by Tao Wong
Oh right. I’d meant to appoint one of those before I left. Obviously Lana or Katherine actually got around to it in the interim. I frown, realizing that I have no clue how to get hold of this Dungeon Keeper or his assistants, nor do I see any obvious methods for me to contact them. Then I shrug and walk in. Whatever. Rules are for the peons.
Rather than waste my time dealing with low Level monsters, I switch on my Aura. While not as outright intimidating as others, it is more than sufficient to scare away low Level monsters that would have been wary of me anyway. It’s a bright search light, a forest fire that says danger to these creatures, leaving me with the ability to stroll deeper along the forest-lined broken asphalt to reach the higher Level zones. Memories from our only time here leads me past the golf course—a Level 30 zone with insane mutated gophers, squirrels, and a creature that shoots elemental water balls—and residences and toward the actual faculty buildings.
“Kim, need a map of the zones.”
“UPLOADED.”
“Thanks.”
A moment later, I’ve got the map uploaded to my own minimap, overlaying the information. I’m kind of missing Ali’s better updates, but what I have is more than sufficient. And even though I’m strolling, with my upgraded attributes, my stroll is the equivalent of an all-out sprint for your average pre-System person.
When I finally make it to the first campus, the zones creep up to a decent Level for experimentation. The first monster I encounter is a tiny Gribble with long fangs, sharp fur, and giant eyes. It could almost be considered cute if you squinted really hard. And ignored the poisonous cloud enveloping the creature. It charges me, moving so quickly that it looks as if it’s teleporting with each little hop it makes.
Gribble (Level 41 Monster)
HP: 381/381
MP: 833/833
Conditions: Enraged, Poisonous, Damage Resistance
I draw my beam pistol, firing from the hip and catching the creature mid-leap. While attacking it when it stops might seem to be the best option, if you can perceive, track, and hit the damn creature when it’s in the air, it can’t dodge. The first shot catches the Gribble’s fur on fire and tears muscles and skin. A second shot hits it as the creature lands with a stumble, while the third finishes off the monster as it recovers and attempts to run. I holster the pistol with a frown and make a note that the pistol takes a moment to recharge. Rate of fire was significantly lower than my ability to pull the trigger. Which, really, isn’t surprising. In fact, that’s part of the reason why melee weapons are favored by some—as attributes continue to creep up, high-tech weapons can’t keep up. A PAV like Sabre could actually be more a hindrance to movement than a help.
I stop briefly to loot the corpse before going deeper, wary of other attacks. A few minutes later, I stumble across the reason why I’m not being swarmed more—a trio of adventurers fighting in a triangular formation against a horde of Gribbles. All three of the adventurers are clad in adventurer chic, armored jumpsuits with a series of webbing for easy access injectors and smaller melee weapons. In fact, they look like one of any hundred groups I’ve seen—thin, muscled, and young. Quietly and switching off my Aura, I watch the trio fight, automatically finding a dark corner under a concrete overhang to watch.
For the most part, the group is rather boring—a DNA Mage, a Shieldsman using a sword and shield, and a Hoplite wielding a spear. Of course, they have their array of Skills to use, blasting out shock waves of energy, beams, and fire as well as cutting and thrusting. They have their own flari though. The spear-wielder has a flexible tail that wields a blasting rod, and the mage seems to be literally sucking the blood from the corpses around them to power his spells. All around the trio, a small cyclone swirls, pulling the poisonous cloud into the air above the trio and dispersing it. A quick glance at the trio’s Status shows that they’re poisoned but not dangerously so.
After verifying that the team is able to handle the Gribbles without my help, I begin the slow process of sneaking around the group. Kill stealing is considered bad form, and even if I don’t want to, these Gribbles are enraged and liable to attack me if they sense me. While moving, I note how the monkey man twitches and glances in my direction at one point, though he doesn’t stop wielding his spear. I’m nearly across the square outside the still-sealed faculty of dentistry when a roar attracts all our attention. As if the roar is a signal, all the Gribbles fall back.
The trio don’t take advantage of the Gribbles’ retreat, their attention—and mine—drawn to the much larger threat padding forward. Eyes glowing red with swirls of purple within, fur fluffed to make the monster look larger than the van-size form it already has, the Queen Gribble howls again, its voice pitching higher and higher till even my ears are bleeding, the roar continuing without stop. The trio are worse off, weapons discarded as they clutch their ears. The Shieldsman is on his knees in pain, his afro sticking out around the helmet and his fingers.
Queen Gribble (Level 65 Alpha)
HP: 1411/1411
MP: 980/980
Conditions: Enraged, Poisonous, Damage Resistance, Pack Aura
“Arse…”
The Gribbles that have fallen back rush the trio, intent on finishing the group while they’re incapacitated. Even as I swear, a part of me is focusing and reaching outward to the System and inward to my own body as I adjust my hearing. If higher attributes are good, why would a higher Perception make you more vulnerable to sensory-based attacks? It’d make no sense—and they don’t. In fact, one of the upgrades in a higher Perception attribute is an unseen resistance to such attacks. But because it’s unseen and hidden, it’s not used by most to the maximum effect. After being forced to fight with nothing but my frozen attributes for four years, I’m no longer part of the majority. With the barest of thoughts, I touch on the System and push my defenses to the maximum. The innate resistance of my Advanced Class already shunts much of the damage away; this makes the remaining damage less incapacitating.
89 Sonic Damage Taken
Auditory perception checks receive a -11 modifier for 9 seconds
Stun Resisted
A spell flows from my hands, a paired casting as I push up Mud Walls around the trio. A second later, the Mud Walls surge outward, catching the Gribbles. Earth Shape follows soon after as the ground under the trio sinks downward, providing additional defense.
The Queen Gribble turns toward me as its howl comes to an end. It snarls, shaking its body, and suddenly its body exudes a purple gas that flows not outward unrestricted, but in a dark tide toward me like a wave. I kick off the ground, jumping backward as I toss an Ice Blast downward at the Queen. The spell freezes chunks of the monster’s fur, and even the gas in its path freezes, solidifying the poison. Polar Zone erupts from my hands. But I’m focusing too much on casting, my mind split along the numerous lines of the spell, and I end up ignoring the smaller Gribbles. I pay for it when one slams into my newly landed form and bites my thigh.
I frown, the Gribble’s sharp teeth punching through the nanoweave and injecting my leg with a numbing poison, even as its airborne toxin attempts to close down my throat. A stab and twist with a knife pries the Gribble off my body even as I jump again, purposely exploding the ground beneath my jump to add to the Gribbles’ confusion as I fly through the air.
You are Poisoned!
-2 Health per second for 11 seconds
Polar Zone seems to be working, slowing down not just the Queen Gribble but also the flow of her poisonous gas. Even so, the flow of the gas seems to follow my new trajectory even as more of it pours from the Queen’s body as well as all around its body, the less dense amount moving toward the slowly recovering group.
“So damn weird.” I grin then test out my next spell.
Mana Cage snaps into place around the Queen Gribble, trapping the creature in its glowing bands. The Queen Gribble snarls and snaps, slamming its body against the bars, but they hold, keeping the Queen inside, if not its poisonous gas. Damn, maybe I should hav
e bought Mana Prison—but the Mana expenditure on that improved imprisonment spell was significantly higher.
Absently, I conjure my sword and cut a pair of leaping Gribbles apart before I land. A hacking from the direction of the trio of Adventurers reminds me that I’m not fighting by myself and I stop playing around. I can test my Spells further when I’m alone again. Rather than waste Mana, I raise my hand and conjure a series of Mana Missiles at the Queen. The Mana Missiles are an upgrade of my old mainstay Mana Dart, just improved to do more damage. A series of a half dozen Mana Missiles, each over a foot long and spinning, drill into the Queen’s body. Without the ability to dodge, the Queen soon becomes a heavily bleeding pincushion, one that nearly manages to tear apart my Mana Cage before it expires. Once the Queen expires, cleaning up the rest of the Gribbles is simple with the help of the trio of recovered Adventurers.
“Thank you,” the Swordsman says to me as he discards the health injector.
I frown slightly at the littering but keep my mouth shut for now. Still, my presence annoys the monkey Hoplite who snarls at me.
“What are you doing here? We’re the only party scheduled for today,” monkey man snarls as he levels his spear toward me.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, nodding to sword and shield wielder and ignoring monkey man.
At my blatant disinterest in him, monkey man steps forward but is restrained by the DNA Mage who shakes his head. On closer inspection, I realize the mage is actually probably older than me—in his forties at least. I absently consider recommending adding a few more points in Charisma and probably a good dye job to deal with my thinning grey hair.
“I’m going to report you to the Dungeon Keeper,” growls monkey man.
I just wave goodbye to the group, stopping only long enough to loot and deposit the Queen in my Altered Space before heading to my final objective—the Medical Faculty.
“Hey, that’s a Level 70 zone,” a new voice calls behind me—the older man’s, I guess.
I wave in acknowledgement without turning around. A part of me wonders about how the faculty of medicine’s unsealed but dentistry isn’t. Then again, I guess more people fear dentists than doctors, possibly because we’ve all suffered under the hands of a too-rough dental hygienist.
Stepping into the building, I scan the insides for threats while dismissing the notification informing me of the increased zone Level. A skittering noise alerts me to the incoming monsters long before I see them. A half dozen humanoids come out, most dressed in hospital gowns but a few in scrubs and casual wear, their skin grey and pallid. They alternately lope forward on all fours, fingernails unusually long and black, and walk, their backs hunched slightly. Even their eyes are rheumy and yellow, showing little signs of intelligence. A quick scan shows that they’re nearly all the same.
Diseased Revenant (Level 71)
HP: 3488/3488
MP: 0/0
Conditions: Diseased, Undead, Burst
My nose wrinkles slightly at the sight, but the humanoid, undead creatures are the perfect training dummies. And dummies the Revenants are. They launch themselves at me with little finesse but a ton of aggression, only savage cunning guiding their tactical decisions, like attempts at flanking me. What they lack in brains, they make up in an inability to feel damage, an unrelenting aggression that’d make an angry hornet look like a lovely butterfly, an innately high resistance to damage, and prodigious health.
Firestorms are my first attempt at dealing with them, the upgraded Fireball spell forming a whirlpool of flames that expands from my body. System-reinforced walls burn, creaking in agony as the temperature spikes. Wooden counters turn to cinders within seconds and the Revenants cook, flesh crisping and splitting to showcase tight muscles and leaking, evaporating fluids. Yet they don’t stop.
A twist of my hands and a Mud Wall flows from the floor in a wave, smashing the monsters backward, but the pair that split off to flank me attack now. Two quick steps intercept one, a hand clasping its arm and body to twist and toss it against the second, before an Ice Beam strikes the pair. Their bodies twitch as they attempt to free themselves, frozen flesh and limbs shattering under their exertions and the over-heated air. Even my own health is dropping, if only briefly before my regeneration replaces it, from the remaining heat.
I grin as I hear, in the darkness, additional movement as the Revenants’ howls echo down the hallways, drawing others of their kind to them. Good. I’m going to have fun with this.
***
Hours later, I finally jump out of the top floor of the building, landing lightly before ripping the embedded claw of the Revenant’s Zone Boss out of my arm. I grimace as blood flows out, dripping to the ground even as the wound visibly closes, while a dark greyness spreads around the flesh. Diseased. Such a nice status effect—reduces an ever-increasing amount of attributes before it peaks and the attributes begin to recover. While the disease statuses don’t stack among the normal Revenants, the Boss and Elites carry around another form of disease which is a lot longer lasting and which even my increased Constitution and Resistances can’t remove within minutes.
Revenant Alpha Claw (Level 79)
Crafting material. May be used by an experienced crafter to make equipment.
“I see you cleared the zone. In record time too. That deserves a drink.”
The voice of a thin, weedy man breaks my train of thought. I glance over as the long-haired man in a waist coat tosses a bottle to me. I catch the bottle, chuckling as I read the label—good old Apocalypse Ale, brewed up in cold Whitehorse.
Rodolfo Stone, the University of British Columbia Dungeon Keeper, Wayward Son (Level 21 Dark Son)
HP: 480/480
MP: 1610/1610
Conditions: All-Seeing Eye, Dungeon Link, Simulacrum (x2)
“Thanks.” I take a sip and raise an eyebrow as the rich, dark ale takes a cudgel to my taste buds, reminding me what good alcohol is like. Obviously the Brewers have Leveled up again.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Lee,” Rodolfo said. “Now I got to tell you you’re suspended for the next two weeks. Can’t have you skipping the line, you know?”
“Really?” I say. “You do know who I am, yes?”
“You’re the boss man. But the rules are the rules, dude.”
I chuckle but don’t push the matter. There’s something more interesting to pursue. “You know how long it took me to clear the building?”
“Yes.” Rodolfo flicks one hand, and a moment later, I get a notification with a series of numbers on it. Mana and stamina consumed, the ratio and percentage left at any time, the number of times I zeroed out either—none—number of monsters killed, the average, longest, and fastest amount of time to kill each monster, the spells and weapons I used, and more. It’s a huge list of data, information which runs on and on, about every aspect of my fight. “I also got the rest of your trip, but this is the good stuff.”
“You have all this information on hand?” I say, somewhat startled as I read through it all. “Do you give this to everyone?”
“Nah, just those who pay.” Rodolfo gestures again and a bottle of Apocalypse Ale appears in his hand. “Got to buy the Platinum package. But you know, you’re the boss man, so I figured you’d want to see this. Pretty cool build there.”
“Thanks. What else do you offer?”
“I give advice on gaps, but you’ve got a pretty solid build. Skill use, training options within the dungeon to cover areas of weakness. The usual, you know.”
“What do you think my build is?” I ask. It’s not as if I haven’t given it much thought. Even if I hate the way it makes our life feel like a game, the idea of proactively determining what you want to be isn’t wrong.
“Endurance build. You ain’t a duelist or adventurer. What you got there is meant for a grind and pound. Not enough damage to do a one-hit kill against an equal Level opponent, but your Stamina didn’t even dip into the low sixties. You’re like a giant energizer bunny of Stamina. If anything, I’d ad
d more Willpower or Intelligence to up your Mana and regen rates.” Rodolfo waves the bottle of Apocalypse Ale between sentences to punctuate his words. “You also need to smooth out your spell chaining too.”
“I just bought them,” I say, offering up the tidbit of information.
Rodolfo nods. “Gotcha. Well, I’d still work on chaining them. But unless you’re going for a utility build, I’d stick to what you know. Been watching some of the arena fights they’ve started piping in, and at your Level, a fraction of a second hesitation gets you dead.”
“Arena fights?” I drain the bottle in my hand.
When I look around for somewhere to put it, Rodolfo snorts. “Toss it. The dungeon will clean it. And I got no one coming through this section before it’s done its job.” He suits action to words with his own bottle. “The Galactics got a real Roman thing, you know? It’s their hockey.”
“Right,” I say and make a note to look into these arena fights. It’d be good to see what the Master Class fighters are like at my Level. “One last thing then. Mikito mentioned you get some of the other Master Classers grinding here sometimes?”
“The champions? Yeah, I get them to test my new zones before I open them up.”
“Good. I’ll want their stats,” I say.
“No can do, boss man,” Rodolfo says. “Client privilege.”
“It’s my dungeon,” I say softly, the friendliness gone from my voice as I meet his gaze. I trigger Champion’s Aura too, but Rodolfo doesn’t even blink. I guess one of those Status effects of his is blocking the Aura.
“And if you fire me and take the job, you can get it,” Rodolfo says. “But you got to fire me first.”
“You sure you want to do this?” I say, the threat ringing out.
“Sure as donuts have holes.”
