The Crafter's Dilemma: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 3)

by Jonathan Brooks

  The last Dungeon Monster she acquired access to – the Rising Phoenix – was one that she thought would currently benefit her the most. Unfortunately, it was also the one that caused the most problems for her. The firebird was a lot larger than she had expected; at 12 feet long from wicked-looking beak to the end of its tail feathers and featuring a 25-foot-wide wingspan when fully extended, it was an impressive creature. It was also burning so hot that it melted some of the smaller original constructs she still had wandering around in her Home.

  That wasn’t too bad, however, compared to the nightmare of trying to get it up and out of her dungeon. When the Phoenix didn’t have its wings extended, its body was relatively sleek, so it could fit down the tunnels – if just barely; the problem was getting it through the doorway to the VATS, which she had to redesign the tunnels outside the doors so that it could turn to the side and enter through that way. Then, when it got to the air traps that sent it upwards, the sheer heat from it caused it to rise much faster than normal, where it ended up crashing against the ceiling above the trap. Fortunately it didn’t seem hurt by it, but the stone ceiling required a little repair from the impact.

  It was a good thing that it hadn’t been hurt, because there was no way to heal it with her Repair Drones – they couldn’t get close enough. The heat emanating from the Phoenix was so great, in fact, that it almost caused the Gnomes’ supply wagon to catch fire as it made its way through the workshop and out to the sky above. Once it soared through the open air, Sandra wasn’t sure exactly what it could do other than burn brightly; its special ability gave a hint of what the Phoenix was known for, but without testing it she wasn’t sure how effective it could be.

  Rising Phoenix

  Current Elemental Energy:

  Holy – 7500 energy

  Fire – 7500 energy

  Special Ability:

  Born from the Ashes: 3700 Holy and 3700 Fire

  She didn’t want to risk killing it herself just to test the ability – especially after the effort she went through just to get it out of her dungeon – so she sent it against the Undead that she had a hard time eliminating: the Specters. As the flaming bird screeched through the sky on its way over the forest, she watched it go with some of her other constructs out there; she had to admit that even if it turned out not to be very effective, it was impressive to look at, nonetheless.

  Fortunately, it was just the thing she needed to combat the mist-like Undead that were busy accumulating ambient Mana above the trees. The Rising Phoenix didn’t attack so much as just pass through the insubstantial forms of the Specters, destroying them utterly in seconds. Sandra thought that they didn’t even do any damage to her Monster, but after a few Undead were destroyed, she noticed a significant drop in the intensity of flames that were running all over the Phoenix. After destroying just over 20 Specters, the flames were extinguished completely and the bird fell from the sky, crashing through the trees below and scorching leaves as it passed by.

  Some nearby Rolling Forces finally located it after a minute; she normally would’ve kept watching through the Phoenix’s senses, but as soon as it fell she lost all contact with it. When they finally “rolled” up on the crash site, she saw what appeared to be a tiny, baby Phoenix bird waddling around the ashes of its former self. The firebird appeared completely helpless and didn’t even have any flames around it, though the ashes that would flare up a little as it hopped around showed that it still generated a bit of heat.

  It was only after 10 minutes of watching the bird hop around looking lost that something finally happened. The Phoenix began to grow at a rapid pace, getting larger and larger…before it stopped when it was only about half the size of the original Phoenix. It immediately lifted off the ground and burst through the trees; as soon as it hit the open air, flames burst out over its body and wings, though they were noticeably not as bright as before. Interesting.

  More experimentation showed that it was able to destroy another 10 of the Specters before falling again. This time, however, she was too late getting to the crash site; her nearby rolling constructs made it to the location just in time to see a zombie bear smash flat the poor baby firebird under its paw, though it appeared to scorch said paw in the process. So, obviously, soon after the “resurrection” the Phoenix was extremely vulnerable, which meant she had to plan better where it crashed after its flames were extinguished, otherwise it wouldn’t be able to come back if it was caught by some other Undead.

  It wasn’t a perfect trade-off, but Sandra still thought that even if the Phoenix was destroyed before it could resurrect even once she came out ahead. Therefore, she decided to create another one to start hunting more Specters. Since she’d seen that the flames of the newly reborn Phoenix were dimmer than before, she tried focusing on her new Monster to see if she could duplicate that intentionally. After getting nowhere issuing orders to the Phoenix, she finally found that if she directly controlled the Monster, she could dampen the flames considerably for a short time – at least while it was on the ground. Learning how to fly and do it at the same time proved to be beyond her at the moment.

  Each of the Dungeon Monsters she had acquired proved to be just what she needed, so she kept the rest of her remaining AP for the future. The last thing she did that night was to start to plan out where she was going to place all of the Dwarves that could potentially be there later in the day, as well as where to put all of the new crops she was going to need to plant. She dismissed the idea of just adding on to her current growing room for the simple reason of Mana availability; the current growing room took quite a lot of her Maximum Mana to set the trap up with Natural and Holy elements – for the actual growing portion and “sunlight” – and making it much larger would probably be impossible until she increased her Core Size.

  Therefore, she started the slow process of creating another growing room down below near the long line of rooms she had made before; she was thinking that all of the rooms she had excavated to acquire more AP and for their Raw Materials would be ideal for the Dwarves to live in. With easy access to the “farms” she was going to make, they would hopefully feel more in control of things – and it would free Sandra up from having to do the whole process of planting and harvesting and whatnot herself.

  Before she could really start that, though, morning arrived, and her Visitors were up and raring to go for the day.

  Chapter 24

  Gerold rode on the back of a large metal cat, feeling relieved, vulnerable, nervous, and hopeful all at the same time. His position on the back of the monster wasn’t the most comfortable, because the large…Jaguar Queen, I believe the dungeon called it…was essentially a skeleton made from some unknown metal; he had his short legs wedged between its ribs and he was holding onto its spine with his hands. When it moved – even if the movements were relatively smooth – the spine of the Jaguar rubbed roughly against his lower body, causing a little pain after a while.

  Nevertheless, it beat having to walk and got him quickly across the wasteland. He felt extremely vulnerable without his armor and passing through the dangerous land was something he never thought he’d have to do, so having a giant cat to help him flee from danger was a bonus. Gerold had refused some basic leather armor that Sandra had said she could craft for him fairly quickly, mainly because it didn’t feel…right…to wear something that wasn’t his old armor. He did take a small battle-axe that she apparently had lying around somewhere, though it wasn’t nearly the same quality as his old one – and couldn’t absorb and use his energy, either. It was a poor substitute – and he almost refused even that – but he felt a few degrees safer with at least some sort of weapon at his side.

  Relief washed over him as he looked up and saw Nurboldar in the distance. Despite the fact that the Core of the dungeon had saved him from death, given him two powerful objects that helped to restore his elemental energy (at the expense of temporary unimaginable pain, of course), and offered his people a refuge when the threat of the Undead dun
geon became too much, Gerold had never felt comfortable being in there. The thought that he had been in a dungeon at all was hard to believe, let alone that he had survived after seeing things he’d never dreamed of seeing before. Honestly, he thought, I don’t even know how I managed to sleep last night, considering where I was.

  To be fair, he barely remembered collapsing on a bed made from leather material last night; he had been so physically exhausted that he didn’t think he could’ve stood up for much longer. The only thing he remembered was waking up the next morning ravenous, his stomach threatening to eat itself from the inside. He belatedly remembered feeling some of the same hunger the night before but had been too focused on staying alive by doing what the dungeon wanted; he had followed the strange metal ape at first because he wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he refused. Well, that, and because of the slim hope that he could find a way to regain his former honor after losing his armor.

  He was still a little mad at the dungeon for that, but reflection during both the tour of the miraculous rooms and his current ride on top of a big metal cat made him realize that it really was his own fault. He had interfered with something that wasn’t any of his business and paid the price for his stupidity and curiosity; if he could take back the decision to investigate the source of the Nether energy, he would, but now he had to live as well as he could with the consequences.

  Speaking of Nether energy, he could vaguely feel some sources of the element out towards the southeast; the very faint sense of them meant that they were likely fairly distant, so he wasn’t too worried about them attacking him on the way back to his village. At least, he hoped it was still his village; he was nervous about the response he would get from the villagers and the other Shieldmen…especially Second-shield Bregan.

  Will they shun me? Will they cast me out because I lost my armor on what was essentially my first day? Will they even listen to me?

  Regardless of his nervousness, he was hopeful that they would listen and believe what he had to tell them. By taking refuge in the dungeon, they’d be able to survive the undead that were sure to make their way to the village as soon as they could; in fact, the closer he got to the forest to the southeast of Nurboldar, the more he could sense faint traces of Nether energy. It reminded him of the amount that one of the skeletal rats had possessed, so he was sure there were more scouting out the border of what Sandra had called an “Area of Influence”.

  I better convince the others before it’s too late.

  To help with that, he was bringing along the large cat he was riding that the dungeon had graciously allowed him to borrow. That wasn’t all he was bringing, however, as he had a small bag of the same things that were embedded in his palms – “Energy Orbs” he was told they were called; his case was apparently unique, because others could use the orbs to regenerate their elemental energy by just holding them against their skin. It was what he saw with the other people in the dungeon he saw – which still confused and shocked him, with there being two Gnomes and an Elf living there. It was that, as well as the fact that they looked like they were well-fed, comfortable, and hopefully not slaves of some kind that convinced him that the dungeon’s Core might actually be telling the truth about wanting to help.

  He supposed he should still distrust that whole unbelievable premise, as well as question her insistence that his people come to the dungeon to take refuge; thinking about it, however, he couldn’t find it in himself to disregard what he had seen with his own two eyes. Sure, it could be an elaborate plot to lure the 115 Dwarves – including all of the villagers and Shieldmen presently there – to their horrifically painful deaths inside the dungeon…but what if it was all true? For all he knew, the Creator may have sent Sandra there precisely to help them all out, and it would be foolish to dismiss the possibility that everything was exactly the way she said it was.

  The delicious breakfast consisting of all the meat he wanted that morning didn’t hurt, either. If it was a bribe of some sort, it was a good one.

  The Jaguar Queen and the bag of Energy Orbs weren’t the only things he was bringing with him, however. Gerold looked to his right, where Felbar – the older Gnome – was bringing his large machine along, to hopefully give a little credence to his claims. It was still a longshot, but he was aiming to get as much help as possible in convincing his brethren of the importance of what he was going to convey to them. Short of some Undead attacking them, or the willingness of some of the Shieldmen to journey through the wastelands to see the source themselves, he was limited with what he had to work with.

  Unsurprisingly, he and the machine the Gnome was piloting – which was nothing short of amazing, he could easily admit – were seen from a distance away. Just as he had feared and was expecting, Second-shield Bregan was right out front with two other Shieldmen that had yet to leave for the day.

  * I’ve told Felbar to wait until you need him, though I’ll be translating everything that’s said so that he can understand what’s going on. *

  Sandra’s voice in his head surprised him, as he wasn’t aware she could speak to him outside of her dungeon. It surprised him so much that he nearly fell off of the metal cat he was riding, though a quick grab of a rib kept him from sliding off and likely sending a horrible confirmation of his incompetence as he fell to the ground.

  Before he could say anything, Bregan spoke first in his gruff voice, sounding somehow angry, curious, and cautious all at once. “Gerold? Where have you been? Where is your armor, boy?”

  Gerold hated when the Second-shield called him boy, but then again he called everyone that; when you were as old as the old Shieldman was, almost everyone could be classified as a boy or a girl to him. White hair streamed out from the helmet that Gerold thought was never taken off, even to sleep, and his equally white beard was so long that the end of it had to be tucked away inside his armor to keep the Dwarf from tripping over it. The lines on his face were so deep that Gerold thought he could put his pinky in one and it would disappear, which was in complete contrast to his own jet-black hair, short beard, and unwrinkled visage.

  Despite his older age, the armor he was wearing was the original one he had received as a brand-new Shieldman a couple hundred years ago – or so the rumors said. Unlike what the older Dwarf’s body had undergone over the years, the armor – and the battle-axe attached to his side – appeared unblemished, like it had just been crafted and hadn’t seen a day of battle.

  “Second-shield Bregan, I have some dire news that you need to hear. Yesterday I discovered that there is an undead-filled dungeon that is threatening to expand into our lands—”

  “That didn’t answer my questions, boy. Where have you been and where is your armor?” Bregan cut him off, his voice louder this time.

  “Sir, that’s what I was trying to tell you. I sensed a great surge in Nether energy out in the wastelands and went to investigate—”

  “You deliberately deserted your duty here to go chasing some sort of sense you had? And I suppose this is where you left your armor?”

  “No, sir…I mean, yes, I left, but that was after I found a skeletal rat in the forest here—”

  “So, because you saw a rat, you went off into the wasteland to see if there were more of them? And were there any?”

  “Uh…any what, sir?” Gerold asked, confused at the line of questioning but slowly dreading what it was leading to.

  “Rats, boy. Skeleton rats, if that is indeed what you saw.”

  “Well, no, I didn’t see any more rats—”

  “And if you didn’t see any more rats, then what was the point of your travels out there? Everyone knows there’s nothing out in the wastelands; it sounds as if you deliberately went into an area that is off-limits without permission, leaving us wondering if you had died fighting Golems – which we’re going to have to double our culling today, thanks to you,” Second-shield Bregan again cut him off with a curt, admonishing, and accusatory tone, before his voice went soft and somehow…cold. “I�
��m not going to ask again, boy…where…is…your…armor.”

  Gerold swallowed a lump in his throat. “You see, there was this big undead army, and then there was a metal ball that started to suck up everything – including the ground beneath it – and then I—”

  Bregan’s face turned so dark with anger that it looked like he was going to explode. “ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME YOUR ARMOR WAS DESTROYED?”

  “…uh…yes? But it wasn’t my fault, it was Sandra’s use of the—”

  “I don’t care who you want to blame for it, your armor is your responsibility, and your foolishness has caused its destruction. It would’ve been better if you died along with your armor, boy; you’ve dishonored the reputation of the Shieldmen with your actions over the last day,” the older Dwarf continued in disappointment, his voice calmer but hard as granite. Gerold looked over at the other Shieldmen next to the Second-shield and saw equally disappointed expressions on their faces. Strangely enough, he had been so consumed with his training that he hadn’t even learned their names – and now it was looking like he never would. “Now tell, me who is this Sandra you’re blaming for all your failures?”

  The question was like a cold bucket of water dumped on his head; the fact that he was just thinking about how he had unfairly accused the dungeon of destroying his armor and axe resonated with him. Added to that, Gerold hadn’t meant to mention the dungeon by name quite yet, as he didn’t have to guess how the whole situation must sound; giving something that had historically been a source of death and destruction against their people a name and personality went against everything he knew of them. Truth be told, he was still getting used to it, and here he was trying to convince the others to go there.