“But I killed the wrong entity,” he said, almost daring Liandra and the entire universe to blame him for it.

“We all did. As my grandfather used to say, when you’re in deep shit, the first priority is to get out. Then, if there’s time, you can argue about who did what.”

“Not a bad way of thinking,” the avatar admitted. “Your grandfather sounds like quite the character.”

“He was.” Liandra let go of the baron and took a step back. “He really was.”

The topic remained a sore point.

Behind the two, Octavian landed on the floor. The griffin was too proud to openly show that he was exhausted from Avid and Amelia’s combined weight, but he was even more unwilling to allow himself to suffer needlessly.

Incidentally, it was at this point that Theo noticed how all three adventurers remained a fair distance away, looking at him and Liandra with unnerving intensity. To make things worse, there didn’t seem to be any traces of fear or anger in their eyes… quite the opposite.

“So, all we have to do is wait for the spell to collapse?” the baron asked after clearing his throat.

“That’s about it.” Liandra nodded.

“Alright, let’s do that.” He used telekinesis to clear a spot from the rubble around him, then sat down. “And while we do, we’ll take advantage of the calm to get some training in.” He glared at the three adventurers. “I want all the debris gathered and neatly piled in a corner of the chamber before the spell ends. And that goes for you too, Octavian!”

And while the dungeon observed the group of his avatar go through some much-deserved labor, in his main body, an entirely different series of events ensued.

Making full use of the devices Cmyk had brought from Switches’ workshop, the gnome had toiled for a considerable amount of time—a lot longer than Theo would have liked. Nothing it did had caused any significant pain, but the constant vibrations made the dungeon feel as if he was having his teeth drilled. When it came time to give a part of his core, it felt like a relief, indicating that the whole thing was nearly over. And, in time, it was.

“Hmm, so this is it?” Spok asked, looking at a delicate metal box.

“Yep.” Switches nodded eagerly, adjusting his goggles. “It’s right inside.”

“Why did you have to make a box?”

“It’s traditional!” The gnome quickly explained. “Adds to the experience. My former employer loved boxes so much, he had me make at least a dozen each time. I’d put a fragment in one and leave the rest empty. Then, his favored minions would each pick a box and open it. The one who got the core fragment got to increase their power.”

“And the rest?” Theo asked.

“Oh, he’d kill them off for their base materials.” Switches waved a hand dismissively.

Upon hearing that, Cmyk took several steps back. He had become accustomed to hearing he was a “waste of resources” but up till now, not once had he actually imagined Theo would do anything about it. Learning that there were dungeons who treated their minions a lot worse nudged him to reconsider his work attitude. The uncomfortable experience lasted almost two full seconds before quickly fading away into oblivion. There was absolutely no way Theo would waste so much effort on anything of the sort.

“Open it.” The gnome held his breath with excitement.

“You are aware that you only made a single box?”

Switches nodded eagerly.

Seeing that any attempt at reasoning was pointless, Spok removed the metal cover. A necklace chain with a large amber gem glowed with a faint light.

“Yay!” the gnome cheered. “You’re the winner!” He started clapping to be joined a few seconds later by Cmyk, who contributed with a supportive slow clap.

“Yes… thank you.” The spirit guide took out the necklace.

There was no denying that it was rather beautiful. The chain was made of silver imbued with magic, making it almost unbreakable. There was no clasp, making it clear that no living person could put it on or, more importantly, take it off. It was remarkable that despite all his quirks and at moments intolerable behavior; the gnome was extremely skilled at its craft.

Sliding the back of the chain through her throat until it was on the other side of her neck, the spirit guide then let go. Nothing seemed to happen.

“That’s it?” Theo asked, his words dredged with disappointment.

“Yep, yep!” Switches nodded. “All done.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be a burst of light, a message, or anything?”

“You didn’t tell me you wanted special effects,” the gnome’s ears flopped down. “I should have expected this. You’ve always demanded perfection, so it was stupid of me to assume you wouldn’t want all the bells and whistles. Next time, I’ll—”

“Yeah, sure.” The dungeon quickly interrupted. “The important thing is to determine whether it works,” he added expectantly. To his great annoyance, all that the entities in the room did was nod in response. “So, how do we determine if it works?”

“That’s simple,” Spok said, then jumped in place. “It works.”

“Wait.” Theo felt they were mocking him. “You can tell just by that?”

“That’s all that’s needed. A spirit guide cannot be separated from its dungeon even for a moment, even if given an avatar. The fact that I’m able to jump off the floor in the first place proves that the device works.”

“That’s because you’re always in contact with the dungeon’s core.” Switches rubbed his hands. “A loophole of dungeon physics. I considered putting the core fragment in a slipper or a ring, but this is a lot more elegant. The perceived value is at least ten thousand gold coins.” He puffed up his chest with pride.

“Ten thousand coins to put a core fragment into an object?” The door in the room creaked in approval. Theo had no idea whether that was a high or low as far as jewelry was concerned, but anything with three additional zeroes had to be impressive.

“Oh, no. For the gem. Adding the fragment is the easy bit.”

“Ah, I see—” Just as the dungeon was saying it, a spark of anger ignited in the back of his mind. Did Switches mean what he thought he meant? “Hold on! You spent all that time and resources just for the gem?”

“Yes.” Switches nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “So, do I pass my trial period?”

There were many things that Theo wanted to say, none of them flattering. At the same time, he couldn’t deny the gnome’s skills. If it hadn’t been for Switches, Spok wouldn’t have remained stuck to him, almost literally. Also, there was the matter of the “combat fleet” that Theo now needed, and faster than ever. If he could get that before Memoria’s tomb collapsed, he stood a greater chance of destroying the abomination than on his own.

“Almost,” the dungeon said, providing just enough hope. “There’s still the matter of my golems.”

“Ah, of course, Of course. I’ll get right on that as soon as Cmyk moves my equipment back to my workshop.”

“Well… there’s no need for that.” Theo knew he’d regret it, but right now, time was of the essence. “I’ll adjust one of my underground rooms for you to use. Anything else you need, Cmyk can get while you start working.”

“Really?” The gnome’s ears perked up.

“Just on a temporary basis. Whether or not you keep them depends entirely on the speed of the results.”

“Of course. Of course!” Switches nodded eagerly. “I’ll build them so fast that you won’t—”

“I’ll leave you to the details.” The floor beneath the gnome’s feet opened up, causing him to fall down a slanted shaft back into the dungeon’s bowels.

That was one matter dealt with.

“Are you sure about this, sir?” Spok asked. “He does have an affinity for… being a gnome.”

“We’ll just have to get used to him. And that means fetching the rest of his stuff from that wreck in the village, Cmyk. What are you waiting for?!”

The minion sighed, shrugged, then left the room in typical stoic fashion. The fact that he did so without his usual silent complaining was enough for the dungeon to keep himself from using other, more forceful methods.

“Oh, and how goes your encounter with the abomination?” Spok asked, causing several wells in Rosewind to erupt in the equivalent of a person spitting out his drink.

A great deal had happened since the last time Theo had asked her about the topic, and all of it was bad. Technically, he could use the corporately approved good-news-bad-news approach. He had destroyed a dangerous entity threatening him, after all. It just so happened that the entity in question was the guardian keeping the actual abomination at bay. Alas, it was doubtful that the explanation would fly. Spok would see through any attempt of deceit, then flatten him with sarcasm and disapproving comments.

“You stayed clear from it, I hope?”

Theo was just about to say something when her comment terrified him more than any sarcastic remark could. Had Spok just forgotten something? Spirit guides weren’t supposed to forget—it was part of their nature. That only added to her increasingly strange behavior as of late. Up till now, it had only been trivial things that one might ignore, but this could well be a potential cause for concern.

“I’ll be careful,” the dungeon said cautiously. “I’ll have to face it at some point, though. Otherwise, it’ll keep sending zombie letters all over the place.”

“Of course you have to face it,” the spirit guide looked at the wall of the room as if she were a teacher addressing a child who’d forgotten its homework. “And before that, you must identify its nature. If you don’t, your chances to defeat it will be greatly diminished.”

A contradiction. That’s not what she had said during their last conversation on the matter. If she were a person, Theo would have said that she had blanked out the entire episode out of fear. The fact that she wasn’t made him think that she might be affected by his own condition as well. There hadn’t been any hunger messages as of late, but the dungeon wasn’t naïve to think that it was over. Even the cautiously optimistic would wait for several days before they would come to such a conclusion.

“Sure. Any reply from the mage tower?” Theo decided to test her.

“Not yet. Mages are slow in all matters that don’t concern them. It’ll come, rest assured.”

Apparently, only fragments of her memory were affected. Could it be that the abomination had somehow corrupted him as well? Either that or his condition really was more serious than initially believed. There was a small chance that the spirit guide might simply be overworked, but Theo conveniently chose to disregard that possibility. Whatever the case, defeating the abomination and breaking the curse of the estate remained the top goal.

“I’ll be going around town, sir,” Spok declared. “There are a few people I need to talk to regarding the future of Rosewind, and check if they have any zombie letters, of course. I’ll leave you and Switches to play with your toy soldiers. Just be mindful of the energy spent, sir. Just because you’re fine today is no reason to get excessive.”

“Just go, Spok.” The dungeon grumbled. “I have everything under control.”

“I’m glad, sir.” The spirit guide vanished, only to reappear at the mansion’s door. After leaving, she went to the end of the pavement that was part of the dungeon and took one step beyond.

The experience was unusual. Both she and Theo felt as if she was still connected to the dungeon, and at the same time, she clearly wasn’t; the same way a kite was technically linked to its owner, but at the same time was free in the sky.

A somewhat more disturbing aspect of the whole situation was Theo’s inability to observe her actions. The core element allowed him to talk with her—as he had immediately tested—and provided her locations at all times, but that was it. The only way he could see the avatar of his spirit guide was from any building that was part of him, making it almost as awkward as the first time he had looked upon himself through the eyes of his avatar. One might argue that was the price of progress—just something one had to get used to.

Spok didn’t return to the dungeon by nightfall. For the first time in his existence, his main body had been left virtually alone. Boredom quickly grew as even watching the adventurers in Memoria’s Tomb move chunks of marble around lost its allure.

Theo tried entertaining a conversation with Switches, commenting on Cmyk’s appearance each time the minion went to the wall pulling a cart with airship parts. He even spent close to an hour playing with Maximilian, not that the fat rabbit did anything remotely exerting. The dungeon had no memory of whether the creature had always been so lazy, but it managed to make Cmyk look like a workaholic.

“Done!” Ulf shouted, after which he sat on the floor, covered in sweat.

It hadn’t been quick or easy, but somehow he and his fellow adventurers had managed to gather every fragment in one spot. Even the pieces on the walls had been pulled out and added to the pile.

“Good,” the baron said in complete disinterest. “Get some rest now.”

“I’ve… never… worked… so much… in my life,” Amelia managed to say, lying on the floor. The woman didn’t even bother taking a few steps to join the rest of her group. “Is this what adventuring is like? Moments of intense fighting followed by hours of cleaning up?”

“There are many types of training,” Liandra said. “Think of your own limits.”

“But is it a good idea to exhaust ourselves before a fight?” Avid asked. “Once we’re free from the spell, we’ll have to face the blood fountain.”

“No.” Liandra’s tone acquired a steel edge. “You won’t be fighting her. Only Theo and I will. You must be strong enough to protect yourself until we’re done.”

Normally, this would be the time of protests. The egos of both Ulf and Amelia were too large to allow such an “insult” to their abilities. Surprisingly, there were none. Seeing how useless they had been against the marble guardian had made them acknowledge the difference in levels.

Their reaction, although insignificant, made Theo feel a smattering of pride. It was a side effect of the heroic trait, no doubt, but he actually felt glad seeing them grow. Hopefully, the sensation wouldn’t last long. The last thing he wanted was getting attached to overeager adventurers.

“Get some sleep,” the baron mumbled. “We’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“Too late,” Liandra said with a smile. “They’re already out.”

“Already? Didn’t think we worked them that much.”

“We did, but that’s not the reason. I used a sleep item on them.”

Liandra had magic items she’d been keeping in secret? Interesting.

“To be more specific, I transferred my fatigue onto them.”

“That’s… sneaky.”

“Unlike them, I need to be fresh for the fight.” There was a pause. “On that note, I have a favor to ask.”

Uh, oh. Theo thought. In his experience, whenever someone said they needed a favor instead of saying it straight out, meant trouble.

“I’d like to borrow my grandfather’s sword for the fight,” the heroine said. “I’ll return it once it’s over.”

“It means a lot to you. Sure,” the avatar took the sword out of his dimensional ring. “You can have it. If we defeat the abomination, there’s no need to give it back.” And if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter.

“No. Grandfather gave it to you. I just need to borrow it.”

“No worries. Your sword got destroyed so we could figure out the guardian’s weakness, after all.” He handed her the weapon. Although he felt he was doing the right thing from a moral and practical perspective, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering fear that she might use the weapon against him should the abomination share his secret during the fight. “I think I’ll get some sleep as well,” he lied.

“Go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”

After another three hours and thirty-seven minutes, the coveted message appeared.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have destroyed Memoria’s Tomb.

10000 Avatar Core Points obtained.

MEMORY MAGIC obtained.

News of your achievement shall be known throughout the entire continent.

Ten thousand? That was more like it! It was guaranteed to boost his avatar a level or two. With some luck he might get some actually useful skills. Not that memory magic was bad—it just wasn’t anything the dungeon was familiar with.

YOU FEEL DEVASTATING HUNGER!

Crap! The dungeon thought. Here we go again…