A Dungeon’s Survival

Gyle

I took a large sip of tea and exhaled. Several hours had passed since Lawrence returned and made his report. What he'd had to say was odd. Under normal circumstances, there was no way I would've believed it, yet with the Apethis Tea continuing to ensure my judgment remained unclouded, I couldn't dismiss the Trenti's claims outright. At a minimum, I was certain there was more truth about the System in its words than even I was able to understand.

My confidence in this didn't stem from the powder I'd concocted, nor was it because I couldn't find the flaws in its outlandish claims. I would've needed to be a fool in order for that to be the case. Instead, the reason why I'd come to believe at least some of its words was because they were supported by my own research.

For generations, I'd served as this nation's royal alchemist. Given such a role, I'd studied Dungeon Cores to an extreme few others in the world could compete with. The prototype bomb I'd lent Lawrence was a fine example of that research.

Forged from part of a Dungeon Core itself, it was designed for the sole purpose of exterminating Dungeons swiftly and effectively. In the event a war with Drulin broke out, it was supposed to be our nation's ultimate weapon, a way to cripple that wicked empire from within. In large part, it was my life's work and one of two projects I'd devoted myself to in my entirety for nearly a century; that was up until Felix stole my research and presented it to the king as his own. Still, between that and the rest of my studies, I knew far more about Dungeon Cores than most nations did. That was why I couldn't shake that thing's words.

“A great cataclysm, is it?” I tested the words on my tongue; though I'd heard them before, this was the first time they'd been spoken in a way that was believable.

Dungeon Cores were certainly a mystery in the way that they functioned. They effectively produced endless mana from nothing, seemingly generating it on their own rather than pulling it in from the world around them, yet no matter how much they produced, it never seemed to raise the ambient mana levels of the world as a whole. It was enough to convince some that the world was leaking mana somehow, and following that flawed line of thinking, without Dungeons, some people believed magic would cease to exist.

As far as I was concerned, it was a preposterous notion supported by fear more than it was by actual science. Actual, tangible research suggested they played more of a role in the circulation of mana rather than the actual generation of it, pulling it in from some unknown, extradimensional point and and expelling once more. Considering the fact that stagnation had never been observed to have a negative effect on mana in the first place, it was highly unlikely that the absence of Dungeon Cores would have anywhere near that significant of an impact. The only people who seemed to give the theory that it would actual credence were doomsday cultists.

That being said, the title one received for shattering a core didn't help with that matter. It was uncharacteristic of the System to say the least. Despite the fact I had it memorized verbatim, I still found myself pulling it up on my own status sheet to review it.

[Title: Dungeon Slayer

Description: You have destroyed a Dungeon Core. Well done, mortal! Be rewarded.

Effects: While this title is equipped, the holder benefits from +20% to all stats. Upon receiving this title, all of the holder's current and future abilities will be improved.

Appended_Description: You really shouldn't have done that.

Appended_Effects: Upon receiving this title, the quality of the holder's class upgrade options will be improved. However, all future experience gains will be heavily reduced.]

It was the only known title to include an appended description or effects. When that was paired with the severity of the decreased experience gain it inflicted, the ominous warning it gave, and the unusual way the System seemed to contradict itself, it was enough to inspire plenty of fearmongering cults, more than a few of which had grown into full-blown terrorist organizations over the years. Considering the immense value the title provided, even with the downsides, however, conflicts between entire nations and such groups were inevitable and far too common.

That was what made discerning the truth of the Trenti's words so important yet so difficult. On one hand, it being a static monster with more intelligence and a deeper connection to the System was possible, and if that was the case, there much to be learned from its words. On the other hand, it remained more likely that the being on the other side of that connection had been a mind mage. More concerning was the fact that, if that was the case, that mage was almost certainly a member of those doomsday cults. Even if that was so, however, one thing remained true: their knowledge on Dungeon Cores far exceeded that of any ordinary organization.

“An unspecified cataclysm, not the end of the world or even the loss of all magic,” I muttered to myself, “That, unfortunately, is far more believable than the usual ramblings of madmen.”

Out of all the theories I'd heard about Dungeon Cores in my lifetime, only a handful were scientifically sound. Of those that were, a few stood out. Sure, there were the ones that claimed mana was being siphoned away from something or used to power some unimaginably large spell, but they were too nebulous for my liking. There was one exception though.

As outlandish as it may have sounded, there was a running theory that the mana circulation from Dungeon Cores somehow powered the System itself. The Trenti's words, even if they didn't explicitly state that that was their belief, at least heavily implied that was the case. Whether that was due to the misguided beliefs of a cult, something more tangible, or the result of me looking too deeply into its words however, I was unsure, and that left me with the question of how much stock to put into its ramblings.

I had no doubt that it believed its own words. I was also confident that it had a better understanding of certain Dungeon mechanics than even I did, but that wasn't enough for me. There was almost nothing it had said that couldn't be explained by it being a delusional cultist with a soul-binding contract that prevented it from revealing its cult's secrets and a few clever tricks–almost nothing.

There were a few details that didn't align with that being the case, first of which was its belief that it actually was a Trenti. While a mage tricking themselves into thinking that was the case under those circumstances wouldn't have been impossible, I couldn't imagine any sane individual taking the measures necessary to accomplish such a thing ahead of time. The problem was, cultists were not known for being the sanest of individuals. Add on the fact that it refused to explain the presence of the level one hundred who'd shown up the day before, and it was clear something suspicious was going on one way or another.

Then, there was other claim I couldn't simply write off. For it to have insisted that one of the Great Dungeons had fallen, it was either mad or knew far more than it should have. If I could identify which it was, I'd be far better equipped to judge the veracity of its other claims.

Unfortunately, as it stood, I wasn't equipped to debunk such a thing. Because of that, I'd been forced to leave the investigation of it up to Sirius and his internal connections in the Adventurers Guild. The hours I'd been left to contemplate the situation as he did so had been unproductive at best. All I could do until his return was consider possibilities that might not have even been the case. Thankfully, however, he was a capable man and returned in only a fraction of the time I'd anticipated.

“Roughly three weeks ago,” he announced as he stepped back through the door of the meeting room, “Arachnids' Rest was closed off to the public. There's speculation that the nation it belongs to is preparing for war, but with how firmly their guild branch's response to my inquiry shut me down, I fear it implies something deeper than that. Unfortunately, I am unable to speak with certainty, but it is possible that the Dungeon has fallen.”

“What would you estimate the likelihood of that being the case?” I asked.

“Considering the timing and how unprecedented this kind of thing is, higher than I'd like.”

“I see.”

That wasn't enough to draw a definitive conclusion about the nature of the Trenti, but it was still enough to change things. If even Sirius couldn't obtain that information, no ordinary cultists should've been able to, not that any organization with a fifth tier individual among their ranks was normal anyway. Even unconfirmed, it gave the Trenti's claims a degree of credibility.

Once the situation surrounding Arachnids' Rest become clearer, I'd be able to better assess the Trenti, but until that happened, I could at least confirm its information channels were greater than mine. If it turned out Arachnids' Rest had fallen, it would either be a point in its favor, or it would mean the cult the man was a part of had more backing and power at its disposal than most countries. It could even suggest that they were the ones responsible for its fall. On the other hand, if it stood, it would all but confirm he was a mere decently informed cultist. Regardless of which it was, though, it made little difference in regards to how we needed to handle this in the immediate.

Largely, there were two types of doomsday cults that centered around Dungeon Cores. There were those that sought to destroy them, and there were those who wanted to protect them. The real question was which kind we were dealing with.

If they were the ones responsible for destroying a Great Dungeon, I doubted anything we could do to oppose them would make a difference. There was also the fact that they seemed intent on protecting our local Dungeon instead of destroying it to consider. As with all things, it was a risk, but after taking all of the information available to me into account, I decided to take a gamble. As long as they were of the protective variety, it meant, for the time being, our goals aligned, and considering their apparent power, I could only consider that as being for the best.

“Sirius,” I spoke up after a time, “I say we report to the guild only the positives for the time being. One of the static monsters has taken up alchemy and is a suspected Dungeon Lord in the making. That is something we can't currently disprove and would explain all of the Dungeon's irregularities.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“If that isn't the case, it makes little difference. Either the third party isn't a threat or they are a far greater threat than even the empire. Either way, the guild knowing the full details wouldn't be enough to change the outcome of what's to come, at least not for the better.”

“If they investigated and found our reports to be inaccurate …”

“Then, it was my fault. I, the untrustworthy former royal alchemist who was stripped of my position, withheld information from you. Pin all of the blame on me.”

“You do know you'd be executed for treason, right?”

“If this Dungeon falls, my life is as good as over anyway. It makes little difference. Just promise you'll protect Lawrence should it be necessary.”

“I won't be able to assure him a comfortable life.”

“As long as you can assure him a life, that is enough.”

My friend nodded at my words, but he still seemed unsatisfied.

“I still doubt it will be enough for them to halt the extermination.”

“Then, add one additional detail to your report.”

“What?”

“This Dungeon is an indispensable military asset capable of producing permanent enhancers. It holds more strategic value than a single Dungeon Slayer title.”

“You don't mean to …”

“I do. If we are to stop its extermination, extreme measures will be necessary,” I answered without a hint of hesitation.

This was going to be an expensive gamble, and I had minimal time to make it work. Still, it was the only way forward I could see.

“Even if you manage it, there's likely to be consequences,” he warned.

“I'll handle them when the time comes,” I assured him externally, but my internal thoughts were significantly less confident.

Reduced to relying on potential cultists, I admonished myself, yet it couldn't be helped.

If at all possible, I wanted to avoid a conflict between this supposed Trenti and the Adventurers Guild, but if it came down to it, I would at least ensure this goblinoid–or cultist, whatever it actually was–was as well equipped to take on the Hero as it could be. There was risk involved, but so long as whatever was really pulling the strings wasn't about to use the core to unleash mass chaos on the kingdom, I only needed to ensure that its value exceeded that of the Hero's party in the aftermath. As long that was the case, I could strive to make up for my mistakes in the coming days.