Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6)

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  He flopped to his butt on the grass, sighing heavily at the incredibly quick failure. “Well, Niflheim is scrapped. I’ll cover it after my century-long nap. I might be alright with some additional preparations, but my plan to take you four as backup is only going to lean to terrible ends. I didn’t even notice the gas. I was too busy looking for their Aura signatures to see where the assassins were hiding. They snuck that poison right by me. I forget how devious those Niflheim Elves are.”

  Halcyon visibly began looking much better as the waves of starlight rolled across her being. The violet discoloration faded as her breathing eased. Artorian recalled he should probably tell them where they were. “We’re on Midgard. I forgot until just now you can’t automatically tell. I’m not sure you’ve been here before, but it’s the lowest-pressure realm. I didn’t really choose it so much as I just picked the closest one. Oh well, at least I suppose we know what continent was below Niflheim when we looked. Sadly, that won’t remain constant.”

  The four chosen didn’t respond to him, all agitated or considering other things. He sighed and thought over what to do next. This hadn’t gone… well. Best fill people in. He knocked on a forum door.

  Dawn’s response was calm, like she expected this outcome.

  Artorian nodded through the mental connection.

  Ending the connection, the old man buried his face into his hands. He had not expected such a brutal, swift kick in the pants. They hadn’t even gotten off the teleportation beacon. “Well. I feel like an embarrassment. I did terribly. I’m sorry for dragging you all into that. That wasn’t how I expected it to go.”

  Done clawing up a tree, Karakum stomped to Artorian. With a nasty scowl, the scorpion controlled himself as he spoke. “Teach me.”

  The Administrator knew Dawn had just said it might happen, but hadn’t actually believed her. “Pardon, my boy? I think I misheard you.”

  Karakum squeezed his hands together, trying his best not to waver and lose the humanization form. His tail was already back, and he didn’t want any more of his pride chafed today. “I spoke true. Teach me. You caught the knife I did not see. I don’t even know how it got so close to my head without being noticeable. It vexes me. I have strength, but am lacking in other areas.”

  Artorian extended a hand for help getting up, and Karakum got the old man to his feet. The old academic fell right into a lecturing step. “I’m not surprised. You would have had to know what to look for. It’s called an S.E.P. field. Short for ‘someone else’s problem.’ Nasty effect. Why am I not surprised they figured it out? The field obscures anything you’re not directly looking for, and even then, the object or person of your search feels elsewhere. That particular Mana signature was coated around the knife that got thrown at you. I’ve felt it before, so I knew what to look for. Which is the only thing that allowed for a save back there. Otherwise I would be applying some serious healing to your head right now. That was no fault of yours, my boy.”

  Karakum didn’t take the deflection. “You succeeded where I failed, and this sounds like a skill. Not some unattainable ability.”

  Artorian could not deny that fact, but he hadn’t exactly the time for such things at the moment. There was work to do! Work that… was important… in some way. What was he supposed to be doing again? He couldn’t recall his exact tasks. The thoughts had left him, and his checklist was hazy. Being attacked had severely distracted him from the goal, and he needed a moment.

  When he looked up from his deep frown, the four chosen surrounded him. Giving him the same expectant look. He looked from one to the other, but the four chosen all had the distinct impression that they were not happy, not knowing how to deal with what just happened. That encounter would have killed them all, and there was nothing they could have done about it. They hated it, with a passion. “All four of you?”

  Artorian sighed again when their silent expressions replied loud and unified. “Well… I sort of brought this on myself, I think. I doubt Jotunheim needs a further check, Alfheim and Svartalfheim are going to be the expected mess. Midgard… well, Midgard has four supervisors and I expected to be here for a small decade. I have broken items to un-puzzle, but… aside from that, I now cannot remember what I was supposed to do.”

  Surtur snapped to the point. “So you have time to teach, then.”

  The old man looked like he wanted to deflect, but Halcyon squeezed him by the shoulder. He regarded her when she spoke. “Are you okay with letting people you care about be vulnerable to something you know can kill them, that they are very likely to have to deal with again in the future?”

  “No. I. Am. Not.” His jaw clenched, and Artorian put his foot down. That decided it, and he pushed his sleeves up, looking around as he changed mindsets. “Cy. You’re right. Though… Not here. We’ll make no progress here. I always wanted to add the academy to the Beneath in Jotunheim. I may as well defer previous plans, put it up, and teach for a year before entering the long slumber. Brianna can… be a pain. I will see what’s come of things, after the rest. If Nif remains active for a century, I will likely be severely outmatched when I go to… administrate. I’ll have to put some schemes together.”

  Artorian turned with a flourish of his Asgard robe, and marched back to the teleportation beacon. He extended his hands, expression turning stern. He’d decided on a course of action. Knocking on a forum connection, Zelia answered with some confusion. Why hadn’t he used the direct connection?

  Artorian chose not to waste time.

  Zelia’s response remained professional, but there was a hurry to her thoughts. An urgency and directness pressed forth as her Dreamer spoke, and she had learned that while there were many times where he was being a playful fool. This? Was not one of them.

  Chapter Ten

  Zelia burned with silent rage when word of ‘teleportation blockers’ came to light. Those cavern-loving knife-ears had lied to her, and used her grievance-limiting tools for personal gain. After being fully filled in, she offhandedly mentioned she would go off and collect some things for the group to use. Unbeknownst to them all, she folded herself to Niflheim.

  She was anything but happy.

  Gomei was delighted to see their insider informant and secret ally appear on the beacon platform. “Zelia. Favorite of our Queen. My heart leaps at your Presence, and deeply welcomes you to the realm of death and mist. How did your Dreamer enjoy our greetings? We have running bets on just how far his tail has dipped between the legs.”

  Zelia’s face was flat, and her human veneer broke as six arachnid eyes opened up. Her bestial form bled through regardless of her sizable self-control. “I do not enjoy being lied to, knife boy.”

  Gomei laughed, and twirled the knives in question. Several dozen danced like coins between his fingers, the sharp weapons swirling around his arms. “Oh, which ones? I have such a collection. Do we speak of one of my favorites? Or perhaps the tools of my trade? Or just the ones I keep for the
aesthetics?”

  The Arachnae pulsed her Aura, and the surrounding air gained a sticky quality, webbing all movement in her immediate vicinity. The knives stopped twirling around Gomei’s arms. In a fake and demeaning tone, the Moon Elf spoke dejectedly. “Aww.”

  The alteration revealed that it was merely four daggers which had been moving, while the rest had been illusions. “Come now, Favorite of the Queen. We are assassins. Surely you did not expect we would have a concept such as honor? At least, not one that applies outside of our race.”

  Zelia squinted her livid silvered eyes at him, but her seething rage formed into a thin-lipped smile. “I understand. In that case… you won’t mind if I collect some of my things that I’ve carelessly left lying about.”

  Gomei’s amusement dropped when Zelia just vanished from the place she was standing. He had no understanding of teleportation, save for that it was something that existed. He definitely lacked the nuances of control that came with it. That Zelia’s method of moving through slipspace was one of the most optimal methods it could be was equally something that eluded the assassin. What did not elude him was that the favored lady had just poofed in a manner that would make any professed assassin grievously jealous. “Abyss. Raise the alarm! We have an intruder!”

  Mushrooms all over Niflheim released a scent that signified danger, trouble, and caution. The occupants of the whole realm knew something was amiss, even if they did not know exactly what. Replies ran through the discordant communications network as something was disrupting their—Alright, what wasn’t suddenly going wrong? It was like they were dealing with a threat that could be anywhere it wanted to be, at any time. While said threat had a deep working knowledge of where they kept important… Abyss!

  Rampant reports struck the chamber of judges as hand-delivered missives were brought in and shouted one after the other. So dire had the situation become in but a matter of moments. “The vaults are breached! All our blueprints and designs for arrays and teleportation blockers are gone! The vault wasn’t even cracked open, the contents are just gone.”

  Another messenger tumbled in, staggering as he fell over the still-speaking man before him. “The Phosgen have gone wild! Our control rods have vanished! They are rampaging and taking over entire sections of Niflheim as their own, claiming local fauna as theirs and establishing territory! We are experiencing a full-cascade shutdown of regional controls!”

  A third courier of lower status fell over the first two, but that didn’t stop her from delivering the message. “My Judg—*Hurk*! My Judges! The mushroom mimics are free! Some caverns are infected by puffballs, and we’ve got rogue mycelium spores going rampant. It’s being distributed all over the continent; we do not know how.”

  A fourth courier looked frightened as could be, and equally fell over the existing courier pile. Though, his message was a little different. “Cheese! Dire cheese! It’s everywhere, it’s seeking revenge and eating us! Our healing cheese hungers!”

  The Judges in the room worked to pull the messengers off one another; this was not acceptable behavior for what should be a well-oiled and neatly tailored organization. The Niflheim Elves got to the matters at hand as swiftly as they could. Unfortunately for them, problems just kept pouring in as a single, very pissed spider withdrew all her parts of joint projects, stealing away all their prized progress.

  As far as Zelia was concerned, if they were going to abuse it, then they could not have it. She was going to reverse engineer all their work, find the weaknesses in all the Niflheim defenses, and then just hand the results over to her Dreamer. In the meanwhile, on top of all the other regional problems the Dark Elves had to deal with, Zelia decided it was time for an invasion.

  Brianna teleported mistily into the relevant chamber, speaking before Zelia had a chance to slipspace out. “Zelia! What is the meaning of this! You were favored! How dare you betray me like this?”

  The arachnid clicked, mightily annoyed. “I betrayed you? No, knife ear. Inspect well the betrayals of your Judges! For they have orchestrated this rebellion within your ranks, that I have fallen victim to. Your reputation with me has withered entirely as a result.”

  A silvered spark flashed in Zelia’s gaze, and a devious thought struck after she made up false information purely to sow discord. “Though, I know how fond you always were of my children. You always lamented never having any in your realm, if I recall? Know what, realm Queen? I have been a scrooge. You want my children? Worry not your perfect pretty face. They will come. They will come in waves.”

  Brianna tried to get another word in, but it was too late. With all the reclaimed goods in tow, Zelia vanished as the teleportation beacon she stood on powered down and died. The rest of the beacons on Niflheim followed suit, leaving behind a nearly impossible to control realm that rapidly divided. Internally collapsing in response to being locked off from leadership as a whole.

  Several Judges and Dukes had to take matters into their own hands as brutally powerful Phosgen blocked vital paths, trade routes, and more. Fracturing Brianna’s seamless, unified kingdom into a conglomerate of smaller rulerships that swiftly sprung into place for sheer survival.

  Over the coming months, progress would have been made if it was merely the man-eating cheese, deadly fungi, or surprisingly intelligent monarchy-creating Phosgen the Niflheim Elves had to contend with. Access to proper food, fresh water, and other necessary goods that even Mages needed was a tough acquisition with the beacon system down, leaving only the natural twisting paths inside Niflheim for the shattered people to seek a safe haven.

  Given the sheer scale and size of the continent, that was more problematic than initially assumed. Yet none of it, none of it would have been so difficult if it wasn’t for the sudden appearance of grievously angered waves of teleporting spiders. Each child of Zelia’s carried her hatred. Her burning need and desire for vengeance and retribution against the assault and insult carried out upon her Dreamer went mirrored by her war host.

  Brianna remembered swiftly that chosen were fiercely loyal, and while her own worked to protect her, there was something ominous about knowing that an enemy could teleport directly onto your face at any given moment. Doubly unfortunate was just how many children Zelia had. They weren’t optimized for combat in caverns and caves, but they were right at home if left alive for too long.

  With the arachnid’s methods geared towards dispatching Jotunheim threats, the Dark Elves had entirely unexpected issues to contend with. The attack patterns of Zelia’s children were just not listed in the assassin’s playbook, as they were pushed back into small communities over the course of a decade. Losing far more ground than they gained as they were forced to establish themselves in areas the Niflheim Elves could survive and actually defend.

  This left the great majority of Niflheim free for monsters to roam, and rule. Woe to your being, and may the Queen help if you encountered a random block of cheese. The design of the place having lent itself to be as one single, massive, endless dungeon now worked against the residents’ favor, as the Elves could no longer control the intricate network that prevented layers and layers of traps from being set off at their passing.

  A particularly nasty pink Phosgen occupied that control room; to the pained chagrin of the entire race. It was a bloody insane one to boot. That Phosgen gained control over the whole system in less than a few months, expanding its personal realm control from that one space. It even made a friend in the form of a deviously smart Shroomish who called itself Sett. The special thing about Sett was that it knew everything there was to know about fungi and bacteria. Having been a Fungus Mage in a prior life, Sett was not particularly well-disposed towards leg-walkers. The knife-ears fearfully referred to them as ‘Plinky and the Brain.’

  Together, they made the dungeon their playground, excelling at playing the role of evil overlords as they took over the world. The misty realm of Niflheim entered a new dark age. A dark age of spores, assimilator tentacles, and cheese.

  I
mmediately after Zelia had left Brianna in the cold, she stowed her goodies in her personal room on the pagoda. After safely nestling it all away, she popped down to the Beneath, where her Dreamer was having some difficulties. The Jotunheim Beneath held a vast, bright, underground lake. Now with reflective moss steadily growing on the walls and ceiling. The moss mirrored the clear blue color of the water, causing rather beautiful lines of light to bounce up and down between them as the refractions formed.

  Zelia approached the hovering hard-light platform where four chosen with attitude waited impatiently, watching the Dreamer kick at the water below as he stood upon its surface. Something clearly wasn’t working as intended. Zelia calmly queried her chosen sister when close enough, doing her best not to betray the deep anger she still felt from mere moments ago. “What’s the problem?”

  Halcyon sighed, her golden hue regaining some luminance. “From what we can hear from up here, something about it being ‘too expensive’ and how he ‘doesn’t have enough Mana or points’ for some kind of ‘purchase.’ Whoever he is arguing with isn’t giving him an inch of leeway, and it’s making our Dreamer very frustrated. My nose says it’s the great spirit.”

  Zelia pressed her claws to her face, which gave away to her friend that she’d gone through something turbulent recently. Otherwise that would have been a seamless hand. Halcyon gently leaned her shoulder against the arachnid, opening a private mental conversation.

  The spider physically clenched her claws, doing her best to respond with gentleness.