Luca DR
patreon
The infinity dungeon 112
🕑 Added 2024-11-03 14:10:16 +0000 UTCChapter 112
The silence of the keep beneath the mountain was deafening. Michael had been here a few times already, in previous loops and iterations of the floor, yet the effect was not lessened by his prior experiences.
“We left in search of better mountains,” Trylfir grumbled. The dwarf was talking with Stephan who, after realizing how Michael felt about this place, was taking things much more seriously. “Such fools we were,” the dwarf continued. “Better mountains… the cold was the only thing awaiting us outside. Lad, learn from your ancestors; do not commit the same mistakes. Arrogance and greed are the undoing of the great.”
Stephan thought that the lore of the dwarves could contain the answers, or at least hints on how to complete the challenge floor.
“And yet,” Michael argued, joining the conversation as they walked, “you don’t become great without at least some greed, and enough arrogance to believe yourself worthy of greatness.”
The dwarf pondered the question, stroking his beard. The great axe on his back clinked against his armor, as did the axes and hammers of many others. But even though the whole caravan was making sounds, the halls were so vast and silent that they felt utterly empty.
“Then, lad,” the dwarf said gravely, “maybe greatness is a sin. It lures you into ruin. I, and we all, are sorry you will be dragged alongside us to doom. The encroaching cold knows no friend from foe, and will kill us all equally.”
Behind them, the frozen stones seemed to dim. The cold deepened, and booming sounds reverberated through the massive, empty corridors as the ice cracked and the stones were affected by changes in temperature. A faint, eerie blue light filtered down from the ceiling, and with every boom of the groaning and expanding rock and ice, a peppering of dust and snow fell.
“All that’s left of us,” Trylfir said solemnly, “is a miserable tribe, fleeing back to our ancient home we left so long ago. Arrogant, once again, to even hope that the forges will light up for us after so long. No longer are we worthy, yet we try nonetheless.”
They came upon a large intersection, where the tunnels led deeper into the mountain. From here on, only darkness awaited. Looking around, they saw many stone tables and chairs carved from the rock itself, overlooked by a balcony of decayed wood and frozen stone. A tavern, with great fireplaces that spread no warmth anymore, that was once the beating heart of this section of the halls and now was nothing more than a resting spot for the caravan.
As the dwarves brought out frozen, dried food, Michael approached the central fireplace. He noticed indentations and canals—grooves in the stone—leading down and to the sides, then up the walls. Struck by an idea, he held his hands above the fireplace and willed the elemental Fire within his aura to surge upwards and outwards, spilling into the container.
His hunch proved correct. The elemental Fire flowed like a liquid along the canals in the stone. It roared in the central fireplace at first, casting an orange light that mingled with the deep azure of the ice, creating a breathtaking sight. Then, the Fire flowed down the grooves and, strangely, up the walls, reaching other hidden fireplaces and torches, creating more orange light sources and spreading warmth that banished the sharp cold of the stale, immobile, dusty air.
They were in a bubble of warmth surrounded by hostile cold. Angered, the cold surged and pushed against the edges of the warm bubble, making it shrink under its pressure. Yet, it held, for now.
Trylfir had run to Michael as soon as the first drops of Fire had begun to leave his hands. Stephan was there too, but hadn’t given it much thought at first. Having started to master Air himself, he didn’t think manipulating Fire was much of a feat. And indeed, to both his and Michael’s eyes, it wasn’t. But to the dwarves…
“Impossible…” Trylfir gasped, having waited until Michael was done to speak, for fear his words would break the spell. “The Fire… we thought it had been lost to the great mills of Time. Only Earth was left for us to use, but it offered no warmth. Now… perhaps there is hope for us all. To see the mighty flames return to the vast emptiness of these halls…” He looked up, respect in his eyes. “Lad, you might be our only hope. We came here, thinking it was our doom, full of arrogance and vain hopes. Yet, it seems maybe not all is lost. The forges, empty save for dust and forgotten bones… please tell me you can set them ablaze anew, for this is the only hope for dwarfkind.”
“I can try,” Michael responded.
“That is all we ask of you,” the dwarf nodded. “But first,” Trylfir declared, “we feast! Come, let us eat and drink for the hope rekindled!”
Michael was suddenly the center of a very festive group of dwarves, who were much more numerous than he had thought. Stephan nodded, satisfied and proud. For a moment, Michael felt truly at the center of an adventure, right where he wanted to be with his friend and sensei.
The Truth facet was ringing, but he ignored it, knowing already what it had to say and still deciding to enjoy the festivities and music. Only many hours later was the party over. Michael had drunk Trylfir and many other dwarves under the table before he even felt the buzz of the beer, and it was pleasant to discover another drink besides Fae wine that could affect him.
He sipped on it now, with most of the dwarves asleep, pretending it was whiskey even though the liquor barely tasted strong enough.
Stephan sat beside him, sipping his own beer. “It’s like a heavy weight has been lifted from you. I can see it.”
Michael hummed. “There’s always something to learn, isn’t there? Today you showed me that I should relax more, sometimes. I am powerful enough to do so.”
Stephan nodded. “Glad I could help.”
Later, while the dwarves and Stephan slept, Michael wandered through the empty halls alone. The darkness of the deeper tunnels didn’t bother him, even after the outside light became too faint to help, even with his enhanced stats and senses. He sensed things around him through sound, humming at the right frequency, and by using magic sense. The former was only possible here, where there were no distractions or other sounds, while the latter was also only possible where there were currents of magic he could see. In this case, the encroaching Ice outlined the tunnel's walls, floor, and ceiling in sharp, bright azure light.
Perhaps it wasn’t even Ice. His Ice was different, not just because he hadn’t integrated it with his aura. The element he saw here was similar, yet deeper and more potent. If his Ice was a glacier, this was the fathomless, frozen depths of the arctic ocean: dark, unstoppable, unfathomable. Frost, maybe, or perhaps Cold itself. The Elements were strange like that, with many variations of the same thing occurring simultaneously. Like Water, which could also be Wetness or Mist or a mix of a billion other things, Ice was also Cold and Frost and Stillness and many alien and strange things.
Deep in the heart of the underground kingdom, for it could be classified as nothing less than a kingdom—huge and empty, ancient and majestic—he found the forges. He was utterly alone, and so he spent some time studying them, to see what could be learned from them.
He had ignored his mind statistics for a long time, he mused as he studied the intricate designs and clever machines of dwarven ingenuity, of a society that didn't know of factories or electronics, yet seemed to have figured out automation and steam power by harnessing the Elements themselves. Not a shred of mana lined the walls and machines, but they were rich in all Elements, a sign of what the dwarves were racially predisposed to.
Indeed, Michael thought, consciously pushing magic from his Skill Sanctum to his brain to enhance his deductive capabilities and memory, Elemental attacks were all the dwarves seemed capable of in the many times they’d attacked him and Drullkrin in previous runs. Not just Earth as Trylfir had said, but a myriad of elements from which, sadly, Fire was absent.
Humans, on the other hand, were competent in both Mana and the Elements, although less so in the latter than the dwarves. Examples of Qi control were still rare, but Michael was fairly sure Qi was much harder for humans to manipulate than Mana, though not impossible like it seemed to be for the dwarves, none of which was even close to Silver rank.
Even he was having problems with it, although he had been shown time and time again how different he was from the average human. He was also the only one of his kind that he knew could use Intent, but he was fairly confident that no more than one in ten people who could control Qi could then move on to Intent.
Among the Operators and the men within Unity—all the people he had data about—everyone could control either Mana, the Elements, or Chi and Jing. Which meant that almost everyone could reach Copper-rank eventually. From there, only one in ten could control Qi well enough to reach Silver without external help.
Then, things became pure speculation, since Michael was the highest-ranked person he knew of and was barely low-Silver himself. However, using the Truth facet of [Unity] like a divining rod, the facet sending signals whenever he strayed too far from the Truth, he was getting a decent idea of the road ahead.
[Unity] was a legendary skill. By no means infallible, but potentially much more powerful than Michael could grasp. And while the skill confirmed there was no singular road to power, there seemed to be steps.
“Michael?” Stephan’s voice shook him out of his musings. “It’s time.”
Ah, so he had spent the whole time musing and had found his way back to the tavern while distracted.
“No pressure, lad,” Trylfir said, mistaking his expression for worry, “but I won’t lie just so you might feel better. The future of us all lies on your shoulders.”
For a moment, Michael frowned. The dwarf might believe it to be true, but Michael knew better. He could try again and again until he finally succeeded. Yet, even though he had thought such a realization would make the Truth facet stop screaming at him, the ringing did not stop.
