Home Improvements

Chapter 5

I took some time to decompress, spending an hour moving existing tiles around without spending any mana. It was relaxing and let me clear my head and process what I’d learned. Feeling better I started making a mental list of what I needed to do. It was a ritual that calmed me down further and let me think more clearly about my situation. The emergency was done and the boy was stable. I could take my time and focus on the lingering mystery.

“Build log,” I said flatly, hoping that it was a feature. Twenty mana wasn’t much, and I wanted to know exactly what I’d spent the rest of it on. A pop-up appeared but was blank for a moment. Text shimmered in and out of existence before finally deciding to stick. Most of it was various tile coordinates from the startup phase. A mass of numbers that took a little time to understand. I found what I needed just before I deployed the elemental hounds in the timestamps.

Exterior plot purchase, 1 space, 20 mana (x4 raid penalty)

Exterior Plot movement, 2 spaces, 40 mana (x4 raid penalty)

Exterior plot purchase, I hadn’t done anything of the sort in the tutorial. Converted tiles from the surface were just things I imported for set dressing. I was confined to underground areas. That very basic assumption shattered I sighed and took a few moments to wallow in my sense of betrayal. A sense of betrayal I was glad to have once my brain processed the new opportunity.

Looking at my map I found it, I’d bought one of the tiles that belonged to the storage shed at the mine's entrance. One that a pair of dead men were laying on. In the next moment, my calm was gone. I was quickly going through the pop-ups I’d neglected from before. Core anxiety warnings, raid progress toward my position, I barely read any of them. I needed to find a death report and soon had one for Savex guards.

Rastin (LN) +3

Cori (NG) +3

I could have kissed someone if I‘d had a mouth and started floating in excited bouncy circles. I was good for my tithe payment! I could not have been happier if I tried.

“Mistress?” Stalin called to me and I swirled around and floated just above the ground as I came over to talk to him. A move he seemed to find off-putting while his compatriot gave a laugh-like bark.

“I have enough points for my first tithe!” I said, wanting to explain and both hounds looked surprised.

“How? That lot shouldn’t have been worth much,” Stalin asked, but both were confused.

“Wait, how would you know how many points I should get?” I countered, somehow more surprised by this than the fact that he could talk in the first place.

“I don’t know exactly, but my previous masters always cursed if they killed certain types of people. They complained that they weren’t worth anything. Did I misunderstand?” Stalin answered, the other one nodding in agreement.

“This isn’t the first dungeon you’ve been in?” I asked. One question leading to another yet again.

“This is my third,” Stalin said, still confused by my reaction.

“My second, I was captured as a pup and bound to the system,” Stalin’s companion said and I realized the name thing needed to be addressed and that she was a she.

“I was older, you did well to level to such an extent from a pup. Most never mature,” Stalin said and his companion nodded, and I was starting to feel like an asshole. They were living beings with minds of their own. Yet I had bestowed a name on one and was thinking about what to call the other. Like I owned them.

“Okay. Hold on. I named you Stalin before I realized you could talk or anything. I’ll undo that and give you one you had before or one you want,” I said, knowing it wasn’t an apology but wanting to get the first bit out of the way.

“That’s fine, I like the sound of it. We identify by scent and call; we accept names to make it easier on our masters,” Stalin said and I looked to his companion, uncertain on how to feel about anything.

“I feel the same. It’s fun to learn what the names mean and why you give them,” she said, grinning or showing her teeth at me; amused either way.

“Okay, but do you want to be free if I can make that happen?” I asked, uncertain if I could and unwilling to make the promise in the absence of that assurance. The hounds looked at me then at each other then back to me.

“We’d freeze to death here if not for the dungeon,” Stalin said and I felt like a stupid asshole. They were creatures of elemental flame. Beings indigenous to active volcanoes and lava fields. Temperate weather was not going to cut it for them.

“Alright, let me apologize now before I put my foot further up my ass,” I said and Stalin and his companion continued to stare at me. I’d deleted the option to enslave defeated foes but hadn’t considered where the monsters came from. Or how the monsters felt about it. Or how to feel about it myself.

“I’ll give you the option if I figure out how to. Until then, feel free to speak your minds to me-” I said and was cut off when Stalin stood up at attention.

“I’d like to kill the male,” Stalin said, tail wagging. It was then that I realized something, he was under my control. No matter how excited he was he couldn’t disobey me, and I couldn’t yield that authority. Like a lot of things, it was a gut feeling in the guts I no longer had.

“I want a pool!” the female shouted. She stood up, bouncing on her front legs and yapping to punctuate the sentence.

“A pool?” I asked, startled.

“The hottest you can manage, deep enough to dive in!” she clarified.

“I’d like a shallow part to lounge in,” Stalin said, seeming to forget his lust for blood at the prospect.

“Uhm…Yeah, I have access to the tutorial tiles. I’ll put it in the lowest level, so feel free to use it-” I was cut off again as both hounds went dashing off down the tunnels. Dashing toward the lava pool I had yet to construct. I had meant to say I’d build it after the system refresh.

Not wanting to make them sad I wrote it off as core defense and set it up as per their requests. I used the hottest lava at my disposal. It was the most liquid and might accommodate diving if it wasn't from too high up. It wasn't difficult to establish a pool with different levels, but it was lackluster. Wanting to make it a proper retreat for the pair I started adding on.

I’d gotten way ahead of myself with saying I’d free them if I could before I knew if I could. Giving them some amenities to enjoy was the least I should do.

First I put in a waterfall of lava that flowed down a rock face like a slide. Next to that was a small outcropping to use as a diving spot into the deepest part. Next came some of the basalt stones to act as stairs leading in and as decor around it. By the time the dogs arrived, it looked like a proper bit of hell to play in.

Thinking about their comfort I decided to take a moment to set up some defenses. I put a fire rat nest between the kid and the second layer of the dungeon. I didn’t want my guest wandering where he wasn’t wanted while the hounds were relaxing.

With six points to spend and eight mana, I was sitting pretty. Opening my shop up I started looking through the points section. It had a lot of interesting things for sale, but I focused on finding a need instead of a want.

As difficult as it was to be practical there were a few upgrades for my core that fit the bill. Increased durability would give me extra hit points. Increased hardness would give me points of armor. Minimize would reduce the size of my core.

I wasn’t sure how useful minimize would be but something about it nagged at my mind. The memory shook loose a moment later of the anguish I’d felt during the tutorial. Anguish courtesy of an archer. If I had the points, I could make it the size of an apple. A tempting option but I didn't choose it in the end.

Increase mana output was the best one for utility but it was ten points. A figure that was utterly out of reach. Everything was practical but I wasn't planning on being active for a few weeks and didn't need them yet. Thinking a little more I recalled the prompt that had pissed me off earlier. Upgrading my interface was the best thing to do and it wasn’t too expensive.

“Upgrade interface,” I said and the confirmation screen showed up.

“What do I get?” I asked and a new text box outlining what I’d receive for my one point appeared under the confirmation. I’d been right, it was in a different font, a fact which bothered me but not for long.

Interface Upgrade Level 1

Interface quality increases to E from F grade

Store interface increases to E from F grade

Crafting system interface grade F enabled

Communications are enabled

Looking at what I gained I still hesitated for a moment before agreeing to the purchase. If I played it too cautiously, I wouldn’t be able to advance. A timer showing ten seconds appeared in the center of my field of view with a message under it.

Prepare for Upgrade Sickness

Upgrade sickness. If there had been a cancel option, I might have chosen it. Unfortunately, the point was spent, and the clock was ticking.

“Guys, upgrade incoming!” I shouted. My monster management panel responded to my frantic need. A direct connection to the hounds opened. The warning didn't help me but I hoped it would be useful to them at least.

As the clock ran down, I realized how long ten seconds was when you were panicking. Every second stretched out to a painful little eternity as I waited.

I had no idea what was going to happen but was still surprised. As the zero flashed and faded I felt as if someone had rung me like a gong. Every part of me vibrated as the world shook apart in front of me. Letters or Runes I didn’t recognize appeared and decayed in a multitude of colors.

There was no pain but an unrelenting sense of nausea until it cleared. I wasn’t sure how much later that was, but I knew I was staring at the ceiling and a pair of burning eyes. Sitting on the floor Stalin was looking down at me. Next to him, the lady hound was shaking bits of cooling lava from her hide.

I was hovering on my back a few inches off the ground and sat up, a hand going to my head out of reflex. My body was fine. As if nothing had happened. A fact almost as disturbing as what I had experienced.

“Are you well, Mistress?” Stalin asked, nose coming close to my face but not quite touching.

“I guess, did that do anything to you two?” I asked blinking as I found my field of vision had changed in a few fundamental ways. In the top left corner, I had four new icons. An envelope, a person with a heart, crossed hammer and needle, and a magnifying glass. Neat, basic navbar, was my first thought.

“No, we're fine,” the lady hound said. She seemed curious about me too, but more cautious than Stalin.

“We found you writhing on the ground with your orbs blazing,” Stalin said and as he continued to inspect me. I reached up to pat him. I paused feeling I’d done something rude, but he leaned into it and I scratched his head. The coarse stone felt velvety to my dim sense of touch.

“I upgraded my interface and didn’t get the warning until it was too late. I’ll let you guys know in advance in the future,” I said, still scratching Stalin’s ears while the lady hound looked intently at me. She woofed once then started fidgeting and I stared, confused by what she was doing.

“She’d like a scratch too,” Stalin clarified and laughing I held a hand out to her. Unlike when I was mysteriously ill, she ran right up to me and I was overwhelmed. Elemental hounds, lava dogs, fire puppers, it didn’t matter what you called them. Any sort of dog liked a scratch, and that was a universal constant I could get behind.

Velvety and warm, they felt nice and I scratched and petted them until I noticed that I only had an hour before core reset. A fact I knew because of a little orb with a countdown timer in it on the top right of my field of view. I hadn’t noticed it since it looked like a marble until I questioned the time which caused it to grow to legible size. A handy feature to say the least.

“Okay guys, I need to focus so I’m putting a pause on the petting,” I said and both hounds whined a little. Despite their reluctance, they both got up and moved. They made it about two feet from me before laying together on the floor to stare. It gave me the distinct impression I would not get much work done.

“How about you go play for a bit on the lower level? I can feel your guilt beams,” I said and the lady hound laughed with short sharp barks. Stalin stood up to turn away and gave me a cold shoulder with great dignity. I did my best and managed not to chuckle until they were out of earshot.

Looking at my new icons I wanted to go straight for the crafting interface. Instead, I ignored it since what I assumed was the friend request icon and envelop for texts had twos next to them. I picked the friend request option first.

Agony and someone named Steve had both applied to be my friend. I immediately accepted Agony’s request but chose to look at Steve’s profile first. The name was too basic to belong to someone normal under the circumstances.

A profile popped up, but it didn’t contain any useful information. Just the name I already knew and what looked like a blog link. If not for the picture I’d have denied it but there was something about the little square of darkness that pulled at me. It felt like it was smiling in a familiar and unenthusiastic way. Like a dying star.

“Holy shit…” I muttered, realizing my abyss in a robe recruiter was named Steve of all things. How and why were my first thoughts, fuck it was my third. His name was Steve and it made as much sense as anything was going to. Instead of bothering with angst or confusion, I was giggling. He looked like a mopey middle schooler on picture day.

I accepted his friend request and then checked my texts. Agony had sent me a picture of an ass-backward layout someone had constructed in the tutorial. Under it was a video clip of the architect freaking out and demanding to know why the heroes won. FML was the heading and I resolved to send him a picture of my layout once I had something decent going.

The second one wasn’t from Steve. Someone named Mephisto had written to me.

Hi,

Looks like we're continental neighbors. Best of luck to you.

Mephisto

I opened the sender profile and found myself looking at another dungeon master. Or most of one anyway, he was a demi, so he still had physical elements of his old body left. It was an odd but not unpleasant mix. Everything from his collar bones up was a shadow with blazing golden-yellow orbs. The rest of his body down to his waist was toned. It was a does sit-ups, but still likes cake, kind of body.

His profile indicated he was in fact on the same continent as mine, though I had to check mine to find that out. It didn’t tell me how close we were or anything else. Feeling curious I made sure to check my profile's settings. I disabled information sharing and added a picture before sending a friend request.

It would have been polite to respond but I didn’t. That I had other things to do gave me an excuse to put it off and I took it. I felt a little shy about talking to another dungeon master. I turned my attention to the crafting interface instead.

The crafting interface had three tabs. Refine materials, craft, and deconstruct were the options at my disposal. Out of curiosity, I chose to deconstruct. My inventory appeared on one side of a simple interface. It featured a slot to put an item in, a deconstruct button, a timer, and a dialogue box. Picking a stack of boots, I put them in and the materials I’d get from them populated the dialogue box.

Leather Scraps, E grade (Common) x 4

Thread scraps, E grade (common) x4

Boot pattern, E grade (common)

Pleased that it was a straightforward process I clicked deconstruct. This started a three-minute countdown. Going to the crafting tab I was presented with something similar. There was a blueprint slot I was supposed to fill but nothing else. At a guess, it would tell me what I had to add once the blueprint was in place. The refinement option looked the same as the deconstruct. Unfortunately, there was nothing eligible in my inventory to test it out yet.

When the timer ran out, I checked my inventory and found a new tab had been added for patterns and raw materials. The pattern itself could be upgraded but the materials were unresponsive. A fact which seemed odd since I could upgrade finished products. They both also populated to my store which was curious.

I selected the refinement tab and found that the leather and thread were both eligible. I chose the thread first on a whim. After that, I found I needed six more piles to be able to upgrade them. Feeling a little annoyed with the cost I went to the crafting tab and added the boot pattern.

True to form two materials slots appeared for leather and thread. Filling them I could create four pairs of grade E old boots. Not needing them and too close to mana reset to justify being cheap about six of each material.

Spool of thread, D grade (Common)

Sheet of leather, D grade (Common)

I went back to the crafting tab and started the process for boots again. New boots, grade E, would be the result and I could construct five pairs. I thought it was a little odd that better materials didn’t affect the grade of the end product, only the condition. That might have been a bias on my part since I was thinking a little too much in game terms. One to one correlations weren’t all that frequent in reality, especially in crafting.

Still curious I went back into my inventory and upgraded the shoe pattern twice. This created a grade D, and grade C pattern. Testing them with the materials both patterns accepted them. They produced boots of the correct grade, but the number made declined.

That was fine but it bothered me since I’d expected the better patterns to need better materials. Looking at them I could tell they were constructed differently. That explained the difference in the number of required materials. Unfortunately, that was the end of my ability to analyze the boots.

I didn’t know anything meaningful about how they were made in my world. Even if I had I didn’t think it would help me with the crafting interface issue. Looking in the store I found that there was a section for crafting patterns, but it was lackluster. Instead of worrying about it I got to work. I liquidated the items I’d obtained from the soldiers and bandits with deconstruct.

As the timer started to count down, I realized there was one soldier's stuff that I hadn’t picked through yet. Checking on the kid I found that his health was half replenished but no longer recovering. His condition status likewise hadn’t improved. It seemed the fantasy had a little reality mixed in and he’d need more than a blanket healing potion to fix him up. He also had a new mild dehydration status which wasn’t helping that along.

Since he was unconscious, he wasn’t aware of his discomfort in a meaningful way so I elected to take his stuff. I planned to give it back and it would be easier to do when he couldn’t freak out or fight me for it. A little polish and that bit of mercenary thinking would fit nicely on a cross-stitch. I could hang it at the entrance of my dungeon sweet dungeon.

His gear was the same as his comrades with the notable deviation of a sword and heavy belt where the sheath was hung. The others had spears and that made sense. Swords were generally expensive and training intensive despite fantasy movie depictions. Pikes were a semester of "stick them with the pointy end" compared with a master’s degree.

His personal effects were like the others but included a locket. In one half was a painting of an older woman holding a baby. It was in a mushy sort of pre-renaissance realistic style. Light on likeness but presented a general feeling of maternal love.

It looked cheap and poorly done but sitting for a portrait of any size was a luxury. A coiled braid of blond hair filled the other side and matched the boys. It made me think it was his mother’s. A modern bias on my part. It could have been an older wife, or a younger woman painted without skill.

On the outside of the locket, a Coat of Arms was etched. A rose with a pair of arrows crossed behind it, heads down. It matched the one on the sword and my curiosity about the kid grew. An aristocrat, even a poor one, should have had a better profession.

I tried to stop myself from thinking about it, but it was too late. Seeds long dormant in my heart were starting to sprout. An ominous rattle of dice heralding their awakening. Blond-haired, square-jawed, martial training, humble station, and a complicated past. He was almost a stereotypical paladin to be.

Sighing I resigned myself to not finding out how many points he would be worth. I put his items in the backpack I’d left for him before, wanting to keep them safe. Despite my newfound sense of connection, I didn't hesitate to keep his sword.

Relic Blade (Name Lost), F grade

Condition: Terrible

I blinked at the description of the sword. Relic caught my attention first. With an F grade, I had to wonder if that meant it was passed down in a family rather than valuable. The terrible condition was also new to me. The worst condition I’d seen in my whole ten minutes of crafting being worn for the boots. I wrote it off as a lack of experience on my part and put it in the blade deconstruct tab.

Basilisk venom, grade S (Mythic)

Corroded Gilnamar, grade E (Legendary)

Enamel flakes, grade F (Common)

Leather scraps, grade E (Common)

Relic Blade Pattern, grade S (Epic)

“Research Basilisk venom.” I thought, hoping it would activate my encyclopedia or a tooltip.

Basilisk Venom

A poisonous secretion from glands in the mouth of a Basilisk that renders it saliva toxic. It is capable of corroding all metals except mythic quality. The speed is reduced from a day for common metals to a hundred years for epic. The venom can only be removed with phoenix tears (Mythic). It must be removed from a body before a resurrection can be conducted.

Their gaze is death and the air itself writhes from the poison its body secretes. There are more powerful monsters, but none are so hated or feared as the basilisk. It kills not simply men but the land itself. Woe to the kingdom beset by this beast.

I took a minute to absorb what I’d read. The kid was a descendant of someone who’d gone and killed a Basilisk. Or died trying. The blade’s condition was a result. Or he found it and the locket somewhere and I was making shit up for my entertainment.

He wasn’t a hero, he didn’t have any kind of a heroic class, but I felt like he could be one given time. That should have made me want to slit his throat. Instead, I was deconstructing his sword to remove the venom. The parts wouldn’t be ready for several hours, but I’d made some decisions.

Instead of ignoring him hoping he'd leave or die I examined his status. I found a potion in my consumable tabs that fit the bill and bought it along with two others with the last of my mana. I picked the blue crystal that looked like a rippling geyser of water forming a heart.

“Drink up.” I sighed as I fed him the hydration potion. Unlike regular water, it wouldn’t drown him even if I fucked up. Something easy to do, if he could even swallow. It wasn't unusual for injured people to lose that ability.

I was going to let him live, that much I knew, but waking him up wasn’t a priority. I had things to do and didn’t need a hostile child underfoot while I worked.