Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

If you walk the halls of the Iron Library, you’ll find all sorts of treatises theorizing in great detail how dungeons came to be. Hotspots of ambient mana, conceptual drift, natural enchantments: they have all the explanations, none of the magic.

Dungeons are so much more than pseudo-scientific theories. They are where the heart of adventure lies and where so many of those who follow it either meet their end or come out with riches a king would envy.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of the dungeon’s door closing behind you, leaving you and your group to triumph or perish.

Editor’s note: The author of this text has died in a dungeon after not listening to my warnings about an ambient mana storm possibly tripling the difficulty of his instance.

Excerpt from Compilation of Pimple Saban’s journals. An Eulogy to My Friend. By Tomeo Galdan, Keeper of the Iron Ink.

The doors of the cavern slammed shut behind Alexandra, and for a moment she was lost in the silent darkness.

Then, like a light flickering, glowing things appeared at the edge of her vision. As the light resolved, she realized those were luminescent mushrooms, attached to the walls and ceiling of the cave.

She clutched her spear and took in her surroundings. She was in a large cave that was mostly empty except for the mushrooms. Behind her, the massive metallic doors were closed and wouldn’t open until she cleared the dungeon.

In front of her, the cavern opened into three tunnels that went deeper into the earth. They all looked the same.

She exhaled. “Well, I’m in. Now, I have to pull through.”

The only way to exit a dungeon was to clear it, which was why everyone from Willow to the group of Bronze ranks outside had tried dissuading her from entering.

Alexandra had to find the chieftain and kill it.

She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. Not like I could skip my daily.”

Summoning her journal in her hand, she flipped it open to the first page.

Enter the Troll Cave (1/1) -> Quest Completed: +10 exp, +1 INT, Skill Quest Unlocked: Aggressive Assimilation.

Daily Quest Streak: 35 -> 36

She had to close her journal and open it again to make sure she hadn’t misread. She hadn’t been expecting a skill, especially one like this.

Curious, she turned the pages to check the description.

Aggressive Assimilation:

Extract the essence of a species’ lifeforce and convert it into a temporary buff.

Each level increases the buff’s potency and the conversion efficacy.

She pursed her lips.

The skill was exactly what she needed to make Drain Life work. She couldn’t use non-human lifeforce, well now she had an avenue to explore.

Alexandra should be happy, but instead she became suspicious. This was too neat, too perfect.

Her quest had sent her right where she needed to be and given her a skill perfectly suited to her build. She couldn’t help but consider how much her quests had pushed her to act in a certain way, take actions she wouldn’t have otherwise.

How were her daily quests decided, and by whom?

She checked the skill quest.

Aggressive Assimilation: Drain the entire lifeforce pool of a troll (0/1).

No surprise here, which only reinforced her suspicions that someone or something was steering her quests.

She thought back to her previous quests. Sure enough, this wasn’t the first time she was being tasked with something so specific and rewarded like that. The day she’d unlocked A Face Among Many, taking her to Esmera and meeting Louis stood out. Then there was that time when she unlocked Mana Manipulation right as Sera was teaching her. The theft in the library getting her close to Willow.

And what could she say about all those quests pushing her to wash and clean?

The more she thought, the worse she felt about it. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Random quests would lead to random situations where she would meet people, unlock skills, and sometimes she’d encounter a new friend or a skill well suited for her.

It wasn’t like all the people she met had turned out to be important for her, and some skill quests like Diving, she really didn’t care about.

She looked up from her journal and closed it.

Something powerful enough to control her class art was out of her reach for now. The choice she had was between continuing her streak or giving it up when a suspicious quest came up.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

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And, as suspicious as she was, Aggressive Assimilation was too good to pass up.

She tapped a finger on the page. If she couldn’t stop this, she had to make the most of it. Maybe there was a way for her to prompt her journal into giving her more beneficial quests. If there really was something trying to steer her, perhaps she could steer back.

She dispelled her journal and looked at the three tunnels. Since she had no idea which way to go, she decided to go left. The group of Bronze said they were going that way, and even if they were in another instance, she might as well follow their advice.

Spear in hand, she stepped into the tunnel. It was silent, and the mushrooms offered enough light for her to see. She’d expected it to be narrower, but it was actually quite large. Large enough to fit a cart and the horses with it.

Then again, trolls were pretty big, too. So she shouldn’t be surprised.

Alexandra followed the tunnel for a few minutes. She was walking slowly, making sure she wasn’t missing any turn.

She was approaching a bend when she heard it.

A sound like stone grinding against stone, slow and rhythmic, filled the tunnel ahead. She froze. Then the smell came: rot, wet earth. Something wild.

She pressed her back against the wall and waited.

The troll rounded the bend. Nearly three meters tall, hunched so its knuckles grazed the floor. Its skin was the grey-green of old moss on granite, and where the mushroom light caught it, it shimmered faintly, like there was rock beneath the flesh. It hadn’t noticed her. It moved slowly, dragging one foot, its flat head swiveling side to side.

Alexandra reached out with Drain Life.

She felt the creature’s lifeforce immediately, a vast pulse, like pressing her palm against a dam. She pushed harder. The skill didn’t catch.

The troll looked up.

It turned, fixing its yellow eyes on her.

For an instant, all was very still.

Then it came with a roar.

She put the wall to her back and leveled her spear as it crossed the distance in three lurching strides. Its first swing came for her head. She ducked under it and drove the spear into the joint between its shoulder and neck. The tip bit in deep. The troll reeled less from pain than from surprise. It hadn’t expected something her size to hold its ground.

She wrenched the spear free and reset her footing.

The wound was already closing.

She watched the flesh knit itself back together like clay being pressed back into shape. The troll rolled the shoulder, testing it, then fixed her with those flat eyes again.

She tried Drain Life a second time.

Nothing. The skill just wouldn’t latch onto the beast. She could feel the edge of its lifeforce, but it was like a raging torrent. Impossible to stop. Impossible to redirect.

The next swing came faster. She was half a step slow and it caught the shaft of her spear. The impact ran up both arms to her elbows. She kept her grip, barely, and used the recoil to spin herself clear.

It followed.

She jabbed twice. Once at the knee to interrupt its stride, once at the reaching wrist threatening to grab her. The knee opened a gash along the cap; the wrist barely scratched, the tip skidding off something harder beneath the skin. The knee wound was closing before she’d even reset.

She cast Inflict Weakness, hoping it would work. The curse landed on the troll, ever so slightly reducing its strength. Then, Alexandra sent a thread of mana up the shaft of her spear and made it swirl on the tip. It took concentration she couldn’t fully spare, and the spell wasn’t as stable as she hoped, but it would have to do.

The troll came at her again, reaching with itrs hands. She thrust her spear past them and directly into its chest. The mana swirl helped it penetrate.

The troll’s roar vibrated in her chest, in the walls. It staggered back a full step, the spear buried to half-shaft.

She held on, trying to push Drain Life through the spear’s length. With a direct contact, a point of entry—

The troll closed both hands around the shaft and pulled.

She released it before it could take her with it. Rolled left, came up against the wall, and watched the creature yank the spear free from its own chest with the same irritated motion someone might use to pull a splinter. The wound puckered, sealed. It looked at the spear in its hand, then at her, and threw it.

She dropped flat. The spear rang off the tunnel wall and clattered somewhere behind her.

She scrambled to her feet and retrieved it.

It wasn’t working. She could worry about Drain Life later. First, she needed to find a way to stop it from regenerating. Fire seemed like a good idea, but she didn’t have any skill with that element.

Perhaps a weak point… The eyes seemed like the obvious answer. She circled, keeping the tunnel wall to her left, watching its arms. It tracked her with its head but didn’t rush. She waited for the lunge.

When it came, she sidestepped into the gap between its outstretched arm and the wall and drove the spear up toward the left eye. The point connected and the troll snapped its head sideways so fast the shaft nearly ripped from her grip. The tip carved a gash from the outer corner of the eye down the cheekbone. Close. Not in.

The backhand that followed sent her stumbling. She caught the wall with her shoulder.

It was guarding its face now, forearms raised when it advanced. She let it come, retreating steadily, and watched the ceiling. Lower here, the troll had to hunch further, its movement cramped, shoulders nearly brushing both walls at once. It slowed.

She stopped retreating.

When it swung, the arc was cut short by the narrowing tunnel. She stepped inside the blow, took the forearm across her back—it hurt—and drove the mana-threaded tip into the underside of its jaw.

The troll made a different sound. Higher. It reeled, clawing at its own throat, and she pulled back and jabbed again, same spot, twice in quick succession. The second thrust went deeper. Black blood flowed down its chest.

She reset, breathing hard, and watched.

The throat sealed slower than the chest had. Eight, nine seconds. The troll steadied itself against the wall, leaving a dark smear on the stone, and worked its jaw like it was testing the joint.

Then it came again.

She was already moving, leading it further down the tunnel.

Same game: walls close, ceiling low, rob it of the full reach that would end her if it got a hold of her.

It had tucked its chin now, guarding the jaw. But the hunch the ceiling forced on it left the back of the neck exposed if she could get around it. She couldn’t. Not yet.

Three more exchanges. She opened more wounds, and they all closed too fast.

She needed a solution.

High regeneration likely meant a strong lifeforce.

Drain Life wasn’t working, but maybe Dark Bolt would.

She tested it at low power, unwilling to risk a sickness on the first troll of the dungeon.

She raised her finger, gathered her lifeforce.

Life Curse.

When she released the needle, she felt very cold and started shivering.

It landed on the troll, and she immediately noticed the difference. The wounds were closing slower.