Worthy Core

DAY 820

Xenia's reclined on her bed, letting the events of the dungeon's interior drift through her as she deals with some...pleasant distractions...when something manages to catch her attention. "Oh, shit! We've got trouble."

A pair of Trushes lift their heads up from between the dungeon master's thighs, and it's only thanks to her perfect recall that she can correct identify the one on the right as being Em. The true Trush speaks up first, though. "What, now? While we're in the middle of things?"

Em chuckles at his dismay. "With how this dungeon operates? The odds of that being the case have always been pretty damn high. What's wrong?"

Xenia swings her legs over the edge of the bed and very reluctantly summons pants. "We've got about two dozen new Domain soldiers walking into the place. I think we're about to see their second attempt at Floor Four."

The former orc furrows his brow at the statement. "With...two dozen? We handily defeated more than four times that number last week. Granted, we were more prepared at the time, we'll have to see who's currently on shift for this."

"It's not the numbers that worry me." Xenia shakes her head before standing up. "It's their outfits. They're not wearing standard Domain soldier armor, they've all got their own thing going on. That means Challengers, or at least...I dunno, special forces or whatever. There's a couple of draconics in the mix too, and...an elf?" Xenia frowns at the realization, as she scans her older memories. "I've seen that one before. It's the dude who caused trouble for the nobles a while back, from what I heard."

"...A domain core-cracking team, then." Trush takes on a solemn expression, one not matched by his lack of clothing and the messy state of his face. "What are your orders? I assume I'll be called on to defend the forest, of course?"

"Yeah - wait, no. BB's been hanging around, waiting for a good time to try an ambush on Floor One - now would be a good time for that. He needs backup, though. No mortals, I don't think it's going to go real well, but I want to get an idea of what's in store for us." Seeing the wince on Trush's face, Xenia clarifies. "I've got mana reserves, I'll go ahead and respawn you and your squires again before they get down to Floor Four. Hmm, maybe pop in a couple extra Rabbit Rogues? Floor One's not at full monster capacity yet...Em!"

The reflection perks up at the mention of their name. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm popping you over to the inn. Put out the alert, and make sure people are ready to take the shortcut portals to Floor Four." The reincarnator pauses, before adding a bit more. "...Let them know we're likely to be facing at least some Supreme-tier opposition. Experts and above only, though anyone else can stay on alert. We might come up with other uses for them."

"Will do!" The reflection snaps a salute just before Xenia pulls their mirror into the dungeon's inventory and sends it to the inn - fortunately collapsing the mirror's projection in the process, meaning no one's going to be surprised by a nude Rabbit Knight suddenly appearing in front of their salads.

For Trush, Xenia generates a new shortcut portal on the floor. "That'll take you to the armory, I'll have your squires and BB meet you there. Once you're set, I'll have you hop over to an ambush point by the Floor One boss arena. Any questions?"

"Not that I can think of at the moment, no." The wandering boss sighs. "Here's hoping we at least learn something useful for round two..."

---

Pretty Thing frowns as the raid party - dubbed The Wild Things by a four-hundred-year-old incubus who shall remain unnamed - makes their way through the stripped-down Floor One. Every hallway had been carved down to bare rock, and the 'slip and slide' room had been filled with artificial bridges just in case the floor should happen to collapse again. Soldiers fill every available space, most of them with haunted looks on their faces. The few dungeon surfaces which remain had been covered by canvas tarps for some reason, but when the demon had paused to glance behind one, all he had found was graffiti of the Dragonlord engaging in coitus with an oddly-shaped wagon.

"This...is not how a dungeon ought to look. It's like seeing a stage play performed from the wrong side! The artistry of it all is ruined!"

Fidelia glances at her commander. "It might not be pretty, but it's safe. It's much harder for the dungeon to create secret hidden rooms if earth mages have removed most of the dungeon's walls, after all. I'm sure the soldiers here have had more to worry about than the aesthetics of the place."

Grenwald chuckles at the understatement. "Have you seen how damn twitchy they are? I hear casualties have been pretty low since that last big throw-down, but it sure looks like it ain't making the guards here any calmer."

"Nuisance techniques, I'm sure." Pretty hops his way over a marked trap. "Although I've heard that the boss of the floor hasn't been doing their nightly resets lately. What does that mean, Tiffany?"

The blonde arcane demon narrows her eyes at the incubus. "I'm two hundred years old - as you enjoy reminding people - and a Supreme-tier mage. You don't need to quiz me as if I'm some apprentice on their first dungeon intrusion."

"What does that mean, Tiffany?" The repetition is pitch-perfect with the original question, and Tiffany sighs.

"That the dungeon manually respawned the boss somewhere else and has been reserving him for something special."

"Indeed! And I don't know about you, but I feel special. So, lets keep our eyes open and our buttholes clenched, shall we?"

There's a few chuckles from the group following behind him, some genuine, some merely polite. For most of the members of the raid, this expedition is seen as something of a vacation from the real war going on outside. Everyone present had spent weeks sabotaging defenses, assassinating high-value targets, or causing chaos designed to slow the responses of the Valleylands and Rainlands armies. They all have dungeon experience, of course, but it's hard to take a dungeon seriously compared to a conflict involving tens of thousands of soldiers.

For Pretty, though, this is the sort of thing that got him into the business of being a high-tier military specialist to begin with. War is chaotic, war is dangerous, but war is also boring. True creativity in war is rare, let alone actual artistry. Besides, Pretty had seen more war than almost the entire rest of the expedition put together, which meant it had all become a little same-old, same-old to him. Here, though? The incubus can feel it in his bones - this dungeon will be different.

As the group reaches the floor's boss arena, Pretty raises his hand. "Hold. Wildest Things ahead with me, the rest of you hang back outside."

Grenwald and Fidelia share a look, and the kobold scoffs. "...We're the 'Wildest' things, now? What does that make the rest of them? 'Kind of Wild Things'? And why not keep moving together?"

"Yes you two, and you too, Tiffany, come along. We're sticking to the four of us because it would be rude to not give a proper first demonstration. Twenty people firing off spells and attacks in a single chamber? It'd be like an orchestra with nothing but drummers."

Tiffany eyes the walls and floor of the space, all just as stripped bare as the rest of the floor. "Are you that confident that something is going to happen here? Would be a little embarrassing now if - hold on."

Pretty simply stands patiently, smiling at Tiffany as she focuses her magic. "Detecting something, dear?"

"A dungeon portal just opened up - there. About eight feet down. And...rock is shifting into empty space, I think."

"And there we are." As Grenwald steps forward, Pretty waves him back. "Hold on, hold on. Let's at least let our opponents have a proper dramatic reveal before things begin, shall we?"

The kobold grumbles, but does as asked. "This 'theater manager' bullshit is gonna get us killed...as long as it gets you first, I suppose."

Pretty only answers with his still-present smile, but they don't need to wait for long. With barely a sound a large section of the floor suddenly melts away, revealing a ramp leading to a small chamber below. That ramp is filled with charging rabbit warriors, and the rogues in front waste little time in spreading out, leaping to one side or the other to make room for the ones following.

"Should have just let me cook them before they got out!" Without waiting for further commands, Fidelia spreads her wings wide and thrusts her palms forward. Three jets of flame shoot out, one from each palm and another from her open mouth, and although they don't directly hit any of the monsters it does cause some chaos in their emergence. A few rogues stumble away, cursing at the flames scorching their feet, while the latter half of the ambush squad is forced back into their hole to avoid being incinerated.

"I agree - letting them take the first shot is being far too cocky!" Tiffany opens a few small portals in front of her, and the daggers thrown at her by a pair of rogues are immediately redirected back in their direction.

"As long as we get the last one, I suppose!" Grenwald charges the rabbits on the other side of the room, stone rippling around his feet as he does so. The effect is stronger in the direction of his charge, a mini-earthquake of unstable ground, and one of the rogues loses their footing with a cry. That cry is cut short as Grenwald's warhammer is introduced to their skull.

Pretty's reaction to the chaos is simply a disappointed sigh. "And here I was hoping for a bit of banter before a nice duel or two. Can't have anything, sometimes. By the way, Tiffany, some of those rabbits you're fighting aren't real."

"What!?" The arcane demon glances back and forth between him and her opponents. True...they do look very similar to each other. But she can feel the mass of their weapons as they're flung in her direction. "They don't seem like illusions to me!"

"Mmm, not optical illusions no, but even a monster's dimmed senses can still register some pain, and they're not reacting to my magic much at all. Except for...that one." He flicks a finger towards one rogue, and BB suddenly gasps.

"What the - what the fuck? Like blades in my damn lungs!"

Pretty turns his smile on the Floor One boss as he slowly strides in the rabbit's direction - uncaring of the arrows and knives flying in his direction, directed elsewhere by Tiffany's magic. "It's funny, you know. Dungeon monsters generally don't actually need to breathe. Many of them like to talk, though, and reproducing that whole mechanism without lungs would be all sorts of complicated. So the gods simply gave you a set and called it a day, I suppose. But my, are they vulnerable. So much internal surface area! Even something that would be harmless to the skin, like a pile of sand, would be quite debilitating if it suddenly wound up inside the lungs. I think you'll agree."

BB falls to one knee, his arm too shaky to properly threaten the demon in front of him. "The fuck...did you conjure sand into my lungs? Some kind of sandmancer!?"

"Hells, no. I simply made you feel like I did. Physically there's nothing wrong with you. But that's the funny thing about something being 'all in the mind', isn't it? The mind is real, so what you feel with the mind is of course real as well. Or am I wrong? Care to engage me in a duel?" With a flourish the man pulls his sword from his scabbard, and points it in BB's direction.

BB's response is far less eloquent. "F-fuck! You!" With a burst of strength from his mighty legs the guardian launches himself forward, twin daggers held in front, but a pained gasp immediately ruins his form. Pretty steps aside as BB flies past him, as confidently as a matador dodging a bull, and a quick flick of his blade means that BB's head and torso land in rather different locations. As he does so do the magical copies engaging Tiffany fade away, and Pretty looks to see that Grenwald's had quite a bit of success against his own opponents. The minion-level rogues were unable to pierce his armor and magical defenses, while his manipulation of the environment around him had ruined their advantage in agility.

That leaves just the half or so of the ambush still left within the hidden chamber. "Fidelia, you can let up, now. Let's see who else would like to come out and play, hrmm?"

The draconic turns off her flames, but gives the demon a confused look. "You...wanted me to save them for you? Sorry, I thought we were killing them now."

Frowning, Pretty walks over and looks down the scorched ramp. Sure enough there's half a dozen completely torched corpses down below, victims left trapped with nowhere to go by flames too hot to leap through. The largest one seems to be wearing a set of heavy armor, and Pretty tentatively identifies it as being the dungeon's first wandering boss. "Ah. Well. Perhaps we could work a bit on our communication, but I can't fault everyone's enthusiasm. Onwards then! I believe we have a jumping puzzle to look forward to."

Grenwald sighs as he wipes off his hammer. "Loving this place already..."