The infinity dungeon 213

Chapter 213

There was a moment of pause as the people present seemed to struggle to digest what Michael had just said.

“What are you talking about?” snarled the Renegade. His magic churned, ready to obliterate Michael at a moment’s notice.

Infy too was perplexed.

“You should know, I’m not the only one who uses magic around here.” As Michael spoke, he pointed at himself. “You see, it’s rather crowded in my head.”

Inwardly, however, he was sweating. He sent a mental poke to Icarus. “Now would be a great time to show yourself, man!”

On cue, the AI made his appearance. “Connection to the Spiral Pattern…” Icarus said in an unusually smooth voice, as if he was imitating a newscaster. Actually, Michael realized, a sportscaster. “Hijacking. Aaaaand… complete!”

The dark cave, previously lit only by the fading light of the broken and mangled spirals crumbling to dust, and by Infy’s projection, brightened. Above their heads a gigantic spiral manifested, easily twice as big as the one inscribed on the ceiling. It was bright, and its radiance terrifying. It emanated a pressure that sent the Renegade to his knees, and even though Michael and Infy were spared from the brunt of its force, they still winced as something fundamental about themselves was touched by the terrible power.

Infy paled, surprising Michael with the fact that her white skin was even capable of paling. Somehow this new spiral had managed to reach even her, through the hologram, while her real body was supposedly safe far away from there.

She was about to retreat when she felt the spiral focus its attention solely on the Renegade. The pressure increased so much that the floor began to crumble once more, cracks widening and true nothingness swallowing entire chunks of reality all around them.

Another portal appeared, once again leading to the Misty Valley.

Michael got up and took a step towards the portal, intent on escaping while the Renegade was incapacitated. But then a spasm set his body alight with pain and he collapsed to the ground. He coughed blood, spitting the last of it through gritted teeth.

In his inner space, the cloud touched the main body of his star. His sole source of magic rippled, brightened, sputtered, and then died.

Pain. But Michael and pain were old friends. He pushed himself to his feet, feeling his body break down perhaps even faster than the landscape around him. Keeping the open portal firmly in the center of his vision, he crawled towards it, dragging his body, stumbling, getting up again.

He was about to cross when he realized that Icarus was still tethered to the spiral-shaped manifestation up above.

“Cut the connection, let’s get the fuck out of here!” Michael croaked.

“I can’t,” Icarus said, “it would free the Renegade.”

“Who cares about him? He’s stuck here.”

“I have to stay behind, Michael," the AI said. “You know that the moment I cut the connection to the spiral–”

“Don’t care. I’m not losing you!”

Infy was kneeling beside him, holding one arm through the portal, much in the same way one keeps an elevator from departing.

“Cut the connection!” Michael commanded.

“...as you wish,” the AI relented.

The connection was cut. The spiral symbol faded, crumbling to dust and spent magic. Seeing this, the Renegade threw himself through the portal and vanished before Michael could even blink, not once looking back as he did so.

Michael crossed moments after, pushing his body to the limit, knowing that he could do nothing even if he managed to catch up to the man. Indeed, all he could do was watch as the Renegade sprinted across the valley in moments, then vanished into the mists that surrounded it.

The portal snapped shut.

Michael felt phantom pain radiate from his inner space, but he was too tired to do anything about it. For long minutes, he simply lay in the swaying grass, watching the clouds race across the sky up above. The sun moved slowly, but it too eventually reached the end of its path, and after bathing the mountains gold and orange, it winked out. Stars replaced it, littering the fake sky with little diamonds.

“How does the dungeon even do it?” Michael wondered out loud.

“I could tell you,” a voice said. 

Michael smiled, “if I beat a challenge, that is?”

“No,” Infy put a finger to her chin. “I am freer than I was before. Consider it a freebie.”

Her projection was faint, like a ghost. She was sitting on the grass next to Michael, her knees tucked to her chest, scythe resting on her left shoulder. Her hair was a dirty blonde, long and tied into twin tails that fell to the side of her head. Her eyes were very blue while all her clothes were black and frilly.

Michael thought she reminded him of something he had already seen, some character perhaps, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

“I don’t really want to know,” he said in the end. “I don’t want to ruin the magic of the night sky just yet.”

“Okay,” Infy said. Even though she was older than the Earth, probably, she looked and sounded like a young woman.

“Michael,” this time it wasn’t Infy.

“Icarus?”

“I need your help here,” the AI said.

Michael’s eyes snapped open as he sat up. He crossed his legs, feeling phantom pains from somewhere. Something was aching, hurting, burning. He inspected his inner space, and gasped.

Icarus was wrestling with the spiral that had sucked Michael’s magic dry. Except, now it was no longer a cloud, but a gigantic glyph inscribed in the fabric of the inner space itself, suspended in space right where the star had been. There was no trace of it, just the glyph, enormous and dark and unmoving.

Even though it wasn’t doing anything, the spiral glyph had a pull to it, like the gravity of a great black hole. Even just looking at it, Michael felt like he was about to fall down an endless dark chasm he could never climb out of.

Everything was being pulled to it. Things were falling, accelerating towards the great glowing spiral glyph.

Then the planetoid that was Icarus passed by, zipping past Michael with its enormous bulk. It changed course, not falling but…

Orbiting!

Michael quickly realized what was happening. He moved his consciousness to his main base, where there was still magic inside his batteries, and seized it. There was precious little he could use, and with the spiral replacing the star, the collectors were useless. Not all was lost, though.

Behind him, something exploded. Light blinded him, and his collectors went into overdrive before darkness befell them again, and all magic regeneration stopped once more.

“What's happening?”

“Asteroids are falling into the spiral black hole’s accretion disk,” Icarus said. “Like in the real universe, when matter gets accelerated by a black hole and smashes into other matter, it emits radiation energy.”

Soon, more collisions began to form a ring of debris around the spiral. It looked like the ring around a black hole, with its far end bent by gravity so that it appeared above and below the central hole. Except, the hole was the spiral glyph, and it was glowing now.

“So we have a source of magic!” Michael exclaimed, quickly redirecting all the magic he could get his hands on.

His main base was still in freefall, getting dangerously close to the spiral-hole.

That’s when he realized a fundamental truth: the stillness that used to govern his inner space had been broken by the spiral. He wondered what this would mean for the rest of the space, and that’s when he saw the Nuclear Manifestation zip past him and fall into the black hole.

He used magic to decelerate his main base until it hovered deep in the gravity well, but keeping it there was burning more than he was collecting. The rate of destruction of things in the spiral-hole’s accretion disk was still low, and the collectors were producing much less magic than they should.

Icarus’ planetoid zipped past him again.

“Right. Orbits!”

He seized his magic and used it to accelerate his base and enter orbit. Only when he was sure it wouldn’t fall did he finally release the breath he had been holding. Only then did he realize that he was covered in sweat and shivering from the effort.

He still didn’t stop. With no supplies to pull from, he cannibalized his own infrastructure and built thrusters, then let Icarus control them.

Now that the orbit could be corrected as needed, he felt safe enough to collapse. Then he remembered about the elven temple, rushed to it and dragged it back to his base. He tethered it to his own structures, watching concrete and steel meet wood and vine. The temple accepted the strange fusion, extending its own living matter to meet the cold angles and surfaces of Michael’s machines.

Now he could truly afford to collapse. The spiral was glowing softly, and its accretion disk had stopped growing. Even after consuming all the matter in the inner space, it barely produced a tenth of the energy his former star was producing. He had to shut down the Foundry and the Mining Drone — not that he would need them any time soon — as well as the Artillery Station because with how dim the accretion disk was, his mana balance was negative.

At least, according to his knowledge of black holes and some preliminary readings, the accretion disk would keep providing energy for a very long time before its fuel was spent.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and it startled him enough to make him return to the real world. He looked around, but the feeling was gone. Infy was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face, but when his eyes met hers, she looked away and at the far away stars with longing.

“Johanne’s world is gone now, isn’t it?” Michael said.

“It is,” Infy said softly.

“Damn,” he exhaled. “Things are never easy, are they?”

“Never,” Icarus interjected, much more chipper than the somber dungeon spirit. “However, you should be proud of yourself. You managed to overcome impossible odds and come out alive and well.”

“I wouldn’t say well. I have magic, but my inner space is empty now. Anything that isn’t you, my base, or the temple is gone!”

“About that… I have some interesting news.”

“None of that now,” Infy interrupted the AI with a pout. “Michael needs rest. Come.”

Michael took her hand, noticing that as it solidified into real matter, the rest of the projection grew fainter. She was warm, and her hand was tiny compared to his.

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t you remember? This is your Valley, my champion. I’m taking you to the treehouse, where you may rest. I have ordered the Fae not to bother you tonight.”