Neophyte World Builder

OTHAN

With a firm tug, Othan yanked his sword free of the corpse. He felt the faint throb of his mana circuits converting mana into Vital essence and run it through the blade one last time, but it was just to be sure. The Entropic energies that had animated the corpse had already been nullified.

“Hopefully that’s the last of them,” Falis said from behind him. The [Mana Weaver] sent out a pulse of Radiant mana to check the immediate area—Othan could feel it tingle in his own conduits—then nodded to himself, one ear twitching again. It was a habit that Othan found endearing, though he wasn’t sure Falis would appreciate it. The Caster had always been a little sensitive about his appearance.

Othan would have preferred Falis relax, but he could understand why the other man avoided the topic. His furred muzzle and fluffy tail marked him to everyone as a feral, one of those vaskans whose ancestors had aligned so closely to a Totem that it began to pass down its traits to children… and then they hadn’t stopped even then. Now the Totem was impossible to disassociate, and the stigmata so severe they couldn’t be ignored.

Many of Othan’s old comrades looked down on ferals. They called them bestial and savage, or presumed they were less intelligent. Othan thought they were fools, considering Falis was the second-smartest vaskan he’d ever met, and was a gentle soul outside of combat. He wasn’t sure why the man stuck around given how often Othan had to go into the cities that treated ferals so badly, but he was glad for it.

“There were fewer outside than expected, but don’t let your guard down,” Ellna warned from farther back, safely out of the way. She lowered her spyglass and sighed.

If Falis was the second-smartest vaskan Othan had ever met, it was only because Ellna existed. He’d grown up with the [Battle Sage] and she had never failed to accidentally make him feel incredibly stupid… and everyone else in the room as well. He’d admired her so much that he’d even briefly courted her, despite a general lack of attraction to her, but as usual she’d figured out his awkward discomfort even before he had, and broken it off.

Othan shook his thoughts of the past away as Ellna finished her assessment and began to explain to the other two.

“It looks like the structure of the old dungeon is more intact than I expected,” she sighed. “If it is a maze inside like some of them, a lot of the undead won’t have managed to find a way out. There will be a lot more inside than we ran into outside. How are your reserves, Othan?”

In answer, Othan flicked the gore off his sword and silently activated the Flame pulse, burning off the rotten flesh and ichor. He considered the question, then gave a quick gesture in the affirmative that he was fine. He’d have to devote some of his attention to converting the local mana, but if he did that he should have fully recovered by the time they reached the actual ruins.

Ellna moved up next to Othan as Falis flanked his other side. Falis sniffed, then made a grimace, baring his fangs. “The smell isn’t improving. Now that you’ve seen the ruins, can you tell anything more about the dungeon, Ellna?”

The sage nodded slowly. “Some. The architecture looks to resemble Middle Challan or perhaps Early Indoss culture, which does help. This isn’t one of the earlier dungeons, it was likely created toward the end of the Dungeon Era. We’re lucky it looked like that… some dungeons created completely alien designs, but they never made designs from the future. Well, not wholly at least.”

That ear twitch happened again, but this time it ended in a perk. Othan frowned. “What do you mean not wholly?”

“Sometimes a nearby community would see useful ideas in the more strange dungeon structures,” Ellna supplied. “So while they didn’t appear to use anything from the future, sometimes it could look like it because a particular concept became widespread after a dungeon used it. All I meant was that it would never resemble architecture that looked exactly like an era that developed later, even if some techniques were inspired by them.”

Othan nodded, grasping that at last. “Ah, like a dungeon might have appeared with archways before they were invented, and then we started using archways. I get it.”

Ellna sighed. “Something like that. Archways were in use before the first dungeon ever appeared, but your comparison is apt.”

A soft grunt answered her. Othan didn’t mean to sound dismissive—he found the whole history of dungeons fascinating. What he didn’t want was Ellna to launch into a detailed explanation and lecture behind the history of architecture and the effect dungeons had upon its development. He could sense it coming, and he needed to keep his eye on the prize.

That intent was a little harder to follow through on once the notification popped up.

Othan halted and reread the notification. His goddess was on… administrative leave? He’d never heard of such a thing before. The System’s assurance that she had not done anything wrong with him was nice to know, but still worrying.

“I just received a notification that Volkoss is on… administrative leave.” His words came out slow and uncertain. “How does a goddess go on leave? What does that mean?”

Both of the others halted, and even Ellna looked flustered. “That is usually code for either an injury or that someone has gotten in trouble. Did you lose your class abilities?”

Othan shook his head. “No, and it said the System would provide for anything while Volkoss was gone. It also said there was no indication of impropriety involving me… I guess that’s good? And it says she’ll return.”

“Perhaps the gods are busy doing something,” Falis suggested. “You are the greatest champion of Volkoss, you may be the only one to receive that message.”

Calling him the greatest champion was just his belief, and Othan wasn’t sure if it was true. It was true that he had a very high level. He’d even received an achievement for being the first to take the class, back when it was still under the provisional name of “Deific Herald” or something. These classes hadn’t existed before the end of the Age of Silence.

“The idea that the gods can be placed on leave by the System is… does this mean the gods are within the System? Or… that is fascinating,” Ellna mused. “It sounds as if that is not our concern to consider, though. If your abilities still work then you should trust that you are still doing her will.”

Othan didn’t need her to remind him of that, he trusted his goddess. For one thing, she hated the undead, and he also hated the undead. The goddess of death had decreed that these should be released from the mortal plane, and he was all too keen on helping her do just that.

The ground became more treacherous as they approached the dungeon, forcing Othan to watch his step and proceed carefully. It took nearly an hour of slow and methodical steps avoiding the increasingly sunken dips in the earth before he even managed to get close to the entrance… where he was once more interrupted by a notification.

A request to confirm or deny this new change appeared before him, and Othan stopped short to stare at it. He held up a hand for silence while he thought over the question the System posed. The idea that he could be granted information he didn’t want was an odd thing to specify.

It still didn’t take Othan long to choose. His goddess had wanted him to have this, and if he was truly her champion, he should trust his goddess. It was simple.

He confirmed the selection.

“Is… something wrong, Othan?” Falis asked with a slow swish of his tail in concern.

Othan smiled at his friend’s worry and then shook his head… only for the smile to fade.

“It’s only been about an hour, but she is back, and she gave me… a glimpse from beyond.” He frowned. “Though I don’t feel any different.”

All three exchanged looks, then Othan shrugged. “We have a quest to complete.”

Another few steps carried them into the ruins of the dungeon. Othan drew his sword again, ready for any shuffling corpse that might await him. Most undead were aimless and only wandered out by chance, but once a living being was close enough they would try to consume their life force. Sometimes, the undead started to think more clearly though. That was what he was worried about.

Banishing the dead back to the Waiting Realm was his entire purpose. The longer they lingered in the living world, the weaker they usually became… unless an area heavy in Entropic mana like this one were nearby. Then they’d increase in strength until they could start to plan. Sometimes they would realize they were dead, and retreat quietly back into the Waiting Realm.

More often, they were too hungry.

Othan’s head throbbed, and he rubbed at his forehead as a queasy feeling overtook him. Thoughts of pride and anger, then terror. Despair. Anger again, but more familiar… a righteous anger, not the tantrum he felt like throwing before. A different kind of pride. Satisfaction.

The feelings rushed in so quickly he staggered, and Falis caught him before he could fall. It was Ellna’s voice—distant and ringing—that he heard cut through his confusion though.

“Othan? Are you all right? Falis, is he under a spell or something?”

“No, I haven’t detected any. Are you ill, Othan?” his friend asked with a murmur of concern.

Othan straightened, shaking his head. “I’m… sorry, I was just hit by a lot of strange feelings all at once. Between this and the messages…”

He trailed off and frowned.

“Do you think we should retreat until we know what is wrong?” Falis asked, carefully releasing his friend. “If you are ill, attempting to find the source of the undead would be… worrying.”

Ellna tsked. “It might be for the best. It looks like this dungeon is a maze-type. Any traps are probably long since deactivated, but it could take a long time to find our way to the middle. I’ll try to come up with a mental map.

“No, no. I’m fine,” Othan reassured the two, looking around.

The feelings bubbled up within him again, but they felt distant now. Like memories from long, long ago. Much longer than he’d ever been alive… he knew that. He felt it in his bones. Just like he felt something else.

“I know this place…” he murmured, instinctively understanding that he really did know it. As if he’d built it himself.

“This way.”