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The infinity dungeon 150
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 13:30:34 +0000 UTC“What?” Michael looked at Johanne, stopping in his steps as her words registered in his mind.
The woman seemed to understand that something was wrong, looking first at Michael and then at the few dwarves milling about close to the surface or manning the gates themselves. None showed signs of having heard what she had said, but Michael suspected it was more a byproduct of his presence than of their ability to hear.
“Those are not dwarves,” she said. This time, she seemed to understand that perhaps saying certain things out loud was not respectful and was whispering, leaning close to Michael. “They look like half men with long beards.”
“Yeah, that’s what dwarves are supposed to look like.” said Michael, “or were they different in your culture?”
Johanne touched her chin. “That is a good question indeed. One worth asking, for I don’t know the answer to it,” she paused. Michael was sighing. “I did something that has upset you.”
“More like you just put me in an odd situation,” he said. Then his face morphed into a diplomatic smile as he turned around. “Trylfir! Long time no see. How’s the reconstruction going?”
“Very well, lad.” said the dwarf. “I ain’t jokin’ when I say that you saved us all. Not only from the cold, but from being forgotten specks of rust in the great depths of the mountain of history. The raven call, not one of us heard its chilling song in the days since you reignited the Heart. Who do you bring with you?”
The dwarf studied Johanne's tall, lithe frame. His face seemed to convey just what he thought about a woman who just so happened to be the exact opposite of his race’s beauty standards. He was met with a stare, because if there was something that Johanne excelled at, it was staring. Among other things.
“She’s Johanne,” Michael said, putting himself between the two, in the line of fire. “She was very interested in your mechanical technology when I told her about it.”
“She was, wasn’t she?”
“I dare say that I was,” Johanne said, eyebrow raised and voice full and imposing. “However, I wonder just how magical this runescript of yours can be, given that it has been created by the likes of you.”
The dwarf harrumphed. “Is that what you think, tall lass? Then be ready because what I’m going to show you will blow yer mind.”
Michael followed the bickering duo. He could swear that he was seeing sparks in the air between the two as they took turns talking, listening to each other’s presentation of their peculiar magics.
It was interesting to see how, even though they were rivals, they gave each other ample space to talk and never interrupted each other. People much more polite than them had failed to be civil in similar situations.
Both the dwarf and Johanne seemed firmly convinced that their own method and approach to magic was superior, and after the initial grandstanding phase, they had moved onto a battle of wits of sorts, where each tried to find things that the other’s magic could not achieve with the same elegance or simplicity. They were done poking holes at each other’s magic systems and had moved onto more philosophical arguments–which Michael interpreted as them having run out of points to make–by the time they finally reached the depths of the frozen halls.
“These, tall lass, are priceless artifacts of our race.”
Johanne rushed to the many worktables and warded lockboxes. Trylfir had not disabled the magic protecting them, nor had remembered to unlock the boxes of the items he was describing. His cheap amusement at his own forgetfulness was short lived, because Johanne walked through the wards with barely a hiccup and a quickly cast spell.
The dwarf cleared his throat, “anyway, as you can see–”
“Trinkets,” declared the woman, making the leader of the dwarves turn a shade redder than he already was after the heated conversation. A vein popped up in his forehead, snaking around and disappearing in his fiery red mane of hair.
“Trinkets?!” roared the dwarf, “I’d like to see your own magic achieve the same effects without convoluted rerouting of most of the pathways of your… spells.”
He savored the last word in his mouth, and found its taste unpleasant. Johanne laughed, a dangerous light glinting in her eyes.
“Bah, this mechanical technology might be fascinating, but only as a case study in what not to do. Even then, it relies on magic too much. What if magic runs out?"
So far, even though the two had tried to shoot each other’s magic down, their rivalry had been somewhat friendly. Trylfir had taken the initial insult in stride, not giving it much weight. But after Johanne’s last sentence, the dwarf suddenly lost all mirth.
“It never runs out. Gods forbid, the day it does is the day that dooms us all.”
Johanne turned around. She was about to make a snarky remark when one look from Michael stopped her. He had to–she was not good with people. Now forced to re-examine the situation, she finally understood that the seriousness in the dwarf’s voice had to mean something.
“It has run out before, and it might again,” she said, matching his seriousness. “That's why you don't see me having bridges built out of forcefields. When the magic fails, people die. It is up to us to make sure the number stays low.”
Michael hummed. He didn’t think she’d care. Perhaps she only cared because he cared. The dwarf also hummed, deep in thought. Instead of dismissing what Johanne said, he gave the idea serious consideration.
His eyes were different when he looked at Johanne first, and then at Michael. “Do you come from a place without magic, lad?”
Michael nodded.
“That would explain much. Your talent. But you Johanne, you do not, do you?”
She shook her head. “How did you know?”
“The fear,” the dwarf said solemnly, “I can see it in your eyes. I know you can see it in mine. I don’t see it in his. Sure, he might fear losing what makes him different than most people, but Johanne,” he looked at her. Really looked at her, “he doesn’t know the deep-set fear that comes with imagining a world like ours, suddenly without magic.”
“Except this isn’t a real world,” said Michael suddenly, “magic might fade again out there, but I doubt it ever will in here. There might be worse things to worry about, though.”
Trylfir nodded, “aye. That there be. We are no fools. We recognize at least part of the destiny that has been forced upon us by agents so big we cannot even hope to understand. It be among the first thing our explorers reported back, when they went far and wide with their rediscovered elements. This world has an edge, and it has a will.”
“Do not probe the edge,” Johanne suddenly warned. She too, was dead serious.
“We shan’t. Let us talk about more pleasant topics now. Of hope. Johanne, you said that there is technology in the world outside, did it develop without magic? How?”
“Let me tell you about semiconductors, quantum mechanics, and a few other wonders. In exchange, you will let me study your diagrams.”
Their conversation lasted long into the night. Michael left them at it, and went down to Floor Five to sort some things out.
***
Michael left the dungeon feeling like he had been run over by a truck, mentally. People always seem to think that violence is the answer and the outlet to stress, but every time they use it, they realize that it really isn’t. The realization only lasts until stress accumulates again.
Dealing with the jungle temple goblin had been simple enough–the little creature was scared shitless of Michael and quickly swore an Oath to never bother him again. It was interesting to see that Floor Five, even though it was odd-numbered and not a challenge floor, had been made permanent by the dungeon. Michael had half-expected it to reset just like Floors 1 and 3 do all the time, but he had found the temple open and half-destroyed, and the goblin still there and still scared shitless of him..
The day was drawing to a close. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the side of the hills and mountains orange. After a query, Icarus informed Michael that Maggie was home, so he decided to make a detour and spend some time with the only member of his family that still deserved a place in his heart. They chatted well into the night, Maggie telling Michael about her adventures with the golems and her strange relationship with the Fae while he told her about his own adventures.
He wasn’t overly worried about how she seemed to be developing a strange relationship with the dungeon and its denizens. There was plenty of strange around Site 00, and Maggie had a good head on her shoulders. After they were done talking, Michael slept for the first time in what felt like ages. He didn’t remember any dreams or nightmares, but when he woke up he was covered in sweat and feeling worse than he had been the night before. His eyes searched for something, anything that would ground him to the present, and he saw the Gnapticon stone and the exotic light Element gemstone on his nightstand.
It was enough. Dressing in his usual t-shirt and jeans, he used [Telekinesis] to make daily tasks trivial, feeling like a monstrous inhuman alien in the process, and deciding that he didn’t care about it in the slightest.
He met David outside. He was still old, and frail, another reminder of a project on a timer. At least, things were out of Michael’s hands: David had given his own Floor 2 reward–a vial of some sort–to Doctor Kavins with the clear purpose of stabilizing his rejuvenation drug. According to Icarus, the doctor was nearly done.
David wasn’t alone. Liff was following him like a lost puppy.
“She’s looking much better,” he said, feeling like he had just lied. But his [Healing Aura] told him that she was in perfect health, even though she looked more haggard than even back in the dungeon.
Immediately, Liff shrunk away and hid behind David’s legs. She was so short she barely reached his hips, and her freckled face could be seen between them as she peeked at Michael before she hid again.
“As you can see, she’s yet to learn how to trust strangers again.”
Michael nodded, “that’s expected. Do you want me to use [Candle Light] on her a little bit? It might help.”
David shook his head, “maybe in the future. Right now, she needs rest. Hey,” he said, bending down to look at her, “you don’t need to grip so hard. I’m not going anywhere.”
The girl shook her head vigorously, tightening her little fist around the fabric of David’s trousers. “Mm, no, no, no!” she yelled, “NO!”
“What the–”
She fainted, falling backwards on dry, crunchy yellow grass. David bent down to pick her up, lifting her little body with no effort.
“She’s burning, Michael!” he said in a barely controlled panic, “heal her!”
He had already activated the skill, perhaps before the girl even touched the ground.
“I’m trying!” he cried.
“Well, try harder!”
“I can’t.”
