Dungeon Heart 03 - Hell Gate, page 19
“Father will speak with you now,” Echo added, and the three other creatures took a respectful step back. A surge of mana rose from the ground, forming wisps of green smoke, rising up until it reached Echo’s face. The smoke slid over the smooth stone of her cheeks, consolidating upon her brow, creating what originally seemed like a blindfold of thick green smoke. Bit by bit, the blindfold changed its thick smoky appearance to something more ethereal.
In a minute, the smoke seemed to morph into something more akin to an elaborate domino mask. The half-mask was unique, its fabric intangible and gently shifting, dominated by different shades of green that danced with hints of blues, purples, and yellows. The only thing that Vas had ever seen that came close to it were the so-called Veils of the Moon, which he had only seen once when he had traveled far to the north, to a cold, beautiful land dominated by snow.
The strangest thing happened at the end, however. The mask went as far as covering Echo’s eyes, blocking out her vision. The place where her eyes should be instead became blank, a place where the greens of the mask faded into a gentle white light, contrasting the dance of colors around it.
“So we meet,” Echo’s mouth opened, her lips moved, and her working hand reached out to greet the king. But the voice that escaped her lips was not the crystal clear, bell-like voice that she had spoken with earlier. Instead, the voice that was heard by everyone was very masculine, gruff, and deep. Almost gravely even. Strangely enough, though the voice was certainly that of an older adult male, the king could not give an estimate to the age of the voice even if he thought about it. It felt like the voice was… timeless in a sense.
“Well met,” the king replied with professional dedication. Years of political practice took over as he smiled with ease, the familiar role of playing the diplomat becoming ironically useful to him now. He reached out to grasp Echo’s hand, shaking it politely. “I am King Vas Ulfric Strongarm, king of the kingdom of Mussol. I can’t say I have ever had the pleasure of meeting a dungeon before.”
Snorting at his words, Smit continued to talk through Echo, clearly finding the situation amusing. “I am sure it is as you say,” he replied simply. “Can’t say talking to anyone from outside my dungeon was in my plans, much less a king, but such is life. I can’t keep myself isolated for much longer anyway.”
The bait was set. He had to reveal a bit of information to get the support he needed, but that was fine with Smit. He wasn’t prepared to deal with something of Klax’s caliber on his own, much less anything stronger than that. With any luck he could forge a solid alliance with the king here and now.
“Oh? And what could possibly cause a dungeon to talk with anyone? As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know dungeons could communicate at all,” the king said, trying to tease out some explanation from the dungeon. If the other dungeons could communicate as well, even if they were low rank dungeons, perhaps it would be worth his time sending higher ranked adventurers or knights to conquer them and have them try to coax out a dialogue.
“Normally, they can’t,” he replied gruffly, cutting off his explanation right there, letting the king fantasize whatever wild thoughts he might have about what that meant for Smit. He really didn’t have either the time nor interest to elaborate on why he was different. Honestly it sounded like a real pain to try to explain, especially since he himself had no idea how it had happened in the first place. “As for what has forced me to reveal myself, it’s the possible increasing frequency and danger of attacks towards the dungeon itself. This was merely the start, and that on its own was already far more dangerous than I would have liked.”
“Dangerous?” King Vas echoed. “What sorts of attacks do you mean?”
Smit let out a “harrumph” as he looked above the king for a second, seemingly staring out into the distance before looking back down at the king. “I am sure you know dungeons can be claimed by powerful entities, yes? Elder liches, powerful sorcerers, demons, and gods themselves.”
“Yes, I am aware,” the king nodded in a sage-like manner. “It is widely known that dungeons can be great sources of power. There are even stories of dungeons being used to ruin entire cities in times long past. Though the stories have different versions of why any particular entity wishes to own the dungeon.”
“Good, then I can skip to the important stuff.” Smit looked at the king in the eye again, and although the white eyes of the mask might have made it hard to tell normally, the king could certainly feel the intensity of his stare. “As you can tell by now I am not a common dungeon. It seems that I am interesting enough that we are going to be seeing much more than just one or two attacks from various entities. For example, that bony magical bastard from earlier wasn’t acting just of his own accord. His magic power was filthy as can be, disgustingly dark and twisted, and certainly not human. That little struggle at the end? His soul was being pulled into some sort of dark abyss by some malevolent force. Chances are a demon was using him, and I have a feeling that it wasn’t just a coincidence that he attacked a village next to me.”
“That does seem awfully convenient,” the king muttered. “Weird dungeon out on the edge of the kingdom, hard to reach, being the only potential place where we could defend… Klax was an intelligent man. If he’d had time to prepare accordingly, he might have hatched a far better plan of attack. If he had been able to sustain that power for a long period of time and gather more forces, surrounding an entire village would have been easy. Then survival would be questionable at best.”
Snorting again, Smit waved away the thought. “Whatever the case may be, I can guarantee that there will be more creatures coming after me. Matter of fact, the problem is that despite our interference at the end, that wretched soul got away. Even now I feel the trail of dark power it left behind, accumulating not too far from here. I can’t imagine that’s a good thing.”
“Preposterous. How is a single soul going to create such a large surge of power?” the king asked.
“How should I know? Maybe there was only one soul sacrificed beforehand? Maybe he used some mysterious hoodoo. Whatever, ritual magic is not my forte, and you will be able to confirm it once you are outside anyway. More to the point, your kingdom, and every other kingdom near me, are going to be the next targets if I fall. Now imagine what would happen if, oh I don’t know, a demon took control of me. You’ve seen the speed at which I can grow. How quickly I can change. Now imagine a demon in control of all that.”
The king closed his eyes and thought. He imagined the situation. A demon comparable to the one that had been capable of granting Klax the power to change creatures at will. With the number of forces that Smit could create, the number of monstrosities that could be produced would be a nightmare. Worse, if the demon was strong enough and could grant these creations the ability to walk beyond the dungeon, it would be a national level threat at minimum.
Frowning, the king gripped the handle of his sword tightly. He took a moment to consider the best course of action. Noticing this, Smit clicked his tongue, grabbing his attention. “Don’t be getting any fun ideas with that sword of yours. While destroying me might be the easy answer, whatever the death of the sorcerer triggered is already trying to surface. It’s not just demons that have their eyes on me. If you go out of your way to destroy me, you can bet that those who wanted to get their hands on me are going to get a mite upset with you… and your country.”
Narrowing his eyes, the king stared at Smit carefully, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment of thought, he finally spoke. “And how do you know that? Maybe cutting you to ribbons would end this disaster before it starts.”
“Perhaps,” Smit allowed, causing everyone in the room to blink in surprise. “But I am sure there is no such thing as a ‘merciful demon’ in reality, is there? Especially since it certainly knows who you are now. Hell, you became an enemy the second you didn’t roll over and die for its minion, so what makes you think killing me would put you in its good graces? It already made its move, and we both need allies now. We both have families to return to, so what’s it going to be?”
Smit let the threat hang right there, allowing his words to sink in for a few seconds before he continued. “Now, let me just say this. If one demon already knows that I exist, why not more? Why not the gods, too? I am sure you know some of the new gods are fickle beings, whimsical and more than happy to charge headfirst into whatever suits their fancy. If someone like, say, the god of undeath happened to know about me—”
“Enough!” the king barked, his shoulders shuddering at the idea of a multitude of overpowering beings charging through his kingdom towards the dungeon. Klax alone was dangerous enough and could easily be classified as an A ranked threat. Something on the level of gods and demons would surely tear his country apart. “What do you suggest we do then? Everything is hopeless if the gods themselves come down for you!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Smit retorted, talking down to him as if he were a child. “What’s wrong with your head? Think for a moment! Gods and devils seldom ever appear in this world. Most likely, they all have their own sets of little rules that keep them back in their own realms. That’s why they often use heroes or avatars, or even form contracts with mortals like Klax to achieve their goals.”
“What rules?” the king asked after biting back his initial retort. As much as he wanted to rage at the dungeon for treating him like a child, he recognized the wisdom in its words. More than that… It was a dungeon. The fact it could converse was amazing enough, but it could hardly be expected to have any manners.
“Do I look like a god to you?” Smit retorted, sounding clearly annoyed. “Listen here, if I knew their rules I would probably have already sorted out a way to avoid any of this nonsense, and even if I knew, why on earth would I tell you? Here is what I do know, however. Even if they don’t come to deal with me directly, there are going to be many servants making trips through your country to take me down, and I bet you that most of them are not going to care at all about how much damage they cause along the way until they get what they want.”
Remaining silent, the king stared down Echo’s figure, but not really seeing her. His eyes were fixed on the domino mask itself, trying to stare through it to the being that was actually conversing with him at the moment. The dungeon was making a very compelling, albeit bleak scenario for the king. It ranged from causing political and societal unrest to a full-blown miniature doomsday scenario for his country.
“So what do you propose we do?” the king finally sighed as he felt his shoulders deflate. He felt so very tired all of a sudden.
“The only thing we can do,” Smit snorted. “We make an alliance where we both benefit and fight them bastards back just like we did with Klax.”
“An alliance? With a dungeon?”
“No you moron, with a tree,” Smit said dryly, before crossing his arms, which Echo mirrored, looking a bit awkward thanks to the lack of an entire forearm. “Yes, an alliance with me. Now, focus. You don’t want all sorts of beasties running roughshod in your kingdom, I don’t want to be controlled, and neither of us wants to see me turned into a mass production machine that can be used to fuel a war engine. So here is what I propose. Build the entire village into a proper dungeon city as quick as you can. Get me some protection, some patrols, make sure that this entire area is well guarded. Also get me some rare ores. If you do that, I can focus on growing and becoming stronger so I can resist any attacks.
In return, I’ll try to make special areas in my dungeons where you and your people can train and gather resources more safely. I’ll adjust the production rates of my creatures so that your people can acquire battle experience and gain strength. Moreover, my specialty is creating equipment. You’ve seen how well this girl’s halberd performed, and how much punishment Pala’s spear took before it broke. I can guarantee that as long as your people earn it, you can steadily grow your military strength with me at your side.”
“You are… proposing a fully symbiotic relationship?” the king asked carefully, seeming to be wary of the entire thing. It was awfully tempting though. If it could really develop as rapidly as it claimed, this dungeon could possibly increase his war potential by leaps and bounds.
“Now you are getting it,” Smit grinned. “Like it or not, we are in this together now. Either we rise together, or together we fall.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leaving the dungeon, his mind was awhirl with thoughts. The king frowned as he contemplated the situation he suddenly found himself in. For better or for worse, the situation had evolved beyond his control, now that external forces that couldn’t be negotiated with through regular means had appeared. Agents from heaven and hell were rarely willing to negotiate, if history was to be trusted. The gods were a fickle and proud bunch, enforcing their will and bending history to their whims. The devils were even worse; far more willing to directly remove anything and anyone from their path, they were more than happy to bring their victims to the deepest pits of despair for daring to so much as utter a word of opposition.
And these two factions were likely not the only ones that would make a bid for the dungeon. As carefully as he had tried to keep the dungeon’s uniqueness quiet, he had no delusions that eventually the word would spread to others. Other kingdoms might certainly be more than willing to wage war for the dungeon, though perhaps not if they knew the impending danger that would follow their ownership of such a place. He had no doubt cults and perhaps even the Mages guild would have vested interest in the dungeon as well. Then again, if prior to today’s events anyone were to have told him that the very gods were seeking to own the dungeon and were willing to take it by force, he would probably have mocked them for their paranoia. It would not be easy to convince others of the dangers associated with the entity.
In truth, just thinking about all the implications was overwhelming. Enough so that for a moment he entertained the thought of abandoning the town of Nam and letting the dungeon fend for itself, rather than deal with the monumental tasks before him. It was a tempting thought, albeit one so naive that it made him chuckle bitterly. He knew almost as soon as the temptation came to him, that doing so was nothing short of folly and potential suicide for his kingdom.
Of course, this was assuming that everything that Smit had told him was the truth, as there was a chance that he was being lied to, or a chance that Smit was misinformed or perhaps even paranoid. Those possibilities were, however, dubious at best in Vas’s opinion. First off, even when the dungeon had aided him in repelling Klax, there was no need for Smit to show himself. Had that happened, Vas might have just walked away counting his lucky stars and merely sent more people to investigate the dungeon, which might have well been the end of it all. In truth, the chance that Vas would have posed a danger to Smit was nearly zero at that point.
Furthermore, if Smit had wanted to prevent any knowledge about him from spreading, he could have easily waited longer before acting, thus possibly annihilating both the invaders and the king and his men once both parties were exhausted. True, that particular course of action might have drawn in many people to investigate the death of the king and his daughters, but if handled right, Smit could have made it out of the situation without any real repercussions. Every single person that was now aware of his sapience was in his dungeon during the fight. Had they all perished, none would suspect how unique he was. It may have been the perfect crime.
Sighing, Vas stroked his beard as he continued his walk to the exit and accepted the fact that there was no need for Smit to lie. Something had pushed Smit, a highly intelligent and self-aware dungeon that was capable of creating B rank monsters, to seek out the help of Vas.
What about paranoia? Or misinformation? He thought to himself with a frown. Those were far trickier, as he had nothing to clue him in on that. Just only one brief meeting and no idea how a dungeon was supposed to behave and what his mannerisms meant. Metaphorically speaking, he might as well be set adrift in the middle of the ocean without land in sight. On the other hand, Smit’s words did make sense, given the evidence.
Smit was unique in myriad ways, and Vas had no doubt that Smit was a veritable dungeon powerhouse in the making. Boasting incredible growth speed, tremendously diverse floors (for a dungeon that to his knowledge had not even reached 10 floors, at least), superb intelligence, mysterious abilities, and unique self-awareness, it was hard to believe that Smit was anything less than a one-of-a-kind existence with likely near infinite potential.
Hell, by now Vas was absolutely convinced that Smit was far beyond the heroic or mythic tier dungeons. He had the potential to be unmatched, a dungeon in a league of its own. That was a very serious conclusion to reach for someone such as himself.
Given what was known about Smit, even if he ended up being simply paranoid, his paranoia was warranted in Vas’s opinion. As things stood, he was lucky that Smit had reached out to him. To proceed from here, however, he would have to tread carefully. He would have to confer with Alester and Ikfes, and of course, his beloved wife.
“Your Majesty!” Ikfes called out to him as he exited the dungeon, grinning through the film of dust and grime that covered his face. “Finally you emerge. I was starting to wonder if you had decided to take a tour of the carvings in the dungeon. Quick, come look at this.”
The king looked tiredly at Ikfes, allowing himself to look in the direction the guild master was pointing. “Look! The monk says those clouds are unnatural and fueled by dark energy.”
Ikfes was pointing at a group of dark, spiraling clouds in the distance, purple lightning zapping the ground beneath them every now and then. As the king watched, they seemed to strike the same place over and over again. Vas’s face tightened, and his fingers coiled into a fist. Indeed, while the swirling mass of clouds was not exactly right beside the village, the fact that they could be seen at all was a cause for concern. This had to be the place that the dungeon spoke of.
