Vortena

by Neven Iliev

  “By the way, exactly why are you hitting that dungeon core over and over again?”

  “‘Cause the boss said so,” Kora said, simply.

  The Mimic had told Arms to resume her assault on the core, as their earlier conversation had determined that the dungeon did not belong to its benefactor. As for the lich, it seemed that she had nothing better to do than quietly fawn over Boxxy.

  “But I thought we were trying to take it, not break it?” Fizzy argued.

  “Nah, it’ll take a lot more than a few love taps to break one of these babies,” Kora explained, positioning herself for another run-up. “All I’m gonna do is knock it loose.”

  “What, with brute force? I don’t mean to disrespect Boxxy’s, uh, wisdom, but I doubt violence is the answer here.”

  “Of course it is,” the fiend declared. “I just haven’t used enough of it yet!”

  She leapt upwards to deal one more flying kick to the shimmering orb. The last attempt did the trick, and the pale blue ball went flying into the wall of the room. The fiend landed on her feet, struck a triumphant multi-armed pose and smiled proudly at the dumbstruck gnome.

  “See?! Works like a charm!”

  “Charms are actually horribly unreliable, you know.”

  Kora responded to Xera’s attempts to curb her enthusiasm by giving her the finger. Well, fingers, technically. Five of them, to be precise, all wrapped up nicely in a knuckle sandwich. As for Fizzy, she was left staring in stunned silence at the dislodged crystal core.

  “… Well. That just happened,” she admitted after a few moments. “What now?”

  “Now,” Boxxy butted in, “we roll it down the stairs and bring it outside the dungeon as fast as possible.”

  “Is… Is there a reason why we need to rush?”

  “Yes.”

  The Paladin took a deep breath and prepared to ask the next question despite knowing full well that she would likely regret it.

  “And what would that reason be?”

  “It might explode and kill us if we don’t hurry.”

  Fizzy had guessed right.

  She did indeed regret her question.

  Immensely.

  Part Eight

  The Mimic’s party commenced their escape by pushing the dungeon core down the stairs and following after it. While it was true that Kora could have easily carried it, there didn’t seem to be much point when gravity was more than happy to help out. It was also preferable to conserve stamina whenever possible. If past experiences were any indication, the group would most likely be attacked by a legion of golems once they made their way out of the Spire.

  However, it soon became apparent that there was no reason to rush. The dungeon core had done nothing since Kora had knocked it from its magically-affixed spot, showing no signs of overloading or raising an alarm. Nor were there any demands that one of them become the new dungeon master. Did its presumably-divine owner honestly not care that their property was being stolen right out from under their proverbial nose? Or were they simply not spiteful enough to cause widespread destruction like Billy had?

  Whatever the case, Boxxy certainly wasn’t going to complain about the uneventful trip. Even the stone soldiers in the hedge maze left the group alone as they transported the core out of the dungeon. The grace period of reduced hostility meant that they no longer attacked on sight and only fought when provoked. If anything, they seemed to be actively avoiding Boxxy’s group, though eight of them did have to be put down since they’d been in the way. That was ten times less than the number of golems they’d had to battle on the way in.

  All things said and done, the return trip was very nearly restful. There was no mad dash for the exit, no hordes of monsters on their heels and no calamitous forces being thrown at them. Instead, their exit was more akin to a peaceful afternoon stroll through the park. It was also incredibly boring, which didn’t sit particularly well with Kora since she hadn’t quite had her fill of violence for the day. She’d been looking forward to smashing more golems, but even the few enemies they had encountered had been off limits since she was assigned to core-carrier duty. She was frustrated and irritated, which was really her own fault for getting her hopes up.

  “The first dungeon run was a lot more fun,” the fiend grumbled unhappily.

  “S-So I take it the core won’t suddenly explode and kill us, right?” Fizzy asked, glancing up at the glowing object.

  “Don’t seem like it. It’s not getting bigger or flashing or anything, so I think we’re in the clear on that.”

  “Oh, thank Bob,” the gnome exclaimed in relief. “I don’t think I can outrun a C-C-Calamity.”

  “That’s a shame,” Valeria pouted. “All that death and destruction sounded incredibly romantic! I so wanted to witness my darling’s glorious fireworks firsthand!”

  “Gonna witness my fist up your ass if you don’t knock that shit off already,” the fiend growled.

  “R-really?! Nooo, don’t tempt me like that! I couldn’t bear to cheat on my darling Boxxy!”

  “Uuuugh…”

  They chatted back and forth as they made their leisurely way out of the hedge maze. They walked for a dozen or so metres until they had crossed the invisible border of the dungeon’s territory, causing a series of notifications to pop up.

  [You have left the Spire of the Jade King.]

  [Feat of strength performed! All Attributes +10.]

  “Wuh- Grand Theft Arcana? Plus ten to all Attributes?! That’s insane!”

  “My, what a wonderful gift! Thank you ever so much, darling!”

  It would appear that Fizzy and Valeria had also gotten the Perk and the associated Attribute boost, just as Boxxy had anticipated. The Mimic checked on its familiars, but it didn’t seem as though either of them had received anything, which was also expected. Which wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t benefit from the theft. The sizable boost to Boxxy’s INT Attribute meant that it could pour more power into their conjured bodies upon their next summoning. It wasn’t as tasty as +10 across the board, but it was certainly better than nothing.

  [You are now the owner of dungeon core PT-5484-BM.]

  [All functions of dungeon core PT-5484-BM are currently unavailable.]

  [Please establish a dungeon to unlock them.]

  And there was the other set of notifications the Mimic had been waiting for, thankfully without the caveat that its newly-acquired core was going into meltdown. It seemed that either Willie had decided to allow Boxxy to run free with the crystal, or it belonged to someone who was less of a sore loser. Come to think of it, the dungeon core blowing up may have been the exception rather than the rule. It was entirely possible that Boxxy had been mistaken, and their easy exit was actually typical of core heists. Though, technically speaking, anyone who would actively look for dungeon cores to steal was already well beyond the boundaries of what could be considered ‘typical.’

  But no matter. The important thing was that the monster was now in possession of its very own dungeon core.

  “Uh, B-Boxxy?” stammered Fizzy. “What’s going on with the Spire?!”

  The Mimic turned its attention back towards the black tower. It had begun to sway back and forth, shaking violently as sizable pieces crumbled from its walls. A few seconds later, it collapsed in on itself like a house of cards. The large obsidian chunks hit the ground hard, kicking up huge clouds of dust and debris. It was no Calamity, but nonetheless it was quite the spectacle of destruction nonetheless.

  “Huh,” Kora grunted. “How come that thing suddenly fell over on its own?”

  “Could be structural weakness or something? We did mess it up quite a bit on the way down.”

  Fizzy was referring to the multiple cracks and dents the dungeon core had made as it bounced haphazardly down the stairs. Which was quite odd considering that it wasn’t nearly heavy enough to damage a material that solid. As odd as it seemed, it was almost as though the core was the Bane to its own dungeon. The Artificer part of her gnomis
h mind wanted to study the interaction more in-depth, but she assumed Boxxy would be wholly unwilling to delay their exit just to satisfy her curiosity.

  Valeria, however, had a much less… scientific explanation.

  “Isn’t the Spire simply bowing down to my darling’s greatness?”

  “No, you airheaded fuckslut!”

  The lich’s inane prattle caused Xera to snap at her. As if something that stupid could possibly be the reason. At least Fizzy’s theory made a certain amount of sense, even if it was wrong.

  “It’s because we took that,” she pointed at the core. “The absence of its controlling unit destabilised the spatial distortion keeping the Spire in place, causing it to unravel and leading to a cascading failure as the enchanted medium broke apart under the strain of… You guys aren’t getting any of this, are you?”

  “Nope!” Kora answered proudly.

  “The space was warped?” the lich frowned dumbly.

  “S-sorry, Snack. I don’t really get that muh- magic stuff…” Fizzy mumbled in apology.

  “Are mediums tasty?” Boxxy inquired curiously.

  The succubus sighed in exasperation. She had momentarily forgotten she was, in fact, surrounded by idiots. This was why she normally suppressed the urge to show off her knowledge of magical theory. Granted, it wasn’t as though she had gone out of her way to study the intricacies of the arcane arts, but one tended to pick up a few things here and there after centuries of throwing mystic flames at people. As none of the others had her experience, she did her best to dumb it down, at least as much as possible.

  “Look, it’s really simple. No core means no mana, no mana means no magic, and no magic means no magic tower.”

  It was extremely patronising as far as gross oversimplification went, but it seemed to satisfy the others.

  “So… are mediums tasty?”

  All except one.

  “… No, Master. Mediums are not particularly tasty.”

  “Oh.”

  Boxxy rapidly lost interest, instead turning its attention to its newest acquisition, which was still as inert as ever. If it wasn’t going to explode then the Mimic needed to discover how it could be used for its own benefit. Which was going to be a problem since it had no idea how to establish a dungeon, though it certainly wasn’t planning on doing that anytime soon. Settling down within that man’s territory just seemed like a terrible idea. On the bright side, getting started was as simple as chanting two words.

  “Dungeon Management.”

  [Dungeon Management]

  [Core ID # PT-5484-BM]

  Dormant

  Owned by Boxxy T. Morningwood

  92% Integrity

  9,153/20,000 MP (-1.6/sec)

  [Basic Functions]

  Dungeon Expansion – Ready

  Item Allocation – N/A

  Mana Collection – N/A

  Monster Spawner – N/A

  Surveillance Net – N/A

  [Advanced Features]

  Guardian Assignment – N/A

  Nexus Access – N/A

  Prison Management – N/A

  Terrain Sculpting – N/A

  Trap Construction – N/A

  A list of mostly-disabled functions and features filled its consciousness. Many were fairly obvious as to their purpose, while others were decidedly less so. As for the status of the core itself, it appeared to be… damaged? That was unexpected, but made sense in retrospect. The core had been within the blast radius of the Spell Crystals that had annihilated the Jade King, not to mention the rough manner with which the Mimic and its minions had been handling it. Anything would be busted up after so much abuse.

  And yet, its Integrity had only been reduced by eight percent. Even if it wasn’t as indestructible as Boxxy had initially assumed, it would obviously take some serious effort to actually break the thing. Which was a very good thing to know if Boxxy wished to repeat the feat.

  However, the dungeon core was apparently also leaking mana, even though there were no visible cracks in its smooth surface. Whether this was due to damage or because Mana Collection was currently inactive was impossible to say, but at this rate all of its stored MP would be gone in a matter of hours. While Boxxy would have liked to keep the core’s charge, it simply wasn’t an option, so it dismissed the problem with a simple ‘can’t be helped’ and left it alone for the moment.

  It moved on to its next item of interest – the cursed shield-gauntlet. Now that they were safely outside the dungeon, the Mimic wanted to observe what effects the tainted piece of armour actually possessed. Not on itself, of course. While it wasn’t certain, there was a good chance that, once equipped, the gauntlet would prove to be irremovable, potentially necessitating more drastic measures than it was willing to undergo. It was far more reasonable to force it on a disposable pawn, and, as luck would have it, Boxxy had access to two of those.

  “Snack!”

  “Yes, Master?”

  The Mimic had been planning to have its pet succubus take the cursed glove for a test run, but paused when a sudden realisation struck.

  “Can curses affect your soul?”

  The preservation of its familiars’ immortal souls was its sole responsibility as a Warlock. It had nearly failed once before with the Overlord incident, and it wanted to make absolutely sure that that sort of thing didn’t happen again. Failure to do so could result in the termination of its contracts and/or life, outcomes that it naturally wished to avoid if at all possible.

  “No, Master. A curse is incapable of such a thing, no matter how powerful it is.”

  “Are you sure?” Valeria asked doubtfully. “There are curses said to affect the mind and spirit, in addition to the body.”

  “Hah! Such trifling things have no effect on a demon. Our souls are much more powerful than a regular mortal’s. Only magic that stems from the Beyond or the gods themselves can ever hope to truly harm us.”

  While this was mostly true, there was one exception in the form of weapons bearing the Demonbane curse. They were exceedingly rare, but for all intents and purposes they were also the only means by which a mortal could ever truly destroy a demon. Boxxy’s Demonology Skill had reminded it of this, hence its sudden hesitation. Just because the gauntlet wasn’t technically a weapon, it had no way of knowing whether other curses could have similar effects.

  But apparently that was not the case here. Boxxy opened its Storage and spat the cursed object out, trying its best not to touch the disgusting thing.

  “Snack, put this on.”

  “Understood, Master.”

  The succubus didn’t even bat an eye as she knelt next to the fallen item. She was used to being the resident test subject, so she’d been expecting this to happen. If anything, she was looking forward to the sure-to-be deliciously torturous experience. Not to mention that the gauntlet had genuinely piqued her curiosity.

  “Oof,” she grunted, hefting it off the ground. “Really is heavier than it looks.”

  Xera turned it over in her arms, holding it shakily to slide her slender left hand into the much-too-large opening. The enchanted item must have detected the presence of a limb seeing as how it started changing size. The steel plating let out a grinding noise as it shrunk to a tight fit, molding perfectly to the succubus’s feminine forearm. Even the shield part was partially transformed, adopting a more elegant shape.

  This was undoubtedly the result of the Well-Fitted enchantment, a somewhat generic feature included with most commercially available enchanted equipment. After all, no one would buy an expensive item that didn’t fit right. The downside of this convenient effect was that there was a limit as to how much magic something could hold before breaking apart under the strain. Making room for Well-Fitted meant less capacity for other magical effects, thereby limiting the object’s performance. The alternative was to order gear custom-fitted to the individual, then pay to have it enchanted according to their specifications. The resulting equipment would be significantly more useful than
the generic stuff available on the market, but the process required a serious amount of time and money.

  “Hey bubble-boobs, you feeling okay?”

  The reason Kora had asked was because, though it had been several seconds since the gauntlet had tightened around Xera’s arm, the succubus still had yet to react.

  “Yeah, fine. I just expected this to go down differently.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “It’s fine, Master. It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

  “Are you sure? It’s turning all shiny.”

  Xera raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her gauntleted left arm. The Mimic’s choice of words could occasionally be confusing, but she realised immediately that this time around it was being entirely literal. Her questioning look became a wide-eyed stare as she watched her blue skin flaking off in palm-sized, paper-thin sheets to reveal shiny metallic plates underneath. Her soft flesh was steadily being replaced by cold, hard steel, like an infection crawling its way up her arm. She was genuinely surprised to see that the transformation had already crept halfway up her bicep without her even noticing.

  The others watched silently as the metamorphosis claimed the rest of her arm, beginning to spread across her torso at a significantly higher speed. It enveloped her breasts, collarbone and upper back in mere seconds. Her head, teeth, lips, even her hair and eyes all turned to solid steel in an instant. Her leathery bat-wings weren’t spared, becoming a collection of steel sheets held together by metal rods. By the time her right arm and waist were fully enveloped her legs finally buckled under all the extra weight. She fell to the ground with a dull thud, barely able to move as her hips, legs and ultimately feet became as solid as the rest of her.

  [You have been afflicted by the Curse of the Steelshaper.]

  “So, how is it?”

  “Master, I- Ack!”

  Xera was startled by the sound of her own voice. It sounded oddly tinny, as though she were speaking through a metal tube. Which, now that she thought about what state her throat was in, might have actually been the case.

  “It… wasn’t painful or anything,” she continued, “but my body feels so heavy that I can barely even breathe.”