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

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  Cal focused on the temple example. “Temples are going to be divided in order of rank. They can grant either two hundred and fifty, five hundred, or a thousand DE per day. I’m still tinkering with the details of what differentiates their qualities, but in simple terms, bigger is better. I’m thinking I’ll give the structures special features of some sort as well. Guardians maybe. Don’t know yet.”

  The youth listened, remaining patient as he absorbed the intelligence. “How many points to actually plunk a structure down?”

  Cal quickly dismissed the relevant screens, but it was too late. Artorian had seen them. “Uh… not too much. Just a few million points.”

  Artorian choked on his water. He’d hoped he hadn’t seen that right. No dice. “Crackers and toast, Cal. Millions of points?”

  The dungeon moved his arms up in a ‘what can I say?’ motion. “I don’t want deities to be overactive. I want them to be sparing with their actions. Doing things when it’s really important. I have had my fill of the willy-nilly power-babies. Just throwing oomph around all the time is a no-go for Eternium. Now, I do plan on adding bonuses for structures you’ve added yourself. You, as an example, would have a special affinity for the beacons you’ve put up.”

  Artorian grit his jaw, then drew another sip of water when he evened out. “I’m going to deviate for a moment: We have maybe a hand’s worth of deities. Are there going to be more? If so, how?”

  Cal happily made a diagram reappear. “Certain people are going to get special quests. Based on their actions in prior iterations. While their souls can be *eh*, sizable changes have proven to get them back in gear. So, leaving my Soul Space and going home is going to reinvigorate the whole lot of them. Equally, a deity spot is something one normally only dreams of. So it gets the enthusiasm going. I don’t fully know who all will succeed yet. But I expect a nice rounded pantheon of at least twenty-four individuals. Based on who finishes the questlines. More if needed. Though, I’ll cap core pantheon members to around thirty. Now, before you get mad.”

  The Administrator already didn’t like where that weak excuse was leading. He set his cup on the table, but held to it with a firm squeeze. The dungeon went on. “Some individuals will not be good people. Specifically because I want a balance. There will be some morally upstanding deities, and there will be some morally questionable ones. I can’t, I just can’t, prevent people from acting on… less savory ideals. I have tried. Trust me, I have tried. It didn’t end well for those iterations. I have to let people be people, and that includes the people who become the reasons that laws are made.”

  Artorian’s displeasure remained palpable, but after some thought he was forced to concede the point. People like that would appear regardless. Nothing could always go well. Better to… have a place ready. He rubbed defeatedly at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t say I like it. I can’t. Yet I understand. I hope the inhabitants of Eternium can deal with it well enough. That is not exactly a problem I want to slap down with hard-to-get DE points.”

  Cal waved it away. “I know. I just didn’t want it to be a surprise if an unsavory person suddenly sits in the second or third tier of our moots. It’s not like I’m going to make divinity-gaining tasks easy.”

  Artorian could trust the dungeon on that. So that was a relief. “Alright. Well, back to the topic then. How do my beacons help me with points?”

  The distraction from the distraction was welcomed. Back on topic! Cal pulled the relevant diagram to the table as the rest automatically moved away, as usual. “I’m thinking of classifying them as altars. Except that they have the teleportation function. I do want other deities to be able to take over structures, so maybe you only gain the points from the ones that are active and keyed to you. Specifically for the beacons, because they can be costly: I’d say that their use takes a toll on the user.”

  Cal smirked a tiny smile. “The excess toll that doesn’t go to paying for the portation costs becomes bonus DE if you own the beacon. We can make the beacons your special structure, as you are literally the only person to put them up. I’m aware you did it through cheating, but we are looking the other way on that. Since you’re obviously not telling the other supervisors of our little revelation hiccup from earlier.”

  The youth inspected his nails rather thoroughly. “Hmm? What hiccup? I don’t know what you’re on about.”

  Cal nodded appreciatively, glad to have a fellow schemer on board. “Excellent! Any thoughts on your deity particulars?”

  Keeping one knee over the other and steepling his fingers, the youth bounced his foot up and down. “Several. Per my followers or devotees. When they ‘sign up,’ since I don’t know what else to call it, I want to institute that freebie you mentioned as a passive bonus. My blessing will be a constant, minor health regeneration. Just like I used to do with my starlight Aura. Also, I think I want to turn the earlier idea on its head.”

  Artorian was on a roll, and Cal enjoyed more ideas to play with. “If they’re a person of mine, they pay nothing for beacon use. Since their being my follower by itself will grant me DE. Friends of theirs that aren’t in the club will still need to cough up the toll.”

  Cal nodded, and Artorian continued. “When it comes to the DE itself… If it comes to pass that my beacons do become a structure that provides passive gain, I don’t want it known that the beacons give it. I don’t want to see it in a formula, I don’t want to see it in a notification. I want to dissuade other supervisors from nabbing my beacons, because they put no effort into putting any of their own up. That includes deities, and people that are tied to said deities. For the moment, that’s it. My theme will be sun-based. As what else is it going to be.”

  Cal had one of the diagrams recording. The information spoken in progress of being turned into Pylon code. “That’ll work. I’ll implement it when able. I think I’m going to tie a few of my own beacons into greater structures, but have it be a part of that building. So unless you own it, the deity in question will get the DE from the larger structure. Otherwise I think the beacon DE gain will be unique to just you. As was my plan. Any further questions?”

  Artorian mulled it over. “When do I start?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cal and Artorian stood in the Eternium version of Asgard. The youth grumbled to his friend. “You’re certain that you want the deities to settle up here? Isn’t this just a touch pretentious?”

  Cal replied flatly while staring into the distance. “Do you know how many of you chose to live on a mountaintop, when given the chance? I’m just following the pattern here. Odin, and I don’t believe it myself when giving him credit for this, made the best version of Asgard. Compared to every single other iteration. His shiny palace was just… the best thing that was ever up here. It was just a little empty, but if I get you all in here, it should be nice and lively!”

  He motioned to the structure that screamed ostentatious splendor. Were any Asgard structures not made out of some elaborate expensive precious metal or adorned in Rune-reinforced aesthetic? Artorian looked around, and remembered it much the way it was when he visited in Zelia’s fancy suit. Some alterations here and there. Clearly Cal-made. He wouldn’t mention it. “Well… alright. There sure is room for us. I think I’ll figure it out from here, Cal. You should get to your next personal meeting.”

  Cal stared at the youth with a checked-out, empty gaze, then remembered he had people to talk to. That had ever so slightly slipped his mind. “Right! Better to give Henry a pep talk. Toodles!” *Vwop*.

  Artorian sighed, his arms pressing against his lumbar. He should decant his family… Yet, something about the reflection he saw in the gleaming, mirror-finished golden wall gave him pause. This… this wasn’t right. It just wasn’t. When he welcomed his family, he should do it with the face they knew. The face they recognized. Not some wet-behind-the-ears brat with cosmic power. He didn’t want to wait, and forcibly attempted to alter his form.

  That was a mistake. He passed out on the spot,
collapsing in a heap next to the glittering stairs. His eyes opened in the bonfire space, and an excited Scilla was sitting on her haunches next to him, her nose a bare inch from his. “Eager to change? You know the rules. Resolve a regret.”

  Artorian groaned. Not again. Not so soon. Still, he had to know if she was being serious. “Will it restore my elder form, instead of keeping me trapped in this baby-faced body?”

  Scilla rolled her eyes to think, considering it. Her blighted smile didn’t set him at ease. Very much the opposite. “Oh, you want the wrinkled appearance? Well, that’s nice to know. In that case, I’m saving it for last. A-nine if you’re good and don’t keep me waiting.”

  He groaned louder. “Scillaa~a~a~a, come oo~o~on. I want to get my family out of those Cores!”

  Her monotone reply was as cold as Yuki’s common speech. “That has nothing to do with me. My focus is you. Only you. You want your elder form? Okay. I consider that motivation. You being in that child form is your own doing. In case you weren’t aware. You want to change your cosmetic appearance? Tackle the regret keeping you there. I’m ready. Are you?”

  Artorian didn’t want to do this right now. The last one had hurt so abyss much. He slapped his cheeks, knowing this kind of thinking got him nowhere. There was no point in delaying. It would come eventually, and it wasn’t like his current circumstances made it inconvenient. He just didn’t want to. Still, he needed to. He closed his eyes, and reminded himself of the goal. “All for them. It’s all for them.”

  Artorian rolled his shoulders, resigning himself. “Well, I’m already on my ass. So I can’t fall much further. I’m ready, Scilla. Hit me.”

  She smiled. “Sure thing, Merli. Hold tight to that shovel.”

  He didn’t follow. “What shovel?”

  A response was not forthcoming. His mind tumbled and twisted, falling from a brand-new sky until he slapped face-first down into the dirt. Hadn’t Dale just gone through this? Was this a ha-ha from Scilla? Pushing himself up, he spat out Morovian bluegrass. Oh? Home again?

  Wiping his face off, Merli got his bearings. He’d fallen asleep in the field. It had been maybe a day or two since he’d spat up the Immaculate Core. His legs had fully healed, though he couldn’t remember how. Weren’t they broken? After so much as a cursory glance, he found they were not. So… have a run? He felt like he should be running. Yeah, he’d go with the feeling.

  Merli bolted through the field, and Artorian felt far more connected to this memory than the last. As if he experienced it directly once more. With the disconnect not nearly so strong, his actions felt like Merli’s actions. Though he was aware that he took a back seat in decision making. The memory was playing, and he was an observer first.

  Merli burst with joy at freely zipping around.

  Air Essence rolled through his form, and he played with the zephyrs as he saw them. How strange. Artorian didn’t remember any of this. He figured he would remember Essence use. That’s not something you forget. Yet he didn’t recall he’d done this, and lived through the motions. Merli and the natural idea of the air Essence were one. As he played, Artorian watched in fascination as the air-affinity channel grew.

  “What? Why?” A theory blossomed before Artorian’s eyes. “Essence does not move to align with you. You move to align with Essence. Thus budding the affinities.”

  Merli said the words, but didn’t himself hear them. That hadn’t happened in the memory, so he remained oblivious. The wildling danced and leaped, ran and rolled through tall bluegrass. He tumbled down a large rock, and *thunked* into the side of something soft. Though his head struck something hard. A moment of darkness burdened him, but he woke to a large catlike tongue washing over his face with the tender care of wet sandpaper.

  Regaining his senses, he found himself lying in a bundle of freshly born liger cubs. Originating from a ligress that had just given birth. Shouldn’t he be very, very dead? Or nibbled on. You know, eaten? Apparently not, as the ligress unconditionally loved on him as if he was one of her own. Merli said nothing while being groomed, entirely stunned. Artorian, on the other hand, saw the rampant, extreme flood of what would one day be called oxytocin cycle through the ligress’s system. She loved him like he was one of her own cubs. One moment. Cubs. Multiple? Didn’t this species only have a sole offspring?

  Artorian counted. No, that was a full-on litter. Why then did he remember there only being one? Was it perhaps just one that survived? Were there other cat rituals at play he had no clue about? There was too much he didn’t know, and he needed to focus on the here and now. Use some of that Dwarven advice! Crackers, he missed his Dwarves.

  Attempting to leave the nest made the ligress chomp him on the back of his robe, dragging his escape-happy rump back into the fold. Alright, no escape. Great. Artorian racked his brain. How in toast had he gotten out of this? Apparently he was smarter than he gave himself credit for when he saw it later in the evening. Merli snuck out during mommy ligress’s naptime. Artorian hooted to himself. “Fantastic, freedom! Wait. Merli. Stop. What are you doing? No, boy. Stop!”

  He slapped himself across the eyes as he watched his younger self be a troublemaker. Merli had gone back the next day, with slabs of meat. The ligress was in an uproar about her missing cub, but she calmed when it returned with a catch of food. Merli got his face aggressively licked clean, and was carried back to the nest by the back of the robe. The meat, however, was swiftly devoured by the mother.

  She was less worried about that particular oddly furred cub, since she quickly understood it could already hunt and get food all on its own. His growth was a little fast, but this was certainly not a bad trait. She paid it no further mind as one of the cubs rolled over in the nest, flopping onto Merli. Tired for no discernible reason, the youth held the other cub tight, and took a nap without a care in the world as air corruption won out for the day.

  “Crackers, I’m gaining that already? Drat.” Memories flickered, and Artorian looked about at the scenery change. “Oh? What just happened?”

  They had skipped a few days. Merli was in the field, playing. His father watched him, all of a sudden quickly bolting towards his son. Merli didn’t understand why until the cub pounced him from behind. The youth had a good-natured laugh and rolled around with it, but his father clearly wasn’t having any of that. “What are you doing, you brazen fool! That is a wild predator! It could have killed you!”

  Merli disagreed, sounding defiant. “He’s my friend. Family, even! We get along!”

  The patriarch tore the cub off his son, tossing the creature far into the fields as it yowled. He was visibly unwilling to accept his youngest’s words. “Are you blind to reality? That’s it. I will not wait for the end of the week to come, you are being sent to the academy. Tomorrow! You have no grasp on what is a danger, and what is not. I will not have my air-headed child endanger himself like this.”

  Against his will, Merli was dragged indoors and confined to his room for the whole day. Thunder crackled in the distance as night fell. Rain was coming. Merli, of course, snuck out of said confined room like a skilled little weasel. The guards were none the wiser, and he was out in the fields during the hours of dark.

  There were many reasons why one shouldn’t be, but there he was. It took no time at all for the stalking cub to make himself known with a purring face bump to Merli’s hip, and then his cheek. Merli’s face was quickly covered in sloppy tongue thereafter, the liger cub cleaning him off because it deemed him dirty. It opinionatedly *mrowled* as it pushed its face into the youth’s stomach, getting on its hind legs to grind cheeks into Merli’s face again.

  The boy sighed a soft exhale, hands scratching the cub’s throat fur. “I missed you too. I…”

  “Merli.” Thunder clapped, and lightning hit the plains as the rain fell. The patriarch stood in the distance, sword in hand. The youth paled and felt his heart clench. He tried getting in front of the cub, but the creature didn’t understand what the threat was. It wasn’t able to sense or sm
ell his very displeased father. The patriarch had made sure of that. “Step away from the monster.”

  Merli stammered. “Father, no. I can explain. Really. I can…!”

  *Shink*.

  How was his father always so fast? He hadn’t moved, but his father was gone from where he’d stood, now behind him. His cub friend had been as well, and the sudden silence beneath the pitter patter of falling water made his heart heavy.

  Merli turned, seeing the liger slain by his father’s sword. His knees didn’t have the time to fall to the ground. The patriarch clenched him by the shoulder, already dragging him home. Merli was promptly thrown in front of the council of elders, publicly berated for what he’d done, and the danger he’d put himself in, for a full hour.

  When Merli didn’t say he hadn’t treated the cub as a friend, the elders unanimously decided it was best to send the youth away. They too, didn’t believe that a monster and a mortal could be on friendly terms. Banished to his chambers to repeated mocking laughter that a monster could be his friend, Merli felt slighted. Their words chased him through the pavilion as he kept up his persistent statements that he wasn’t lying! The elders refused to believe him, convinced the foolishness of the child outweighed his words.

  Merli was moved to his chambers. Being once more confined to his room was as effective as it usually was. He escaped through a crawl space that led to a supply shed, catching a falling shovel that he knocked over while wiggling himself free.