Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Forty-Two

Logan Murray was surprised by how many people had come to the Suprema Arena, late on Sunday night, when most of the universities had final exams started the next day. But there was a seemingly endless hoard of humans, elves, dwarves, and demons, as well as the who’s who of the dungeon core elite.

A fair number of students from Shadowcroft were in attendance as well, lending their support for Logan and the Terrible Twelfth. GK and Nemoy had come, to cheer on Marko. Tet loitered nearby, arms folded, clearly unamused at the prospect of being so close to the slime knight and the now weirdly handsome elderly merman. That trip to the Crossworld Bazaar had been the ultimate makeover for that guy.

The Ninth Circle were there to cheer Logan on. Fractilla the ice imp breathed out encouraging signs using her icy breath, writing in the air. Fractilla and her friends weren’t even there to impress Suresh. At this point, Suresh wanted Logan and his cohort to win, which seemed like a shocking about face. Or maybe it wasn’t that Suresh wanted to see Logan win so much as he wanted to see Nightfall University lose. Logan suspected everyone wanted to see Nightfall University lose for once.

Logan missed Chadrigoth. He definitely would’ve been there, cheering for them from the front row. Logan just have to find some solace with Alphonse the spice mummy, who’d brought his cohort along for moral support. He stood with Professor Kobold, who fervently clutched another rewrite of his screenplay to his chest as though it were a life preserver.

Logan milled about with his friends in front of the enormous, leafy BYE portal that would whisk them to their respective nodes. Wintersylver was there too, in her full dragonish form, and she was as toxic as ever.

“I saw that you’re going with a single layer dungeon. Not a lot of traps from what I can tell. And why in the world did you submit your plans?” She sighed. “Oh, right, overconfidence. Well, it’s sweet that you’re trying so hard. I’ll light a candle for you and your friends once you’re gone.” She surveyed the grim faces of the Terrible Twelfth. Even Marko wasn’t kidding around for once. “Four candles, right? I mean, there’s no way Logan would have a chance alone. It’s not like he’s a real Jade Leaf dungeon core. Still a little unsure of yourself? You’ll do fine. You’ll probably die, but you’ll do fine.”

Marko pulled out his Luden lute.

A look of pure, unbridled horror flashed across Wintersylver’s face.

Much to everyone’s relief, he set it on his shoulder. “It’s trash talk, right? Ms. Gracefreeze, you do realize that Logan likes to eat literal garbage. He’s lapping this up. Keep talking, White Wyrm. It’s going to be so sweet when we score higher than you.”

The huge, icy beast rolled her eyes. “Like that’s going to happen. You’ve been calling out Lou Shador and the Glow Brigade for weeks now. For weeks. He’ll hit you first. Then, when he comes after me, if he comes, which I doubt, I’ll be able to remove him from the Ashvattha multiverse once and for all. You’re welcome.”

Inga had been reading the tax code while they waited for the tournament runners to come and talk with them. She snapped the book closed. She opened her mouth, and then shut it, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips.

Treacle burped up cud, chewed it, while staring at Wintersylver with complete contempt. He swallowed it down all without saying a word.

Logan wasn’t going to engage with her, either.

Marko, though, he just couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. He kind of laughed, honked, snorted, and then laughed some more.

“What’s your problem goat boy?” Wintersylver scowled, clearly offended.

He just continued to guffaw and never said a word. He just laughed at her. Sometimes the middle school moves were the best moves. He was still chortling when Skip Shadowcroft, Lolozi Webbs, and the Weavelord floated above them. Shadowcroft extended out his arms and legs, and he created a leafy platform for Nightfall University’s spidery headmistress and the little drider bureaucrat from the Department of Universal Dungeon Efficiency.

“Welcome!” Weavelord shouted, his voice amplified by audio crystals tucked away around the arena. “Welcome to the Finals of the Interschool Tournament of Collegial Dungeon Excellence! Never before have the stakes been so high! Never before have we put on such a risky—some might even say reckless—uh, event. Because, you know, death.”

Everyone was silent now. Weavelord had just killed the mood like an axe blow to the neck.

Shadowcroft magicked an ocean of flowers from his gnarled hands. They floated above Logan, his friends, and Wintersylver, and then went shooting up into the sky to explode like fireworks. Even with the lights on, they were a veritable bouquet in the sky. “Thank you for that warm introduction, Mr. Wavelord. And welcome indeed, everyone! Before us stand the five finest dungeon cores in the realm! We know that the road to victory will be hard fought and even harder won, but we have total faith in their abilities to protect the Tree of Souls and vanquish any raiders that dare cross the thresholds of their dungeons!”

Now, the entire Arena Suprema went crazy with applause, howls, and hooting.

Weavelord went to say something, but Lolozi Webbs gently pulled him back. “Yes! Both Logan Murray’s duet with Inga Thosa Therian and Wintersylver Gracefreeze scored the highest of any competitors in the Semi-Finals in the long history of the competition! We have high hopes that they will both survive to be judged!”

Marko let out a yell. “To survival!”

There was laughter and more raucous cheering.

Shadowcroft conjured more flowers, this time rose petals, that coated the grass between where Logan stood and the enormous tree bough sprouting from the ground. “You will have one week to both create your dungeon and to defend it from any raiders that may come. One week to prove that you are worthy defenders of the Tree of Souls. Your professors will be watching, grading your performance, so you need to show how much you’ve learned this year in all your classes!”

“That’s easy,” Wintersylver spat. “I taught half my classes. And I took my final exams early. All As.”

That finally broke Inga. “You’re such a try-hard. I appreciate ambition, but do not lord it over other people. It is not a good look.”

“Dying isn’t a good look,” Wintersylver sniffed. “Like I said, I’ll light candles for you. And one for Melvin. I didn’t forget. I’ll never forget! And I’ll never forgive you either!” She raised her claws heavenward. “For Melvin!”

With the battle cry still on her lips, she charged forward, spread out her icy wings and took to the air, then dove with a flourish toward the BYE portal. It was an impressive display. The minute she touched the bark, she vanished in a blast of pure ice. Freezing winds swept through the crowd. Everyone shivered. It was both dramatic and a little intimidating.

Marko slung his lute around. He played a single chord that sounded like a cat being microwaved. “This one’s for the Shadowcroft Academy of Dungeons!”

Everyone had their hands over their ears.

Then Marko took off running. Alone. It was awkward and embarrassing. He stopped before he touched the tree and turned. “Come on, guys, I thought we were running together. Or are we doing the tough slow-mo group walk? Like in a Fentanyl Quarantino movie?”

Logan squinted at his friend about fifty feet away. “There’s so much wrong with everything you just said that I don’t know what to comment on.”

“Do the slow-mo walk!” Professor Kobold called from the crowd, one hand cupped around his scaly snout.

Marko stuck his lute into his beret and jogged back to them. Today, he’d decided to wear his normal pantaloons, shirt, and vest, but as he walked, he mimed stripping off his shirt and vest and putting on his mime clothes. Thanks to his new powers, by the time he reached them, he looked like a full on mime, including the white face paint—which looked absolutely terrible with his fur.

“Okay, I got my game face on. Let’s do this!”

Logan closed one eye. “Uh, it was better without the mime outfit.”

Marko stood with chin raised. “No. No, it wasn’t.”

Inga tossed the tax code to the side. “I’m done. I’m done with the audit. I don’t care if I fail my cultivation class. I’m going to our celestial node, free and clear. Let’s do this, friends. Let’s go kick some serious Lou Shador butt.”

Treacle nodded and haiku’d. “Competing to win. Strong and courageous we are. Friendship is our oaken shield.” He paused. “Seven syllables in that last line. That is a bit troubling.”

“You’re fine,” Logan said. “Let’s go.”

He then led them in a cool slow-mo group walk across the rose petals. The crowds were on their feet, cheering like mad by the time they reached out and touched the tree trunk as one.

Logan felt the staff in his hand shiver as it came home. Fresh Apothos filled him.

In a blink, the world seemed to turn on edge, as Arborea disappeared and they abruptly reappeared in the ruins of an ancient city. If Logan didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn it was Necroscant.

Weeds grew out of the cracked cobblestones. Creeping vines had taken over the crumbling stone houses and buildings around them. Trees grew in the middle of courtyards. Stagnant water lay in pools around them. Stormclouds cluttered an otherwise blue sky, promising a storm to come. In the distance, the sound of thunder cracked. It was humid, and the air was thick with the aroma of flowers and wild vegetation.

Logan could hear the sound of water, burbling away in the distance.

Logan took a moment to appreciate a hard-working colony of mold covering a door. “This seems promising. It doesn’t seem like it gets too hot here, and there’s some decent humidity I can work with. Any idea where exactly we are?”

“Not sure yet,” Inga said, shaking her head. “There seems to be a large square up ahead. Let me fly over there. I might be able to get a better idea.”

“That’s great thinking.” Logan stuck his Soul Staff of Sporing into his Ring of Pockets, and then took a few running steps. He launched himself upward, and activated his newly enhanced Pneumacity ability. He caught a stiff breeze and went soaring up into the air like a balloon. In seconds he was high above the city, with a vantage that offered him an unparalleled view of the land. The town wasn’t huge—it was in the middle of the thick forest. There was a wide road, but it was overgrown with weeds like the cobblestone streets below.

A wide, meandering river ran along the west side of the town, boarding it were docks and a an abandoned marketplace filled with colorful stalls set out in a haphazard fashion. To the north of the market was what looked to be the ruins of a stone coliseum. However, unlike the Roman landmark, this place was dilapidated almost beyond the point of recognition. Only a few section of seats and a few walls remained. There was a massive wooden sign in front of what had been the entrance.

Logan hovered in the air, waiting for Inga to join him. It wasn’t long before he felt the gentle flutter of her wings. “I think this place has quite a lot of promise indeed,” she remarked, surveying the decrepit town and the massive forest encroaching from every side. “It has everything we need and more for our scheme to work.”

Logan agreed, but he remained silent for a moment. They didn’t have long and there was a ton of work to be done, but over the past few weeks he’d learned how important it was to be in the moment. To be present, to be grateful. So he took a minute to just enjoy his flight. He’d flown before around Arborea, since reaching A-Class. It was easier than he would’ve thought. Inga had proved invaluable, since she’d grown up flying as a bird woman.

He and Inga flew over the ruined city and landed in front of the sign, dangling from a beam in front of the coliseum.

Inga adjusted Melvin’s fedora, her antennae reaching out in curiosity.

She read the words, gouged into the wood.

Here lies the Doomed Gladiator Games of Thanrass. Destroyed by the Mages of Thanrass for delving into secrets better left unknown. Mostly dynamite. Beware of the gunpowder apocalypse! Never give your gladiators weapons of mass destruction. Also, free elections might’ve been a good idea. Also, huge wealth inequality breeds social instability. But, for total transparency, it was mostly the dynamite in the hands of swords slaves.

Logan walked by the sign and through the arched entryway. There, in the center of the coliseum, were steps leading down.

Inga joined him. “Oh, right, the Blood Games of Thanrass. You know, I’ve read about this world. A tragic tale that ended in terrible bloodshed and the death of the Thanrassian Civilization. I have to admit, the sign does give a pretty good summary at a glance.”

<Marko, Treacle,> Logan sent. <Looks like we have something with potential here. Giant, abandoned coliseum. There’s a sign that says something about gladiators and the gunpowder apocalypse.>

Marko piped up in his head. <Wait? So, this we can do this telepathy thing at distance now? That’s a pretty sick upgrade. Also, I’m thinking Gunpowder Apocalypse is the name of my new Eldritch Horror-Core rock band. Do you think I’ll be able to use this new mental connection to force you guys to listen to my rehearsals?>

<Hopefully Lou Shador kills us first,> Treacle sent. <We shall arrive shortly.>

Logan walked across the sand. It was soaked with old blood and latent Apothos. There was also something else. Fungi, growing along the walls, clinging to the ancient stones, moldering on the bodies of the long dead buried in the subbasement below. But below that—below the sand and mold and rotting dead, was something wonderous and powerful. A celestial node had formed in the earth, buried beneath this monument to poor societal choices.

This is what they’d come for. What they’d come to protect.

Inga joined him at the steps leading down to what had been tunnels underneath the coliseum. He could see the rusted hinges that had once connected to a wooden trap door, set flush with the floor of the arena. But the wood had rotted away long, long ago, leaving the staircase open to the elements. There were probably any number of similar entrances scattered across the coliseum floor. They might be able to use that in their dungeon design.

Inga glanced around the coliseum. “You know, Celestial Nodes often appear in natural caverns, but it's more likely that the nodes appear in ruins or places that are rather cinematic. It's as if the Tree of Souls want to give dungeon cores a good story to go along with their protection. I find that fascinating.”

“Wow, this place is freaking awesome!” Marko said as he and Treacle ambled through the archway. “The atmosphere is perfect. Just the right amount of creepy, epic, and ancient. Plus, if we can get the walls repaired, I bet the acoustics in this place are incredible.”

Treacle grunted, eyeballing the stadium with a critical eye. “Have to agree with the goat man. Its old, but the underlying engineering is sound. With a little elbow grease and bubble gum, I reckon we can make this place shine.”

“That’s exactly what I like to hear,” Logan said with a grin. “But before we get to the fun stuff, we have to use the least amount of Apothos possible to craft the worst, easiest dungeon of our lives. We gotta keep it simple, stupid.”

“That’s what my mother always used to say to me,” Marko remarked happily. “Although I think it was. Marko you sure are simple, or maybe you’re just stupid. But I think the sentiment was more or less the same!”

“You truly are a fascinating creature, Marko Laskarelis,” Inga said. “Someday I’d like to learn more about your surely unconventional upbringing, but today is not the day, I’m afraid.” She pulled out a set of blueprints, which closely mimicked the designed they’d already submitted to the Department of Universal Dungeon Efficiency for review. “For this portion of the dungeon, we will only be crafting endogenous items and, as you can see, we aren’t worried about quality here—which is why Marko will do most of the heavy lifting. While he works on the bad dungeon, we can work on the good dungeon underneath.

Marko shook his head. “No, we’re not using a single iota of Apothos. Did I mention I was rich royalty? Yeah, I’m a prince. I was rich when I wasn’t so goaty. However, once you get used to obscene wealth, it’s hard to be poor. So I’m going to use some of the wealth I’ve managed to accumulate through our many adventures. We’re going to order our dungeon right off Googazon.”

Logan felt like he’d been hit with a dumb hammer. It was the end of his third year, and still, the Ashvattha multiverse still managed to surprise him. “Googazon?”

Logan put his hands on his hips while Marko stood on the sand of the coliseum ruins, rummaging around in his Beret of Holding. “Hold up. I know I have a Googazon crystal here somewhere. Ah, here it is.”

He pulled out a long piece of amber—a particular color of orange. “I connected the crystal to my bank account, so we have plenty of gold to spend. And not because I wasn’t paying attention earlier, but why exactly are we making two dungeons? Again, I totally know the reason, but just want to make sure you all also know the reason. So that we’re like, on the same page.”

Treacle snorted and motioned for Marko to start shopping. “We really don’t have time to reiterate all of our plans.”

“Uh, I need a minute,” Logan said, raising a squishy hand. He truly didn’t know how he could’ve missed something as big as Googazon. He needed time to process this newest revelation.

Inga sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fortunately, I expected Marko to forget the plan, which is why I built in extra time to our day one itinerary to go over the plan once more. The two dungeons have two purposes. One, we wanted to lure in Lou Shador by giving him a ridiculously easy target. Secondly, we want him overly confident, so that when he does find our real dungeon, he thinks he can walk through it without much challenge. As they say, an overconfident dungeoneer is a dead dungeoneer. By the time he realizes what’s really going on, it’ll be too late.”

“Why haven’t you told me about Googazon?” Logan asked, ignoring everything Inga was saying. “I feel like that’s probably something I should’ve known about.”

Marko made a face. “We never bring it up because we don’t like supporting big tech. Now that I’ve been told the plan, for the first time, I am totally onboard.”

“Not the first time,” Treacle sighed.

“Totally the first time.” Marko pointed. “Let’s get to shopping!”

Around them, a hundred different holographic items appeared in the air, projected by the crystal. It was easy to grab an object and then drag it over to their cart, just like you’d do at any website. Grab, drag, and drop. There was even a cha-chingsound.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head. They were going to make the worst dungeon ever. And have a great time doing it.