PftA Book 5 - Chapter 50 - The Challenge

A/N: Only one more chapter and the Epilogue left for the series!

I barely managed to hold it together as I said my goodbyes. As soon as I entered my demesne, that control broke, and I bawled like a baby until my tears finally ran dry.

When I eventually pulled myself together, I realized that I’d forgotten all about the interviews I promised to do for Lucas.

Casting Restore to erase the evidence of my sorrow, I quickly composed a video message that I hoped would suffice. I made sure to mark it as ‘shareable,’ so Lucas could share it with anyone he wanted.

The default setting for video messages was private, meaning they could not be shared with others. The sender could also add specific potential recipients or leave the message open to share with anyone. The last option was rarely done outside of journalism.

The act of creating the message grounded me, and I quickly sent it when I opened a portal to the center of the Arcane mana well. I’d pulled myself together pretty quickly, and the video wasn’t that long, so I figured only a couple of minutes probably passed on the outside between me leaving and Lucas receiving the video.

I briefly wondered if I should send one last message to everyone, but shook my head and dismissed the thought. I’d already said my goodbyes. Going through it all over again so soon was more than I wanted to deal with.

From within my demesne, I was easily able to sense the surface above the Arcane mana well. Now that I was looking for it, the rift was glaringly obvious. With a sigh, I teleported myself through the portal and to the surface next to the rift.

The swirling black portal marked the rift as Tier Nine. I gently placed my hand along the edge of the portal, extending my senses within to get an idea of what kind of challenge I might face.

To my surprise, the rift rejected my probing. I’d never had one do something like that. In fact, such a thing should be impossible.

With no other options, I steeled myself and cast the strongest Barrier I could before stepping inside. I’d already given up all of my weapons and equipment before coming since I knew anything I brought would be lost when I was forced to ascend. I figured that at a full tier higher than the rift’s rating, I should be capable of managing with just my spells.

The only thing I’d kept in storage was a variety of homemade meals. I figured it would be nice to have a few good meals set aside in case the challenge went on longer than I expected.

My transition into the rift took longer than normal. Usually, stepping through a portal of any kind was nearly instantaneous. Occasionally, there might be a split-second or so delay, but not much more than that.

But this time, the delay took seconds. It might not seem like much, but it was, and the inconsistency raised my guard further.

My concern turned out to be for naught, and I appeared in a strangely modern control room next to a pedestal holding a fist-sized chunk of clear crystal. The entry portal was gone, meaning the only way out was to complete the challenge.

That was fine. I didn’t really expect I’d get to leave, anyway.

[Welcome, Tri-Affinity Mage!
You qualify for a special challenge.
Design the next Realm Dungeon.
*Note: Because you carry the mark of another Realm Dungeon, no explanations or instructions will be given beyond the basics of how to use the provided equipment.
Your efforts will have lasting consequences, so do your best!]

I read through the notification twice, expecting something, anything else. Sure, Corrogo mentioned me setting up a new dungeon, but he’d made it sound like that would be the reward for completing whatever challenge the rift held for me. I never expected it to be the challenge itself!

For that matter, what constituted success or failure? Could I even fail, or was this one of those situations where no matter what I did, it would be accepted?

That was a bit depressing. What if I completely sucked at dungeon design and thousands of generations were stuck suffering through my crappy dungeon?

I’d have to make sure I gave Lisa the ability to change things so she can fix whatever I inevitably mess up. Because I was sure I’d mess something up.

I walked toward the closes control panel – rather, the design interface, I realized. With that information came a burst of additional knowledge, knowledge I hadn’t possessed a moment earlier.

I suddenly understood exactly how each piece of the design interface could be used, how it could be manipulated to shape future floors and create a dungeon that spanned from Tier One to Tier Ten.

At the same time, I realized that the pressure I’d been feeling to ascend had almost completely vanished. That was good. It would be easier to think without the constant migraine the realm’s impatience had given me.

“Okay, so what should I do first?”

“You should start with the first floor,” Lisa said after materializing her avatar beside me. “Starting at the beginning is usually a good idea.”

“True. Feel free to contribute since you’ll likely be the one in control of everything once it’s done,” I said, trying not to think about the implications of my statement.

I’d already mourned for the loss of everyone I knew, and that included Lisa. She’d just be the last one I’d lose, was all.

“I’d like to give more people an opportunity to challenge the dungeon if they want, but I’m not sure how to facilitate that. Is it possible to expand the space or have instances? Maybe have a portal that will allow residents to travel between the different instances as desired?”

Just how much flexibility did I really have?

My new knowledge immediately provided the answer: A lot.

Instances could be created. In fact, they seemed to be encouraged. It made me wonder why the Realm Dungeon I’d challenged hadn’t included such a feature. I could only assume the original designer had meant for the Realm Dungeon to be an elite challenge instead of something that could be used to strengthen regular people.

Given what I’d learned about how access to the Realm Dungeon was granted, it wouldn’t surprise me if that had been the intent. But that was fine. The other Realm Dungeon could cater to the elites. I’d make mine available to anyone.

Well, anyone under Tier Five.

External access only seemed to be available from Tiers One through Four for new challengers, and Tiers Eight through Ten for returning challengers. Tiers Five, Six, and Seven allowed no access from outside the dungeon.

“At least that part makes sense, now. It wasn’t so much a contrived restriction as one programmed into the dungeon itself,” I mused.

“Okay, focus on the first floor. I liked the four environmental zones with varied flora and fauna in each. The question is whether we should make every instance the same or different.”

“Keeping them the same would make managing the dungeon much easier,” Lisa offered.

“That’s a good point,” I agreed. “It’ll also prevent conflict over resources. Or reduce it, at least. Let’s start with the basics for the first floor. It’s basically the tutorial for anyone newly awakened. We’ll do a regular forest, a snowy mountain, a grassy plain, and a freshwater lake with small islands connected by floating bridges.”

I programmed simple, low-threat creatures appropriate for each environment, hoping that they’d serve as whetstones for the new challengers without being overly difficult.

I didn’t want things to be too easy, though, so I added roving mini-bosses and a single boss to each zone. Unlike the other Realm Dungeon, I only separated each zone into two parts: a lower zone with mini-bosses roaming near the border, and an upper zone with a single boss.

I programmed the boss to protect a portal that granted access to the next floor, the central platform, or any other available instances’ central platform. After giving it a bit of thought, I decided not to allow travel between central platforms on the same floor. I wanted access to the other instances to require some effort instead of being expected.

I set it up so a new instance would generate whenever a certain population threshold was met. If the overall population fell below the threshold, the instances would be combined. If there were more than two instances, the one with the lowest population would be assimilated into the one with the second lowest population.

Hopefully, that would prevent any issues. If not, Lisa could iron out the details later.

“Does that work for you?” I asked, looking at Lisa’s avatar. Her core was one of the few things I’d brought with me, aside from some home-cooked meals.

“It does, though I doubt instances will be necessary for the lowest floors.”

“Probably not, since I plan to let them leave if they want to.”

The controls allowed me to set an individual’s exit point to the location in which they entered, so it was entirely possible if I set up portals like the one that was placed in Brazil. The fact that the previous Administrator and whoever was filling that role now hadn’t done the same thing said a lot about their mentality.

I didn’t want the new dungeon to become a prison for its challengers, and to keep it from becoming that, I wanted there to be a way for people to safely leave.

Would that reduce the number of people using the dungeon to ascend? Maybe. But I felt like it was better than the alternative.

“They still won’t be able to return unless they remain in the dungeon until they reach the eighth floor. That seems to be something the dungeon itself prevents,” I said as I tried to override that aspect of the controls and failed.

Shaking my head, I returned my focus to the floor’s design itself. I liked how the other dungeon had dungeon golems and basic structures available, but it would have been nice if the golems were capable of training newly awakened youths instead of just serving as administrators.

Since the option was there, I added a training facility, structuring it much like the training towers that could be found in most cities across the Alliance.

I did the same on the next three floors, ensuring every new arrival had at least one opportunity to obtain the training they might need. The golems would only teach to the intermediate stage of any skill, but that was better than nothing.

“Are you going to add a unique trial to each floor?” Lisa asked, reminding me of something I’d overlooked.

“Yes. Thanks for point that out. I need to add hot springs as well. I think I’ll have those directly under your control instead of letting the residents fight over them. That whole issue with the Springhearts really left a bad taste in my mouth.”

The hot spring was easy, even without setting it up like a spa. I honestly preferred the springs to be a little more natural, so that’s what I went with. I designed it a bit like a Korean bathhouse to ensure the dungeon golems could exert control over the resource, but I thought it captured the ambiance I was going for.

The trial was harder since I didn’t really know what to do aside from copying the trials I’d undergone. That seemed like the wrong approach to take, so I took a break to eat while I mulled it over.

“What’s the point of a trial anyway?” I asked Lisa between bites. “They were a good source of rewards, that’s for sure. The opportunity to increase my affinities literally changed my life, so…”

I leaned back in my chair and chewed on a warm, soft roll. The chair was one provided by the rift for the challenge, which I appreciated since I’d left all of my furniture behind.

“If trials are supposed to guide challengers and help them progress, which the last few definitely implied, then I’d think the most important thing for Tier One challengers to be tested on would be their actual combat skills.

“Since you can’t actually die in a trial, it makes sense to use that as an opportunity for challengers to really push themselves,” I said. “I also want crafting to be a part of it, so challengers understand the value of honing a crafting skill.

“Maybe we can set things up so they start in a crafting hall and get the chance to make their own weapons, armor, potions, or whatever they want, which they could then use in the trial. They’d be able to keep anything else they made, too.”

“Then you should probably have some kind of limit, either by time or volume. I could see some people just hanging out in the crafting hall and taking advantage of whatever resources you provide,” Lisa commented.

“Would that be so bad?” I asked. “If they’re judged based on both their crafting and their combat skills, maybe having them use everything that is provided would be good. But only what they use. I wouldn’t want anyone taking any raw materials out of the trial.”

The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. If I kept future trials similar, that would allow the Dungeon Master (AKA Lisa) to gauge each challenger’s progression more definitively.

Obviously, not every trial would be the same. But having the core of the trials based on crafting and combat seemed like a good approach.

I accessed the section of the design interface centered around unique challenges and programmed my idea for the first-floor trial. I’d let challengers use as many of the crafting areas and resources as they wanted, but would not have the dungeon resupply anything they exhausted.

I’d provide a reasonable amount of the basic materials likely to be used by a Tier One crafter, including maybe things that weren’t available on the floor but existed outside of the dungeon. With Lisa in charge of everything, I knew she’d be able to manage things the way I was imagining.

Once they finished crafting, the combat portion would begin. The creatures would be different from anything they’d faced on the floor, but not significantly more difficult. They would start weak and gradually get stronger, progressing into Tier Two for those capable of going that far.

I set it up like a traditional dungeon in old-Earth fiction, one where the challengers would progress from one room to the next, with each room increasing in difficulty. I allowed for some rest and possibly even crafting between rooms, but made it so that if they waited too long, the creatures would start to hunt for them.

“That should keep people from lingering too long,” I said with satisfaction. “I won’t add any traps for this one. Maybe I’ll introduce a few of those on the second floor.”

Just minor ones. Nothing that would kill or severely injure anyone – yet.

When I finished programming the trial, I decided to add a hidden resource on each floor. The resource would change as it was discovered and harvested.

Maybe a non-growth Crystal node or a harvestable spring whose waters could heal. Once the resource was depleted, a different resource would manifest somewhere else on the floor. It felt like a fun little Easter egg hunt for challengers.

“You seem to enjoy this process,” Lisa said when I finally moved on to the second floor.

“I do,” I said with a grin. “I’m not sure what it is about designing the dungeon, but I really do enjoy it.” I glanced at the tentatively completed floor. “Do you think I added too much for the first floor?”

“Too much what? Resources?”

“Yeah. The floor itself is pretty small. I feel like challengers will barely be able to take five steps outside of the safe zone without stumbling upon one resource or another.”

“You also forgot about beast waves,” she pointed out, causing me to groan.

After adding that feature to the programming for the first floor, I decided to leave the first floor as it was. I’d been very generous with the edible plants, but it was the first floor. If there was ever a time to be a little generous with stuff like that, it was while challengers were still getting their feet under them.

“Okay, on to the second floor.”