Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6)

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  “Oh, my boy… I’m so sorry. You had a family. I… I did this to you. With my foolish little gift.” He placed his hand to the Core on the golem’s chest, and squeezed his eyes shut. Tussle was still in there. “Abyss, Cal… your automated processes missed more than just a hidden army.”

  “Well, crackers. Now what to do?” He sighed and broke the golem to safely retrieve the Core. Once Tussle’s minor influence was free, the last iridium golem liquified. Flowing into the coin as all the ones before it.

  Artorian didn’t want to be here anymore after that, and left the forge vault, now devoid of its great work. He sighed deeper, and silently returned to his platform since the needle had stilled entirely. He’d recovered everything here.

  Once his hand was laid on the platform, he pulled the still hovering contraption over to a beacon, and *fuffed*.

  Both Artorian and the platform appeared in his large foyer within the sun. His solar archive. Leaving the racer be for now, he walked up to his wall and slotted Tussle’s Core in where Decorum had been. After a solemn moment, he updated the nameplate.

  He’d make this right. He would, but he needed to go to Alfheim. No! Alfheim could wait. It could wait the five minutes it would take for him to do right by Tussle. He tapped Tussle’s Core and opened Cal’s old system files. As if he was going to edit the object and check for inconsistencies. Just as he would fix a broken item.

  Rather than doing so, he scrolled through tabs and directories, searching for Tussle’s family tree. Wasn’t this alphabetical? Oh, there it was. Selecting the correct tab for what he needed, he saw the direct lineage links in chart format.

  Tussle had been the last of his Dwarven line. Artorian couldn’t let that bite him deeper right now. Selecting the link of Tussle’s loved one, Artorian opened her family tree instead. The lineage itself wasn’t important, but rather that this particular menu allowed him to… meddle. “Let’s just… do something we shouldn’t.”

  He of course did anyway, and pulled up the Core information of Tussle’s sweetheart. Starting from the point of where her existence began, to the end. According to the activity log, this soul was currently a shop assistant in Midgard, in a human form. That wasn’t important, he just needed the personality version from iteration one.

  It took more than five minutes, but he accessed the relevant memories. Artorian then pulled that iteration into a fresh memory Core, which he just outright bought from the shop. Before filling them in, he altered the memories so they would end the same day that Tussle had disappeared from her life. Based on some glances… it hadn’t gone great for her after his mysterious disappearance.

  Affixing the memories, he nodded. Success. Saving the Core, he slotted the memory stone next to Tussle on the wall. It didn’t matter that he needed to make a fresh indent with his shaped Aura. “There we go. A little awkward on my end. But that will be a family made whole, when they both decant. The place might be different, but the love will be the same. I owe them both that much.”

  Nodding with confidence as the feeling of regret faded; he hung his goggles on one of the racer’s levers, and ditched the platform, *fuffing* to Alfheim.

  He needed a change of scenery.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alfheim didn’t look as Artorian remembered it. There were buildings everywhere! He was in the middle of some kind of capital city. Except there seemed to be nothing but city. He’d seen something in Cal’s notes that Alfheim was supposed to be more about plants and down-to-earth methods. Yet there was nothing rural about this place; it was all urban. He hovered upwards, easing high into the air. His frown deepened at the view. The landscape, mountains included, consisted of buildings, buildings, and more buildings.

  “What in Cal…?” Taking off at the usual sonic-burst speed, he zipped across Alfheim to look around. Confused about why both the compass wasn’t reacting, and why the dang building sprawl didn’t stop! How had these people even grown their food? There couldn’t possibly have been so many Elves. Abyss! What had he missed the last iteration? This was nuts. At least he recognized all the black and gold flags representing Halcyon, but he was convinced she wasn’t on this realm.

  He stopped on the mountain he’d visited during iteration one. The thing had been hollowed out, and was all housing. What makes you need to hollow out a mountain? He checked the compass, but there still wasn’t a dent on the needle’s movement. He was sure he’d given what’s-his-face a piece of iridium. Right? Or had it just been the bluebell? It should be here.

  It wasn’t.

  A full day of searching and he came up empty, still none the wiser about the need for an endless city. He hadn’t even found clues in the homes and living spaces themselves. Sure, there was some junk remaining here and there, but overall none really held information concerning the population boom that must have caused this.

  The vacancies were scary. All this space. Empty. Why? Had something happened with the populace? Or maybe it had been the conditions? He just knocked on the dungeon’s forum space.

  Cal’s voice spoke in a garble, but then pulled away from Eternium to occupy his own soul again, clearing up the signal.

  Artorian just motioned at the housing, sending the image.

  Cal glanced at the information, and understood why this must look odd.

  The dungeon complained for a moment.

  The Administrator rubbed his forehead, releasing a heavy exhale.

  The connection clicked shut, and the youth moseyed over to a beacon. Once there, he sat down, taking a moment to look at the sky. “Iridium doesn’t just vanish. So let’s see. It could have gone with a person to the next realm over, or it could have gone with a person into the Eternium version if they held onto it. Did I forget to check Midgard? I should. Just in case.”

  Pushing himself up, he *fuffed* to Midgard. It didn’t take more than a few minutes of looking at an immobile compass to figure out this place didn’t have what he was looking for. That crossed the first three off the list. Might as well take a trip home.

  He *fuffed* to Jotunheim.

  “Took you long enough.” Zelia was waiting for him at the beacon platform next to his mountain residence. Tower? Castle? Since when was it a giant, reinforced castle? Thing was massive! “Dreamer…? Is that actually you?”

  Artorian turned on his heel, and shot the full humanlike spider a broad smile. “Zelia! So good to see you. Yes, it’s me. I’m aware of the… packaging.”

  Zelia eased to a knee and offered a hug, which was gleefully accepted. “I am glad you are well, my Dreamer. We have been ‘keeping the peace’ in your absence. Though I believe that if we were to count lifetimes in eons of awakeness, all your chosen have vastly outstripped you in age. Even Vol. He’s fond of life here, so long as it’s hunting in the jungles. Likely the only one that you might remember as who he was. That boy has a one-beast mind.”

  Artorian nodded appreciatively. “I heard you became the Soul Space se
cretary. Good on you! It’s been going marvelous with you at the helm.”

  The spider considered the job to be arduous, but a little positivity on her performance was never a bad thing. “I make it go well, with a lot of ‘or else’ in the mix. Speaking of work, here you go. All the iridium we’ve found in Jotunheim over the iterations. It’s surprisingly little, though we are all very fond of the crab-killing chunk. Even if it’s just a deformed metal rock.”

  Artorian took the offered cloth package and merged the chunks with his coin. Checking his compass after, he found it inert. “Looks like that really was all of it. I expected some Alfheimers to come by and drop theirs here. No dice?”

  She shook her head, barely moving a line of fabric in her kimono. Her hands twirled her tiny parasol as she replied smoothly. “If they did, it wasn’t through here. I’ve kept exquisite track over everything the chosen have considered problems over the ages. There have been so many that it took up all your old warehouses.”

  He squeezed his chest, having a second gander at the castle. “Probably were attacked a few times as well.”

  She smirked, and nodded. It was nice to have a person with actual insight around for a change. “Indeed. Halcyon ran it as Daimyo. Though with the end of this last iteration, she is taking a long, and very well-deserved rest. It was taxing for her to rule, and she is glad to be free of the burden. I understand there will be no further people for us at this point? A shame, really. I would have liked more company. We even got that copy of your old academy installed below. It took us a few whole iterations to get done, but what is time when you have nothing but? Spare a moment to see it?”

  Artorian gladly took her by the hand, and Zelia folded slipspace around them. It was seamless! Like she’d gotten even better at teleportation. Should he really be surprised? Probably not. He wouldn’t mind a few iterations of time just getting to practice and refine abilities either. That sounded splendid. Exiting slipspace, his eyes stabilized upon the sight of Mayev’s Spire. “Well… will you look at that. Magnificent.”

  Checking his entry point, Artorian stood on a ceiling-spun walkway made from webbing. Looking down, he could see that the hexes around the spire were back as well. Some even copied the structures that had been there when Dawn and Gran’mama were in charge. Still, it was the zoning layout that caught the eye. He always had loved the way they’d carved the land up. Also, Turtle islands! Yes! “You’re right, a true shame we don’t have people…”

  Zelia raised a brow, and Artorian filled her in on what his sudden pause was about. “We… might have some… people unaccounted for, who need a place to be. Could you, by chance, finish this region, or replicate what the original Fringe looked like? Here, in the Beneath? Now that the gravity problem is controllable, I have… thoughts.”

  The spider secretary inspected her nails, pretending to be none the wiser of the request. Too bad, really; she had become much more skilled at social convention, but that smirk on her lips gave her away. She procured documents via teleportation, the same way he did. “Oh… you mean perhaps, as outlined in blueprints like these?”

  Snatching the document from her dainty fingers, his toothy smile told her that the Dreamer was ecstatic. She had discovered his Midgard attempts! Back in iteration one when Henry had told him about the little bonus corner of the Midgard realm.

  Honestly, she was in charge of all the mail and checking the beacons. He had put one smack near his little project. Had he thought she wouldn’t find it? That landscape was measured, copied, and transcribed onto the blueprint. With a little bit of work, they could easily reform some things in the Jotunheim below to get it all in place. “Yes. Yes, this will do perfectly. Zelia, you beauty!”

  Her smirk was prideful, hands pressed on her butt as she wiggled from side to side, ever so pleased. The compliments made her happy, as only words from a Dreamer could. “Good. Now that there’s no people, we can continue construction. It will take us a while, but again, what’s time? Come back when Halcyon is awake. She will be glad to see you. For now she sorely needs rest, and I don’t want to wake her. Not even for this. Yuki is on Asgard, and Vol doesn’t need a check-up.”

  She sharply nudged her nose over to the teleportation beacon next to them. “Now shoo. You have work to do. Oh, and you will likely find some goodies on the Eternium version of Alfheim. Though my spiderlings say it’s in an odd place. Look for a statue of someone called… Yiba-Su-Wong? Bluebell sigil on the flag. That’s all I’ve got.”

  She opened her arms for a goodbye hug, and once again received a tight squeeze. She patiently waited for him to step onto the beacon, and waved daintily as he *fuffed* out. Slipspace folded next to her after the Dreamer had left, and Halcyon stepped from the opening. She looked exhausted, and had a splitting headache. “Am I too late?”

  Zelia nodded, and Halcyon groaned, held by the spider as the tall human woman had her back patted supportively. Cy was wobbling terribly, barely able to keep upright. “You need to rest. He’ll be back. You don’t want him to see you like this. He will get distracted and want to heal you, but you’re only going to get better with sleep. He does not need to know just yet that the staying awake too long problem affects more than just Dreamers. You took care of the last iteration while I slept. I take care of this one. Back to bed with you.”

  Halcyon grumbled, but felt the sharp pains in her Core return. She needed sleep, and quickly. Nodding while disgruntled, she held the side of her head. Zelia watched her walk back through the borrowed slipspace rift before seamlessly closing it behind Cy.

  Zelia squeezed her brows and frowned, her voice clicking. There had been a great number of problems she was still catching up on, and that was just one of them. Still, there was a time and a place to handle things, and considering the latest news from her spiderlings… This was not a good time for yet another distraction to occupy their Dreamer.

  He needed to stay on task and keep focused, and that wasn’t going to happen if new problems kept being tossed at his head the way badly drawn scripts ended up crumpled in the wastebasket.

  Best to give some good news, and show things were automated at home. “Good luck, my Dreamer. You’re going to have one demon of a headache soon.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Artorian skipped a few realms and started on Asgard. Leaving Yuki waiting—now that he knew that Zelia had known he was faffing about—was a terrible idea. Much like the prior, the lady of winter awaited him as well. “Dreamer. You attend. Good. Come.”

  No greeting? No hug as hello? Well, it was Yuki. Hadn’t he made progress? Why the cold shoulder? Or perhaps this was the warm shoulder, if he recalled the faces of nervous A-rankers lined up in the mead hall. Yes, probably. Her skin was the snowy hue he remembered it as, but her clothes were far more elaborate and intricate. She was easily wearing multiple layers of patterned fabric, but his favorite was that the top one had fluffy bits!

  On closer inspection… “Yuki… are you… A-rank eight?”

  He could feel her smirk, even if the frost princess didn’t give him a verbal reply until she had turned a corner. When he could see her smirk, his eyes narrowed at the coy retort. “Nine, my Dreamer. A-rank nine.”

  His face scrunched, hands rising palms-up in a questioning motion that asked ‘how’ with incredulous muster. She indulged him after studying that contorted face of his. Payment enough, for her story needs.

  Yuki glided smoothly onwards, delighting in the moment as she spoke. “The chosen grow and cultivate not when we are able, but when the Great Spirit allows it. He has flip-flopped on the decision several times. Sometimes it’s as much as we want. Other iterations there were limitations. Lately it has been an outright no. Now, the grapevine sends word that we can continue to grow if we ‘play the game,’ so to speak. Through the Great Spirit’s precious little system.”

  Artorian verbalized his question, because that wasn’t answering his concern. “A-rank nine? I’m at two! Crackers, Yuki. You shot right past me! Do you know
how little time I spent in the B-ranks? You would know more than me at this point, on one of the topics I’m best at! I just feel…”

  If he had a hat, he would grip onto both sides and pull it the whole way down his face. His groaning expression was food to the chosen, and she continued to delight in the details as she agreed with him, just to hammer her icicle deeper. “I do know more. Why, my Dreamer? Do you need proof? Go ahead. Ask your questions. I know how much you love them.”

  His eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Oh, really?”

  She slowly nodded, secure in her knowledge as she pushed open a vast golden door. The watery scents fumed as hot vapor, and the youth’s attention was cast inwards. Dawn’s voice greeted them, and suddenly this entire conversation felt like a setup meant to distract him.

  “There you are! Took you long enough. Meeting has been over for ages. What’s with the fo—oh. Yuki~i~i. Did you have to prod him? The confusion is oozing from his face. I can even tell without all the wrinkles. Come. In with you. You’ve needed a bath since well before that meeting and I couldn’t just drag you off then. It has that unpleasant ‘new form’ odor. So I’m dragging you off now. You’re dirty and you smell.”

  Artorian was affronted. He didn’t sm—a momentary alteration of his senses, and he didn’t even dare make the customary sharp inhale that told his surroundings he’d realized he was wrong. “Fine! Though, you’re both going to tell me how Yuki blitzed past me in cultivation, and I am vehemently taking her up on her little dare.”

  Dawn crossed her arms, wearing little more than a loose toga meant for the Asgard thermae. Granted, as luxurious as the Asgardian baths were, the quality of the simple-looking toga Dawn rocked dwarfed it by a few thousand platinum. She still loved looking fancy. Good ol’ Dawn! Her voice was filled with pep and a sneaky smirk. “Oh? Well, expect to get trounced, youngster! That’s Caliph’s godmother you’re trying to get the better of. She holds information like you hold wild theories.”