Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6) Read online

  Artorian’s mental tone hung somewhere between wistful, and surprisingly pleasant. Odd for Henry, as he had expected a more stern, or possibly grumbly attitude. He was happy to be mistaken.

 

  Artorian closed his eyes, fully lapsing into the forum. His mote popped up with a puffed glimmer of celestine light. The smooth answer was a comfort to the Midgard King.

  When a marker appeared, Artorian just stood and folded space around him. He appeared in the designated location with a fuff and fluffy accompaniment of the usual down feathers. To not fall, in case the height was once again wrong, he stood on bricks of hard light. Not that they were visible today. Once present, he had a look around to get his bearings.

  “Edge of the world? Looks like the edge of the world. Forest as far as the eye can see, then suddenly: cliff. Oh, oh dear.” Good thing he’d prepared those bricks, he was a little close to the edge for comfort. “Well, if you dropped something, I think we’re in a pickle.”

  Henry stood nearby, present in his usual seamless full plate. Looking over the same cliff edge, his hand kept pressed to the bottom of the visor. “Oh… I… well, that ends that right away then.”

  The Administrator broke into a flimsy laugh. “Ha! What did you drop?”

  Henry was clearly trying to play it off, weaving and bobbing from side to side as his Aura flattened the nearby foliage from sheer pressure as he moved. “Ma~a~aybe my sword. I was practicing after having snuck away. A difficult task by itself, mind you. I’m trying to get a hold of my own power, but nothing is working. It’s tiring to walk around and press everyone down to a knee without really meaning to, but I just can’t get a grip on fielding. Something is different about my Aura. It’s like parts have fused, and become all of me. My Aura no longer acts and responds like I expect, and while I can change my shielding, I don’t have the control that I did as a C-ranker. Anytime I move my Aura, it’s like I am moving all of myself, and my body just follows suit.”

  Artorian nodded. Sounded about right. “Yes, we’re par for the course. I’m afraid you’ll have to resort to quiet meditation and carefully practicing self-control over your Aura to make progress there. Swinging a stick around isn’t going to help. This Aura control requires a reflective growth, not an activity growth. You didn’t actually call me for the sword… did you?”

  Henry scratched the back of his head. Helmet or no. “Heh. You saw right through me. I just don’t know what else to do. I also wanted to ask if there was an alternative to… forcibly dethroning Marie? She’s not taking it well. Not as poorly as Brianna is obviously taking it; I know she’s got spies here now. They’re no longer subtle.”

  The old man folded his hands behind his back. “I’m aware. I’m keeping a running tally. As for Marie, if you can convince her to just go into stasis with you, I don’t have to do anything. Honestly, I’m not sure why she was against it, resting means time with you when you both first decant again.”

  Henry grumbled. “Marie’s mind is on her Queendom non-stop, all the time. We’ve barely had time for one another. I don’t think it even entered her thoughts. I should… ask. It would be nice to get away. Just the two of us. Maybe even delay a short while before picking the mantle back up. Maybe… skip a world version. Just the two of us… doesn’t have to stay just two. I… Artorian, I know I pulled you over on a whim. I apologize, but I think I need to run off right away.”

  Ideas were clearly striking Henry, and he was not the sort for slow plans of action.

  Artorian nodded. Pleased he was holding onto positives. “Go, my boy. Though… where are we? I’ve never been to Midgard much, and I don’t rightly know where we are on the continent. This area looks new. Like it was added in later.”

  Henry hurried to pack up his things. Mostly just two large bags with practice material useful for a C-ranker. Not so much where he was now. “It was! Cal is evening out realm imbalances and that resulted in added landmass. Because this place is not on the map yet, nobody knows and I can slip away. I call it the fringe of Midgard. Have a pleasant day, Administrator!”

  The old man rubbed his chin as the youth ran off, flattening forest as he went. Granted, he didn’t know Henry’s actual age, being a cultivator and all. Still, the behavior was that of a young’un, and he was fond of the lad for it. Good on you. You chase those dreams.

  Artorian remained in place, looking down to see particles of land further add on to the existing edges. “The Fringe, you say? Well… Excuse me for not passing up an opportunity like that when it falls into my lap.”

  Rubbing his hands together, Artorian pulled up a screen only he had, thanks to Administrator privileges. Everyone could edit items and creatures so long as they were broken, but he could edit anything. So long as it was in some way part of the system.

  With a wry smile, he tapped into the landscape and began altering the place. This was a great location for a lake. A salt lake. Some hills here and there. Places trees would not populate via allotted zoning, a nice river, and tentative plans for structures. Structures cost him actual points, so he ignored those for now.

  His additions weren't much, but it was a start. He had to decant his personal friends and family somewhere on Midgard to get started, after all. He’d thought of whisking them straight to Jotunheim’s interior, but they would either have Decorum’s problem, or go squish. Neither were acceptable. What was acceptable was offering them all the Ascension path.

  Those who took it, he would train and guide personally, along with Zelia or Yuki. A warm-up for the Academy he wanted to put up. A proper one, this time. Perhaps he could do that nearby? The Midgard fringe region would need some kind of export. “Salted foods? Something salt. Definitely something with food.”

  He mused and planned it out over the course of a few months while tinkering in his warehouse. When he thought of something, it was added to the fringe build list. He had a running tally of who he was going to decant, and where, once the time came. Artorian was feeling impatient about it, but knew the time was not right. At minimum, not in world iteration Alpha One. There would be angry Dwarven cursing if he tried.

  Still, a place very conveniently not on a map and out of the way, in Midgard? Tantalizing! He had a beacon set and already placed. He’d told Henry it was to ‘help him sneak away with Marie,’ and that he would ‘put some things up for them later.’ Just to obscure the true value of the place.

  In the meanwhile it was their little getaway spot, and Marie decompressed in a very healthy fashion from all the time away from royal operations. The message that Marie wasn’t going to cause a stir—no longer resistant to being canted—even came in the format of a hand-written letter.

  He’d forgotten they could do that!

  Marie’s named one had brought it to a beacon, and Zelia played post-woman after chatting up the humanized version of Manny the Manticore. Marie’s theme exemplified Glory, and Manny’s aesthetics certainly counted. Even humanized, he walked tall. Carrying powerful pride while clad in armor of his own, inferior, discarded forms. He even purred when he spoke.

  Henry’s named one, Sleipnir, had initially offered to go. He was a powerful horned and four-armed centaur who relished in clearing fields with a seven-foot cleaver in each hand. However, Manny was peculiar when it came to certain tasks he otherwise considered beneath him. A conversation with the delicate Jotunheim spiderling—that was anything but harmless—brought him great satisfa
ction. The camaraderie found in being around a creature possessing venomous hidden power sang to his aesthetics.

  So without fail, Manny saw to the mail.

  The letter was folded and added to the temporary archive. Speaking of archives, the Sun project was done! This time it would get plunked into the sky, and preferably reach operational capacity without exploding into chunks. Thinking of it, he should get to that. If he left now, he would be early, but another distraction or two and he might be late. “Best pop to it then.” *Fuff*.

  On arrival, Artorian lost count of all the Gnomes he saw. They were Gnomes, right? Some of them had already opted for the geometric body replacements. The messy spectacle involved watching a smattering of random math-dice float about and manipulate details on a giant gyroscopic orb. Was it still a gyro? The solar construct had the look of one, but the details were all artfully different.

  “Artorian! There you are!” The Administrator looked around, but failed to discern the real source of the voice. His eyes stopped on an eight-sided die multiple times. Yet he looked elsewhere just to be sure. “Haha! No, you got it right the first time. The prismatic eight-sided die. That’s me. Dev! I know it’s only socially acceptable to Gnome around in the proper body, but it works! A~a~and I didn’t feel like adhering to agreed-upon Vanaheim customs today, or really anytime when I’m not on Vanaheim.”

  Artorian stared at the eight-sided, multi-colored die. He didn’t gape his mouth, and he didn’t frown. Instead, he was boring his sight through the object, inspecting any details about it that he could. To his annoyance, that turned out to be cracker-crumbs little. Artorian felt stumped. “Alright. You’re going to have to explain that later. How do you even… do anything?”

  The die spun in place, twinkled, and gleamed as a face of some kind appeared in dot format upon one of the surfaces. Dev added what could be considered a smiling face in some kind of circle. The die had Deverash’s voice, but no mouth to… how, even? What?

  Deverash did not contain his glee. “Cal calls it ‘telekinesis.’ It’s an Auric function. The means that let us move, control, and manipulate real things with the shaping of our Aura? That, except with more kinetic force. Us Gnomes can move our Auras better than hands, without any of the restrictions, at distances otherwise impossible for us. Slotted into a Pylon, this becomes [Telekinesis], since we’re essentially moving things with our minds. Just… easier, even if in some manner more complicated in function. The Pylon makes it so simple for us that this trick beats out any normal ways of handling just about anything. Give it a try sometime; it’s easily my favorite Pylon.”

  The rings on the large solar construct warbled and thrummed with sound, causing a hefty distraction. Both Artorian and the Deverash Die turned to face it as Cale winked into existence, throwing his arms out like some grand conductor in an orchestra. “I declare these archives open. Let there be light! Nobody look straight at it now!”

  The solar construct warbled louder, like someone playing the bongos with drumsticks of thunder. As all the spell Runes and formations were simultaneously fed and activated, it squealed discordantly; synthesizing a monstrous cacophony.

  Artorian covered his ears. “Holy Cal, suns are loud!”

  The light from the very center blazed into being in a massive burst. Heat now pouring out of the construct in oppressive waves. To compensate, the construct moved farther and farther outwards from its berth. Shooting skywards at a steady speed where it would slot into a well-calculated orbit.

  Cal opened a senate channel, explaining what the sudden change in Soul-Space-wide lighting was about. “The sun is up! I’m going to keep it dim and weak, but this will be more than enough for a natural day and night cycle. I’m done. I’m finally done with this one! Woo! Great success!”

  Everyone felt a pull on their stomachs, the world dilation speed upgrading as Cal went up another rank. Where was he now? A-rank seven? Eight? They didn’t actually know, but it was somewhere up there. Looking away, the old man watched the rising geometric shapes as the Gnomes cheered and hooted. Interesting how one could bob with so much emotion. Artorian slid on his sunglasses and calmly applauded, joining the merriment. “Shiny!”

  Chapter Four

  After the celebrations—and since he could—a curious Artorian fuffed into the star’s center to have a look at the decorated interior. Cale was waiting for him, one of those self-satisfied smirks plastered on his face. Like he’d known the Administrator would not be able to hold back his curiosity. “Ta-da! One sun, working as intended, complete with bonus residence hidden away on the inside. I even got all the details right this time. Plus, that library wing is done, spacious too with just how much ridiculously larger this construct is. What do you think?”

  The old man barked a short laugh, pulling out a chair to sit. “Like I said. Shiny. I’m pleasantly surprised to find it’s cool in here. Not burny or toasty in the slightest. There’s even a fireplace. How thoughtful. I was under the impression that I was going to provide help. Turns out you just lit her up like a candle, and she was good to go.”

  Cale stretched, putting his boots up on the table. His arms settled behind his head, and he leaned his chair back precariously. “I had the entire pattern this time. With the core structure from Vanaheim, the rest was just a matter of energy. The accumulators are all drained, but the Essence mechanism is working as planned up here now. It’s not quite a fire elemental source, but it’s cycling previously stagnant energy. That’s good enough for me.”

  The dungeon thought of something else, and smiled. “A little bird came and told me Marie is no longer going to make it difficult for us. Nice to hear. I don’t want to boot any of my current supervisors from the circle. That divine business really needs to stop, though.”

  Cale ran his fingers through his hair. “Next run. We’ll sort it next run.”

  The Administrator nodded, and extended his hand to a cup on the counter. Dev’s words momentarily came to his attention, and now was as good of a time as any. His hand remained outstretched to the object a good twelve feet away from him, then he spoke the word Dev taught him. “[Telekinesis].”

  The feeling was astounding. Artorian felt like a whole new arm manifested. One that he could control and manipulate to the finest detail. The limb had invisibly sprung from his side, and instinctively Artorian felt some kind of timer. To his amazement, this reaching grasp wasn’t physically present, until he desired that it was. The kinetic hand squeezed around the cup, and he brought it towards him with less difficulty than moving his actual limbs. When the cup *thunked* onto the table, he could do naught but stare at it until the effect ended. The feeling of the invisible extra arm fading once the timer ran dry.

  Cale just sat there. Smirking. “Nice, huh? Try it on liquids too. You can form the potential shape of a bowl and it will carry water.”

  Not hesitating at such a suggestion, Artorian acted. Using the spell again, he pulled all of the water out from a different container without a fuss. He did so by shaping the telekinesis container within an existing, physical container. Creating a smaller copy of the exact shape. The telekinetic feeling bent and reformed on exit through the funnel, but the amphora-shaped mass of water hovered in front of him regardless.

  Artorian could not contain his excitement. “I’m not even using my water affinity channel to do this. It’s all external. Even then, I’m not sure just water channels could make the container shape float in mid-air like this. It’s not even Mana-costly. I love it!”

  The vesseled water was poured into the cups only to be gawked at a moment. He returned excess liquid to the amphora before the telekinetic effect expired, changing the shape of the vessel a few times before letting go. Artorian had to then sip on the water in his cup, just to make sure it was real. “Fascinating.”

  He leaned back in the chair, full of bright ideas. They wavered when he realized Cale was still here. Normally the dungeon ran off swiftly, so the old man addressed it in his usual grandfatherly style. “Something
on your mind, my friend?”

  Cale thoughtfully considered how to broach the subject. To make it easy on himself, he brought up several three-dimensional maps of his Soul Space. Each Continent had its own map, and dots of celestine blue illuminated all across their reaches. Artorian choked on his water, coughing when he realized those dots were his teleportation beacons.

  Cale suddenly sounded tired when he spoke, as if there was a weight pressing to his chest. “With Bob at permanent rest, I took over many of the tasks so I could discern who to best hand them back out to. In doing my audit, I came across some faulty Pylon code. I notice you’re sitting at a very cozy A-rank zero right now, but I barely found any records of you having time to cultivate. None of the supervisors have.”

  Artorian gently placed his cup back down. Rats! He’d been discovered. So much for his convenient Mana recoupment method. Alright, he should call it what it was. Cheating. It was cheating. Cal pulled the Jotunheim maps close, and snickered on seeing the waving line that appeared on the legend as the Long Mark Two. He was just going to let it hang there as a flag, a reminder to his Administrator that he wasn’t good at everything.

  Cale spoke more kindly than Artorian expected. “I’ve removed the teleportation feature from the shop, and all buildings relating to it. Until I can repair the jumble of Pylons responsible. Now, because the platforms are conveniently all in place, rather than giving my supervisors personal teleportation access, I’m giving them a keygem that will let them use those beacons like my old dungeon portal system. The same method some of the chosen are currently using.”

  Artorian patiently listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Cale dismissed the diagrams, the old man was starting to feel unsettled. So he just asked. “Cale? No mention of costs, or debt, or ‘oh, this is going to be bad for you’? I expected some backlash for doing this to your system.”