Dungeon Deposed Read online

  In the same day it started, Ryker was inundated with requests for rental properties and permission to build. Everyone had taken to calling the city “Dungeon” and no effort would change that name it seemed, on top of everything else.

  By some grace of the heavens, Edwin had hired a handful of accountants and engineers a short while previous.

  A week after the first portal opened, the city of Dungeon had exploded in scope and population. There was no shortage of work either, anyone who showed up got a job within the day. Either working to build the city, or working in whatever fashion they could hire on to.

  Seven inns were now operating, and three more were on the way. Two banks had miraculously popped up, bringing their number to three in total. Though the original bank which had taken a chance on Dungeon was given precedence by virtue of Ryker banking with them.

  Stores, alchemists, and temples all were springing up as if they were weeds. There were, of course, an untold number of bars, brothels, and other houses of ill repute.

  Money flowed and washed through Dungeon as if it were a tidal wave.

  Ryker, of course, was raking it in.

  From his inn, to the entry fee, to his stores at the front and back of the dungeon, money flowed into his account.

  The items he constructed in the dungeon cost him nothing, so his prices were very low. Much lower than any other store could actually afford to beat, let alone match.

  His purchase prices were average to fair though, which was where the other stores made their money.

  For his part, Ryker left the dungeon alone. He wanted to make changes, to modify some things, add more dialogue, or even more quests.

  But he couldn’t.

  Wynne was right in that no small number of people attempted to see the dungeon core.

  Ryker had even been forced to exterminate an entire group of people that had been attempting to build a ramp across the gap to get closer to the core.

  Word had spread after that, and everyone now followed the rules.

  Though now there was an ever-increasing number of high level adventurers burning through Hobtown to see the core.

  It had been four weeks since Ryker had made the changes.

  “That makes twelve,” Wynne said smugly.

  Turning his attention to whatever it was Wynne was watching, he felt a sense of jealousy.

  She’s already captured twelve of her kind. And I haven’t even killed one of my tormentors.

  Rob had been suspiciously absent for the last week. Those running the newbies through the dungeons were experienced but unknown to Ryker.

  He really was only after about twenty people. Twenty people he could name that were there and part of his mockery.

  That he could put a face to.

  Refocusing his mind before he lost his composure, Ryker watched as the twelfth fairy dealt with the contract Wynne forced her into.

  “If they manage to bring two others back in and they’re captured, I lessen the cost of the contract on them,” Wynne explained in answer to a question he hadn’t asked. “So they’re all quite eager to bring in someone else to take their place.”

  “Ah. What’d you end up making them do?” he asked her.

  “They all have small sections of the dungeon they control. Repair it, keep it working, watch for anything out of the ordinary. Think of them as a set of eyes and ears in your service,” Wynne said smugly. “If everyone succeeds, we’ll be at eighteen before the week is out.”

  “How many fairies were in your… village? City? Town?”

  “A few hundred. Even if they realize what’s going on, they can’t do much. The moment they enter the dungeon to investigate, they’re mine,” Wynne said. Her tone was rather chilling despite the simplicity of her words. “Ah, I feel so… fulfilled.”

  Spiking the bitter pill of jealousy down into the mental quagmire that was his thoughts, Ryker broke his connection to the dungeon.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe we can do som—”

  Wynne’s voice was cut off by a pounding on his office door.

  Ryker sighed. He opened his eyes and got up out of his chair. Unless it was truly important, he didn’t hide in his alcove anymore. The possibility of someone realizing he went in but wasn’t inside was a concern.

  Not to mention the Minotaur staring him down constantly had grown a touch unnerving.

  “Coming,” Ryker said.

  Opening the door he found himself face to face with the Paladin who had carried him out of the dungeon years ago.

  Dark brown hair was tied up short behind her head. Her face was as stoic as he remembered.

  She’d never be what anyone would call pretty, but you could probably call her handsome. Especially with those dark green eyes and if she ever cracked a smile.

  Fat fucking chance there.

  “You, I remember you,” she said, her head tilting to one side. “You had very destructive spells and perfect control.”

  “Yeah. I remember you too, Robyn. Hard to forget you carrying me out of the dungeon as if I were an invalid,” Ryker said without any heat to it.

  She hadn’t done anything to him and didn’t deserve his scorn.

  So she got none of it.

  “You fell. You were my companion. It was the right thing to do,” she said seriously.

  Then she gave him a smile, and he regretted thinking that no one could ever call her pretty.

  “I’m glad that you are well. I heard that the guild was unkind to you after we reported back in. It is good to see that you’ve done well for yourself. I assume you’re the owner of the dungeon?” she asked, her gauntleted fists flexing.

  In fact, now that he looked at her, and up at her since she was a few inches taller, he found that she was outfitted in her battle gear.

  Even her helmet was tucked up under her armpit.

  “That I am. Are you looking to go in? And by yourself?” he asked carefully.

  “Indeed, though not by myself. I hear tell that the dungeon is different. That, in fact, many of the creatures within behave as if they weren’t mindless monster bound to combat. I’ve brought with me a band of acolytes to the church of light. I’d like to take them down below to give them a taste of adventuring, as well as to see what lies in wait for us down there,” she said, the smile slowly vanishing.

  “Uh huh,” Ryker said, unimpressed. “Since I owe you, you and your group can enter without the surcharge. It’s so late in the evening I think it’s clear. Check with the front desk. Stay as long as you like in there. No one comes at night typically. And if they do, they’re normally in the dueling squares. Just… just be careful. It’s a dungeon, and will gladly kill you if you let it. I’d rather you not die down there.”

  “Ha. I shall be wary. And careful as well. We’ll depart immediately,” she said. Turning, she left him standing there, watching her leave.

  Scratching at his chest, Ryker considered what to do for a moment. He’d outlawed the church of light from coming here. From preaching. Where did that leave him with Paladins who were simply embodiments of their faith.

  Whatever.

  Ryker closed the door to his office behind him, locked it, and went back inside.

  “And who was that? You felt different,” Wynne said, popping back into existence. “I thought you were leaving.”

  “I was. Now I’m not,” he said, sitting down in his chair.

  “What? Why? There’s no one but newbies in the dungeon right now,” Wynne said.

  “Shut up,” Ryker said caustically. He attuned his spell and senses to zoom onto Robyn immediately.

  The distance of the dungeon’s control had grown significantly. It covered a vast part of the area around it. It already enveloped everyone on the hill, around it, and out to the road.

  Though at this time, Robyn and her team were standing in the entry alcove. Once people had discovered the trial by combat rooms they’d become more popular than the regular dungeon.

  They could pick and choose what they want
ed to fight, gain experience, and all at very little risk.

  That of course meant the rewards were few and far between, but Ryker figured most of the people in there were testing themselves more than trying to get rich.

  “Who’s that?” Wynne asked, her own presence hovering near his as he watched Robyn.

  “It’s the Paladin who carried me out from the dungeon,” Ryker said, giving up. There was no way Wynne would give up on something once she was curious. If he didn’t want her to know, he’d have been better off leaving her to her own devices and ignoring Robyn.

  The Paladin and her group made short work of the entry area and outskirts. They entered the city, set up a base camp in a building, and set to work at clearing the area.

  Robyn led them and bled for them, giving them a chance to experience a dungeon with little to no danger.

  Every inch a Paladin.

  “She’s rather strong. I’ll try to keep an eye on her in the future. We should make sure she survives the dungeon for her kindness,” Wynne said.

  Ryker wasn’t going to disagree with her, but he didn’t have it in him to verbally agree.

  “It’s okay, I understand,” Wynne said. Ryker felt her small hand rest on his brow. “You’re not one who shares. I get it. I can feel you though. You don’t have to talk.”

  He was about to respond when he felt something creeping up to the edge of the dungeon’s senses.

  Multiple somethings.

  “What are those?” Ryker asked.

  “They feel like humans but… they’re heavily magicked. To the point that they’re invisible even to the vision of the gods,” Wynne said. “We can see them because a dungeon… well, a dungeon technically isn’t a place the gods can visit. They can influence it through prayer or spells through their people. But that’s it.”

  “So, a dungeon is a god unto themselves,” Ryker said. He watched as the group of cloaked humans moved closer and closer to the dungeon. As they got further from the edge of the boundary, he could feel them more and more clearly as well.

  “Actually, yes. Many dungeons end up bringing in monsters or creatures who can generate faith. Most don’t use summoned monsters in the way you are,” Wynne said. “Given enough time a dungeon can start utilizing religious powers.”

  Considering they’d be worshiping a dead dungeon core, that doesn’t really work for me.

  The humans flew through the inn, and Ryker didn’t hear the door open, anyone passing by, or a single noise that would have alerted him. They entered the dungeon and paused.

  Now that they were in the dungeon itself, he knew they were humans. Knew they were all worshipers of the dark church and its allies.

  Knew they were here to attack Robyn.

  “What am I allowed to do here? They’re entering the dungeon when they’re not supposed to. Does that free me to act however I wish?” Ryker asked.

  Wynne made a humming noise, probably lost in thinking on his question.

  The dark church members finished whatever it was they were doing, and dashed into the dungeon wing Robyn was in.

  “Technically, nothing. A dungeon wouldn’t care one way or the other, so long as they all died.”

  “What would happen if I killed them outright? Is there some type of divinity or something? So far I’ve followed what you’ve said so far because it made sense. What prevents me from just squishing these trespassers?”

  “Nothing, but their god would know what happened to them when their soul returns. Anything too direct and obvious would create problems. You’d have to fear repercussions from their dark pantheon, though, and you already banned them from the city,” Wynne said.

  That doesn’t mean I want to take a shit on their gods’ dinner plate.

  Ryker grit his teeth as the dark church hit squad sprinted into the city.

  “But if they engaged the dungeon and lost, there’d be nothing that could be done. In fact, it might even be viewed as normal, or an accident. An act of nature? Like a lightning strike?” Ryker asked. He was hoping to clarify a point.

  “Well, yes. Though dungeons don’t intervene directly when adventurers are present.”

  “Why?” Ryker asked.

  “Ah, part of those unwritten rules we were discussing previously.”

  “That’s all I needed to know. Get me your Fairies,” Ryker said, opening his eyes. He held onto the control spells but pushed them to the far corner of his mind.

  Wynne vanished in the blink of an eye, and came back a second later.

  Nine dungeon fairies appeared in the air all around him. They all looked eerily similar, and he wasn’t sure he could distinguish them from the one another.

  “Master,” they said out of sync.

  “No, we practiced this. You should all say it at the same time. Remember? Appear, pause, speak, curtsy,” Wynne said, clapping her hands.

  The Fairies had various looks of murder on their faces, but none said anything against Wynne

  As one, they clasped their hands together in front of themselves. “Master,” they said in unison, then curtsied deeply to him.

  “Yeah, whatever, play time later. I need five of you. Who’s got combat experience or spell-work? Hands up,” he said.

  Six lifted their hands, then a seventh after a moment.

  “Good,” Ryker said. “You, you, you, you, and you. Get into the dungeon and create an avatar for yourself. Use whatever race you like, use the memory cores. I really don’t care what you do, but I need one heavy melee fighter, an assassin, a mid-range enhancer, an area of effect destruction caster, and a priest type. Get to work and meet me at the entrance to the first wing in the hidden alcove. The rest of you report back to Wynne.”

  “Ryker, what are you doing?” Wynne asked, fluttering up to him. She looked nervous, but also as curious as ever.

  “I’m going to create an avatar for myself, go in there, and wreck them. All I have to do is trick them into attacking me. Then I can go full bore on them. That doesn’t break any rules, right?” Ryker asked, popping open the hidden room to his office.

  “Well, yes, that would be legitimate. But… what happens if your avatar dies in there? Does it kill you, too? Your soul will be riding in it. The spells you’ve been using are only possible because you’re forcefully projecting yourself in there,” Wynne said, slipping into the room behind him.

  “Dunno. Suppose we’ll find out. I’ll just be careful. I’ll not be letting a bunch of flunkies disobey me, though. I told them this wouldn’t be a place for them to fight their war. I’ll make sure they understand that this isn’t acceptable,” Ryker growled from between his teeth.

  Wynne sighed dramatically and plopped down on the ground next to him. “You’re such a stubborn man at times. If this was any other woman you wouldn’t care. You can at least be honest with me. Or at least, try not to lie to yourself,” Wynne grumbled.

  Ryker tuned her out as best he could. He didn’t really want the sermon or the lecture right now. What he really wanted was to be in the dungeon killing these fools who dared disregard his laws.

  Immediately he dove into the memory cores he’d been collecting.

  His avatar would be a representation of his wrath. His anger. One to fight whatever came into his dungeon.

  A spell-casting warrior class. One that could keep itself healthy and on the front lines, even as it cast spells. That could take a hit, dish it back out, and counter spells.

  He sifted through each core as quickly as he could, siphoning spells and abilities that met the goal he had in mind.

  Most spells had limitations or restrictions for equipment. Even worship of certain gods or beliefs. That suited him just fine since he planned on being a martial artist at the base level. With that as the foundation, no equipment would be needed.

  And since it was his dungeon, all those other silly requirements would be irrelevant to him. He was his own magical source.

  Ten minutes later and his avatar, a human that stood six feet tall, weighing something
close to two hundred pounds and all muscle, was standing in the alcove.

  Ryker had kept the avatar clean shaven with no hair except his eyebrows. It was strange to look at. It vaguely resembled a shaved headed version of himself.

  No matter how much he tried though, he couldn’t change the face.

  Chalking it up to the fact that he was using his soul as an interface, he stuck a mask over his face and called it good enough.

  Diving into his avatar, he felt disoriented.

  Disjointed.

  As quickly as it happened, though, everything was fine again.

  Ryker flexed and shifted his weight around. Everything felt good. Too good. Spells came to his mind easily, crackled along his fingers, and begged to be used. To be released.

  Smashing his meaty palms together, he activated every passive spell, ability, or trait he had crammed into the avatar.

  Glancing over his shoulder, and seeing perfectly in the dark thanks to a trait he found buried in a rogue class, he found five women of various races and classes staring back at him.

  “Ready?” he asked in a deep voice.

  Several nodded their heads, two simply said yes.

  “Good. Our goal is to goad them into a fight, then exterminate them. Our cover story is we’re a special unit sent to investigate the city on behalf of a nearby human kingdom. Stick to it, it matters,” Ryker said. “Let’s go.”

  With a wave of his hand, the wall shimmered and vanished.

  Ryker led his strike team out swiftly.

  Chapter 9 - Dungeon Strike -

  The Fairies kept up with him as he jogged toward the spot he knew the dark church was gathering. As an avatar, and amped up with enough magical power to drown a city in, he simply knew everything that was going on in his dungeon.

  A light skinned Elven woman with short white hair and green eyes dressed in chainmail eased up in front of him. She held a wide shield in her left hand and a straight broadsword in her right.

  On his right a human woman in leathers and carrying short swords shadowed him. Her eyes were black as pools of midnight and so was her hair.

  Ryker could feel the dark church assassins as they fanned out around the building Robyn and her people were in.