Shadowcroft's Academy for Dungeons Chapter 15

As they walked to the Golden Serpent Hall, Logan realized that he wouldn’t need breakfast because while he’d been busy refining his core, the chicken leg in his room was already busy filling his stomach. Hurray for Digestion! Neat trick alright. Logan idly wondered how hard it would be to get his own dead chicken. He’d start with an egg—it must have some primal energy to it. He got one from a friendly Treegee.

While she ate, Inga flipped open her DCG. Her hand went to her mouth. “We have a problem. I should’ve read closer about today’s class…but I got captured in a biography of Professor Bartholomew Nekhbet.” She paused, eyelashes fluttering madly. “It was a spicy read, let me tell you.” 

Another snort.

Treacle moaned. “Is this the dungeon decorating class? Please, tell me it’s not.”

“Heck yeah it is!” Marko erupted. “It’s my jam. Who needs murder when you have fashion?”

Logan held up a hand. “What is it Inga?”

“Our next class isn’t at the castle. It’s in the Xiru Forest to the west. We’ll have to run to get there in time!”

“Yes, we could run,” Marko replied with a grin. “Or… Or we could blow it off, and I could go back to bed!”

Inga looked miserable. “I can’t be late. I just can’t. Maybe I could fly there, but I’d have to leave you three. That would be horrible!”

Logan liked that she wanted to stay together as a team.

Treacle burped a cloud of hay stink. “It’s at least thirty miles to the Xiru Forest. No way we can make it in time. That’s a shame.” He crunched some more unconcerned.

Marko made a face. “You guys! Let’s just skip this one class. I promise. We’ll never do it again.”

Inga was near tears.

“No crying, Inga,” Marko said. “I’m allergic to women’s tears. Fine. I can get us there right quick and in a hurry. We can DIE to get there.”

“Tell me I didn’t hear you right,” Logan said.

Marko rolled his eyes. “And you guys didn’t want me going to Vralkag last night. The Gelatinous Knight showed me the DIE—as in the Dungeon Interchange of Entrances. It’s a way of getting to any dungeon on Arborea.” He paused and shot a smug smirk at Inga. “Looks like you haven’t memorized the entire Dungeon Core Grimoire yet.”

Inga scowled but didn’t correct him. “So you use DIE to get there,” Inga corrected. “Now, quit your games and take us there!”

The satyr stood. “It would be my pleasure. Good ol’ Marko, saving the day.”

They headed outside to the Northwest Practice Field. Near the ramparts of the castle was a large stone pavilion with the four clan animals carved into statues at the top. Nice thing here, the grass wasn’t trying to kill them.

They gathered around a stone table under the pavilion’s roof. There were weathered stone steps for the smaller folk, though as far as he knew, Logan was the smallest core at the school. On top of the table was a painted map of the circular continent of Arborea. Demon skull icons lay scattered across the land.

“My boy, the Gelatinous Knight, told me each of the scary demon heads mark the entrance of a dungeon,” Marko explained. “You touch the skull you want and channel your Apothos into the icon. You’ll be taken right to the entrance. From our work this morning, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

Logan studied the map for a beat—land nav had always been one of his strongest suits—and noticed that the deserts to the north had three dungeons. The mountain region had two as did the sprawling swamp to the south. The grasslands around Vralkag had two more while the forests to the west had three. Loch Endless had one as well. There were thirteen dungeons in all. The castle was also prominently displayed as well and there was a tree icon to the east.

Marko pointed to a building in the Xiru Forest. “That’s the Wayfarer Inn. GK—that’s what I call him sometimes—says it can get pretty dicey there, and it’s hard to get to. But apparently it has the best monster mead anywhere in the multiverse, so, there’s our Saturday night plans.”

Treacle appeared slightly amused. “GK?”

“Yeah, man,” Mark said, “I have no idea what that guy’s name is. He’s told me like five times, but I can’t ever remember it.”

“Which forest dungeon do we need?” Logan asked, focused as a laser. Although, admittedly, a round of drinking monster mead didn’t sound terrible. But that was for later, once he’d improved his cultivation and achieved a higher rank.

Inga already had her DCG open. “Well, pluck my feathers, it does talk about the Dungeon Interchange of Entrances. I missed that. The three forest dungeons are Root Kill, the Under Stump, and Cruelwood. Cruelwood is the one nearest Vralkag. We need to get to the Under Stump, which is the southwest dungeon.”

Marko didn’t pause. He touched the demon skull and vanished in a swirl of silver light. Treacle went next, then Inga, and Logan was left alone for a second. He enjoyed the moment. He was about to magic himself thirty miles away. Based on the dungeon locations and the scale of the map, he figured Arborea must be a hundred miles or so in diameter. He’d figured that water surrounded the land, but the painting swirled to life, with white clouds rolling around a void of inky black. Didn’t look like water. Was Arborea floating in the sky? More questions to answer, but not now.

Logan touched the Under Stump’s demon skull and cycled the merest trickle of energy from his Core, sending it coursing through his finger and into the map.

A second later, he was in a forest, under looming trees, standing on a carpet of pine needles. The pines smelled good, and the place was pretty. However, Logan was so dizzy he had to put his hands on his legs so he wouldn’t fall over.

Marko lay flat on his back, looking a little green around the gills. “Probably should’ve ordered my greasy omelet with a little less grease.”

There were two other cohorts present, but not the First Cohort. Good. The less Logan had to interact with Chadrigoth and his goons, the better. There were eight other monster students of various shapes and sizes ranging from an Inferno Salamander to a Lady Ice Dragon to an Undead Kobold Mage.

The professor, Arketa the Hellgazer, walked over to stare down at Marko.

She might’ve stepped off the set of Legally Blonde. Dark sunglasses covered her pale green face. The pink scarf wrapping her head matched both the pink business suit and her pink heels. Her fingernails, tapered to deadly points, sported the same color. She was the essence of style and grace, and yet, something was off about her. The professor’s voice had a sorority girl’s lilt to it. “You must be Marko Laskarelis. There may or may not be a warrant for your arrest in Vralkag.”

“I’m either totally innocent or completely guilty,” Marko said with a smile.

He shamelessly held up at hand so she could help him up.

Arketa the Hellgazer stepped back. “Oh, no, dear, I don’t think so.”

A green Rot Troll, tall and impossibly thin, came over, nose as long as his lengthy index fingers. He helped Marko up.

The satyr gave the troll a hug. “Thanks, Ed. You’re the best.”

The troll grunted. “Help. Friend. Good.” 

“Well, now, that makes everyone.” While the professor talked, Logan caught a glimpse of her forked tongue.

“I’m Professor Arketa, and yes, I’m the Hellgazer. It’s why I wear the dark glasses. I’m an A-Class Gorgonic Enchantress. Simply put, a gorgon.”

“Not a gorgon,” Marko said loudly. “More like a gorgeous.”

Arketa laughed, the sound light and bubbly. “Oh, sweetie, I haven’t been single in centuries. But we won’t be talking about my private life. Now, I wanted to give you a tour of your first dungeon here at Shadowcroft. As you’ll find out, I’m a very hands-on teacher.” She took off her pink heels and held them with one hand slung over her shoulder.

“Don’t make the hands-on joke,” Logan warned the satyr under his breath.

Marko swallowed loudly. And, mercifully, didn’t make the hands-on joke.

Arketa led them to the stump of a huge tree, long dead. Under the rotting wood was a moss-covered set of stairs. “You guys are so great. I feel so lucky to be teaching you. Just so we’re on the same page, this is Underground Feng Shei: Maximizing Your Dungeon for Murder. Unfortunately, for budgetary reasons, we had to combine this class with Minion Maintenance 101.” She paused and glanced back at them over one slender shoulder. “Believe me, I am not happy about it.”

Inga snorted out an awkward laugh. “I understand. While having a fashionable dungeon is important, minions are basically the heart and soul of the operation.”

Arketa clapped. “Oh, you’re that nice astral moth core. Yes, you did so well in the Threshing. So proud of you. I’m sorry you’re… well… stuck below your station. Hope that’s not rude to say.”

Inga blushed and her antennae curled inward.

Without waiting for a proper reply, Arketa turned and ushered them down into the dungeon, talking in her sorority-girl voice. “And we’re walking, and we’re walking.” She paused at a narrow corridor near the entrance. “Now, class, a good dungeon is all about flow. You see? We have a choke point here, so those devious dungeoneers can’t easily swing their larger weapons, like axes and polearms.

On the other side, she pointed out the punji pit—a collection of stakes concealed in the dirt and leaf clutter. “Notice, we altered the floor, so the punji sticks are just the right height to pierce the feet and tear up the calves of our would-be heroes. Of course, you would want your punjis dripping with toxins to really mess with the raiders. I’d suggest something either on the Corrosivus or Toxicus side of things. Professor Rockheart will cover this more in your traps class. That Rockheart.” She sighed and shook her head.

Logan didn’t know how to take that.

They went through more rooms. Traps were hidden in the twisting roots of the trees above. Other rooms had tentacled monstrosities in underwater lakes. Another chamber had a literal carpet of poisonous insects Arketa moved the spiders and scorpions aside easily with her magic.

“I must say, I prefer snakes to spiders.” She laughed like she was flirting with a frat boy. “You can understand why.”

Logan made sure Marko didn’t make any snake jokes. In the end, the satyr was too excited to really pay attention. Logan had never seen his buddy so focused. Arketa pointed out little flourishes a dungeon core could make—the unexpected cursed fountain, a painting that trapped you inside the canvas, or trick-tiled rooms that could bring monsters dropping down on your head.

They stopped in such a room with a very Raiders of the Lost Ark feel to it. Diamond-shaped stones covered the floor while curling vines climbed the muddy walls.

Logan felt so at home in the dark, wet environment. He kind of wanted to move here and set up shop. It was the perfect place for a mushroom dungeon core.

Arketa beamed at them all. “In this class, and for the rest of the year, we’ll be talking about room size, corridor length and width, as well as the proper use of staircases. Your natural inclination will be to trap every single staircase, but come on, let’s avoid the clichés when we can. The dungeoneers will be expecting the sliding stairs and false floors. Plus, pacing is important—I cannot stress that enough. You want to lure them into a false sense of security before pouncing with something really nasty. 

“We’re also going to be doing a fair amount of resource management, since you’ll be severely limited in dungeon design based on your Core Strength. In some case”—she glanced toward Logan— “severely limited is the understatement of the century.” Her face seemed to soften, empathy flashing across her perfect features. Logan had fully expected all the Professors to be like Rockheart, but maybe he’d been wrong. “But there are even ways around that, assuming you are creative in your build. Any questions so far?”

Logan raised his hand. “Just so you know, all of my dungeon experience is from a video game, but how big can our dungeons be?”

Arketa smiled with her very pink lipstick, unsmudged and perfect. “A very interesting question coming from a fungaloid.”

Logan wasn’t exactly sure why she was smiling.

She continued. “As I said, your dungeon design—including its relative size—is limited by your Core Strength. The more Apothos you can cultivate, the bigger your dungeon because Apothos is the metaphysical energy that materializes dungeon elements. This is why cultivation is so important. And this is why the dungeoneers that you attract is critical. The more powerful you get, the more powerful you want your dungeoneers. I want to stress something.”

Arketa paused for dramatic effect. “It’s not just about protecting the Tree of Souls, it’s about attracting high-quality clients, murdering them mercilessly, and siphoning their energy. A quality dungeon core will cultivate only what they need, while giving the rest of the energy back to the Tree. Which is why dungeon design is such a delicate balance. We want to stop the dungeoneers, but we also need to attract and kill them in order to rebalance the Universe. Make your dungeon too difficult and no dungeoneers will ever come. Make it too easy and they’ll butcher you where you stand. We are like the Deadly Fly Trap—emitting an enticing smell, while simultaneously arming ourselves for the kill.”

The professor pointed at Logan. “Believe it or not, but I happen to think you were smart to choose the fungaloid form. You can attract high-level clientele by growing any number of interesting mushrooms. Others of you, like you, Yellsa here”—she motioned to the Lady Ice Dragon—“can craft serious loot and imbue it with powerful spells and abilities. I’ve heard about your winter diamonds. Oh yes I have. We’ll talk.”

Yellsa was in her half-dragon form at the time—a woman with a mostly serpentine body except she had long ice-white hair.

“But be careful,” Arketa warned. “As I said, it is a delicate balance. A dance of sorts. If you draw in clients too powerful, they might take your loot, kill you, and keep going.” She threw Logan a glance. “For some of you, this will be the more pressing concern.”

Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. He was the weakest core in the class, but he was determined to change that.

Arketa wasn’t about to let up on her endless encouragement. “However, for weaker dungeon cores, you need to get creative. It’s not the size of the dungeon, but how you use it. For example, you can multipurpose rooms by mixing treasuries with trap rooms and putting them near your minion barracks.”

Logan nodded. “Do more with less and utilize even the smallest space. Like a murder-y trip to Ikea.”

Arketa laughed. “I don’t get it, but you expected a laugh. I want to be polite.” She shot him a finger gun. “Okay, class, we are walking.”

She led them deeper underground. They passed a collection of natural caves. “Sometimes, you want a more natural look. The stalactite and stalagmite combo is classic for a reason. Also, such caves can branch off to house your minions. The trick there is to make sure your minions have their privacy but are still able to get anywhere in the dungeon as quickly as possible.” She shook her head and sighed. “We really shouldn’t have merged these courses. Well, maybe next year, I can find a volunteer to teach the intro minion class. These professors can be so prickly.”

Arketa took them to what was obviously the center of the dungeon, with water falls of slimy root water gurling through channels in an ornate stone floor. The walls were a mixture of mud, vines, and stone carved into monstrous faces. Torches sputtered in the damp cavern. A familiar-looking pedestal rose up from the central dais.

Professor Arketa walked to the pedestal, turned, and waved her hand. “One cliché that you must embrace is the placement of the inner sanctum. Believe me, we’ve had dungeons try to hide their sanctums near the entrance. It simply doesn’t work and always, always, always ends in ruin. You want to protect your gem at all costs. Also, you want your clients to work for their ultimate reward, which will be your destruction. It’s something to keep in mind. Now, who wants to take ownership of this dungeon?”

Ed the Rot Troll raised a hand. “Me will, Professor Pretty. Me will try.”

Arketa titled her head. “Aww, Ed, that’s sweet, but Professor Arketa is fine. Just come forward. You’re a C-Class guardian if I’m not mistaken. This should be easy for you. Fairly straight forward.”

Logan watched as Ed took the scratched-up gem in his belly and let it float above the pedestal. A ripple of unseen force washed out from the pedestal in a wave. Light flashed along the pedestal and the walls seemed to glitter briefly with arcane might.

Arketa nodded. “This is good, Ed. Now, do you want to try some changes? This isn’t your crafting class, no, that’s going to be Fiendish Fabrication with Ronnalg Crucible. He’ll show you how blueprints work and how to craft items as well as architecture. Ron can be abrasive, but in the end, he’s a real sweetheart. For now, I’ll give you a bit of my Apothos to give you a bump.”

Ed lifted his hands and four stone columns rose from the black water. He added torches at the top.

The professor adjusted her glasses. “The columns are useful in hiding you, but if that were the case, you wouldn’t want the torches. Yet, this is good, Edward, a simple improvement. Your columns create a bit of mystery, and also, you have both cover and concealment from potential range fighters such as archers. Oh, I hate archers. Arrows are the worst.”

Since Logan’s Ikea joke had fallen flat, he wasn’t going to attempt a Clash of the Titans joke.

After a few more tweaks, Ed took his gemstone back and slipped it back into his belly.

One by one, the class took their turns connecting their cores to the dungeon and crafting little changes to the room.

Marko added gorgeous paintings to the columns and a fountain which suspiciously smelled like beer. Ed the Rot Troll produced a flagon crafted from a hollowed-out yellow horn. He stood sipping the brew. Marko’s magic was impressive but wouldn’t really do much to repel raiders. Though maybe a beer fountain could be a good lure.

Treacle crafted a steampunk-looking machine that flung little copper spheres like ping-pong balls at an alarming rate. It was a good piece of crafting for the former gnome, though Logan couldn’t see the boiler or flames that a normal steam-powered machine would have.

Inga summoned huge centipedes that crawled out of the water and skittered around the columns, tearing the canvas of some of Marko’s paintings.

The satyr scowled. “No one appreciates fine art like they should. Beer me, Ed.”

Ed passed him the flagon.

Finally, it was Logan’s turn. He approached the pedestal, trembling.

“So I just take the gem out and put it up there?” he asked, licking his non-existent lips.

She nodded. “Remember—and I cannot stress this enough—you are the gem, not your body. The body is just a Apothos-manifested version of your Guardian Form. Now, relax little guy. This will be fun.”

Before dying, Logan had been a combat-tested veteran and well over six feet tall. He hadn’t been called “little guy” since the sixth grade.

He took a deep breath of courage, touched his gem, and it easily came out into his hand. He then placed it on the pedestal where it floated upward to spin lazily around.

Logan blinked as fresh spores dropped from his gills. He suddenly felt lightheaded and then all sensation disappeared for a minute. When he could feel again, it was like he was wearing a big coat full of pockets. Different parts of the dungeons filled the pockets to overflowing. The hallways. The rooms. The traps. He felt the giant centipedes skittering about in the room, the placement of punji trap near the entrance, and each leaf on every vine.

He wasn’t watching over the dungeon—he was the dungeon. He could sense things he’d never sensed before, and it was overwhelming.

“Now, Logan, try and create something,” the professor encouraged, her voice echoing and oddly distorted in his ears. Almost as though he were hearing her from more than one source.

Logan couldn’t think straight, and he hadn’t chosen the fungi to grow yet. Every square inch of the place threatened to crush his brains into gravel meatloaf. There were just so many rooms! And he could feel Arketa helping him. Alone, he very well might’ve gone insane.

Logan focused on growing one of the Skullcap Waddlers, just a single mushroom.

A single red-and-white toadstool grew out of the cracks near Marko’s beer fountain. He tried to increase the size, maybe have it grow some arms and legs like a real minion.

Instead, he drew it upward until the toadstool was a foot tall.

Then he felt himself losing conscious.

His gem fell and would’ve smashed down on the pedestal if Arketa hadn’t grabbed it and pushed it back into Logan’s belly.

Her forehead creased with worry. “Dear me, you have a long way to go, Logan. Have you heard of the Tartarucha Cells?”

Logan blinked his eyes, though he was seeing with both his eyes and his spores because of Fungal Vision. “Heard of it, yeah. It’s in the undercroft.”

Arketa knelt so she could look him in the eye. “The Tartarucha Cells are a simulation dungeon. You need as much time in there as possible. That might be difficult since there are so many cores signing-up to use it. Incoming Freshman are at the bottom of the list, which is sad, since you have the Winnowing to deal with.” She shook her head. “You need practice, a lot of practice, a miracle really… hate to say it. I’ll see what I can do but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

“Two questions,” Logan said, raising two stumpy fingers. God, it was embarrassing to have this conversation in front of the whole class but part of him didn’t care. “One. Why do you seem to like fungaloids? And secondly, what exactly is the Winnowing?”

The professor tapped him on the head. “Well, fungaloids are rare for one thing, which is always exciting. And for the record, I’ve long suspected that fungaloids can be amazing, we’ve just never seen one live into its full potentially. Incidentally, I also have a soft spot for this truffle cream sauce I once had in Haven’s Door on Eritreus. Made from Opal Truffles and absolutely amazing. It was delicious and virtually impossible to get outside of Eriteus.” 

Hmm. Now that was something, Logan thought. So far, Arketa seemed like good people and it just so happened that he could grow something she loved. There had to be a way to use that to his advantage. He’d need to revisit that later. 

“As for the Winnowing?” Her expression turned deadly serious. “Basically, the Winnowing is your Freshman Final at Shadowcroft. The four worst students are expelled.”

“I’ve been expelled from schools before.” Marko waggled his eyebrows. “It’s not so bad. Weekends aren’t a big deal anymore… except you get to hang out with your un-expelled friends.”

Arketa let her sunglasses slip a little and threw a withering gaze at Marko.

The satyr shut his trap and stopped smiling.

Logan felt his insides turn to slush.

“Expelled is a nice way of putting it,” the professor said. “Dungeon cores who wash out become wandering monsters, alone, readily killed… at the mercy of every dungeoneer with a smirk and a sword. The Winnowing is cruel, but crueler would be for a dungeon to fail at protecting a Celestial Node.”

“Utilitarianism at its best,” Logan murmured under his breath. He had to find someone to team up with because there was no way he was ever going to avoid the Winnowing on his own. 

Keep Reading Here: Chapter Sixteen