Museum Core Epilog: A Solar System of Possibilities

One year later, Kyoto, Japan

As per usual, no one had felt entirely comfortable with having a monster spawner only controlled by his own honor and conscience inside a capital city, so the Japanese had built the requested museum somewhere other than Tokyo. But Thomas didn’t mind, he’d have done the exact same thing if he’d been in their place.

It was a perfectly understandable precaution, and Thomas wasn’t going to cause a stink over it; in fact, even making the tiniest issue over it would have been downright unreasonable.

Ambassador Tatsuno was actually here as well, having been transported here in the same plane that had brought Jan and the subcore, as recognition of his effort in making all this happen.

As for the museum itself, it was actually very basic construction, a massive warehouse the size of a city block, with eight-meter high ceilings and only a few low dividing walls to further subdivide the whole thing. Because it did need to be a museum for the subcore to work.

Which, in turn, seemed to require several conditions to be fulfilled, in the eyes of the system, as proven across the past month, as they’d repeatedly tried the installation after adding on traits that had deliberately been left out to see if they’d be necessary.

In the end, the required conditions were exactly what you’d think: there needed to be exhibits, the layout needed to be actually “museum-like” and a random clutter of interesting stuff getting thrown into an equally random building wouldn’t work, there needed to be information and name plaques, and it needed to have had at least a few visitors who were there for the purpose of learning before the System would let him use a core.

All very doable, especially since he now had a checklist he could work his way down for the next time he got some subcores.

Well, actually, they didn’t know which specific things had been needed, it was entirely possible that they’d added things that weren’t necessary before they’d finally hit the nail on the head, but it wasn’t like they could somehow “take back” the museum having been walked through wtihout a lot more time and effort than anyone was willing to invest, him included.

And yet, the Japanese government always rolled out the red carpet and brought in the reporters just in case this time was the right one, just in case this attempt was actually the one that wound up working … it was a bonafide miracle that there wasn’t already a whole bevy of conspiracy theories about where the Prime Minister kept disappearing to.

Perhaps the thing that helped was that most of the reporters who’d ordinarily be putting out the articles that formed the “basis” of said theories were also in on the whole thing, though it was arguably an even bigger miracle that none of those reporters had leaked anything thus far.

At the end of the day, the Japanese government wanted to be able to put out a victorious press release promising a bright future, not an endless series of “yes, we’re getting a dungeon, but installation failed, again.”

However, Thomas had had very little to do with the reporters, thankfully, who had to stay outside since the mana that would fill the building would fry their electronics.

So while Prime Minister Nakamura was giving a speech he had to have memorized by now outside, Thomas was using Jan to carry in he subcore, slowly making his way through the building while looking at the exhibits around. This might not be the first time he’d been in here, but he’d taken a different route every time.

The museum’s stated “topic” was warfare, both in history, folklore, and fiction, which Thomas hoped would give him access to both actual war machines, as well as more fantastical ones, and perhaps even certain mythological creatures.

Even if the System zeroed in on any specific one to the complete exclusion of the others, he’d still come out ahead.

There were tanks and planes and old scrolls and scale models of various fictional mechs and other war machines … even a fragment of the Sessho-seki, the killing stone, which had formed at the site of the death of the most feared kitsune in Japanese history, Tamamo-no-mae, was enshrined within these four walls.

Then, Thomas finally reached the central core room, with its glass ceiling that would allow the drone flying overhead to see what he was doing, and film the historic moment.

Now, if only it would work this time …

Yet when Jan held out the subcore and Thomas mentally activated the installation process, it began to float, waves of energy streaming off it and sinking into the surrounding area … and then the serenity of the moment was interrupted when a radio someone had left lying about burst into stinking flames with a loud “pop” as the incredible mana of a B-Rank dungeon flowed over it.

Thomas glanced up towards the drone and gave it a “really?” look, and proceeded to ignore it until the core was fully active a few seconds later and he was able to absorb the whole mess.

And then, he turned to the patterns he’d gotten.

He found himself with an animated samurai, which was a kind of haunted living armor capable of pulling off all sorts of impressive sword- and bow-based tricks, a couple of mechas, one person sized, one large enough that it’s head would scrape the ceiling if he summmoned it, and a unique variant of the machine spirit he’d already gotten from the British Museum that left him very glad the general concensus was that the system provided the patterns, because otherwise, the weaboo jokes would have been neverending.

The Fusion Spirit could merge with any kind of machine or machine-based monster and merge with any other device or being that it was also compatible with, creating any combination he wanted, whether it was a true-blue hybrid or something that was merely one with some attributes of the other. But no matter what, the fused creature would even be able to freely shift between forms.

Hm, how much would it cost him to have certain cars shipped over here, so he could make some transformers? Not for public consumption, even he wasn’t going to pick a fight with copyright lawyers, just to have some fun.

Then there was something called a chiko kitsune, which was the regular multi-tailed magic fox he’d actually been familiar with, though “chiko” seemed to be some kind of specific qualifier he didn’t know. Though a glance at a nearby information plaque revealed that it was a signifier of rank that meant that the fox in question had more than one tail, and was neither definitively good nor outright evil, though any of the evil kitsune, known as nogitsune, would never be able to rise beyond it no matter how strong they were, while good ones would rapidly get promoted.

Interesting.

Shapeshifting, illusion magic, including the hardlight variant, fire and lightning attacks.

He probably had a new favorite.

There was just one creature that he was very much confused about, so he walked over to where Ambassador Tatsuno was standing.

“What exactly is a Tengu?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Complicated,” Tatsuno replied, equally softly. “They’re … they’re magical beings. Good, bad, polite, mischievous, and so on. Some are considered kami, some are considered yokai … and some stories say they’re humans who were worthy of ascending to heaven after their deaths on the basis of their deeds, but too unpleasant to be around to actually be let in.

“They’re also often seen in stories as the teachers of the hero, swordsmasters of inhuman skill who can pass along that ability.

“You have one, don’t you?”

Thomas looked back into the Tengu pattern’s powers, finding the powers there just as he’d remembered them (from literally five seconds earlier).

Yokai Physique, Divine Swordsmanship, Inhuman Wisdom, Arcane Knowledge, and there it was, the final power, Teacher of the Sword.

“Yes, I got a Tengu pattern,” Thomas said. “I think I’ll put one outside as a trainer.”

That certainly sounded like a solid draw/attraction.

“Actually, it might be better if it were behind a couple of challenges,” Tatsuno suggested. “Gaining the teachings of a swordsmaster quite literally straight out of legend shouldn’t be easy.”

Doing that would actually make things harder, but Thomas suspected there was some cultural aspect to this he wasn’t seeing. Therefore …

“Are there any surroundings that would be appropriate for something like that?” he asked.

“I’ll send someone your way,” Tatsuno promised.

While the speeches continued on for a while longer, he found his thoughts drifting as he made plans. Oh so many things he could do … he might grow to be bored a decade or two from now if all he did was play with this place, but by then, something else interesting would doubtlessly be in the pipeline.

***

Jaclyn rolled her shoulders as she walked out of the Natural History Museum, the last flakes of ice crumbling off her jacket. That damn weretiger was … well, actually, it was a pretty fun fight, even if its power to switch out its gear at the drop of a hat was complete shite.

Daedalus kept the appearance of the gear and its powers consistent for reasons of fairness … but that hardly helped, considering that that particular champion had half a dozen sets for each form, and anyone who fought it would only be able to see one of the three it had equipped, since it would start out in a specific form and whip out the others only when it would be most invonvenient for delvers such as herself.

If she’d had the option, she’d have just gone ahead and fought that thing until she had to collect her daughter from school, but unfortunately, she had actual duties that needed fulfilling.

She gave herself one final once-over, making sure her uniform had been repaired and that there were no bloodstains on it either. In other words, she looked presentable, unless … she reached back to make sure the bun she’d put her hair into was still in place.

Once again, this was a situation where she’d have to make a good first impression; this was the first time they’d be seeing her in person.

Yeah, she was in ship-shape.

Jaclyn marched out into the little town that had sprung up outside the Natural History Museum, then easily navigated the streets that had long-since become familiar until she found herself in one of the many barracks there.

“Good morning, everyone,” she began, causing all fifty of the recruits to jump to attention in various states of readiness, so she gave them a good ten seconds to finish putting on shirts, spit out toothpaste, and so on.

“I’m Deputy Director Abrams, I’ll be taking you on your first dungeon delve.”

That caused another stir, despite the fact that they all knew that that was what they were here for, and the fact that she took care of most of these. So she gave it a few more seconds until things calmed down.

“Now, you won’t be under a training seal, but we won’t go outside the F-Rank area, and with me there, you might as well be. I’ve already divided you into optimal teams based on your classes, if there are any reasons these won’t work, tell me now.”

It took a minute for everyone to find their teammates, and a second to make a couple of changes, but then things were ready. Some might have complained about her “coddling” the newbies, but honestly, forcing people who did not get along with each other to work together when there were other options was just one of those things that made things flow just that little bit less smoothly.

Granted, letting a little friction happen under safe circumstances allowed people to learn valuable coping skills … but the first dungeon delve was still risky even if it was incredibly unlikely to be lethal.

From there, it was a simple matter of walking into the dungeon with group after group, giving advice, intervening when necessary, and maintaining the stiff upper lip even after some of the funnier pratfalls in the water section.

As she watched, Jaclyn allowed her thoughts to turn to the world’s current state.

All in all, things had been semi-calm. The last anchor beast, a massive kraken, had been killed without any input from her or Daedalus. The Japanese and Koreans had put aside their legendarily tense relationship to get the kill before the Chinese did, and most people in general were trying to keep things calm due to all the aliens overhead.

Well, there was still Agares, but he wasn’t considered a “beast” and best left alone.

However, the new guys in the solar system might not be aliens in the traditional sense, considering how some of the other offworlders were more akin to traditional “fantasy” races than bug-eyed beasts from beyond the stars.

One thing was certain, though: whoever was up there, they couldn’t be too inhuman.

After all, there’d been a certain satelite image that had been making the rounds, of some being, too distant to clearly identify, drawing messages into a field day in, day out, swiftly growing shorter until eventually, the alien letters had been replaced by a crude drawing of genitalia, large enough to be seen all the way from Earth.

And then, the next day, it had been replaced by yet another message, short but in a massive font, which the codebreakers read as being something along the lines of “so sorry, my kid’s a moron.”

In fact, it was an honest to God miracle that no one on Earth had done something similar … or, at the very least, she hadn’t heard of it. Actually, come to think of it, the chance of no genitalia or other offensive messages being carved into the ground was just as low as that of there not being a single drunk in Glasgow on a Saturday night. Theoretically possible, but not something you’d ever see in practice.

While there would likely be a whole lot of jokeying for power and general intrigue when it came to first contact, there was also enough of a risk of “alien” invasions that cooler heads tended to prevail.

Though actual contact would take a while. Theoretically possible as it might be, actual expeditions to celestial bodies other than the Moon were rather tricky, and took a lot of planning and preparation.

And while the name might have indicated that the Worldstrider Tribe would have zero issues zapping themselves up there, they were best at interuniversal travel; the current problem was one of intrauniversal translocation. Also, they usually used existing weaknesses in the fabric of reality, which weren’t present here, at least not in any way that would have been useful …

All in all, a whole lot of politicking she definitely was in a position to involve herself in, but didn’t. Her “contribution” was training the next generation of BPA officers, thereby directly strengthening the diplomatic position of the UK.

Oh, speaking of, they were back in the EU. One of the big arguments against rejoining had been that the European Union would have likely imposed significant penalties to discourage the impression that one could leave and/or (re)join at the drop of a hat … but then the PM had shown up, “dungeon in hand” and all had been forgiven.

Great Britain alone, even with her and Daedalus, had hardly been the biggest player on the global stage.

Europe, with three dungeons in the form of the Natural History Museum, British Museum, and Deutsches Museum, was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.

All in all, things seemed to be going well. And if they didn’t … well, Jaclyn was still the highest level human in the world, discounting Daedalus and Elias. She actually had the potential to win many a war single-handedly.

And, of course, now Eve wanted to be a dungeon delver when she grew up … was there a deal to be made to ensure that was safe?

Either way, that was one of her concerns for the future. That, and ensuring that her current crop of (morons) students lived to see tomorrow. Which she grew more and more doubtful of with every passing moment. Kids these days …

***

The next day

The Belfast was looking … interesting. Reshaped into its most far-removed form yet, a kind of space shuttle with the entire mass of a mid-20th-century light cruiser, which was semi-absurd, and well beyond what most rockets could carry into orbit.

It would most likely explode. In fact, it would almost certainly explode. But as long as it blew high enough that it didn’t cause any damage and no one gave him any grief over it, that was fine.

He’d keep trying over and over again until it landed, at which point he’d spawn Jan up there and proceed to do … whatever could be done on the alien planet.

Even if it took a decade, even if it took two, he had the time. And the safety.

Looking up into the stars, there was only one question in Thomas’ mind: was there any chance that a civilization up there had a museum he could stick his final subcore in?

And, more importantly, did they have any more cute critters?

Finis

*******************************************************************************So, here’s the thing: I realized I was writing myself into a massive corner at the start of this book.

Sticking the new transformation zones into the sky was always the plan, but I realized that eventually, in due time, it would turn into a political mess. Culture clashes, negotiating with superpowered assholes where you can’t just overawe them with power, etc. …

And then I realized that, at the end of the day, this is supposed to be a dungeon core story. I’ve already messed up the focus on that story several times in the past, much as I like Jaclyn as a character and enjoy writing her, the criticism I’ve gotten about writing way too many badger cop chapters was 100% justified.

Like I said, this is meant to be a dungeon core story but I’ve reached the point where it continuing would turn into something very different, heavily political, with very little wordcount left for Thomas, let alone the other dungeon creatures. Writing the final battle, I actually realized that that was actually the first time we properly saw Dexter and Cheshire’s C-Rank powers.

My point is, I don’t think it would be fair to the story, or its readers, to stretch out Museum Core into a seven or eight-book series where the second half is seventy-five percent politthriller.

End of the day, I should have listened to the guy who told me that writing a dungeon core story is hard because you have to keep most of the story in one spot, which I’m pretty sure didn’t work out so well in this story …

All that being said, while I won’t promise a sequel series, I do like this setting a lot and might wind up writing a sequel series, one focusing on exploring various magical environments and munchkinning multiclassing and so on.

And speaking of sequel series, I’ll write the Apocalypse Redux sequel series (Apocalypse Continuum) starting early 2026, if any of you follow that story too.

Still, this story has been a whole lot of fun to write, especially digging into the treasure chest of cool animals and cuddly critters and playing around with those.

It’s been real.

With minimal typoes,

Jakob H. Greif

PS: I'll be taking a bit of a longer break before writing Outrage of the Ancients 3