by Dakota Krout
“Perhaps another Bob would be willing to help you, Great Spirit,” Navigation Bob spoke through a clenched jaw as he used his whole body to shift a section of the Runescripting that was keeping us afloat.
I didn’t reply, instead going to another Bob and asking. His response made me groan. “Why not try and contact her directly, Great Spirit?”
Because I forgot to do it, that’s why. It hadn’t really been a ‘thing’ I was used to doing because the last times I had attempted to do so, Minya had been in an area that was designed to interrupt our communication. I reached for our bond and sent my thoughts along it.
I waited a few moments, but there was no answer. Was she still in the dungeon? Was it blocking her attempts to communicate? I knew that I could do that and had in the past, but if it was something all dungeons could do, I needed to find a new method of communication. Actually, no, this should be the last dungeon we need to destroy for a long time. I glanced at the map of ley lines and found that the expanding lines had almost finished circling the entire globe. It had taken some convincing for me to believe that the world was a sphere, but the Bobs assured me that they could look out and see the world curving. I was still confused about how things stayed on the surface on the other side of the planet, but I saw strange things all the time.
I felt a shudder, then a thump, and then the entire mountain vibrated as it came to a stop. People and creatures stumbled as our momentum abruptly shifted, but I was pretty pleased with the final result. We had decided that hovering and gently lowering was a bad idea, as the mountain’s momentum would need to go somewhere and might rebound on us even if we were moving very slowly. We had come down at a slight angle and let the ground get scraped up instead. As far as I could tell, it had been a success.
Navigation Bob did good work. I created a cookie for him and shifted all the power I had been using for flight back into myself. I was lifted out of my puddle - which splattered everywhere - as the Essence accumulated so rapidly that it overflowed onto the floor as liquid Essence. Luckily, I was just heavy enough to remain in my area; it would have been embarrassing to need to find a way back in. I hadn’t moved my Core directly for a long time!
Converting the accumulating Essence into what I needed was easier than ever with such an overabundance. I returned the liquid power to its gaseous form and sent it through a pipeline that connected directly to the third floor. It was time to get my Goblins back! Luckily, there were very few people in the dungeon; most had gone to watch Mountaindale settle onto the ground. If a cultivator had been on the third floor right now, it would have been a dream come true in terms of easy cultivation. At least until I sent Snowball and the Hopsecutioners after them. Heh. If I ever start a band, that would be the name of it.
I twisted the Essence and, similar to the first time I had created this floor, the ground began to sprout stone. I remade the fortifications, the pathways, the plants, and even the Goblin hot spring baths. I then went to each spawning area and poured enough Essence into them to make a dozen Goblins at every fortification. Still, I wasn’t even using enough Essence to keep up with the flow of power coming into my area.
I now had a moat of liquid Essence around the small hill that contained my Core, and the only reason it wasn’t going further was the Runescripts. The liquid would get to the edge and stop, flowing higher as more flooded the area. If I didn’t find a use for this Essence, I would soon have a pillar of liquid that reached the ceiling. Actually, that might be fun to see. I considered letting the Essence build up, but I decided that I may as well use it while I could.
After informing Mind Bob about all the bodies awaiting memories, he hurried to the floor with a happy smile. I guess being around only yourself all day could be a little annoying for other people. Being around myself was a delight for anyone who had the chance. Essence began to build higher, and I started to get nervous. Should I just work on absorbing it all? Convert it to influence and expand my control of the area? Feed it into the gigantic ritual that I was using to create the ley lines, thereby forming a feedback loop that would net me even more Essence?
That one. Yeah, I liked that last one. I opened a channel for the liquid and controlled its movement. I liberally poured power into the Cores powering the ritual, filling them to capacity. Then I empowered the Runescript directly and connected the channel of Essence to them. The liquid Essence could be used directly, and the Cores would add power again after I removed the alternate power source.
That should do it! My attention returned to my Core, and I frowned. That hardly dented the Essence accumulation. Celestial feces it took a ton of Essence to fly. I knew it was a lot, but… this was… wow. I made a pillar from ground level to almost be even with the hole I resided in under the Silverwood tree. Where else could I store this? I checked my reservoir through the small emergency portal that I kept, but even that was now full. Maybe I should make big tanks or barrels of Essence or something. Put it in flasks and see how many people drink it and explode? …That could be fun.
“Yeth,” he lisped, nodding very gently.
“Yeth ta aide, yeth th’ gooth.” He closed his eyes again; although, through the swelling, you could barely see that they were open in the first place.
“Againth ta ruleth.” Instead of drinking the now-full vial as I had expected, Dale covered the opening with his palm and began pulling it in through his meridians. Dang, he was smarter than I thought he was. I guess he did keep some of my characteristics. “Thith helpth. Thankth.”
I wanted to say something, but he looked so abused right now that I figured I would be better served working with the overflowing Essence again. I placed a few small vials in chests on the first and second levels with just enough Essence in them to pop anyone below the C-ranks. I wanted to see who had more ambition than brains. This should be funny!
Next… hmm… I guess expanding influence? I went back to my Core, morbidly curious about how high the liquid had expanded. To my confusion, relief, and confusion again, the liquid had not gone past the base of the Silverwood tree. I could see the Essence pouring in and welling up, but it seemed to be vanishing after that. I had a stable amount of Essence and no more. Could it be that the… yup! The tree was taking it all in. I was impressed, awed, and a little jealous over its apparently endless capacity. There were no outward signs, and there was no overpowering aura coming from it; the tree was just… thirsty.
Not my problem, I guess. I connected to the veritable pool of Essence and began converting it into influence. I packed the influence into the ground and began expanding my body. If I hurried, I might be able to claim the entire Skyland as dungeon. If I really pushed, I might be able to take some of the surrounding countryside with me as well.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Dale sighed in relief as he sat in closed cultivation. This wasn’t an extra-special process; it merely meant that he was in a locked room that held high Essence concentrations. The point of this setup was intended to be used to avoid interruptions while seeking enlightenment, but it wa
s frequently used as a way to avoid people and decompress from stress. In Dale’s case, he was using it for both reasons.
His team had requested a day off, which he agreed to as he was a member, not a dictator. Beyond that, he really didn’t want anyone to see him right now. He was beat beyond recognition, had lost his Nobility, and had somehow gone from a champion of the people to a laughing stock overnight. Tom had even attacked him initially when he came back, which was why he was so happy to agree to a break. Tom had thought the bloated and malformed infected had returned to the dungeon, and only Adam’s hasty intervention had saved him from a full-power Warhammer smash.
Forcing himself not to roll his eyes at the memory - moving at all hurt - Dale looked around the small stone room he was in and gulped. Some water would be nice, but this was a ‘breakthrough’ room, designed as a sensory deprivation chamber for those that were close to ranking up and simply needed to clear their minds and let ideas come to them. Dale was using it as an escape as well as a hiding place. Who bothered those who were getting close to a breakthrough? He glanced at the mostly full jug of pure Essence in front of him. “Bethides the dungeon, I gueth.”
His eyes closed once more, and he began directing the new Essence into his body while making new connections for his external aura. Without needing to constantly stop and restart after cultivating, he was building his aura at record-breaking speed. It was still tedious and time-intensive, but this liquid Essence jug held more Essence than he could gain from two dozen Snowball Cores. He closed his eyes and returned his mind to his aura. Loop. Twist. Loop…
At some point, Dale ran out of available Essence. He knew that he had, but he was in a trance of working. Building his aura had become rote, automatic and necessary for his mind. Darkness began to close in on him, and as his thoughts fell into tunnel-vision, a light appeared and began to peel away at the fringes of the encroaching void.
“Tut, tut, boy.” The voice was familiar… Artorian? “Even if you are only my disciple in name, I can’t have you dying from self-inflicted Essence withdrawal. Let’s stop that working on the aura and get you to bed. How does that sound?”
“Thoudth good…” Dale muttered around his swollen lips.
“Those are some impressive bruises. Not healed, hmm? I bet your combat teacher is trying to teach you to ‘fight through the pain’ or some nonsense.” Artorian swept Dale up and put him over his shoulder. “Bah. As if you wouldn’t seek healing in some form or another during a battle.”
A gentle warmth filled Dale as Artorian started to glow. “Sunlight helps everything, a least a little. Except for the undead. Melts them like butter.” He chuckled once more, and that was all Dale remembered.
He awoke with a start, looking around in confusion. He was laying on a bed made of pillows, and when he tossed off his blanket, it turned out that he was covered in pillows as well. The ‘blanket’ he had tried to remove went sailing into the wall and exploded in a puff of feathers. Moving more carefully, Dale managed to crawl out of the pillow pit and get onto firm ground. “So much floof! I’m surprised he isn’t a pillow Mage or something. Actually, that title seems a little… indecent.”
He felt at the bruises on his face, but they had fully healed or were at least no longer painful and swollen. Dale wanted to find Artorian and thank him, but the man had apparently gone to do other things and was nowhere to be seen. Next… Dale felt entirely drained. His Essence was flickering, having barely restored itself from ambient Essence while he slept.
He sat down and began to pull in Essence, feeling relief wash through him as his starved body greedily ate the power. As his Essence started to increase rapidly, he felt his aura and was shocked. There were tens of thousands of miniscule connections that surrounded his body, over a hundred times what he had in place the day before. He continued to pull in Essence, pausing when a thought struck him. His cultivation was so slow, and there was someone he could blame for that.
“Cal,” Dale firmly announced to the room. When there was no response, he glared and added a touch of Essence to his voice. “Cal.”
There was a tiny fluctuation in the ambient Essence, and Dale instantly looked toward it.
“What are you talking about?” Dale’s tired voice echoed in the room.
Dale took a deep breath. “Look, Cal. I need something from you.”
“I’m serious, Cal. My growth is being impacted because of this.” Dale’s mouth set in a firm line, and he stared unblinkingly at the wall. “A while back, I had gotten a cultivation technique from the Dark Elves, and you ate it. I need it. All I have is the standard Guild technique, and it isn’t really designed for someone like me. I’ve been overpowering it with all my affinities, but it isn’t enough anymore.”
Dale waited for a long minute, not speaking, moving, and barely even breathing. He wouldn’t be the first to talk. If he did, he was sure the dungeon would turn this into a joke and run off. When the next words entered his mind, Dale’s heart leapt into his throat.
Dale actually hesitated. Did he really want this to be the final favor he would ask for? Should he… no. He needed this. “I agree, Cal.”
He flinched as the voice inside his head suddenly shouted,
“What the abyss, Cal! I nearly pissed myself!” Dale yelped, an instant headache forming from the mental strain.
Rolling his eyes and remembering the last time he had held a memory stone with this information, Dale pressed it against his forehead immediately. Information flowed into him, settling in place and becoming his own memories, his personal experience. He saw the Elf who had spent over a decade to form the initial stages of this technique and was startled to find that Cal had added in his own changes. Those changes increased the technique’s ability to absorb essence by almost twenty percent, and Dale looked up with shining eyes.
“Thank you, Cal.” Dale’s voice was thick with emotion.
Dale waited to see if anything else would be added, but the fluctuation vanished and he knew he was alone once more. Remembering the details of the cultivation technique, he gulped nervously. Altering a cultivation technique was dangerous under normal conditions, and his had been put in place and sealed by Father Richard. Using this one would undo that seal, changing not only his fractal chi patterns but also the very essence of how he drew in the energy. A wry smile appeared on his face; that had almost been a pun.
Looking around the empty room, he decided that this was as good a place to practice as any other. He knew he could put the technique in place; he ‘remembered’ doing it properly and what was needed to make it happen. He also knew how painful this was going to be. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that at the end of this process, he would feel great. Dale turned his mind to his Center, his Core. With a thought… his chi spiral began unwinding
. The fractal patterns reverted to unbound Essence, and the loose Essence threatened to swell out of control and explode outward if he didn’t find a way to control himself. Dale gagged as his body screamed that it was dying since he could no longer draw in the energy of the heavens and the earth. He growled under his breath, “I’m fine!”
The body could survive for years without external Essence. It was just… unpleasant. Dale began weaving his Essence into threads, holding each string in place through force of will alone. For some reason, the experience transformed into a feeling like he was in a smithy heating metal. As each ‘ingot’ of Essence became ‘hot’ and malleable, he had to grasp it with his fingers and pull the near-liquid substance into a thin wire. It was a confusing sensation, as he had never spent time in a forge. Nonetheless, he continued to pull the cord and shape it into a complex configuration, a beautiful piece of elaborate jewelry that formed in his Core.
When he finished an unknown amount of time later, Dale smiled in satisfaction at his Masterwork. He was just handing the intricate jewelry to the King of… as the strange vision faded, Dale blinked, finding himself back in the Headmaster’s quarters. It was night, but as he stood, a voice called out to him, “So, m’boy, it seems that you felt that you couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, hmm?”
Dale turned and smiled at the hedonistic posture Artorian had taken. He was lying on a mound of pillows with a plate of fruit and a glass of wine, smoking from his hookah. A robe, possibly silk, was wrapped around him. Dale rolled his eyes at the excess, thinking that perhaps they had initially agreed to a salary which was far too high. “No, Headmaster, I was having a… breakthrough of sorts.”
“Hmm. When I first came in, I honestly thought you had died sitting on my favorite pillows, and I would have hated to throw those out. No chi spiral usually means dead or crippled cultivator. Now though, well! You seem to be getting healthier by the second.” It was true. Even the passive absorption of Essence with this technique outstripped Dale’s previous by leaps and bounds. He could barely wait to see what the active cultivation looked like.