The infinity dungeon 199

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Chapter 199

The dungeon spirit was once again a patch of darkness against the whiteness of the room. But as Infy beckoned Michael closer, he noticed that she was almost see-through. The smoke coming from beneath the fabric of her clothes was barely even gray, and she felt just like the elves aboard the Seedship as they faded away into nothingness.

“Hello Infy,” Michael said.

The woman, or spirit, looked at him with a warm smile. From up close, Michael could see that the edges of her clothes were fraying and coming undone, and she felt like a fading dream.

“I’m glad to see you have made it here,” she said.

Seeing her condition saddened Michael. At the same time, however, the memory of the fading elves and the Tree-Alfyr’s betrayal was fresh in his mind, and the rage still boiled in his veins.

“I’m not liking the challenges so far.”

“I know,” Infy said.

Michael frowned, waiting for some explanation that did not come. He wanted to ask why these challenges were so different than usual, but then he realized that perhaps they really weren’t. David’s challenge came to mind. A challenge where he had to save Liff, the sole survivor of a twisted experiment living in a ghost town. Liff, who had almost died when he took her away from the Dungeon’s floor. To save her, he had been forced back, and he had to fight and almost lose his own life.

“I don’t like them either.”

Michael blinked, thrust back into the present. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“I know you might find it hard to believe, but I also don’t like the challenges you are facing. The whole idea of people being forced to face challenges in exchange for power and knowledge upsets me. The knowledge that they are not mere fabrications of magic but instead real people, their suffering is real suffering, their fate forever stolen from them… it saddens me a great deal.”

“Why don’t you stop it?”

Michael’s voice had been a whisper, but the dungeon spirit had no trouble hearing him. Gone was her giggly persona from last time, replaced by a chasm of sadness that spread from the dark shadows of her frilly gown and elaborate skirt. She was missing the scythe, Michael realized.

“I cannot. I have no control over what the Dungeon does. Sometimes I cannot even choose what I do.”

“But you did send me to the Seedship, did you not?”

She nodded. “I hoped you would save them, Michael. Do you have any idea how bad it hurts to be able to—to be forced to—see the suffering of all the races inside the Dungeon?”

He knew all too well.

“You were supposed to work with the Tree-Alfyr, slowly expand your magic over many days while the ship slowly decayed. Eventually you would have recreated your old skills, especially the Shield and Healing Aura within your new system. The first to patch holes caused by the decay of the ship, the second to eventually heal the ship itself. I never expected the old elf to go insane and force things like that. Instead of rebuilding your old magic, you ended up with the collective memories and knowledge of a now-dead race. I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m here now. And they are gone.”

She shook her head slowly, radiating infinite sadness. Michael did not know whether to believe the illusion, whether her emotions were even real. He wanted them to be.

“They are not gone; they will live on once you grow powerful enough to nurture them back to life.”

“Which brings us to the crucial point. All these challenges, and I barely even have magic. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for what you did. Without you, I would be truly powerless now, but…”

“But now what?” she finished for him. “I get it.”

Turning around, she stepped into the white mists and disappeared. Michael followed her, struggling not to lose sight of her faint outline that moved almost playfully in and out of his field of view.

Infy’s voice came from everywhere, like an infinite echo.

“After Johanne’s imprisonment, the Renegade roamed the Dungeon far and wide. He sought to become the next Champion, but by the time he earned his audience with me, he had lost himself.”

She sighed, and the white mists moved like her breath was the wind. Appearing beside Michael, she looked down at her own hands.

“Alas, the rules dictate that I allow potential Champions to have an audience and that they, should they pass the trials, be made into Champions.”

“What about me, then? What trials did I pass?”

Infy smiled at him. “You were the first to pass the second floor’s challenge. That was trial enough.”

“Which means there are others.”

“Other Champions? No. But I can only play favorites so much before the rules come for me, and in my weakened state, my ability to face the consequences of breaking them is lessened.”

There was a moment of silence. Michael’s mind was clouded by many thoughts, and Infy seemed to respect his moment of turmoil.

“You said you granted an audience to the Renegade? Did he become a Champion, then?”

“No,” she said, “He… had come to see me as an evil to be eradicated. A destroyer of worlds.”

“Are you?”

She looked at him. Even though he could barely see the tip of her nose, with the rest of her face wrought in shadow, he could see the hurt on her face.

“I bring change, that is all. Please, let me finish my tale.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“The Renegade made use of my weakness to strike at me. While he almost succeeded in killing me, he also inadvertently brought upon his world the very end he was trying to prevent. Injured, I was unable to stop the Dungeon from activating its self-preservation protocols. I liked Johanne’s world, Michael. I was forced to watch it being sucked dry to save me. As the relocation protocols activated, I felt my consciousness fade. I was dying. Your challenge is ready.”

She began to fade.

“Wait!” Michael tried to stop her, but she was gone faster than he could blink.

The white room and its mists remained, and the door of light leading to the next challenge appeared.

Sitting on the ground, Michael did not go into his Inner Space right away. Instead, he tried to sort through the mess of thoughts and information floating around in his head. Chief of all—provided Infy was not lying, which was not to be taken for granted—who made the rules that guide the Dungeon? What is their purpose?

Why does the Dungeon cause so much suffering, trapping people and using them like pawns, their pain used as fuel so that the delvers could grow in power?

Many other questions bubbled up, like a boiling pot of water over a raging fire. How did the Dungeon choose its victims? Why did it play with entire worlds and then devour them?

In the end, he just closed his eyes, and the peaceful stillness of his Inner Space surrounded him. Except, not too far from the handful of collectors and batteries, on the opposite side of the Scrap Foundry, a wooden temple of plants and vines and towering trees shone in the light of the strange sun at the center of the Inner Space.

Faint magic radiated from it, and when Michael looked at it he thought he could see flashes of images and thoughts. They were many, a cacophony of a million different voices, confusing and overwhelming.

It was too early to do anything about it, he realized as he turned away from the elven temple. He was too weak to help them. Right now, the smartest thing he could do was to keep increasing his own power. Especially since the last challenge had been supposed to give him the time and environment to do that, before it all went to shit.