The infinity dungeon 220

Chapter 220

The moment Michael’s foot landed on the last of the stone steps, the landscape changed. A shimmering portal appeared in front of him, making him stumble and almost fall. He steadied himself quickly, feeling the magic behind him fade and vanish. The portal was gone.

He looked around, breathing deep but feeling stifled. The air was frigid, rarefied, and carried little oxygen. Michael burned mana to supply his lungs with fresh, oxygenated air. The shadows of darkness that had been creeping towards the center of his vision, like strange specters haunting him from just a bit beyond sight, retreated.

Above, thunderclouds rumbled with unspent energy. The wind was picking up, lifting wet chunks of snow from the ground. Howls came from far away, where jagged edges of ice and glacier faces created the illusion of a pack of wolves. A blizzard was approaching, frozen rain and snow beginning to fall from the sky. It limited the visibility to only the mountain peak, making it look like it was the only thing that existed in the world.

It might very well be, thought Michael. This was a dungeon floor, after all.

Something moved. Michael reacted reflexively, hurling raw magic at it like he did to make the mummies of the third floor vanish. Except, it did not have the effect Michael hoped it would have. It just washed over the figure, doing nothing. Squinting, Michael tried to make out its shape through the blizzard, but its edges were strangely fuzzy.

Michael took a step forward, banishing the wind and hail with magic. A bubble of calm expanded outwards, reaching the figure.

It was a wolf. It stood immobile, its silver fur settling now that the wind was gone. It was streaked with white, progressively darker towards the snout. The wolf’s mouth was slightly open, revealing sharp teeth, above which deep blue eyes shone like the ice of the glaciers behind it.

There was a strange air to the wolf, of wisdom and patience. The animal smelled of a placid power, not of the sharp danger of a predator.

Michael was pretty sure it was all an illusion. He moved to fight, to challenge this strange wolf like he did all the other monsters of the dungeon. Readying his magic, he was about to obliterate the monster when a strange voice reached his ears.

“The path of fists is but one narrow trail, young disciple. A path to temporary victories, perhaps, but rarely to true understanding. If you wish to rule, you must least that there is another way to conquer. A way of the mind, of spirit, of The Dao of Interwoven Fates.”

It had been the wolf, a part of Michael’s mind screamed at him. It was the very same part of him that begged him to abort his attack, to stay his hand, to reassess the situation. The wolf’s voice had been strange, ancient and collected, speaking with a Chinese accent.

Yet Michael did not stop. He was too far into his attack, and he wasn’t feeling like stopping at all. He wanted to feel the euphoria of winning a fight, of conquering, of obliterating a dungeon’s creation.

“Arrogant!” the wolf growled, meeting Michael’s attack. Its voice was deep and powerful, its tone almost disappointed.

The magic once again washed over the wolf, once again doing nothing. Then the wolf leaped. Only then did Michael realize that if his attack hadn’t done anything the first time, it wasn’t going to do anything now.

Panicked, he summoned a sword of elemental ice, drawing deep from his vast reserves of the element. The sword appeared in his grasp just in time to block the wolf’s attack, the animal’s teeth sinking into the ice and digging grooves in it that glowed with magical light.

Michael almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then the wolf bit down on the sword and shattered it with casual ease. Yelping, he directed a flash of mana inside his inner space to light up the plasma fire chambers. When the element manifested outside, it touched the ice and exploded in a shockwave of steam and displaced air.

Michael was thrown backwards, as was the wolf. It landed upright, while Michael barely had the time to reinforce his body with magic and heal the wounds from the explosion before he slammed his back against the ice of the glacier behind him. As soon as he righted himself, however, he shot a beam of pure elemental light towards the wolf. The cage of mirrors in the inner space drank greedily of the silver mana being sent into it, converting it into elemental light. The beam was thicker than an arm, blindingly white, and it cut the very air it traveled through.

The wolf shrugged it off like it was nothing. It hit the monster’s fur, which glowed a bright silver, and was scattered everywhere. Michael could feel traces of Qi come from the monster, but they were muted.

Either the monster did not have much of it, or…

“Enough!” howled the wolf, its voice deep and guttural. Then, he spoke again, but this time his voice was clear and collected. "The arrogant disciple does not even greet the master," the wolf said, shaking its head. Its voice was ancient, wizened.

“The master?” Michael paused, his attack ceasing. He tried to peer deeper into the wolf’s magic, and a gnawing sense of fear began to take root inside him.

“Indeed,” the wolf said, “many recognized me as master, over many centuries and cultures. They have enjoyed my teachings, growing much stronger in their comprehension of the Dao.”

Michael eyed the wolf warily. He did not attack, although his body was ready for it should the wolf move suddenly. The Renegade had lured him into a false sense of safety once, and Michael wasn’t keen on being taken by surprise again.

“Some,” the wolf continued calmly, “have needed a good spanking before they realized the folly of their ways. All of them eventually did understand, although some have died for it. Are you one of them?”

Michael tensed. The following moment of silence stretched into a minute as the wolf stood unmoving, only its fur ruffled by a faint wind that somehow made it inside Michael’s wind-repelling magical bubble.

“I… am sorry,” Michael said in the end, winding down his magic. “I thought you were a monster, created by the dungeon. I thought I’d have to defeat you.”

The wolf hummed. It was half a hum, half a growl. “Indeed you do. But has this master not told you already? There is another way to conquer, one that does not involve using your fists.”

“The Dao?” asked Michael.

The wolf nodded.

“Explain,” Michael urged the creature. He felt an impending sense of hurry he could not quite explain, as if things were escaping his grasp.

“Do not fret. What hurry is there? You are older than you look, yet why do you move with the haste and impatience of a young teenager?”

There was a subtle shift in the wolf’s demeanor, and Qi swirled around the creature. Michael readied his magic. As he did, a powerful force pressed on him, snuffing his mana like a candle in the wind.

“Interesting,” the wolf said. Michael was unable to move, feeling a powerful force lay his whole magic bare. “Unusual... but you are a thousand years too early to defeat me in combat. Tell me, disciple, what is your name?”

“Michael,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I am called Yu. Why do you still struggle against me? I can feel your attempts at defying my Dao.”

“Because–”

“Hmm,” Yu hummed, interrupting him. “I see. You are tainted, at your very core. Maybe you are not as hot-blooded as you act. I will help you, but only if you call me master, and ask me to teach you.”

Michael redoubled his struggles, “What if I don’t?”

The wolf shrugged. “Then you will die. Tell me, disciple. Is it so hard to ask for guidance?”

Michael paused. The words hit him somewhere deep, and they made him question things to the point he even stopped struggling. “No,” he croaked. “I don’t know what has come over me. I apologize.”

The pressure lessened. “And?” Yu urged him.

“Please teach me, Master,” Michael finished.

“Very well.”

The pressure increased again. Michael coughed, splattering the snow with blood.

The wolf—Master Yu—got closer. Yet it—he—did not attack. “There are demons swirling in your mind,” he said. “For how many years have you lived in this spirit world, disciple, without protecting yourself from its maddening gaze?”

Michael winced. “Ah, shit.”

“I see it, the taint within you.”

Suddenly, Michael felt a powerful force. A clawed paw made of crystallized, solid Qi, violated the impenetrable sanctity of his inner space. It reached deep, towards the spire-black-hole. It plunged inside, disappearing for a moment, before Michael felt something get ripped away from him. Suddenly, he could think clearly.

“There,” the wolf said. “Your soul is clear, for now.”

“Thank you... Master Yu,” Michael said meekly. "I once again apologize for attacking you."

"Much better," the wolf said. Qi swirled, blowing snow and ice away, and from it emerged an old man with long white hair. Thick black eyelashes framed thin eyes and an angular face. He wore long robes, but the fabric was too thin to protect him from the cold. Qi did, much like Michael was protected by his mana.

"However,” Master Yu said, “my intervention will not help you again. Protect yourself from the beholder and follow me."

Michael followed him. "What is it that you ripped away from me?"

"Taint," Master Yu said. "I do not know why, but you lack protection against the evil spirits. They infiltrated your soul, and tainted it."

"Did you remove this… taint?"

"I did," the man said. "But it will return unless you shield yourself. It will lead you to madness, no matter how strong you are."

"When you say that I should shield myself, are you talking about an aura?"

"That is how some, in the west, used to call it."

Michael frowned. "But I never needed it before. That's why I didn't bother making one."

He realized that it had been a mistake. If anything, because it had allowed Master Yu an easy entry into his inner space. So easy and sudden the intrusion had been, that the artillery defenses had not even had time to activate. Fortunately, Yu had been so focused on Michael’s black hole—and the soul in it, apparently—that he had not even noticed Icarus.

Yet, had Michael recreated his aura earlier, he would have lost the advantage of time dilation. He would have had to leave the valley and venture to deeper floors much earlier, or leave the dungeon before he was ready.

Master Yu was pensive. "Things have changed in recent years. The spirits, they have become… wilder. No longer is there reason and intention behind their behavior. Perhaps they used to spare you before, but now they will no longer."

Things suddenly made sense. Infy might still be able to influence the dungeon, but she was no longer the spirit who controlled it. Michael thought about her sad face, right before he arrogantly descended down to the sixth floor. He wondered why she didn't tell him, before realizing that he would never have listened to her in his altered state. She had lured him to the sixth floor with the promised reward, and tailored the challenge so that he may meet Master Yu. In a way, she had saved him.

"What I do not understand," Master Yu said, "is why you seem to be unable to protect yourself. Your use, although masterful, of lower energies will only delay the inevitable. You need this 'aura', and soon."

"Yeah, I'll bump up the priority for that."

"See that you do. We are here. You called me Master, and apologized to me. You learned a valuable lesson, proving that you are willing to learn. Had you not apologized, I would have killed you. But you did—even before I cleansed your soul—so I didn't. I shall teach you. Let us play a game."